Well, we just booked our Eurostar tickets; I am officially going to Belgium!
On one hand, I'm really excited to savor some chocolates, waffles and frites, and try yet again to speak French without sounding like a chicken with her tongue caught on something. I miss getting the Europe you can only experience when you're in a place that looks like this:
On the other hand, however, I've discovered I have a bit of an irrational fear of trains. (stop laughing)
Am I worried about the fact that I'm going to scream down train tracks at 186 miles an hour? No, not really a problem.
Am I intimidated that I'll be underneath the 23 miles of water between Dover, England and Calais, France? No, though I'd rather not dwell on that.
No, my major concern is simple: getting on the wrong bloody train.
You see, we have a connecting Netherlands train between Brussels and Brugge, but I've never been on a train before. In my 28 years on this earth, never have I been presented with the opportunity or misfortune to travel by traditional rail. My train education consists solely of tourist videos listing the 127 ways you can screw up in a European train station and accidentally end up in Minsk instead of your intended Italian Riviera.
That's why I'm making my fearless little sister come with me. At least while we're forced to use charades to communicate with the fine people of Minsk, I can blame her and not myself.