Brussels, Belgium

Some people say the grass is much greener on the otherside. I felt like the lyrics of the song were naturally appropriate when I thought in my head that, "from where I'm standing, my grass is just fine." I crossed into the Belgium border and quickly made my way to Brussels. It was like an introduction to France and a waned departure from Scandanavia. I was starving.

When I walked from the station and saw a massive clock warning me that I could only spare 1 hour, I quickly scaned the street to see what options were available. I saw the image of a lion, an image from a crest or coat of arms that had the likenss of the Food Lion icon. In fact, perhaps it was the same. The store was less than 100 meters and I walked there.

Inside the radio was playing. A French commentator was saying something about Kanye West. I waited, waited, waited for it and then the commentator began to laugh and I wondered what thing Kanye had done, if it was a completely different conversation, or if the laugh that I had anticipated was just random. It really didnt matter, my eyes so were big and taken aback by the sight of fresh fruit juices and baguettes, that I wanted to buy more than I could carry in my arms.

When I approached the counter a Middle Eastern man asked me if that would be all: a yogurt, a jambon et formage baguette, a pastry, a bottle of water, and a fruit juice. I grabbed a KinderBueno from the the register and and said "yes." This man, who had orginally greeted me in Dutch, proceeded to have a conversation in English. His English was brillant. As if he had lived in Britain for a number of years. I bagged my groceries and he began speaking with the person behind me, in German.

By this time, there was a torrential downpour outside and the 100 meters seemed like an endless highway. I looked back, looked in front, and looked in the bag. I opened the door and before I made the first step out into the rain, the man called out for my attention. I turned around and he stood behind the cash register motioning for me to come back.

I turned around and walked over to see what he could possibly want. He looked at me, handed me a spoon, and then he smiled.

I walked out in the rain and into the station. There was a homeless man talking to himself by the entrance. Inside a group of Ethiopians, as beautiful as they always seem to be, and a petite Ghanian lady.

I took a bite of sandwich and checked the departure board. A man carrying a single bag and a bound notebook looked over at me. He smiled and I said, "hello."