So let me start with the fact that this was one trip I should never have gone on in so many ways. Baby-wise, obviously, although that seems to have turned out ok; then money-wise because I had to dip into my fees in order to afford it and now I don't really know how I will pay the rest of the tuition fees that are due in January. And then there is the work factor because not only did I miss workdays, but I had to make up for the missed ones and so ended up working for 5 consecutive days from as early as 8AM Friday (I flew back Thursday night) for 11 hours each day and by Wednesday I was a wreck, physically in the very least. Kinda made me wish I had gone to Trinity, who would, as I found out, have tried to help students who couldn't afford a trip that was a part of their course and assist them financially to reduce the burden. But no, I went to UCD and – due to lack of better word – got royally screwed.
So anyway, the whole ordeal started on the wrong foot, so it really had little elsewhere to go from there. Our flight with Ryanair (I say 'our' because I met another student, Alicia, at the airport as she was flying in the same day as well) was delayed by almost 2 hours because of weather conditions in Brussels.
Consequently, we ended up being a couple of hours late for everything, even moreso when it turned out that it would take us about 3 hours to get from Brussels to Antwerp and not 1 hour like we were told by the guy who sold us the train tickets (and no, we didn't miss any trains or busses, it actually took us that long). Thankfully, Antwerp isn't that large a city to get seriously lost in, so we caught up with everyone else pretty quickly. The only thing is that we missed the tour of Antwerp cathedral, so we had to go in on our own and not for very long. I'm glad we did though, it was a real experience to see these paintings in real life; they're amazing. The city also is very beautiful. It has this amazing, unique beauty and age of an old European city that I love so much; reminded me again why I'm in love with this continent above all others. You could just smell the years that have gone by. I only wish I had more time to take photos (and a better weather, for that matter because not only did the lighting conditions suck, but my hands froze every time I took out the camera… yes, it was cold). Also took me a while before I realized they were driving on the opposite side of the road and what to do to not get run over by cars or cyclists (especially in a city that doesn't really make distinctions between the paving of the road and the footpath so they both look the same… it's old and beautiful, but not very safe for tourists).
After a visit to a few more sites, which again, were beautiful, I just wished the visits were under different circumstances, we ended up for a few minutes in a pub (oh yeah, 3 Irish pubs in Antwerp… that I counted
) before dispersing to our hotels. That in itself was actually hilarious because apparently the hostel I was staying in was the same 2 mature students from years gone by were staying in and when I blurted out the word 'hostel' in relation to it, one of them – very defensively – was like, no! It's a hotel! As though it was beneath her to stay in something called a hostel. Having encountered the same character before, I just stayed quiet. Of course, it was a hostel. Granted, it was very nice (and amazingly cheap!) and very new, but still a hostel, a small family-run hostel in the centre of Antwerp, just off the Cathedral. I definitely had a very good experience staying there. Later that night we (well, the young 'we', as in minus mature students) went out to a restaurant. We ended up in an Italian place (unbelievable how many there are in Antwerp!) that was very nice and the food was great and very cheap. Almost as good and cheap as it was in Rome… I miss Rome 
. It was a nice night.Talked a bit about the MA and stuff and lecturers and just random stuff. Turned out I was not the only one who was wondering why the mature students were doing the MA class, or rather our mature students, who seem to have no interest at all in art history, or career plans, and just sleep through classes (well one of them) and spend most of the time complaining. Of course I was not at all surprised when it turned out that we all were wondering about the same question – what the hell were they thinking allowing that poor excuse for a lecturer from NCAD to teach an MA class. I hope they won't repeat that mistake next year. We also talked about our lecturers (well, they talk about us, I'm pretty sure
). I'd been happy before that I was lucky enough to have John as thesis supervisor, but seeing that none of the others were particularly happy with their supervisors made me realize that I was even luckier. We actually had a thesis-related meeting in college the other day and he was uncertain whether he was the right person for the job, but I'm personally very glad and grateful that he agreed to help me.The night was weird. It was spent away from honey, our first night apart since we moved in together and it was just way too weird. It just felt wrong. Obviously I rang him (apparently he tried to ring me but couldn't get through as he kept trying ringing with an Irish country code… gotta love my sweetness
), and we wished each other good night, but it just wasn't the same.The next day I got up early and went out to take some more pictures around the city, capture a bit of its atmosphere as well, but the weather and lack of time to really wander around got in the way (oh yeah, my relatively small Antwerp album can be found here). I also tried to find an ATM. These people don't believe in ATMs it seems. I don't know how they pay for their stuff, but I only saw one during my 2 days in the city and the other guys had trouble finding one as well. Anyway, the first museum we went to was actually very good. We got to see a lot of paintings by Rubens and others; the Rubens ones were especially spectacular, but you wouldn't really expect any less. I have to admit though that I don't really take to some of the art that was displayed there so I didn't find too many tings to grab my attention; nothing like Bernini's David for example, in front of which I just froze for an hour. I do think however that it's a shame we didn't have more time. At that stage I thought I would go back one day, but right now, following my experience of getting out of the country, I doubt I would ever set foot there again, even for the sake of Rubens' paintings.
