In November last year, and following my km Spanish hike, it occurred to me that I should now walk the entire way around Europe. With the holiday break coming up, and an extremely early flight to Copenhagen booked in the morning, I figured I can just about call this the last day of the first term of my PhD. Because I am a masochist. Well, I am currently in Russian class, which is today being exceptionally and exclusively delivered in Dutch. I handed in my final piece of work for my Masters course nearly a month ago now.
The other night I was waiting for the bus home from Russian class. There were two others waiting with me, both brought up in Belgium, and one was going on an anti-immigrant rant. Tomorrow morning I fly back to Russia, nearly two years to the day since I left.
I have very, very mixed feelings about going back. I guess the onlyβ¦. I received one of the greatest compliments of my life the other week. It was, naturally, at the hands voicebox? I admire them for so many reasons: their friendliness, their hospitality, their passion, their overwhelming loveliness.
I feel like,β¦. This is not going to be a jolly sort of post. Every year, Belgium decides to do something a little crazy for Belgium , and has an event where its major museums are open from 7pm until one in the morning.
Because what are museums without a party? After someone from uni asked me what the hell was going on, and didβ¦. Friday morning I managed 45 minutes of my French class before leaving sick. The only obvious cure was to spend the weekend going out in Brussels. Friday evening started off well enough, taking a stroll through my suburb then heading to an Irish pub at around One of the guys from uniβ¦. Ohhhhh my. It all started last week was it only last week?!
