Something Extra at Leopold

This was written at Leopold Brasserie in Antwerpen.

Crepes (A temporary title)

Money can purchase a scarf from Nice, not the bliss in my chest when I think back to my small dog.

Money did not buy the motor bike ride with Franchesco.

Maybe it's a means to things? A trail?

Do I care about wearing white everyday of the week in Rome? Absolutely not. It means I can purchase crimson lipstick and send a papered kiss home.

I cried for the loss of a black jacket, not for it's penny value -- It was my friend -- It took me to Tavern on The Green -- It kept the nip away on the plane to London -- It kept this girl company when no-one could.

Strained dollars got me the flight to Brussels, not the 1904 dated flat I am sojourning at now. That was connected kindness.

I cry, yell, and faint by laughter due to life's moments. A life that is supported by money, not fueled by it.

Part II of Day 22

After I left the Italian man-child I headed to the beach, boarding pass tucked safely in journal. The water was aqua, but cold. The sand, what sand? There were rocks. I was told that the stones turned to pebbles if I went far off then aways, but far off and aways sounded exactly how it sounds now.

After lying there for a bit trying to decide on how many days to stay in Belgium, I asked a skinny boy to snap my picture. Ha poor guy. It went a little like this. I on my stomach:

Me: "I'm just going to lay here...Can you try to get the rocks in the shot? O! And don't get my bottom. I don't want to be indecent."

Boy laughed.

Boy: "How's this?"

I took a look.

Me: "Yeahhh you got my butt a little. Can you take another?"

Boy laughed.

Boy: "How 'bout this one?"

The boy's pale faced, navy blue eyed, friend started to quizzically stare. (Of course I couldn't tell the color of his eyes from there this came minutes later)

Me: "Okay! That's good. Thanks!" (I smile. I still unhappy with the picture, but I was not going to make him take another.)

Before the polite thanks came out of my mouth the boys introduced themselves. They were from Canada and were also staying at my hostel. O world you're as small as a child sized show box, aren't you? We got to talking. Navy Eyes told me he had kissed two girls the night before which meant he "might" have cheated on his girlfriend. Then the discussion developed into: Tell her or not? Yes there are too obvious answers: honesty or dishonesty. But let's not forget about the gray area.

Me: "Normally I would advise you to go with the truth. But since it was just a kiss, I vote don't tell her, that is if you still want her, if you don't. Then tell."

Navy Eyes: "She'll know something happened when she sees me." (I can tell A- that he liked her B- that he was worried."

Me: "Then why are you kissing other girls!"

After the subject was thoroughly discussed to no result the boys invited me to go clubbing with them later on. I declined because frankly I was becoming tired of these imbeciles. The Russian, Andrea, the Canadians. My eyes could not take anymore rolling. Dinner with a book sounded ideal.

For dinner I went to a pricey-ish restaurant. I figured since I was paying 22 Euros for a bed it evened out. I had duck with wild mushroom sauce. The duck was tough, but the wine was tasty. I wasn't pleased, but I was okay with it. It was my own fault for being too lazy to hunt down a restaurant on a quiet street. When my waiter came by to ask about desert, I said: "Merci, but no, no desert for me." He asked why I was dining alone. I told him I was traveling alone. At this his eyes popped open a little, not too much, just a little. Then he told me that if I wanted to wait until 10:30, he could meet me for a drink. After paying the bill I told him I would be back to fetch him at 10:30. Did I mean it? No. I was tired of men. Stupid men eating up all of my time

We said see you later to each other and I went for a long walk. The shops were closed so I window shopped at LongChamp. Dear LongChamp, why are your bloody bags so expensive. Really? As I started to head back to the hostel I thought, desert does sound good. I walked in directions where streets became familiar, then before I could realize it I was twenty something feet away from the restaurant I had previously dined at and there was my waiter, Jeremy.

He saw me. There was no avoiding it, so I thought fine, but I'm not going out for drinks! I told him that I did not want alcohol, that I wanted ice cream. He saw no offense in that and took me to a gelataria of which he claimed. "they have the best ice cream in town." This made :) inside because Jane like ice cream. As we walked, Jeremy pointed out the good places to go and he told me about his trip to Australia. He wasn't trying to sex me at all. Why hadn't I found him a day earlier?

He walked me back to the hostel. We hugged good-bye, he said, "Don't forget, come back to Nice." I looked for the petite piece of paper I had written the entrance code on for the front door and it was gone. I started to buzz, but remembered that the personnel at the front desk got off at midnight and that I was told not to lose the tiny piece of paper. I was unsure as to what I should do, so I walked to the center of the street and yelled up:

Me: "Hello I'm staying at this hostel is anyone there!"

