Warning this post is longer than usual….

So my trigger finger was activated and I went to Brussels and Amsterdam. A cheap flight popped up on my phone and I grabbed it. $600 round trip is cheap for an overseas trip. Plus when I was living in Spain it was the tail end of Covid so my trip to Amsterdam was squashed.  I always wanted to see the famous tulips and here was my chance and it was on my birthday.

Every year I’m somewhere different for my birthday. Last year I was still in Spain and went to Milan with my then-boyfriend. It was lovely,  now I  know why the Italians are so well-dressed and think we  Americans look like poop. They’re right, we dress very unfashionably and a lot of us are overweight too, me included. After all, we don’t walk miles a day like them and eat olives and cheese with our wine at every meal, darn it.

So, I planned my escape.

I worked a full day and then drove to the airport, hopped a night flight and I was off, with a stopover in London. As soon as I got on the plane I was in my happy place, I wanted champagne but I was in the cattle car in the back, no Payne for me….someday I’ll fly first class again when I win the lottery.

I landed at 1 pm in Brussels, I then went through hell in immigration as 300 people were in line and they only had one immigration officer. Wtf, like they didn’t know 300 ppl were getting off this plane? And damn it there was no Global entry to zip through. I had to wait with all the cattle. It sucked as I was to meet a young fellow traveler from a travel club I belong to who lives in  Brussels and he was going to show me the city on arrival. Thanks to the inefficiency of immigration, I was 3 hours late.

 Anyway, I figured out the train to the city tapped my card, and got on. I got off the train and began walking uphill on the uneven cobblestone streets. And what did I do? I tripped and went down with my backpack and phone, smashing my right knee just like I did in Turkey last year. I hopped up instantly before anyone could get to me and kept going. I work out for a reason and this is one of them. Oh, and I always bring pain medication and band-aids on every trip.

I got to my hotel “Hotel One” a quirky hotel 10 minutes from the Train station. Ran to my room and changed. I came downstairs and he was waiting for me, a handsome young Frenchman with bright eyes and a big smile named Aurelien. I was old enough to be his mother. Ah but if I was younger….. damn those dirty thoughts. Maybe I could be a cougar….not.

He was born in France and lived in Brussels. We ran out the door and he showed me several tourist places within a 10-minute walk from my hotel, he was lovely and spoke perfect English. It was raining and cold in Brussels, and the architecture was distinctly French and Spanish. He said the French invaded Belgium nine times and the Spanish four times among other cultures hence the architecture. The place was full of people speaking French everywhere. It was cool, all I thought of was eating French food. He then went on his way to be with his friends as I was so late arriving.

The next day I was scheduled to go to Amsterdam where the vibe was way different.

Turns out that somehow I managed to book my hotel on the famous “Kings Day” where the city becomes a sea of drunk people wearing orange.

I got off the train and stepped out, the station inside and out was full of orange. I came out onto the street and there were thousands of people in orange drinking.

Just so you know I was wearing orange too; always dress to match your location I always say. I got on the metro and was immediately crushed getting on the train by packs of orange-dressed drunk youngsters. Squashing into the train I was packed in like a sardine. Good thing I recently lost 12 pounds. It was fun watching the kids in orange laughing and speaking Dutch. Gee, I never thought of the Dutch as party animals. And no one was in wooden shoes.

At the first stop two young ladies with a can of beer were leaving so I said “Happy Kings Day.” They smiled and gleefully said thank you!, then one said “Did you know your raincoat matches your lips? I was wearing a pink raincoat and yes I was wearing pink lipstick. Thanks for noticing.

Twenty got off and thirty got on. The next stop was mine. Half the orange sea and I got off. There was a huge outdoor concert going on just outside the station. No wonder they were all getting off here. Thanks to GPS I was able to find my hotel and thought I hope it’s not next to this thing, That is why earplugs come with me on every trip too.

I checked in got a German beer as they had no “Dutch local beer “and went to my room to dress as I had a boat tour scheduled at 5 pm in downtown Amsterdam where the famous red-light district was.

Hours later I got on the tram to get downtown and as usual, went the wrong way got a view of the suburban area, and hopped on another to get to the right place.

And there it was; the river, with the Dutch buildings lining the river on both sides. It was cool except for the thousands of orange people on all sides, which made it hard to see the true beauty of the buildings. The boats going up and down the canal were filled with orange people singing and drinking. Ok then. I walked around and passed the smell of pee and pot on each corner. No problem, I had heavy hiking boots on that were impenetrable to water, pee, or vomit. Not that I would know about that.

I got to my boat tour and was greeted by a young happy hostess who gladly assisted me and the other elders onto the boat first. Well, there is some benefit to getting older. I sat next to two South African ladies and a retired couple from Oklahoma on my right. Yup, all the old people at the front.

Little did I know this was a party boat. No problem, go with the flow. The boat was open style and held at least 30 people sitting and standing with cases of beer and wine in the middle of it. We meandered down the canal just looking at everything. Then the host peaked through the people standing and asked me do you want a drink? Yes “some wine,” I said knowing I couldn’t get through the small crowd on the boat to get it myself. She handed me a full bottle of wine with cups and said ‘pass it around”  So I did.

It was lovely and fun as each boat we passed was partying and one guy with a beer belly was shirtless and singing on the boat next to us. So the atmosphere was fun. After the ride, I walked about to find a bathroom; it was impossible. Thentwo2 young ladies outside a burger place took pity on me when I said “I’m old, I hate peeing on myself”. They let me in to pee immediately. Hmm, this old card is paying off.

I wandered the famous red-light district, it was crowded and the smell of weed was around every corner. I went down one of the streets and there were the ladies of the night on display selling their wares. Each stood in windows the size of a door on each side of the street that was no more than maybe 50 feet wide. I felt bad for the ladies, how many drunks they must deal with, legal or not they will never get paid enough I thought as I stepped over condoms on the street. Yea for my hikers.

As I wandered it was evident there was no place for me to really hang out and seeing the hordes of men at the outside urinals. I figured this was just the beginning as the night was young and I didn’t want to step in vomit anywhere.

I went back to my hotel.

Tomorrow I planned to see the famous tulips that were on my bucket list.

The next morning, I jumped on the train to the shuttle and went to Keukenhof: a garden of some 80 acres of dazzling tulips consisting of 800 tulip species. It was spectacular. Acres of tulips everywhere. And plenty of outdoor cafes for a libation and a snack.

I was blown away by the colors and sizes of the tulips. Ide never seen so many colors and they were huge.  There were even black ones! As I stared at them in disbelief there were two ladies near me and one said “Wow the tulips are black” “Yup like your heart” said the other one. Now that was a good one.

Then I went to a Michelin-star restaurant for my dinner. Ide never been to one and it was out of my budget, but, it was my birthday.

I went to a place called “Armes de Bruxelles” A French restaurant. It was beautiful inside, and the snooty hostess came up to me saying “Bonjour.” She couldn’t find my reservation, but said “no matter” and sat me anyway with her French nose in the air.

I ordered snails in garlic in memory of my mother and broiled cod. And of course a glass of champagne.

Three glasses later I gave the waiter a huge tip. My credit card alerted me later that night saying “Did you mean to tip this high?” It’s not your usual.” I wanted to text back; nope, but I was drunk. Maybe they should have a pre-text warning “ don’t get drunk and tip the farm missy” before every restaurant reservation.  Now that’s a useful text.

In fact, credit card companies should have a choice on text alerts:  like the “don’t get drunk” alert, the “You idiot, you spent too much again” alert, or just a meme shaking its head. That would teach me.

Well, the next day I was back in Brussels. I stayed at a lovely hotel called “The Dominican” for my last night which was my actual birthday. It was ten minutes from the train station but clearly on a street that was way more upscale than the other hotel I was in. The building was white French architecture. The inside was lovely, the bar area had gorgeous, upholstered chairs in a dimly lit room and a bar lit from underneath in red, making the place seem romantic and relaxing.

I asked for a place to eat like a brassiere as I was starving. I was sent across the street to another lovely place. Inside was distinctly French looking with modern chandeliers, burgundy walls,  and artwork hanging throughout. I ordered a Flemish dish of stew as it had been cold and I wanted something warm. The stew was tasty in a burgundy sauce with tender bits of meat.

And of course champagne.

Afterward, I went back to my beautiful room and relaxed.

 A few hours later I had to go to the stunning hotel bar and order my last champagne for the day and enjoy the atmosphere of the place. I ordered something called a “lobster roll.” Thinking it would be a roll of some sort. But to my delightful surprise out came this phenomenal dish of fresh lobster and vegetables formed as as if it came out of a round mold. It was one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten. The lobster was chilled, tender, and juicy, and whatever cream it was mixed in, divine, with bits of crisp celery. I wanted to eat ten of them. I closed my eyes, tasted it slowly in my mouth, and enjoyed every single bite, while slowly sipping my champagne. I was in my own little heaven.

My last night was perfect for my birthday. I do love luxury, I admit it. I so wish I was wealthy, but I suppose if I was ide be fat from overindulgence or Ide grow tired of luxury. Maybe being middle class it made me enjoy it so much more. 

People ask me why do you travel alone? This is part of it. It’s just me and a lovely restaurant where I can sit,, close my eyes, taste the food fully, and take in everything with no interruption. That is of course unless I meet someone dashing who’s worth interrupting me, but I digress. Happy birthday to me.

Stay at a fancy ass hotel on your birthday.

Eat the most beautiful thing you can.

Drink champagne.

Oui Oui to me.

Somewhere in Belgium on my Birthday.