I am suffering from my first bout of jet lag, which feels like a low-grade case of coming down from crystal meth, sprinkled with sleep deprivation and a pinch of hangover.. Found myself feeling that weird "spun out" feeling I haven't had since the last time I had crystal meth, many years ago.
Wandered around the Grote Markt for most of the morning. On the flight from Atlanta, where I had a layover, I'd brushed up on my Dutch (Goede Morgen! Dank u wel.) only to learn that most everyone in Brussels speaks French. I quickly switched to "Bonjour, merci." Luckily, almost everyone in Brussels is also multilingual, and I've encountered only 2 people who didn't speak English and it was OK. They seemed to understand "Thank you," and I am just hoping correct change has been given at least most of the time.
It was bitterly cold when I stepped out of the Cetraal train station. The sun finally poked its head out of the stormy sky around 2 p.m. By that time, I was making myself comfortable in a tavern, drinking a wheat beer and smoking a cigarette.
Stupidly did not bring shampoo because I figured I'd be able to buy some here, only to discover that most everything is closed on Sundays. Oh, would give anything to be able to wash my hair right now.
Though Belgium has an internet reputation of being super-friendly, I can't exactly say that's been my experience. However, it is alltogether possible I have been glaring at everyone due to the jet lag.
Funny, I never even used to really believe in jet lag. Like some people don't really believe in PMS or fibromyalgia. But here I am with that spun out feeling and a strange type of headache right above my eyes.
Plan to drink a lot of beer when the pub at the hostel I am staying at opens in 2 hours, and then shower and possibly wash my hair with the bar soap I brought, then get a long sleep before I head out tomorrow morning.
The truth is, early this afternoon, before the sun and beer came, I was cranky and beginning to feel a bit depressed. Why exactly am I in Brussels in the dead of winter?
I called Lisa, who is still in Italy. Her boyfriend said I should take the train to Italy, but no, I've got reservations set up. A plan. Lisa has perked up since the last time I spoke to her, told me that jet lag can last days and the best thing I can do is knock myself out tonight and sleep for as long as possible and get back on schedule starting tomorrow. "You're going to be fine," she chirped. "You're going to meet people tonight! You're going to have a great time." Her optimism made me feel like giving her a long-distance kick.
The truth is, I almost felt like crying as I was leaving the Grote Markt, which was sparsely populated with tourists and reminded me a bit of every open market I've ever been to.
Ouch, my head hurts. My back hurts from the 8 hour flight from Atlanta. I ate a weird sandwich at a nearby sandwich shop and took a couple of Xanax, which I am hoping will help settle the weird, spun feeling.
Bought a thick hat at the Markt and two postcards. Tomorrow, it's on to Brugge.
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