The End



SUNDAY, December 24, 1995.

After we got back from Paris, Gaelle and I had a week in Brussels, enjoying our time together and eating lots of sushi. I spent my days writing e-mail, and making arrangements for my future. After long and careful consideration, I finally had accepted a job at Adobe starting in January. So much for my grand escape from Silicon Valley!

On December 2nd, Gaelle had to leave for a one week business trip to Croatia. Don't panic, she didn't enter a war zone. She was perfectly safe. Actually, she really liked it there. I'd originally planned to leave for New York on the 8th, but I wanted to see Gaelle after she got back from Croatia, so I decided to stay until the 11th. The only question was what to do while she was away. I was neither excited about a week alone in Brussels nor anxious to do more solo traveling, but I figured "Oh, what the heck, why not go to London and Dublin?"



I'd been to London for five weeks during the summer after my sophomore year of high school, but I'd hadn't been to the U.K. during my big European adventure and thought it'd be nice to see it again after 9 years. On the morning of Saturday, December 2, I left Brussels on the London bound EuroStar train! Yes, I ventured through the new "Chunnel" linking England to mainland Europe. Though it was exciting to think about, the Chunnel was pretty dull. It's just a long tunnel. London greeted me with cold, drizzly, gray weather. It was appropriate for my mood. I was immediately aware that I'd had my fill of sightseeing for the year, especially in bad weather.

Coincidentally, it turned out that my friend Bill was also in London. We'd arranged to have dinner that night. After I checked into my hotel, I went out and wandered around Covent Gardens. Even in the drizzle, I enjoyed walking around this bustling shopping area and listening to the street musicians, before meeting Bill at his hotel. Bill and I went out for dinner and then to a pub for a few beers before we called it a night. I met up with him again on Sunday for a little stroll around the city and to see "Golden Eye". Something seemed appropriate about watching 007 in England.

Photos of London

I hung around London for three nights, but my heart wasn't into it. There were a few highlights. I did get a kick out of seeing Big Ben, Parliament and Westminster Abbey, and there was something neat about standing in a place called "Piccadilly Circus." I saw "Phantom of the Opera," did lots of window shopping, hung out at a cafe with two Danish au pairs (who were impressed by my tour of their country), and met lots of interesting students staying at my hotel. As if my spirits weren't sagging low enough, England lived up to its reputation for terrible food. Everything I ate ranged from poor to mediocre. I had a croissant that wasn't even suitable for a Burger King breakfast sandwich. I'd originally planned to continue on to Dublin but decided it'd just be a waste. So Tuesday morning, I headed back through the Chunnel to Brussels. I just wanted to vegitate. There was only one snag, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get into Gaelle's apartment!

Gaelle has only one set of keys for her apartment, but two sets of keys for her car. We'd both taken a car key and left the apartment keys in the car. Simple enough. Unfortunately, the plan was half-baked. Gaelle had been planning to drive to Gare du Nord and take the airport train from there to catch her flight to Croatia, so it wasn't clear exactly where the car would be parked. Plus, I'd been planning to travel until Saturday afternoon and then go visit Gaelle's friends, Ross and Elizabeth, until she got home late Saturday night. It had seemed unlikely that I'd need to know where the car was, but just in case, the plan was to try to relay information via answering machines and telephone calls. Like I said, it was half baked, but it had seemed good enough at the time.

When I arrived in Brussels, I wasn't sure where to find the car, but I figured it be at Gare du Nord. I had a feeling that I'd find it somehow. After all, it should be easy to spot the only Saturn in Brussels. The train from London had left me at Gare du Midi, so I figured I'd have a look around there first, just for kicks. It wasn't there, so took a tram to Gare du Nord. It turns out that there had been a fire! Gare du Nord was closed and practically deserted. There were only two cars in the entire parking garage and neither of them was Gaelle's Saturn. I started to get desperate. I thought that maybe she'd driven to Place Louise and taken the Metro, so I went and searched the area. No luck. At this point, I figured I'd end up in a hotel for the night but decided to take a desperate last look in front of Gaelle's apartment. Perhaps she actually had taken my advice and rode a taxi to the airport. Twenty minutes later I was walking down her block; at first, I didn't see the car. Then, suddenly, all the way at the corner, there it was! Gaelle's car! "Eureka!" I cried out. I'd found it. The apartment keys were even inside!

I spent the rest of the week hanging around Brussels waiting for Gaelle to come home. I did a little bit of writing, played way too much computer solitare, made some phone calls, went out for a lot of walks, and saw a few movies. Fortunately, my friend David from Zurich came into town on Thursday. I was able to spend time with him on Friday and Saturday. Saturday evening, I had dinner at Ross and Elizabeth's place. Some things do actually occur as planned.

Late Saturday night, Gaelle and I finally were together again. We enjoyed our last day together, and then, unbelievably, it was Monday, December 11th. The time had come to return to the United States! My time in Europe had drawn to a close. Gaelle drove me to the airport, and there, standing in front of the terminal on a cold, gray, December morning in Belgium, we kissed, stared into each others eyes, and hugged good bye. As I walked into the terminal, I gave her one last wave and felt the entire year pass behind me. I took a deep breath, sighed and walked briskly to the American Airlines desk to check-in for my flight.

Thank you, Europe, for the memories.



Copyright 1997 by Bradley Edelman
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

E-mail: Brad Edelman