Miles driven: 140 miles
Time in Car: 3 hours
Borders Crossed: 2
Dover. Friday morning. 5:30 am.
Our first of what I assume will be many inopportune wake up calls. We needed to be at the docks by 6:25 to catch our ferry to Calais and pass through French customs, which unfortunately meant we had to get moving fairly early. We broke down our camp, enjoying the occasional glance to the beckoning coast of France as well the calm, tranquil sound of a hundred seagulls shrieking and shitting everywhere.
White Cliffs of Dover from our ferry.
Our drive to the ferry and our experience with the French customs officer were both relatively uneventful. Our drive onto the ferry, however, was a bit more concerning. Stevie needed to really give it all she had to make it over the small, but steep hill. While our driver probably should have used a lower gear, it was still a reminder of just how weak a 1.2 liter engine can be. We left Stevie in the cargo bay and took in the views from the cafeteria of the ship. Mike and I enjoyed a nice English breakfast, consisting of a sunny side up egg, some baked beans, a cooked tomato, some mushrooms, a hash brown, bacon, and a piece of sausage. The food was fine, but the British people are really going to flip out once they discover what salt is. The coffee was burnt; but I assume that is something we will have to get used to, especially as tea is the drink of choice for most of Central Asia. The views, however, were incredible. As we watched the famous cliffs of Dover grow fainter and fainter, we said goodbye to the last English speaking country for the next 9 weeks or so. We were on our way.
While the language barriers may cause some frustration going forward, France did provide us some immediate relief: wider roads and driving on the right side of the road. Mike expertly guided Stevie from the ferry to Dunkirk, the coastal town in Northern France where the British troops needed to be evacuated under Operation Dynamo during WWII. Our experience was more pleasant and involved exploring the dunes and watching some kite surfers.
After Dunkirk, we drove straight to Brussels, where, after some frustrating moments trying to find parking, we checked into our Airbnb and began to explore the city. We ate dinner at Fin De Siecle, a pub type place specializing in traditional Belgium comfort foods. After a few drinks and a couple of bars, we were exhausted and our long day was over.
After a long night of sleep with a surprisingly low amount of snoring, we woke up refreshed and ready to explore the city. Mike had done his research and was super excited for us to try waffles at one of the best shops in the city. Mike could have benefited from a bit more research as we found out that said shop did not sell waffles at that particular location. Luckily, we were able to quickly pivot to a nearby local market where we enjoyed a nice breakfast of coffee, fresh fruit, and waffles from another vendor. After breakfast, the three of us wandered the streets before finally going to what I am sure has been the highlight of the trip so far for Tanner and Mike: Cantillon.
Cantillon, for those of you not in the know, is a super famous, small brewery that specializes in Lambic beers (think wild ales / sours). While I may not be as big as a beer enthusiast as Mike and Tanner, I certainly don’t mind drinking the stuff, so we made sure to book a tour. The brewery is small and only brews beer from October to April, so the beer itself is very hard to find in the States. It was really interesting to learn about the history of the lambic tradition and how the brewery sacrifices additional financial gain in order to continue making beer the traditional way. It still uses the original, antique equipment to brew every batch, and the beer still gets its yeast from the Brussels air due to its unique cooling process.
We tried several varieties before searching out some much needed food. The beer was a perfect excuse to find ourselves some Belgium fries as well as the waffles from the place we had failed to find in the morning. We ate our grub in the main square of the town and enjoyed some people watching before heading to find the most bizarre and underwhelming tourist attraction I have ever seen: Manneken Pis.
The Manneken Pis, or peeing boy statue, is exactly that. It’s a two foot tall statue of a boy peeing that was originally built in the 17th century. The place was packed as if it was the Mona Lisa. To each their own I guess. We later walked to the palace and the nearby park before heading to our Airbnb for a much needed rest.
The pissing baby in all its glory.
Brussels, always mentioned last in comparison to the other Belgian tourist cities like Ghent and Bruges, was actually quite nice. Sure, maybe it’s not as pretty as those other two cities and being the EU headquarters always brings a negative connotation, but the beer and food along with it’s quaint village neighborhoods like Saint Gilles and stunning sites like the Grand Place made Brussels the perfect spot to spend two nights. Tomorrow, we head to Marburg, Germany, where we get to see the town in which Tanner studied abroad. Until next time, au revoir - FWY
