As I have gotten further into Europe I have begun to realize that Rick Steves is human after all. Not only did he tell me to leave my jeans at home (when everyone is in jeans) but his "pop over here and do x,y,z" suggestions have typically taken me all afternoon to successfully complete. He also seems to be overly into "tours" for my tastes . . .
Anyway, I never hated Rick Steves as much as I did when I arrived at the Brussels Midi Station yesterday. It's in a very rough part of town, as the locals and the bars on the windows told me quite clearly. There are no pictures of this leg of my journey because - well - if you found yourself in downtown Watts would you pull out your brand new camera and advertise your "rich tourist" status?
I ran into this nice guy who told me I needed to get to Central Station (which Rick Steves said was a "easy 3 minute train") but there were no signs for Central anywhere. I thought I would at least recognize the French or Flemish word for Central, but all I saw was a large terminal with several different maps and meaningless numbers, and legends written in French with Flemish for back up. I found a ticket window and said in my best French accent, "Grahn Plahc" (Grand Place). A number of platforms I might go to were suggested, but at each one I tried, there were still no signs with anything in any language remotely resembling Grand Place or Central, or even Station.
Finally I just stood on Platform 3 and asked someone "Grand Place?" when a train approached. Someone waved me onto a train, but once I was on, I realized there were still no signs that made any sense or indicated Grand Place or Central Station. I began to wonder how long I would stay on this metro, and how I would ever know where I was going.
Just then, two Parisians - of the androgynous, spiky hair, and bored looking variety - said they were going to Grand Place, and that I could follow them. Turns out - we needed to transfer trains! How in the hell would I ever have known that?
After about an hour, I arrived at Central Station, exceeding Rick Steves predicted travel time by 57 minutes. After spending another 45 minutes trying to figure out the locker situation, I was finally ready to cruise downtown Brussels.