After some down time in my “home away from home” (Kehl), I zipped over to Brussels near the end of August to visit my friend Nazilta for a few hours.
Waiting for the bus. Left to right: some random guy, Nazilta, Valeria (Nazilta’s roommate), and me.
Brussels is a beautiful city. While there, I had the opportunity to tour the palace of the King and Queen of Brussels (for free!) as well as to meander downtown for a few hours to get an overview. Obviously, 42 hours in a city that size isn’t nearly enough to adequately see anything but the highlights of the highlights.
However, we had time for at least one very important experience — eating a genuine Belgium waffle. And let me tell you, I still remember the buttery, gooey goodness of this!
Mmmm mmmm mmmm.
I thoroughly enjoyed my visit with Nazilta and the chance to actually see Brussels for real, from outside the airport (where I was last summer for a few hours en route to and from Sierra Leone).
Something else I’ll remember from that jaunt to Belgium: on the return trip, as the train crossed into Germany, I felt a surge of excitement. When I mentioned this to Nazilta and how Germany really did feel a lot like home, she said, “See. Home isn’t always where you were born.”
Yep.
I think home is more than a place, more than family (whether by blood or by adoption) and friends. Home includes a sense of “This is where I belong” — even if it’s only temporary for now.