Rome or Bust: Getting There

Did you know that Brussels International Airport is not, after all, the same as Brussels-Charleroi Airport? That Ryanair does not fly out of Brussels International, but out of Brussels-Charleroi? That, while the first airport is 20 minutes from Leuven, the second is just over 2 hours? Don't worry... I didn't know all this at first either. Which is why I missed my first flight to Rome.

I knew that my ticket said Charleroi, I could read that clearly enough. But since I had never even had a reason to consider it before, it was only once I had arrived at the Leuven train station that I had realized two important things. First, the direct train to Brussels-Luchthaven that I had planned to take was not going to get me where I needed to go. Second, that because of this miscalculation on my part, I would almost certainly miss my flight.

As I passed by Brussels-International on my way to Charleroi, I wrote in my journal, "It's just after 4. I have a 2 hour ride ahead of me, and somehow I get the feeling that I won't be flying out at 6:20 pm this evening." It was torture knowing this and thinking about it the whole way. Knowing that I had just screwed myself over. I was still desperate enough to at least consider if there was any possible way to make it in time. "Perhaps a later flight, with an extra wad of cash out of my pocket, will have to suffice. I mean, if I were to take a cab from Brussels-Midi station to Charleroi airport instead of waiting for the next train there, there's no telling whether it would be any quicker, whether I would actually make it in time for check-in. Not only that, but taking that cab would probably cost me more than a seat on the next available flight. So I suppose that's not such a great option." It would have cost me 100 euros. I checked.

Coming into Brussels-Nord I thought to myself, if I can make it to Charleroi in 20 minutes... I might make it in time. Inconceivable. I had to get across Brussels first, then to another city altogether, Charleroi. So I gave up thinking about it. Not without writing the following: "Well, if you don't learn from the first lesson, then you damn well better make the best of the second one."

That's right, this was not my first missed flight. I also missed my flight to Canada only a month and a half before. Take it in... I'm not afraid to admit when I've made a fool of myself. Just don't expect to hear about it again.

"If I remember correctly, there is one more Ryanair flight later today that may have a seat open. Let's hope so. Otherwise I will have to either wait till tomorrow or find another flight that goes anywhere near Rome. I don't care where, really. I'm ready for an adventure. But I WILL get to Rome." Yes, I would make it to Rome. Though not until after spending some time in the grime of Charleroi and a night on an airport floor.

"My first impression of Charleroi was shaped by the sight of blood stains running up the station steps, leading to a little dried up pool at the top. I noted the shifty glances of several less-than-friendly looking characters while waiting for the bus, and kept to myself." Traveling all over the place on your own sort of teaches you how to keep to yourself really well... how to look confident without looking cocky, how to meet peoples eyes without entering into a confrontation. Don't bother trying to ignore these bastards, no, that's nearly as bad as staring them down. Just notice them and move on. Act as if you've caught this same bus a million times before.

"French grunge. I need to take a piss, and for some reason I wouldn't feel the least bit out of place if I up and releived myself right here against this post beside me. One day... one day I will make it to Rome. Hopefully tonight and before transit stops running. FUCK."

For some crazy reason, I was feeling bitter in Charleroi.

Well, I finally made it to the airport after a 20 minute bus ride. I found the next flight into Rome left the next morning at 6, and would cost me 75 euros. That's more than the round trip originally cost me. I would have to stay the night on the airport floor. If you have ever done this, you will know that it is much better if you have some company... so naturally I kept my eyes open. Maybe I would meet a new friend. First I met this French girl named Fouzia, and we had a good time chatting it up. That was nice to pass the time. She was waiting for her ride which hadn't shown because, alas, he had went to Brussels-International instead of Brussels-Charleroi. That gave me a little comfort, I have to admit.


After trying to get some sleep over night in a corner of the airport behind this big sign, I lined up for check-in at about 4:20 am. While in line, I met up with a Portuguese acquaintance I had met while partying in Leuven only one night before. Small world. He was headed back to Milan, where he was studying. So after we had checked in we went together and had some breakfast inside the departures area. After suggesting I come up to Milan for a few days to party with him, André and I parted ways.


