Well, I made it. About 19 hours of traveling later, I am in Brussels. I have learned several things already; banks don’t accept my debit card, there are crazy ladies who talk to themselves everywhere, 3M is either headquartered or at least has a large office here, the drivers are insane, buses have no problem squeezing through traffic at high speeds. I obviously look French, but sound British. It is raining, and raining, and raining some more. The man who lives on the first floor of my building doesn’t speak English, nor do I think he likes that I don’t speak French. Graffiti much Europe? The bus doors sometimes don’t open when you need to; and then the Belgians look at you like you’re a complete idiot. I am not completely sure what day or time it is. Right now, I am struggling a bit to remember my name.
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