From one extreme to another.
The hotel we stayed at in Dublin was a step up from a hostel. Barely. This wouldn’t necessarily have been a bad thing, but it was so run down it wasn’t pleasant. The shared toilet with the other three rooms on the floor wasn’t even an issue.
There was a shower stall in the room, and it worked, but the nozzle fell off while I was taking a shower. Standing in the shower stall with soap in my hair and instead of a spray there was a small pipe sticking out spewing a small stream of water. The stall was so small I had a hard time getting enough room to lift my feet to wash them. I guess it doesn’t matter because the drain was backed up and by the time I was finished with my shower I was standing in about 2 inches of travel.
When I booked the room I was promised free internet. It was available, but only downstairs. In the lobby. When it worked.
Old and rustic? No, just old and run down. The stairs were uneven, hallway loud, well, I’ll just stop there.
Getting from Dublin to Brussels was a pain. There is a passport control that needs to take place, and this caused plenty of heartbreak for us.
We got up early and flagged a cab to the airport. There was hardly anybody there at 6 in the morning. We breezed through security and waited a good long chunk of time before heading to our gate. We didn’t even bother getting in line to board until later.
When the person at the gate took our ticket, she said we had to go back out through security and see the ticket agent to have our passport checked. We thought that was already done as we passed through security.
No.
This would lead to one of the biggest lessons Stephen and I learned – Know Your Airports. More on that in a different blog post.
So we run. And it’s literally a half mile or so to get back to the security check point. There is no exit. We talk to one of the security agents and they let us through. Then we run to few hundred yards to the ticket booth where we were supposed to check in (despite already checking in and printing out our boarding passes). Cutting in line we show our boarding pass and passports to the agent, she doesn’t even look at them, stamps the boarding pass, and we run again. Security knows we’re coming. The express lane guy lets us cut in and while we still have to go through security it took less than 20 seconds. And then we run again. That half mile to the terminal at the far end.
We’re 2 minutes late and the plane is gone.
There is nothing the agents at the gate can do for us. Actually, the agents that were at the gate had left. We asked some other folks working the same airline at another gate and they told us we would have to go out and get in the buy tickets line for any sort of customer service.
Remember when I said there was no exit and we had to talk to security to get out? Yeah, there is actually no exit. We wander around trying to figure it out. We talk to security again and they can’t help us because it’s not an emergency.
Turns out we have to go down to a section where there is No Return (really, I wish I had gotten a picture of this door). We have to go through passport control. Fortunately there is nobody there so it was quick. Yes, this means going through customs. This isn’t the first time this has happened apparently. If that’s the case you would think Dublin Airport would take measures against this sort of thing happening.
We get out, go through passport control and customs, then back out and around to the ticket agent. The next flight to Brussels is nearly 10 hours later. And the missed flight fee is more expensive than the flight itself.
As it turns out there are two airports for Brussels, Charleroi and Brussels National. Ryan Air only flies to Charleroi, and twice a day at that. We could have tried to find another airline flying to Brussels, or even gone back in to Dublin for a few hours to see some more sights. Instead we thought it would be a good idea to spend the day checking email and working on posting some pictures.
Dublin Airport has very few power outlets available. We got lucky and managed to find one. I plugged in my computer and we got on Facebook. I taught Stephen how to upload albums as opposed to individual pictures which he greatly appreciated as it saved a whole lot of time for him. I uploaded a few albums of my own. Some emails, I wrote a couple of blog posts, and generally we just decompressed. Well, as much as you can when you miss your flight.
Missing that flight meant missing the entire first day of Rock Werchter. It really is a shame, but it turned out to be better. The 3 days we did attend were enough.
With our proper boarding passes we again leisurely made our way to the gate. This involved literally walking from one end of the airport to the other. We were still the first at our gate by a half hour.
Because we had paid extra to have assigned seats on the aisle and in the front of the plane, I asked the gate agent if there was anything that could be done. Our replacement tickets did not have seats assigned. She put is in the emergency exit row with extra leg room.
Landing in Belgium we went through passport control and customs. I got a stamp in my passport and another country officially entered.
Then it was getting into the city. As I mentioned earlier, there are two airports for Brussels. One is close and served by the well run and extensive train system. One is not. Want to guess which one we landed in?
When in doubt – ask. Head to the information booth.
The woman there was very helpful. There is a bus that takes us into Charleroi (an actual town) and there we would be able to get the train into Brussels. Or we could take the shuttle bus. The bus costs a considerable bit more, but it is much quicker. Because it was already 9:45 at night, we decided to spend the extra money on the bus.
A bus that took nearly an hour to get to where we were going. With no traffic.
Brussels Middi is, from what we were told, the largest train station. I believe it. While I’m sure it doesn’t rival Grand Central, it was big and confusing. And nearly empty by the time we arrived at nearly 11 at night.
Neither one of us speaks French or Dutch, which are the predominant languages here. Actually, neither of us speaks any additional languages. So we have to ask in English. Usually this isn’t a problem, as most people have English as their third language here. Yeah, you read that right. It’s not uncommon for people here to speak three languages. Really does make one feel inadequate.
Somebody who looks as if he is cleaning the place was kind enough to point us in the direction of the general ticket area. Stephen and I split up. He finds a booth with a person and I go in search of ticket kiosks and other information placards.
Don’t split up.
Stephen was in the correct place. A man was hanging around the ticket booth and offered us a ride as a taxi to Leuven for €75 as a special discount over the typical €90. Stephen had left the line (there were only two people there) to find me. Remember, don’t split up and when in doubt, ask.
The man behind the glass at the booth wasn’t necessarily friendly, but he sold us a ticket to Leuven. It’s a big and confusing train station. It’s late. We’re tired. There are still many trains arriving and leaving. He says the train leaves at platform 16. There’s another train to Leuven leaving platform 17 at about the same time. Before we get to platform 16 Stephen heads back to double check. Then the guy gets really angry and yells at Stephen. TRACK 16!!
Rather get yelled at than miss our train.
We get the train, and it’s headed to Leuven along with other destinations. My high school German is not helping me at all, especially considering that I forgot most of it. When Laura and I travelled around the world back in 1995 we visited Berlin. Even then I couldn’t make heads or tails of the language.
On the train I hear “nicht Leuven” or something like this, and I am thinking the train was scheduled to go to Leuven, but something happened and now it is not and we would have to get off at the next stop and get a connecting train.
When in doubt, ask.
Stephen asked another passenger and he assured us we were on the right train, as he was also headed to Leuven. Then the conductor came along and punched our tickets, further ensuring validation we were indeed headed to Leuven.
Pulling into the train station it was close to midnight. We caught a cab and made it to our hotel. Fortunately, one of the emails I wanted to do was to the hotel. I had my confirmation, and I’m sure that would have been fine, but I knew we wouldn’t be getting in until late and wanted to make sure they held the room (as well as having two beds, because Stephen and I are not that close of friends). The hotel had printed out the reservation and had two room keys waiting.
And this hotel was almost the complete opposite of where we stayed the previous evening. A massive bathroom with a luxurious shower. In room coffee, plenty of outlets and wireless internet that was not only free but worked. Yes, it was expensive. No, we hadn’t planned on spending that much, but that’s just not something we’re thinking about.
This one day served as an introduction to some of the many lessons this trek to Rock Werchter would offer.