The second museum was a print museum, which was rather interesting as well. Oh and in between I should mention that it actually snowed, but unfortunately it was wet. Damn. And I found a place that made the yummiest waffles, which I couldn't finish because the amount of cream and chocolate in and all around them was too much even for me, but it was still heavenly.
So the print museum was very nice, although it didn't leave me with much of a taste for more like the previous one did. I felt I'd seen all I needed to in there. I had to leave early straight after it though, and that's when the real hell began…I made it okay to the train station, but when I tried to ask the guy in there which train I should take to get me back to the airport, his attitude was awful and he did me a favour that he even talked to me I think. He was not at all inclined to help and actually charged me more for the ticket than I thought he should have by selling me a more expensive one (I just wanted to make the flight so badly that I didn't care) and also, as it turned out later, told me to get off at the wrong stop. It's noteworthy that I finally did find an ATM just before getting into the train station though and withdrew 50 euro. I bought sweets and waffles for the family with my credit card, so after buying a sandwich and something to drink I was left with approx. 40 in cash. It will be important for later in the story.
On the train I tried to confirm with some of the passengers whether the stop he'd recommended really was the right one and they all said yes, but it just still seemed wrong to me. Should have trusted my instincts. I got off at it though and asked one of the officers there if it really was the right one, again, but she just ignored me and kept telling me to look at the screen. By the time I located a screen and sorted through the (foreign) names to find what I needed, the train was off once again and I was left at the Brussels central station. At that stage it was past 5 PM, nearly 2 hours before the takeoff. Hoping or the best, I went outside and grabbed a taxi. Of all the ones I could have found, it was that one and I will thank that for the rest of my life because I definitely found one of my guardian angels behind its wheel.
I asked him to take me to the airport and asked how much he thought it'd be. He said at least 40 euro. I didn't think it'd be that much, but I was desperate so I agreed. When he saw I was hesitating, he said that if I wouldn't have enough, he'd ignore the meter and just take 40. It was all I had. Five minutes into the ride, he asked again which airport – I had no idea there was more that one in the vicinity and I said it was Charleroi. He had apparently thought it was the International one and was like, your airport is 67 km outside the city! Imagine my face that moment. I tried to keep my cool although honestly that stress, and the continuous stress for the next two hours were the last thing I needed.
I asked him to drop me at a bus stop or back at the train station so I could catch a bus or a train there, but he said there were no busses and the next train would be living in an hour and I'll never make it for my flight. I knew he was right. But then he tried to calm me down and started ringing all his friends, until he finally found one who had a group of Italian tourists that needed to catch the Ryanair flight to Venice that left just 5 minutes before mine to Dublin. He told me he'd pick them up and take us to the airport as fast as he can. He'll charge them as much as he should and me only 40 euro. Finally, we made it to their hotel, but then we couldn't get out of the city and the clock was ticking. The Italians wouldn't shut up and he was at his wits' end. The traffic just froze. It didn't move slowly, it didn't move at all; even the police that tried to manage it were helpless. I thought that was it. I'm not a religious person, but I actually started praying to whatever listened to please, please get me out of that country and I'd do anything. I texted honey, telling him I wouldn't make the flight because he was supposed to pick me up, but he just told me not to worry and try to get another one, whichever one; he'll wait for me for as long as it took. We both knew there was no other one, and I had to get up for work at 6AM the following morning.
Finally, we made it out, and I'm pretty sure his speed on the freeway was above legal trying to get us in on time, but I was way beyond caring. I made it to the airport 30 minutes before takeoff; made it to the window just before it closed and the line in security seemed to stretch forever, but I made it on time to board. By god, I never enjoyed a takeoff as much as I did that one. I had never been as happy to see Ireland's lights from the plane's window as we were landing at home. I can't recall another such sense of relief. When I saw honey's face, I just ran into his arms and we were completely unaware of everyone else for a moment; I had no idea it'd be so good to see him again. It was a bit funny because one of his bosses happened to be there too and it was a very awkward meeting between us seeing as I was just easing off after all the stress and really wasn't up to it.
So that was it; my experience in Antwerp. I'm not going back to that country; at least not anytime soon. The artistic aspect of it was worth it, but my experience in it, especially getting back home, just left a huge dark stain over everything Belgium-related and I don't see myself repeating it again in the nearby future. I really wish it hadn't been like that because with that aside, it was a nice trip.
Oh, by the way, something completely unrelated. Yesterday we gave Ciara her birthday present and card because we wouldn't be able to do that later on as I'll be in work and And will be away. So we went over there and gave her the card, which was good and well, then it was time to open the present and, even as she was getting through the wrapping, I had a wrong feeling. When she finally opened it, I realized why – it was the scarf we got Audrey for Christmas!
We all burst out laughing obviously because it really was hilarious, but frankly – a priceless moment. I can't believe we both didn't realize we picked up the wrong bag! Obviously we got her the right present eventually, but hell, that was priceless. That was… something that so absolutely can only happen to yours truly.
And, speaking of pressies, got a parcel from my mom and dad with pressies. I got this ring from them:
