Ineke Spoorenberg
More than a week after I left for Rome on foot, I crossed a border for the first time. Belgium! I was now really 'abroad', that's how far I had come anyway. After this only through France, Switzerland and Italy to finally arrive at Rome!
It was Sunday morning, the road was deserted. The first town I walked through was Wuustweezel. I wanted to drink coffee somewhere and walked towards the church tower, traditionally there are still cafes there. Sure enough, there were two pubs, both of which were packed. With cyclists taking a break, but also with families sitting at long tables. Grandpas, grandmothers, other adults, all without fail with a beer. I decided to postpone the beer for a while, for fear that I wouldn't make any progress otherwise.
new rich
That night I stayed in Brasschaat, a place where many rich Dutch people live to avoid taxes. The last kilometers I had my eyes on the villas along the road. Real taste has the new rich not, was my conclusion. In the only hotel they hung out in the bar. Older gentlemen with tanned blondes. I was sitting comfortably, watching it all from behind my plate of spaghetti.
And on it went again, towards Brussels. It was April, but an icy wind brushed against my sweaty neck. I spent the night in Lier and I stayed in Mechelen. Beautiful old towns, where it was difficult to find an affordable hotel. I had to stick to the budget strictly if I wanted to be able to finish it for five months, but in Belgium I was often a bit more expensive.
Raid
In Brussels I stayed with a colleague from Belgian television. She lived in the middle of Brussels in the immigrant district of Molenbeek. During the day we went our own way, in the evening we met at café de Walvis, after which we went to eat somewhere. I thought Molenbeek was a nice lively neighborhood, intercultural, there was plenty to do. Still, I was a bit shocked when the police carried out a raid right under our noses that evening, when An and I were having dinner with an Italian. Building after building was combed and dozens of foreigners were grabbed and pushed into vans. That was the less romantic side of the neighborhood.
On a Sunday morning I left Brussels again, straight through the Anderlecht district, to the south. At a certain moment I saw a car stop, it shot to the side and started to turn. Moments later, he pulled into a driveway and stopped. The door opened and… there was my sister! Those are the surprises that give you a great morale boost. We had coffee together somewhere and then she continued on to her home in France.
On foot to France
I toiled again in good spirits. That evening I found a hotel in Halle, about 5 kilometers outside the town. That meant that I had to walk another 5 kilometers, I arrived broken. From here I also left the Dutch language area. I passed Soignie and Mons (Mons), the landscape started to slope a bit. I realized more and more that I was almost in France already. On foot to France, I thought it was quite an achievement. While drinking coffee I picked up French verb conjugations…
To be continued…
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