The Ryanair flight was a little more nerve wracking than most I have been on. Ok, it was the most nerve wracking flight I've ever been on. The take-off left my stomach behind on the tarmac, and when we landed it felt like there wasn't even any tarmac on the runway. So bumpy, and so fast. But I made it to Rome. After all that, I stepped out into the Roman sun and the warm breese blew all the stress away. I made it.


Coming soon, I will tell you about my first days in Rome. Lots of adventures await being told!
Thanks for reading... :)

Welcome to Tiensestraat 276

The first item of action when moving to any city is securing a living space. So from my first morning in Leuven until the moment I signed a contract, my sole concern was to find a "studentenkamer". These are private rooms subsidized by the University. They consist of a small room usually with furnishings and a bed, commonly with shared bathroom and kitchen facilities. The reason I sought these rooms over studios, flats and apartments is simple: they're cheap, like the budgie. Most went at around 230-270 Euros, and from 300-350 Euros for a room with a private bathroom. On top of this there is often added a 50 Euro utility bill.
I found a place for 205 Euros per month, all in. Out of the eight places I had already seen, this was by far the cheapest, and none of the others gave me a private shower and 3 metres of windows looking out over the rooftops of the city. The views of most kamers (rooms) are limited to the building on the other side of the street.

I first found the place as I was walking down Tiensestraat looking for signs that said, "Kamer te huur". Smelling the warm, yeasty scent of a bakery, I noticed in the window just such a sign. And so I inquired within, taking note of that scent that I would smell every morning for the next 11 months. When I asked for a viewing, the woman behind the counter gave me a set of keys and in broken English instructed me to go to the top floor, that she could not come up with me and tend to her shop at the same time. By the time I reached the room, I understood that the 75 stairs may have been a factor in her choice to stay in the shop. The stairwell had water damage and some mould... not a good sign. But it was clear that work was being done, for the thick wallpaper was being stripped off for future replacement. There were three things that I first noticed when I entered the room. First, it was a dusty mess. Second, the floor is so sloped that it takes my skateboard 2.3 seconds to roll from one side of the room to the other. The third thing, however, put all other concerns into perspective: a large desk facing a span of windows 3 metres long. From this new writing desk I could look out over the city of Leuven and contemplate.

Only two doors down from me is a small supermarket with everything I need for day-to-day provisions. Good thing, too, for I have no kitchen and no fridge or freezer. I shall purchase a hotplate or an electric grill, and buy fresh food daily. Hopefully this will in fact help me save, since I will never be able to hoard and always know the cost of each individual meal. Living cheap is a life skill. Gotta practice it as much as possible.

My second day in Leuven, I had found a perfect place for myself. Hem duril'a. That day I had already went through the aggravating process of registering as a student at the university. But the biggest task of the day was carrying two large luggage bags weighing 23 kg each from the hostel to the stairwell. This 20 minute portage was not extremely enjoyable. I dragged them through a construction zone, a train station tunnel, and down 3 blocks on the ringroad. Then came the 75 stairs. After getting my bags up into the room, I sighed in relief, hem duril'a.
There was much to be done, however. The room was a dust pool, and so I set about the three hour task of dusting and sweeping to every corner. By the end I had collected a veritable mountain of dust.

But finally I could remove my scarf from my face and breath easy in this room that through my labour had become more of a home to me. Since then I have cleaned the shower and the sink, the windows and mirror, and all the furniture. I have purchased a rug for outside my shower door to prevent water from spreading to other areas in my room. Aside from that, I have placed in the room many posters, a degree, and an opened box of Kellogg's Smacks. The nesting process is nearing completion.

My place, as I have explained, is in a very convenient location. Not only am I near stores and bars, but I am less than ten minutes from both the philosophy department and the skatepark. Let's just say I've decided it's worth my 205 Euros per month. With the first month and security deposit made, all I have left to do is meet the neighbors...