August 2022
It had been almost three years since my last overseas trip. That year, 2019, I had been to five countries – Denmark and Sweden in one trip, Spain and Georgia in another, and Japan. I felt I was at the peak of my traveling days, those ten years before the pandemic. I went on trips with friends to Provence and Cambodia, hiked Macchu Picchu and Milford Sound, took solo adventures to Atacama and Patagonia. I had gotten used to the rigors of traveling and developed my own travel routines and wore them like a second skin, sort of like a cycling outfit. I was enraptured with “exploring the world” and sharing my reflections of these wanderings to those who may be interested. Then the pandemic happened and it seemed as though a huge part of me was snatched away. In a way the wanderer was lost in a world of COVID and political theatre, masking and travel restrictions.
We all have our stories to tell about what happened to us these past 2 1/2 years. And, actually, these stories have not been all bad. But I’d like to tell you my story about getting back into traveling after being idle and rusty and still somewhat cautious about where the world was going.
I went on a lot of road trips the past two years – I got reacquainted with Washington DC, Philadelphia, Boston, and discovered Cape May and Cape Ann. I mustered enough courage to travel by plane again a couple of months ago, visiting friends in St. Louis.
Last month, after a trip to New England, I decided that August 2022 would be the month I would start traveling overseas again. I had already planned on taking a week off that month and travel restrictions were becoming less stringent. I thought I could finally visit Austria, “the trip that was cancelled” when COVID hit New York like a terrifying plague in March 2020, but one week seemed too short to thoroughly enjoy what the country had to offer. I thought of going to Colombia and Mexico, but ultimately chose Bruges and nearby Luxembourg to get me back to traveling. I wanted to visit beautiful, small, quiet, and generally stress-free places that I hadn’t been to, and those two seemed to fit the bill perfectly.
It was very busy at work the weeks before my trip so I did not have much time to prepare. I read up on the two cities and had a general idea of where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. I looked into the practicalities and logistics of traveling (e.g. lodging/ flights- which I always focus on when traveling). Outside of that, I felt I would just “wing it”, as I had done so, many times in the past. But as the day approached, things began to come to my attention that I had forgotten to do – like not checking if I had a mobile phone travel plan or almost forgetting about my plug adapter altogether. These were basic things that my old traveling self would have done automatically, but here I was, remembering these tasks sporadically just before a trip. How do I get to the airport again? Was it the A train? Oh, the F train, then transfer to the Airtrain at Sutphin. What else would I end up forgetting?
I admit I harbored some trepidation about traveling overseas again. After reading horror stories about lost luggage and cancelled flights, I made it a point to travel lightly and not have any bags to check in. I actually upgraded to business class using my miles just to have a better chance of not being bumped off my flight, just in case.
And the flight did go smoothly. Passing through security at JFK was a breeze that evening. I got into the plane, relaxed in my comfortable seat, and was in Brussels by 9 am, right on time. ‘This ain’t too bad’, I thought, as I looked forward to a smooth fast train ride from Brussels to Luxembourg, my base for the first half of the trip.
The first indication that not everything would happen as planned was when I looked at the departure board in Brussels’ Gare Centrale and could not find “Luxembourg” among the destinations. So I headed to the ticketing office and learned that there were no express trains running from Brussels to Luxembourg that weekend due to repairs in the Belgian rails; instead, I had to take a regular train to Libramont, transfer to a bus to Arlon, and there, take a second train to Luxembourg. Two transfers in sleepy Belgian towns made for some uneasiness and comedy, which was largely language-related! The rural scenes from the bus and trains did take off some of the uneasiness and I managed to reach Luxembourg in five hours.
Luxembourg is gorgeous. After settling in my hotel (stylish and artsy, better than I had expected!), I walked around nearby Place d’Armes, the main square, to get my bearings. Once oriented, I wandered out to less busy streets and to wonderful vistas Luxembourg was known for.
The following day, as I walked through the quiet cobblestone streets of Grund, one of the oldest neighborhoods of the city, at the golden hour when the day was winding down and the sun was about to set, I felt an extra bounce in my stride. I had missed this singular feeling of wonder and excitement and enchantment.
There would be a few more challenges in the next few days while traveling to charming villages and remote castles. With some slowly-gained confidence, I got past these uncertainties. I thought about my pre-COVID traveling experiences and how these “mishaps” had become part and parcel of the stories I tell (they tend to be generally funny and light-hearted) and had made the experiences more memorable.
By the time I reached Bruges, the second leg of the trip, I felt I was beginning to “find my groove back”. The trip from Luxembourg to Brussels, with the reverse train-bus-train combination from the past weekend, did not seem as daunting. I was a bit more familiar with the Brussels train station by then and easily booked a late afternoon train to Bruges, allowing a quick jaunt to Brussels’ Grand Place and have some Belgian fries!
Bruges was every bit as beguiling as I had envisioned it to be. My airbnb was a tastefully renovated attic in a step-gable townhouse on a lovely street with other step-gable townhouses. It was just outside of city center, right next to a pretty neighborhood park. That evening, I walked to Markt and Burg, the astonishingly beautiful squares at the heart of Bruges.
I always try to discover a new city in the early morning or later in the evening when crowds are sparse and the place is left almost to oneself. And so it was in Bruges. As I left the main squares and headed back home on that cool summer evening, I walked amidst historic townhouses in quiet, hauntingly beautiful streets, on to handsome bridges and alongside enchanting canals.
I rented bikes on my last two days in Bruges. My first bike was a clunker, with its chain making an irritating grating sound which I tried to suppress by pedaling in a specific way. Except for one time when it actually got unchained, it was good enough to use as I biked all over Bruges that day, circling its periphery and visiting its lofty cathedrals, delightful squares, and a tranquil monastery.
On the second day, I had my clunker replaced with a sturdier bike as I was planning to do a more arduous ride. I had read about a stunning 7-kilometer bike path connecting Bruges to Damme, a lovely town just to its north. It had been on my “to do” list as I was planning for the trip, so I was determined to put a check mark beside it. There were a few tricky intersections within Bruges to get to the beginning of the path, but once on it, the path was smooth and flat, as it followed the length of the Sluis canal.
It was a stunning ride indeed, as it took one through serene tree-lined passages, past windmills and quaint cottages. As I glided along the path, with the summer breeze brushing my face and the afternoon sun caressing my skin, my one thought was that of gratitude, that despite all the challenges that have come our way, we have somehow found our groove back in this extraordinarily beautiful world we have.
