It was not long into the voyage that Luke and I made our first mistake. We had set a plan and were to meet at Meredith's gate in the International Terminal at Dulles Airport. With all three planes coming in at the same time, converging on the one location, conceivably, would be simple. I certainly was not thinking that after waiting at the Frankfurt connection for a half hour. Around 4:30, Luke came waltzing by. We waited together another 20 minutes before finding that her flight had been delayed until 5:01.
With our stomachs leading the way, we found a subway with prime position to eat while watching for Meredith. When she had still not passed by 5:20 we became more curious. Back at the empty terminal for Meredith's connection, we asked the man if she had made the flight. His response? She had sprinted through a minute before we had arrived; we just missed her. That was sad, but not enough to ruin out trip. We will see her in Madrid during our March visa run.
Soon enough we were on our plane to go across the pond. Luke and I were originally separated by 30 rows, but after four or five switches we sat together in the middle of the plane next to an Indian graduate student attending Penn State. Rohan and I quickly found that we had much in common. The conversation had not gathered much steam before the Holy Spirit prompted me to share my testimony. Amazingly, my new friend was very open to the truth as revealed by my personal experience. We had a very enjoyable discussion concerning truth and our personal beliefs. I had a number of opportunities to share truth which spurred questions for him. Before he left to sit a few rows away where his long legs could stretch out, we exchanged emails with the intention of connecting again later.
The sleepless seven hour flight provided the platform by which Luke and I could reconnect after our two week hiatus from fellowship. We talked, read, and tried to sleep. Arriving in Brussels, Belgium with eyes heavy we began to plan out our adventure. We quickly worked through the logistics to store our extra carry-on luggage and find the bus into Brussels (Or, Luxembourg as some call it). Unfortunately, our valiant adventure into the unknown city of Brussels quickly proved anticlimactic. The European quarter where our bus line ended was quaint and devoid of interesting shops or restaurants. We found that the best use of our Euros to get there was to sit on the bus and nap for the next hour and a half before picking up our luggage and heading to the gate that we found would not open for another four hours. We were stuck outside the airport with nowhere to go.
The train had been recommended to us, but it was more expensive and we had already paid for the bus tickets. With both of us lackadaisical and indecisive, a reinstatement of executive decision was the necessary catalyst to set us off on our next adventure. Basically, we ended up just telling each other to suck it up and go. A few obstacles now stood between us and a second chance at Belgian waffles. The first of which required Luke to sweet talk the middle-aged Belgian woman whom we had just 15 minutes ago paid for storing our extra luggage. He was impeccable, it was the performance of his Belgian career. The next obstacle was solving the puzzle of the train situation, in the language Nederlands. I quickly made friends with Robin, the English-speaking ticket guy at the train station. Not only did he save us a few Euros on our tickets, he pointed us in the right direction to get on our train.
Waiting for the train, I met a Belgian-, French-, and Spanish-speaking Italian girl. I quickly struck up conversation as she was more than willing to help me find my way to the correct train and on to find my Belgian waffles. While I talked to her, Luke was making headway in conversation with an older Mexican couple from Guadalajara. As the train was boarded we both lost contact with our respective friends and found ourselves sitting alone, half-asleep, staring blankly out the window of the train.
"Hola, como estas?" Back in reality, two Mexican girls, in their early twenties, stood before us staring at Luke, mostly. Luke, like a champ, carried a pretty impressive Spanish conversation with the two girls who were obviously enamored with his boyish charm and man-of-mystery air. As he wrote down his email address, almost as an afterthought, they asked for mine as well. The next barrier they broke with me first before moving on to my studly partner. As they left, the first, then the second, hugged me and followed with a kiss on the cheek. When they left, my head swelled slightly before Luke explained that this was the custom for saying goodbye in Guadalajara. In the end, there is no sharp disagreement amongst our partnership. I am certain of their obvious inclination to Luke, while he is fairly certain of their unending love for me. The truth we may never know.
As the train pulled into Central Station we quickly rescinded our comments concerning how quaint and uneventful Brussels seemed. We had entered a whole new Brussels full of people, restaurants, shops, and Christmas lights. It was not long before we found the ideal location to satiate our Belgian waffle appetite. Seated on the crowded second floor of a local restaurant we enjoyed our Belgian waffles that boasted little more than a name, but they hit the spot. The hot chocolate syrup that had covered our waffles proved to give enough of a sugar rush to conclude our stay in Brussels with the subsequent crash negating all memory of a three hour plane ride to Africa.Our Belgian adventure had come to an end. An adventure it was, but tiny in scale to that which it precluded...
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