Eating Alone

(Zaventem, Belgium/March 28) I arrived at my hotel near the Brussels airport with enough daylight left for a walk before dinner. I ended up giving myself a walking tour of Zaventem, the village whose property values I would have expected to have been ruined by adjacency to Brussels's international airport.

I had half a mind to get dinner at a bistro or pub in the town, looking forward to something a little more homey and atmospheric than hotel fare. However, most places were closed for Easter Monday (which is a holiday in most of Europe), the places that were open were mainly Chinese or other ethic, which is not what I was in the mood for, and I didn't see a credit card sticker in the window of the few open "native" establishments, which was important because I'd foolishly forgotten to change my wallet cash from yen to euros before I'd set out.

I was a bit ashamed to realize that I was glad for the excuse to retreat to the foreigner-friendly hotel for dinner. My first time in Belgium, on business, I stayed for more than a month. There is great romance, nostalgia, and pride in boldly going to local restaurants where my Japanese coworkers were too timid to go before. Now the small native places seem closed to me, or at least too intimidating. I don't know whether it's because I've lost courage or because this time I'm just passing through and lack the sense of belonging and entitlement.