Brussels - Amsterdam

I head out to the station to check train times, having spent another night sleeping on the floor. It had not been a particularly long one, as until 4 am Nick and I had been conversing on a doorstep, which could be described, not unjustly, as piss-soaked, while sampling a selection of the Belgian beers we had seen at the museum video earlier that day. We were joined by a slightly dishevelled Belgian, Michael, with a furtive Latino companion, who walked some distance in an attempt to cajole his friend away from us, then gave up and walked back, nervously pacing and rolling a joint. Michael was going to be visiting Canada soon and was thus overjoyed to talk with Nick, a real live Canadian. He did not like Brussels, comfortingly saying that it was easy to get killed in this area of city. We thought/hoped he was exaggerating and when a girl walked by with a pizza we went to get something to eat. The night had started out in Chez Luis, a delicious moule restaurant in the centre of town, then moved to a jazz cafe, where we caught the end of perfmance by an excellent female flautist from the US. Then to Falstaff's, with some exceptionally strong cocktails, perhaps part of a slightly odd ruse to get us to leave quicker. On the way back, half looking for a place to dance we see one packed Irish bar and a strange bar with thick smoke emanating from the basement.

On the way to the station I must pass through the market right outside our hotel. Like many around the world there is an eclectic collection of fresh fruit, cheap toys, belts, second hand phones, odd mirrors, unwanted books, fish and old records. Here in Brussels it is again not quite what you might expect from the guidelines.

Rushing through the Museum of Mordern Art, to catch a brief glimpse of Marat (We were too late, he was already dead) we realise we should have done this one first, as modern means post 1800, which is quite alot of good stuff. We'd spent a long time looking at Church n' death stuff from the 14th century onwards and while there were highlights (Lamentation of Christ and Bruegel's Icarus and his deranged Fall of the Rebel Angels) my feet were starting to ache. Then we realised that our train loomed and yet we wanted to see the Museum of Musical Instruments. Dashing there from Modern Art we were given the infrared musical headphone tour as part of the entrance fee. When you stand in front of an exhibit, the instrument starts playing, which creates a surreal experience as we run from floor to floor. Runners up are some of Adolophe Sax's early creations, including a six mouthpiece wonder, some intricate pianos and various bagpipes (Winner of Best Flemish Name though: Doedelzak) but I think the overall winner is the violinpet or the trumolin. Feeling perhaps that orchestras were growing too large, some genius solved the problem by combining the string and brass sections.

Marie's husband asks if the seat next to me is free and I offer him my seat so that he can sit next to her. However he dismisses the suggestion and I'm glad he does, because she provides a lovely and informative interview about Antwerp, where they have been for the day, and Amsterdam. She even has a Russian daughter-in-law, after her speed skating son met her at competition in Omsk in Siberia. Marie and her husband have flown to Omsk and the family from Russia has also been out to Holland, though this nessecitated a two day train trip to Moscow, three days wait there and two days back, to obtain the necessary visas.