Dear fellow Babblers,
Welcome to the first official post of my new “Wanderings” section of my blog, formerly a “book reviews” only portion of the blogosphere. And the first stop of this new tour is the city of warm waffles and candy chocolate: Belgium. I spent four days in Brussels and while I could write to you about the usual tourist attractions or my new love affair with the city’s people why don’t I give my lovelies some dummy tips. My short stay in Brussels earned me a lovely and wacky reputation as the chick who does the Michael Jackson jig drunk off sangria, jack & coke, plus a good ole round of shots. So lets get straight into locita Delphina’s 72-hour-long drinking and partying exhibition. I’d love to talk about more, but I really don’t remember – yup, I was really that out of it. Oh, wait, before I go on, if you are mami or papi please stop your reading NOW. You will no like how this continues, and I prefer to think of me as your innocent Fifi who visits museums and sits in the corner of her room with a book in hand. So unless you are my parents, please…read on into my cray cray Belgian experience – a trip to remember not just for the parting but the emergence of a whole new me… who would ever have thought a book geek could partayyyyy… fun sure, but not something I would like to take part in again. Just give me back my books and fruity mango smoothies and allow us to call it a day.
Three nights in Belgium – two of which were spent floating in a hazy blur between clubs, bars, arms of one disaster and into the arms of another. Names ? Phone numbers ? Faces ? Nope, don’t remember a thing except that there were many.
I was staying with a known reggae singer in the area who seemed to know just all the right places for just about everything! I wish I had taken names down of the bars and clubs that I went to, but I was completely just gonneeeeeeeee, if ou catch my drift. I do have a steady set of pictures though of some of the lieu I occasioned – all of which were in the city center.
Okay. So first evening in Brussels. My reggae buddy took me to his flat and made me just about the most delicious warm mean I’ve had in ages. Having lived by myself for about 3 years now, I’ve grown used to eating cold food – raw carrots, persimmons, licorice – everyday. So you can’t even begin to imagine what a paradise I entered at the sight and taste of this meal. It was a Senegalese and Moroccan dish complete with sauces, spices and vegetables – the perfect vegan meal that I could eat forever without gaining more than a pound of lovey doveyness. With this warm mean in my tummy I was ready to take on all that Brussels night life had to offer.
My first night I reached beyond drunk but nowhere as disastrous as my second night, just read on into the tips section and you’ll understand why I started off by telling y’all about my warm, I repeat, warm, meal.
After a complete ramble what’s my first tip for y’all ?
Know what you’re drinking ! :
Obvious, yes, I know but I mean, I’m a 22-year-old with the brain of a 14-year-old romantic. Girls just wanna have fun and that’s exactly what I wanted. I really just looked at the menus and chose whatever names appealed to me without a second thought on the effects of missing – red delirium, pink pleasure (
am I making this up?), jack and coke. And then a lot of my drinks, to keep from appearing like an amateur to everyone around me where chosen by my reggae buddy who I had known for no longer than a day. For those of you thinking “what kind of idiot” goes clubbing on an empty stomach, in a foreign country with no one that she even knows ? allow me to agree with you, but then again – girls just wanna have fun so eff off and let me do my life! Each drink I took was paused by a round of shots – none of which I know the name of, but they were as strong as you see in those movies.
With no idea what I was drinking, it didn’t take long for me to completely lose my sense of sanity and bodily presence. Soon I was up in the clouds – sometimes laughing, others crying for no better reason than that I was just gonnneeeeeee.
So please my bar babblers, know what you are consuming!
Tip #2: Warm meal in belly prior to alcohol consumption
First night: Moroccan-Senegalese couscous feast – endless drinking, beyond drunk but still surviving
Second night: Cigarettes + Raw Carrots + cold-pressed juice is equivalent to close-to-fatal state upon contact with alcohol.
Yes, I did just say close-to-fatal. While on the first night I was able to go from 9 pm all the way through 7 am nonstop drinking and dancing, the second night was a different story altogether – one that I do not advice following as an example. First night partying went through 7 am and so I didn’t get any sleep until about 9 in the morning and woke up at 2 pm to attempt to do sight seeing. I woke up with a hangover and absolutely no willingness to put a think in my mouth. I probably should have drunk some tea or eaten something warm, but, of course tiny Delphine has it in her head that she’s super woman and can make it through an entire day on an empty stomach with the sensation of last night’s liquor still burning up her insides.
I thought all would be well enough for me to do a repeat of last night. Well, sorry folks, but all did not go swimmingly…
Not three drinks through and I’m turning my buddy: “S****. Je ne peux pas y arriver! S****, je vais mourir!” I’m a drama queen, I’m well aware. I really did think I was going to die! He tried to pause our partying by taking me to a place to get something warm in my stomach but with all my heaving and nausea I couldn’t get a thing in my stomach. So instead, I somehow managed, in m delirium, to convince him to take me to a salsa bar. And what’s the first thing that happens at this bar? Throw up all over the floor, all over myself, all over who knows who, and out Delphine goes… pretty quick huh ?
I legitimately had to get escorted out by security, it was that bad folks. Never thought I’d be the girl to throw up in bars and run around in a state of panic. Well, that was interesting. And the cause of this? I’ve come to the conclusion that it was no warm food in stomach. So unless you want to be the slut who goes wild in bars and then goes into instant, almost deadly paranoia, I suggest you get that food and get it NOW, and then you have locita Delphine’s official permission to drink the hell out of the place and take the roof down.
Tip #3: Don’t just don’t, leave the person you came to the
bar/club/dance floor with
Again, these are really just my dummy tips for y’all – those of you unfamiliar with societal commonsense, as Delphine once was prior to partying in Belgium.
As soon as any human sees another human in a club, I’ve come to discover, it’s like a flock of birds fighting for that last worm stuck in the dirt, I swear. Though I was drunk, I was completely aware of the absurdity of people who are ‘under the influence’ – sickos. Every now and then I wandered away from the friend that I was with as there were many and I mean MANY arguments that we had during the night – not sure if it was just us under the influence or if we really did hate each other that much. There were several times that I was so and I mean soooo tempted to escape and simply finding food, but, I mean, the guy had my luggage at his place, that means a lot more to me than any kebab or deep dished pizza dish could have.
So this was Belgium for me – no waffles, no chocolate – just intoxication and flashing lights through, not till, the am. My next stop Amsterdam, will take me down a notch and I will give y’all some of the places I discovered and how Amsterdam brought me back to calm, tranquil, dreamy-eyed, still locita Delphine.
Until then, Merry Christmas and Happy New Years dearest fellow Babblers.
For those of you interested in how I saw Brussels during the day, outside of the clubs, here is a small gallery of shots I managed to put together during my sober hours: