We woke at 0730, not sure why, but as sure as night follows day John was first in the shower. He’d first begun to exhibit this behaviour when I travelled Australia with him in 2000. It begins with everyone agreeing on what time we’ll wake up the next morning, and then sure enough John’s gotten up half and hour beforehand to get the shower. I don’t want to sound like I’m being pedantic about this – my complaint is about the lack of hot water that seems to result from John’s showering process.Anyway, breakfast was included at this hostel so we grabbed our entitlement of corn flakes, one slice of bread and one plastic cup of squash, and set off for the European Parliament.

We worked out the metro route and walked to the local station. As we were about to go down the steps, a woman (must be one of the ten city residents) asked me to help her get her baby’s pram down the steps. In fact it turned out that she wanted two of us to carry it between us, while she walked with her shopping. Seemed very trusting of her, but then it did appear to be a trait many people here shared – a kind of expectation that people would help each other. So there you are – I’ve said something positive about Brussels.

At the other end I expected there to be a dedicated metro station for the EU complex, something made mostly of glass that would be ultra-clean, set on the edge of a few acres of landscaped parkland and bring you out right in front of the main parliament building.

It wasn’t. In fact it took me a minute to recognise the structure above the exit for what it was. A highway. The metro station for the EU campus exited into a motorway underpass. A damp, dirty and smelly underpass. Not good so far. But no matter – we had over half an hour to find something that was less than 300 metres away according to the map.

We walked along the road, and saw nothing that looked like a parliament building. It was raining lightly, so I was getting a bit impatient. Five minutes of wandering later a big glass cube-shaped building loomed up ahead, and looked promising. It was basically featureless – the huge flat sheets of glass that covered each side were tinted so it was not possible to look inside. Actually it didn’t seem quite right – it was big and expensive and imposing but it wasn’t… showy. In fact I could have easily imagined it as the headquarters of the CIA or MI6 – the architecture said “We’re important, but we’re not going to tell you why”.

Finding the main entrance, I asked the guy at the reception if this was the parliament. Without a word he picked up a small photocopied map from a neat stack of perhaps 500, and expertly drew a route to the parliament building. His demeanour suggested that this was basically what he did – and he was deeply unhappy with his career as a person-who-draws-lines-on-maps. We left him to wait for the next batch of lost tourists, and on the way out spotted a sign indicating that this was the European Commission, the policy-making arm of the European Union. So the architecture hadn’t lied – this was a building where stuff got done.

Fifteen minutes later the rain was getting heavy and we were lost again. Having asked in two more EU buildings, we approached a third, more to get out of the rain than any expectation that this was the one. This time we spoke to a man who had five languages at his command, none of them English, but he did manage to indicate a direction.

The direction took us though an underground parking area. This was getting ridiculous, but at least we were dry. On the other side, finally, was a building that could only be the parliament. It’s construction screamed “look at me, I’m great”. There were no obvious corners, glass everywhere, landscaped parkland beyond. We got in and through security with a minute to spare before the tour started.

It was an audio tour with pre-recorded segments being played when we entered each room. It included some interesting history, and quotes, most not in English. There was a surprising quote from Winston Churchill, who apparently called for a ‘United States of Europe’ to be created in a speech not long after the end of the war. Interesting that he should use that phrase, which is (at time of writing) something that most British politicians want to avoid at all costs.

The parliament debating hall was quite impressive, particularly the interpreters booths. It was amazing to think that there are enough linguists in the room during debates to instantly translate any European language into any other.

Generally satisfied that democracy was being practised with reasonable effectiveness, we spent a few minutes posing with the union jack and EU flags. Outside there was a tree with some cheesy world-peace type dedication on it, so we took some photos of a mock fight next to the tree and then went for lunch.

I briefly considered visiting NATO as well, but Brussels was starting to get on my nerves, what with its weather, scarcity of people and general dullness, so we headed off to the train station and set our sights on Amsterdam, a city famed for its tulips, and other things. On the way, we stopped by the hostel to pick up our bags, and I discovered that I’d lost the key to my locker. Standard procedure in this case seems to involve a pair of bolt cutters large enough to cut the alps in half, followed by much laugher at the embarrassment of whoever it is who’s lost his key.

Journey 2: Brussels to Amsterdam
1 leg, 200km, 2 hr 44 min. Average speed: 72kph
Origin/Destination	Departs	Arrives	Carrier	My Rating
Bruxelles Noord Amsterdam Centraal	14:55	17:39	InterCity

Some two hours later our regional train pulled into Amsterdam Centraal Station. It was getting late to find accommodation, but we got accosted by several hostel owners at the station, so arranging a place to stay was not a problem. In fact, one of them was wearing a medal labelled ‘Cannabis Cup Winner’. Perhaps this was part of his marketing strategy.

At the hostel we found the Amsterdam Police had left a leaflet which very helpfully explained how we could go about legally breaking a few British laws. It set out a ten-point list of guidelines, covering such diverse topics as ‘Don’t urinate in the street’, ‘Pleasant Behaviour’, and ‘Engaging the services of a prostitute’. In this section it said “If you have a problem with one of the girls, call us. We know why you’re there and we won’t be surprised”. I actually found it hard to believe that the police here would be surprised by anything.

We went to find some dinner, and then sat at a bar having a drink by the canal. Chris had managed to locate an Irish Pub, so he sat contentedly sipping a pint of Guinness and then called a friend back home to make him aware of his achievement.

John and Sunil left to go to an internet café while Chris and I went to the station to find out some info about connections to Berlin. Before we returned to the hostel we wandered into a few coffeeshops, Amsterdam’s licensed Marijuana vendors.