Sebulon

By sebrose

Brussels

I have the day to spend in Brussels. I deposit my bag at the station, before walking north to the botanics. On the way, I manage to extract a €100 note from a cash machine, which I immediately convert into two €50s.

Then to a vegetarian Indian restaurant for lunch. A wonderful buffet of tasty curries, somewhat spoiled by the news of cows invading my lawn at home. That's no way to repay a vegetarian!

I spend a couple of hours at the Parliamentarium at the European parliament. It's a well presented exhibition that remains relentlessly upbeat even while cataloguing the history of failures that have happened on it's watch. 

A beer or two before boarding the Nightjet to Vienna. I'm sharing my 6-berth couchette with a family of four - the mother distinguishing herself as a rare Belgian Germanophone.

The bed is too short. The pillow is too small.  The temperature varies between too hot and too cold without ever settling in the middle. The lights won't turn off. The father below me is snoring. I turn on my sleep headphones, pull them over my eyes, and dip in and out of consciousness. 

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