2:30 am, Auberge de la Gaichel, Hobscheid, Luxembourg. Earlier today…
9:00 am, Tymiz square, MV Explorer. Me and Stephanie agreed to meet there and go to Ghent together…
But she wears a naughty smile on her face and suggests dropping by Ashley’s room. Ashley is our alumni coordinator and no one can play a Georgian redneck like him [sorry, offtop]. Turned out that Ashley was planning to go to Luxembourg to meet with his friend who also does catering, and have a dinner at his restaurant at five pm.
One hour later we were walking down the street with our backpacks in search of a car that he rented. The search turned out to be quite lengthy. We even put up a suggestion that the night before Ashley could have been drunk and gotten home by taxi, leaving his car in the other part of the city. He kept showing people the picture of an antique harp shop near which he believed he had parked his car. But at last we found it. The harp shop was nowhere to be seen.
Ray: After I killed him, I dropped the gun in the Thames, washed the residue off me hands in the bathroom of a Burger King, and walked home to await instructions. Shortly thereafter the instructions came through – “Get the fuck out of London, you dumb fucks. Get to Bruges.” I didn’t even know where Bruges fucking was.
Ray: It’s in Belgium.
And we went to Bruges. I mean, we didn’t really plan to, but Bruges was haunting us everywhere, and we went to Bruges, using the old-school method – paper maps. Took us some time to get there…
Ray: “Because at least in prison and at least in death, you know, I wouldn’t be in fuckin’ Bruges. But then, like a flash, it came to me. And I realized, fuck man, maybe that’s what hell is: the entire rest of eternity spent in fuckin’ Bruges!”
Can’t say that we really saw Bruges, but what we did see for sure was very… [de fooking swons] – and the tower, the main viewpoint in the area [It’s a fairytale town, isn’t it? How’s a fairytale town not somebody’s fucking thing? – Harry, “In Bruges”] – I didn’t even have time to go up. And nothing really drove me up (unless I wanted to estimate the height from which Ken fell at the end of the movie). But we sat right where Ray and Chloe were enjoying their evening beers while Harry was out on the hunt, and we didn’t plan this either.
I made a circle around the main square and pitied that I couldn’t stay for the day. I could’ve stayed for sure, but there would’ve been no today’s adventures!
Besides, this Italian waiter at the cafe we settled in was quite annoying. First he was going on about how beautiful I was (well, thanks). Then while I was strolling down the square, and the guys waited for the food to arrive, he’s been telling Stephanie and Ashley about how he would like to take me back home to Italy. I mean, too many Italians, and just one me… The guys kept trolling me about this all day long.
Ray: “A great day this has turned out to be. I’m suicidal, me mate tries to kill me, me gun gets nicked and we’re still in fookin’ Bruges!”
We couldn’t stay much longer, unfortunately, so we headed to Brussels, which was supposed to lead us straight to Luxembourg. Well, not exactly: all three of us lost the track of streets and turns and we made a huge circle around the city through all the traffic. When we finally got out I knew for sure: Brussels was very much like Moscow. I did not like Brussels.
On we went. It was getting dark, and while we drove down the highway, the fog was slowly covering the hills, and finally even the trees that grew by the road got lost in the mist.
We didn’t really get the moment when we crossed the border, because there was no border. Belgium just suddenly became Luxembourg. In one day we went through three language zones – Flemish, French and Luxembourgan. And straight through the whole country. When we finally got to the restaurant (4 hours later than planned) by the border, we were all exhausted, yet happy. Tom, the owner, jumped out to meet us, and we had the most wonderful dinner possible. I mean, I haven’t tried stuff like this, ever. The little “omnomnom” creature inside of me got some pure gastronomical orgasm and laid down to rest. One probably can imagine what a little family restaurant with the heart put into it may be like… or not. Yum.
And finally Tom showed us the way to the hotel, which was in the other village (a long drive for Luxembourg, 15 minutes through some very Steven Kingish scenery). Here we are now, with absolutely no idea of what tomorrow will bring us, but we’re not thinking much right now. This old old prune cognac that completed our meal still feels too good to spoil it.
Goodnight to y’all.