Nothing. Jeremy started with attempts to force the door in.

Me: "That isn't going to work. I tried that this afternoon." (I had lost my second piece of paper, but someone was there earlier to let me in.)

A wave of desperation came over me and what was left was:

Me: "Someone open this door now! Hello wake up up there!"

A guy pops his head out of the window facing the street.

Guy: "Hey! Are you that girl from the kitchen?"

Me: "Yeah! I'm that girl! I forgot the code, can you let me in?" (While I had coffee with the Russian the day before, which seemed like six days ago, this Moroccan guy came into the kitchen asking for a tea pot. The Russian being the jackass he is was not very nice to him.)

Guy: "Sure! Just wait!"

The door buzzed. Jeremy said, "Don't forget!" I said, "I won't!"

What ah day.

Day 22

I woke up at 6 something A.M. to go jogging. Those who know me know that waking up at the A.M. to jog is something I do not do. I didn't even have a pair of sneakers. They were more like walking shoes. It was a funny sight.

Anyhow, I ran along the path parallel to the blue sea, the Russian was long forgotten. I had picked a building in the horizon as a destination point, yet when I got to it, I kept going. Back at home I couldn't run four blocks without getting winded. But there was something about using my body as a vehicle to explore that made it possible to continue without hesitation.

It started to rain after an hour and I thought great, not sarcastically, it was hot the rain was welcomed. During the walk home I decided to walk on the opposite side of the street, then I started to weave up and down side streets. As I passed local bakeries and salons that were tourist-less, I thought how splendid it would be to set myself up there,  make friends, and learn a bit of French cuisine. I felt strings to home become untied and I made promises to my bones that I would return. It was a good walk.

After the croissant breakfast I moved from the Canada Hotel to the Meyerbear Hostel. I booked a night there the previous day. (I knew the Russian had off for the next two days, so there were no run-in worries.) I shared a room with three lovely girls from Chicago. They invited me to tag along with them to Monte Carlo for the day, but I had to find a place to print my boarding pass to Belgium, so I had to decline.

As I hunted for an Internet shop that prints Andrea L. cornered me. Yes, I know I haven't introduced him yet, there were too many occurrences the previous day to mention them all. Andrea is a tan blue eyed Italian, who would have dazzled me for three seconds if he had only kept his tacky mouth shut. He approached me in the street to tell me he very much liked my fashion. I was wearing Derek's shirt? ha (Thanks Dairy haha) He, Andrea that is, told me he had to rush off, but it would make him very happy if I were to stop by his office the next day. He handed me his business card, requested for my appearance several more times, and bid me ciao.

When I turned the corner I threw his card into the nearest trash basket. Yet, there he was the very next day, complaining that I forgot him. I told him no, that I was just busy. He asked if I wanted to accompany him back to his office because, "I want to spend time with you, but I must work." (Italian accent) I told him no, that I had to figure this boarding pass thing out. (I had to print it or pay an extra 40 Euro.) He then said, "O, I print it for you , it's no problem for me." I was about to do a head shake to this, but I had to get the stupid paper printed, and I did not want to waste any more time on it. My final response was, "Fine, but I can't stay long cuz I want to get to the beach."

At the office he sat at his desk, I sat across from him. The conversation began with real estate and how Bush the "bastard" ruined the economy for everyone . That no-one was buying in Nice. He was most unhappy to say the least. Then as we waited for the boarding pass to print the conversation changed to:

Andrea: "You know you have ah beautiful breast."

I stared at him as if he just meowed at me like a Persian cat.

Andrea: "I don't like the women with the big breast. Your breast is perfect."

Me: "No you did not just say that to me. Ah thank you but, no. That isn't going to work with me."

He studied me for a moment.

Andrea: "When I saw you, I was very attracted. I had to talk to you even if it just for some minutes."

I could smell the bullshit, but I was super tickled that this man thought he could talk me down.

Me: "Andrea, listen closely, (laughing) it's not going to happen with this girl. (Hand over my head. I pointed at myself for emphasis.)

He then started to sing a song about how life is short, you only live once. Why not do something that you would remember forever?

Me: "If you want to believe in those things, maybe that's okay for you. But I don't. There is no way I would ever -- ever have sex with you. So get that out of your head. And I can't believe that you think it's okay to say these things to me?" (I had to speak to the man as if he were 8 years old. He looked at me as if he really did not understand.)

After this understanding was reached Andrea seemed embarrassed or shocked that his tactics did not work. He apologized if he caused discomfort, then went right into asking me if I would buy him an apple labtop if he sent me the money. (?)

Me: "Would you really trust me enough to send me money to buy you a computer?"

Andrea: "Jane, would you rob from me?"

Me: "Ah yes I would totally rob you."

Andrea: "Ah no Jane. Please. Is cheaper for me if I buy from there. Apple is so expensive here."

Me: "Andrea, I'm not getting you a computer! Now go check if my boarding pass is printed because I have to go."

He looks at me like a brat, checks the back office, and returns with multiple copies of my boarding pass. Apparently he pressed print several times.

Me: "Thank you. And now I must go."

He walked me to the door, apologized some more for being forward. I told him again that I would not buy him a computer. He kissed my hand. I left.

That poor man's mind went out for a pasta lunch and never returned.

Continuation of Day 21

The Russian gives me a stupefied look after my dirty undergarment comment, so I gargled through laugher, "He asked for it." 

When we got downstairs I noticed that his car was parked out front. At which point he said "we can go somewhere around here or I can take you somewhere else." I was feeling a bit adventurous so, "Somewhere else sounds promising."

Inside his car we listened to blaring French rap, as we sped through winding streets up a mountain. Don't look down because it's off a cliff you go. He kept offering me cigarettes, but I told him that I only smoked when there was a drink close by.

He took me to the Beluga, a swanky bar, lounge, restaurant, whatever on the water front. We sat outside it was nice. He ordered his rum and coke, I a glass of red. He smoked. I smoked. I smoked one to his every three. We sat across from each other. I on a couch alone, and he on a leather armchair, which suited me fine since I was more interested in the view then the company.

His personality def. changed once we arrived. There was an air of confidence, one I didn't care much for. He thought he had me. (No-one has me, he would soon find that out.) The confidence did make the conversation entertaining, it was sparring with words. He would say one thing and I would completely disagree, simply to disagree. Except when the subject of love and fidelity arose.

First off he told me, his first sexual encounter was with a "bitch", a hooker. At this I made a very disapproving face and told him that was disgusting. (Boys when trying to impress do not mention paying for it.) Then he went on to say that he had suspicions of his recent ex cheating on him, yet he had already openly admit that he had other women on the side during his relationship with her. But that was okay because he was a man, and "men have needs." Needless to say it was a very heated conversation. On my end there was a lot of:

"What! What is wrong with you? How do you expect someone to be loyal when you refuse to show them the same curtsey? No! It's not okay for men to cheat because they're men! That is the most ridiculous statement I have ever heard!"

After my second glass of red and his of R & C I expressed that was enough for me. When the waiter came to check on us he ordered another R & C and said, "And another glass of red for the beautiful woman." (keep the Russian accent in mind) I quickly responded, "Thank you, but I won't be having anything else."

The Russian, "Common you aren't going to make me drink alone."

Me: "Then don't drink." (with a smile)

He offers me a cigarette. I take it.

Me: "I think they're trying to close anyway. Shall we leave?" (The chairs were on tables, all other patrons were gone.)

Russian: "What do you want? Back to the hotel or somewhere else?"

Me: "What time is it?"

Russian: "One something."

Me: "Some where else. I can sleep when I'm dead." (Laugh. I knew I probably should have called it, calling it, really is an art form.)

We went on to this other place in town which was a positive. There was a live band singing, "Rape me my friend," at which point I expressed excitement, not because I loved the song, but because I went over those lyrics in a features class a few months past.

 I made us sit up close to the band so I couldn't hear him talk. I was having a great time, until the offers for a drink started to accumulate. He must have asked me eighteen times if I wanted a drink, and each time I smiled and said, "No, no thanks." I was trying to keep the little cat inside from clawing his face since he had to take me home. But when the instant came about when he leaned in to kiss me, I put my hand in his face, and said, "Not this girl. I need to get back to the hotel, now."

On the drive back the Russian started to speed and became very quiet. The man had two rum and cokes and three beers, I became worried.

Me: "Would you like me to drive."

Russian, "What?"

Me: Your drunk and you're driving too fast. I'd like to get to the hotel alive if you don't mind."

He slowed down.

Russian: "I'm okay. Don't worry. You don't have to worry with me. I'll protect you." (Yes, he said this. It must be the language barrier or he really is that lame.)

He offered me a cigarette. I was done with accepting anything further from him.

Me: "No, thanks."

 I began to relax and enjoyed the song. Two minutes after relaxtion he offered me another cigarette.

The cat is out..Me: "Stop offering me things I don't want!"

Silence

Russian: "Are you angry with me?"

Me: "Yes! I'm angry with you! How would you like it if someone kept offering you something after you've said no many many times!"

Russian: "I don't think it would bother me."

Me: "Well it bothers me! How are you going to keep offering something to someone when they don't want it? It doesn't make any sense!"

Silence the rest of the way.

