I’m sitting in the PP Café near the center of Brussels. It’s a cultural center of sorts with beer (biere) and coffee (café). I can sit here with un café and use the wifi for free. This was the first place where we relaxed after our long journey across the pond. The owner of Gallery Gabrichidze, Nick, brought us here after meeting us at the airport.

At the café, I pay the madam thirty cent to use the toilet. She’s an older woman who never smiles, even when I say, “Bonjour” in my thick American accent.

I spent the first few days overwhelmed by the lack of English signs and menus. Brussels is French and Flemish, which is a dialect of Dutch. All of the picturesque cobblestone streets have two names. Which is ridiculously confusing.

David & I do not visit new places. We live there. We become locals. Thanks to the charming tour maps created by young Use-It volunteers, we can see all of the popular sights and many hidden gems that only locals know.

One of the challenges that I had to overcome was that “Dorothy in Oz” feeling. Everything was new and unfamiliar. David seemed to feel at home nearly immediately, but the extreme jump in space and time through off my inner balance. It was like I was walking on stilts. I felt off-kilter. Dazzled by the justiposition of Art Nouveu architecture and bright Coca-Cola signs, I was delighted to have our couchsurfing hosts guide us through the basics of living in Belgium.

Couchsurfing for the first few nights was a brilliant way to enter almost seamlessly into the Old World. (Now we’re staying in a cute sublet for a couple of weeks before moving on to Paris.) I’ve mentioned before that David & I set out on this journey, not only to stretch our dusty wings, but also to connect with beautiful people around the world. Our hosts are two of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. Their lifestyle of giving selflessly, sharing their home, and welcoming us unconditionally is something that we want to bring back to the States. We had often opened our home (at times begrudgingly) to friends and family, but couchsurfing hosts open their homes and lives to complete strangers. They want nothing in return, but to gain the knowledge and experience that comes with truly connecting.

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Brussels is stunning. The kinds of beer are numerous, delicious, and cheap. Most bars have hundreds of different kinds of beer. We’ve been learning about the Trappist beers which can only be made by real monks and the Abbey beers which are made from the old monk recipes, but don’t have to be made by monks. We've already tried about six different kinds, including a local beer brewed in Lueven and a beer that can only be found at De Garre in Bruges. Oh, yeah...We've already been to three neighboring towns. Lueven is a university and kind of medieval town. Bruges, which was recently made more touristy by the film "In Bruges" (a very dark comedy), is described as extremely gothic. Zaventem is a small town where our couchsurfing hosts live.

Also, the cafe is smooth and rich. It's not like American coffee. You only drink a small cup and it keeps you going for hours. Everyone sits in outside patios of cafes and restaurants for hours, just talking and drinking. You are never asked to leave.

The streets and sidewalks of Brussels are cobblestone and wind unthoughtfully through Art Nouveau buildings, some marred by graffiti. As we walked along the tempting (mouth-watering!) chocolate shops and restaurants, we’ve seen several cartoon murals.

One watercolored street in particular, Rue des Bouchers, seemed to have been pulled straight out of a Harry Potter movie. As we walked down the uneven cobblestone, well dressed men urged us to come into their restaurant. “I’m Mr. Satisfaction,” one man introduced himself. “Drinks on the house here,” replied another. We chose Chez Leon to celebrate our four year wedding anniversary, where David sampled the famous Brussels mussels.

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Our couchsurfing hosts have been our tour guides in Leuven and Bruges. We visited both in the ten days that we’ve been in Belgium. The cathedrals have been a source of much joy, intrigue, and reverence. Some were built as early as the 1400's. There is a great sense of awe when one stands in these gothic and Romanesque cathedrals. I imagine what peasants must have thought when they entered one of the few stone buildings in their village. How could they not believe in God?

The podiums where the priest gives his sermon are magnificently carved out of wood, but look like rich brown stone. Epic is the right ajective for these podiums. The statues and icons in and around the churches peer at you from their stone pedastals. I wonder what their cold eyes have seen.

In Lueven, they tell a story of three girls who lived during the Dark Ages, maybe the 1300's, when reading was illegal. They were caught reading and possibly teaching others to read. As punishment, they were buried alive under the town hall.

In Bruges, we visited The Basilica of the Holy Blood (Basiliek van het Heilig Bloed), which was built in the mid 12^th century. The legend of the Holy Blood is that Joseph of Arimethea wiped blood from Christ and kept the cloth. After the Second Crusade, a devout crusader brought the blood of Christ to Bruges. The bottle of rock crystal which holds the blood dates back to the 11 or 12 century. Every day the crystal vial is presented for pilgrims to visit and pray.

We also saw the delicate and lifelike statue of the Madonna and Christ Child by Michelangelo in the Church of Our Lady. It was the first Michelangelo statue that I have seen in person and the only statue to leave Italy during Michelangelo’s lifetime. David told me that Michelangelo created this statue during a break from creating his masterpiece, David, which he finished before the age of thirty.

St. Catherine’s in Brussels appears to be covered in black ash. At dark, when we’ve been walking to the bus stop after having a Leffe Blonde at Café Monk, I’ve wondered if I didn’t see a shrouded face in one of the windows. Humorously, the church built a urinal trough on the side of the church after one too many drunks urinating on the church.

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I am overcome by the images and emotion that being on this journey has invoked. I want to discuss the spirituality and mysticism. I want to discuss the world community and how communication and travel has evolved in the last thirty years. What does this mean to me? What does this mean to you? I want to be even more personal and discuss how being so far from my comfort zone has forced me to go deep into myself (always a scary journey) and how much I desire to be in contact with my friends and family. Being the foreigner has stirred up so many thoughts about what home really means.

But for now I don’t have words to express these feelings. So I’ll leave you with some nice photographs.

Au revoir!

Because of it's numerous canals and romantic scenery, Bruges is called the Venice of the North.

Gallery where David is painting live from the window for the next couple of weeks.

Town hall in Lueven.

Podium in a Brussels cathedral. The story depicted is of a saint.

Our "Harry Potter" street.

Grote Markt/Grand Place (most beautiful plaza I've ever seen)

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