Figs From Thistles: Brussels

After spending the day at Bastogne, we continued on to Brussels arriving late in the evening. To be honest, all I really knew of Brussels prior to this trip can be summed up quite simply: chocolate and Manneken Pis, a statue of a boy urinating into a fountain basin (the statue is commonly in costume, no less).

Because an egregious virus struck down Log early on in the trip, my knowledge of Brussels didn't expand much beyond my initial appraisal. Instead of seeking out the EU Parliament building, I sought out plastic bags with a heft suitable to act as trash can liners (hard to come by in Europe where most plastic bags are no thicker than a human hair). In lieu of watching the kids romp in the Palais Royal parks, I watched BBC (Miranda Hart) in my hotel room. I can't tell you where Philip II of Spain found repose in Brussels, but I do know that Novotel has an incredibly empathetic staff that did not complain when faced with the task of stripping and changing ALL of the bed clothes (duvet, sheets, and dust ruffle).

I can also tell you that:

*Log's germs spread faster than the viral Numa, Numa video.

*Theraflu with 'warming action' is revolting and may work better than ipecac at inducing vomiting. Who thought of this? Why not develop a flavor that is appealing or actually tastes like the flavor its label proclaims? Why make the very un-cherry like 'cherry' flavor turn hot as it runs down your throat? Bad idea. Bad.

*Traveling alone with three children with hyperactive bowels and excitable gag reflexes via taxi, ICE train, regional train and bus is an act of the utmost kind of delicacy imaginable.

*Hearing that your train is experiencing technical difficulties and cannot continue its course to your desired destination can make a person's eyes fill with tears in less than a second.

*Learning that your unexpected detour/destination is still two hours from home and you've no idea how you'll be able to transfer your mostly catatonic children to another train traveling in the general area you'd like to go can make a person wish he/she knew how to curse like an Italian sailor: French curse words just don't cut it in such a predicament and German ones lack the dramatic flair needed to fully express one's exasperation and disgust.

*Sleeping in one's own bed can make all of the difference.

Below: a few pictures of the things we did manage to do while in Brussels that are unrelated to the above strain.

If Theraflu doesn't do the trick for you, then maybe this passionfruit/pineapple/CORN flavored yogurt can stand in! I've seen lots of yogurt flavors before but never one with ingredients as seemingly ill-suited as this combination!

While walking through the Christmas market, the kiddos happed upon a carrousel that was most novel! Bop turned circles in her airplane a la Earhart.

Log was our own Balloon boy,

while Littlest commanded Sputnik, whose Russian letters spelled out 'Communist' along the side. Her rocket also blasted her above the other vehicles and through the roof of the carrousel so that she was able to see the market from a height of about 30 feet.