The sky went from cornflower blue to charcoal in minutes. The clouds were frighteningly ominous — more than frighteningly ominous — and had an apocalyptic green tint around the edges. Surely it was the end of the world. Surely we were going to die.
My roommate and I were on our way to day two of ISA orientation. To get to the office, and our college campus, we hop on the tram for 15 minutes. When we left our house, our host-mom was admiring the rose garden and said we should leave our jackets behind — the sun was coming out and the day was going to be beautiful.
We left our jackets behind. We skipped to the metro. We got off. We saw the sky. We felt the rain. We ran to buy umbrellas. We came outside. It hailed. The sky was black. The street was flooded. The roads were empty.
When was the next rapture supposed to be, again?
Luckily, we made it to the office. And by mid-afternoon, it was beautiful and sunny, and we did touristy things. Also luckily, this drastic weather schizophrenia is not the norm. Our host-mom said that this was the worst storm she had ever seen. The Dean of Vesalius College said Belgium sees that sort of weather once every 20 years — 36 cubic centimeters of rain in 30 minutes, that is.
In other blogosphere updates:
– I officially appreciate dark beer. Is there any way to get my hands on Bourgogne des Flandres in the states?
– I still haven’t had fries, waffles, mussels or chocolate.
– Host-dog Jack is the cutest thing ever.
– I have seen most of the touristy sights by now, and I’ll see the rest on an orientation tour this weekend. Touristy Brussels is pretty magical. Too bad it’s so touristy.
And now, touristy photos for your viewing pleasure:
The Grand Place — as beautiful as they all say
Manneken Pis — as little and silly as they all say
Rue de Boucher — tourist trap-street of restaurants, but it’s cute, right?
From under the Atomium and at the top