Brussels, Belgium

Brussels, Belgium - July 7 & 8

Thursday night, Tom & I found our way to Brussels. My eyes were glassy, and my thought process jumbled. I mistakenly ordered carpacio beef at dinner. What was I thinking? The slimy beef had a slight tang as it slid down my throat. That should have been the first indication that something was amiss. The next morning, I felt ill as we hit touch-and-go traffic that churned my stomach with every sick inducing turn. I burped the taste of carpacio beef, and cracked the window struggling for oxygen to stave off my urge to yak. I must say, the worst part of it was just the anticipation. Matters worsened as we entered a mess of winding roads, which under normal circumstances, would have been a scenic ride through the beautiful Belgian countryside full of green trees, woodframe houses, and flowerboxes. However, each glance out the window made the merry-go-round in my head go faster and faster.

Ironically, I was visiting a company that makes the key ingredient going into that pink anti-nausea medicine (whose name rhymes with clepto bizmall). Here I was cutting a business deal for this stuff as I excused myself every so often to go yak in the toilet. The carpacio beef came up as easily as it slid down my throat the evening before. I tried to pop a few pink pills in hopes I could spare myself future misery as I anticipated the car ride back to the Brussels Midi train station.

Strangely enough, the nausea made me experience Brussels in a way I never hope to do again: with eyes closed. The cabby drove us into the city as I kept my eyes shut to quell the queasy sensations stirring in my stomach. Nausea however plays a practical joke on the body as it heightens all your senses. Your hearing increases, your sense of smell picks up the nuances in the stale air, and your eyes hyper-sensitize to the light. I heard every rumbling stone in the street, smelled the sickly sweet flowers on the sidewalks, and felt the hot sun slowly torture me as the car jerked with every turn. I popped more pink tabs like candy mints at this point, but with little chance for success. I finally gave in and leaned out the window to make my mark on Brussels, literally. A streak of pink liquid painted the side of the cab as the driver shook his head in disgust mumbling something in Flemish while Tom turned the other way in disbelief. The cab turned another corner before we slowed to a stop at our final destination. Huh? One more minute and I would have gotten here in one piece.

"Well, I almost made it," I blurted.

The driver was not amused as he demanded his money. Tom & I looked at our watches. We were just in time to catch our train to Paris.


- Marvin A.