When we arrived at the hotel he got out to walk me. I told him that was unnecessary. He offered his number I told him that was also unnecessary. Mean? I don't care. Lets only hope that he learned something that night.

~

Why did I go? I was moving with the changes of the wind. Would I have kissed him if he were a gentleman? No, I don't go around kissing just anyone. It's a privilege, not a given.

Day 21

I am pissed beyond belief but let's just try to work through this. Shall we?

The Bloody Russian. Yeah this isn't going to help. But let's do it anyway.

I woke up to a girl telling me to get downstairs before the hostel stopped serving breakfast, which was good since I had agreed to meet Eugene and the other one, the two Australians for breakfast. I throw on my people cloths, run down, and meet them. We had a pleasant conversation. Their plan was to travel Europe for six months before they devoted another four years to schooling, college. Which def. made me question US youth. When we go on a major trip A- It's typically after college, and B- It's painstakingly planned. Why and why.

Anyway, after breakfast I attempted to book another night at the such and such hostel. Yet, couldn't since there weren't anymore vacancies. (I should have booked for multiple nights.) I asked if there were any neighboring hostels that could be of use. An old French woman told me yes, that I could try at the Meyerbear Beach Hotel, their sister hostel. And that luck was needed since beds went fast on the day of.

So I left on a hunt for this Meyerbeach place. After getting lost, finding it, carrying my heavy bag up two steep flights of steps, I was told,  "Apologies, no beds," but I could use their free Internet if needed. I sat in front of the computer and had a slight emotional attack. I was in Nice wasting the day on a bed search! Mr. Reception Guy asked if I needed assistance, at which point I said:

Me: "Yes actually yes. I need to stay at a really nice hotel. Know of any?" (This is me in a panic - Throw the plastic at the rabid dog before it gets to me - Sorry just read 'Cujo'.

Mr. Reception: "What do you mean by nice? Five Stars nice?"

Me: "Sure, five stars sounds good." (I started to get excited this could be fun)

Mr. Reception: "Okay let me make some calls to see what can be done."

I checked my e-mail and started to plot further travel destinations. Belgium? Why not? Ten minutes pass.

Mr. Reception: "Okay the such and such will take you." (I don't remember it's name.)

Me: "Is it nice?"

Mr. Reception: "It's very nice. And it's only a five minute walk from here."

Me: "How much?"

Mr. Reception: "340 Euro including tax."

My eyes widened. (I just spent 22 Euro for a bed the prior night.)

Me: "340 is a lot."

Mr. Reception: "You said you wanted something nice. This is really nice."

Me: "Okay, can't we find something a little less nice? I'm sorry. Let me be more specific. I would like nice, but I also have to keep an eye on my budget. Is there something less?"

Mr. Reception got back on the phone and twelve minutes later he summoned my attention to the Canada Inn which would cost 84 Euros. I told him that 84 was much better. He booked the room, all I had to do was show. While I gathered my things Mr. R. asked if I wanted to have a coffee with him. I really wanted to get on with the day, but the man had helped me, so I followed him to the employees only lounge and sat on the dish washer as he prepared the coffee. It was a tad humorous:

"Am I really supposed to be back here?"

He: "Yeah it's fine I'm the only one working here today."

As we chatted, he asked why I was traveling alone as most people did. He told me he was Russian, which surprised me since his accent sounded French. He also said he was into UFC fighting and that he was about to graduate college. Bla bla bla we talked. He could sense I wanted to leave, so he invited me out to drinks later that night. I told him yes to shut him up. Would I go? Who knew? We agreed that he would pick me up at the Canada, but if I didn't want in, I would simply stay out.

The hours that followed were glorious. I ate tasty kebabs for lunch and explored the streets until I came upon a trolley type train. I saw it from across the street, ran over and bought a ticket. It transported me up a mountain to a natural park. The views of the shore line folded something inside myself. (Stirred would be too violent.)

Once back at my hotel I decided to go out with the Russian. What was I going to do at the hotel alone? 

He showed, waited, (I always make them wait) and we were nearly off, but I had to mumble something about how ridiculous it was that we had to turn in the room key before leaving. Mr. Reception heard, and said:

"You can take the key if you want."

Me: "Really?" (Sounding hopeful)

Mr. Reception: "Yes, but we have extra keys of every room. If I really wanted to get into your room and go through your stuff, I could if I wanted." (This was said smugly.)

Me: "In that case you'd better hold on to this." (Attitude as I hand him the key & turn to leave.)

As we step down the stairs I hollered back, "Don't go sniffing my dirty underwear while I'm away." (What?)

~~~~~~~~~~~There has to be a part 2. Jane need sleep.~~~~~~~~~

To be continued.........