As I mentioned yesterday, for the next couple of days I’ll be talking less about my writing process and more about a recent research trip my husband and I took to Europe. While I do think storytelling is the most important element in fiction, and that’s possible even without taking a research trip, I also think this sort of thing can add depth to the details and even an overall excitement to the writing that’s easier to grab hold of if the writer knows the setting.
My agenda was clear and simple: see as much of what was once occupied territory as I could, get a feel for what it looks like over there, and visit as many museums as I could that offered a closer glimpse into WWI. I admit that’s a rather general agenda, but God planned the trip far better than I could have as you’ll see.
So we started in Belgium, the setting actually for Book Two of my current series. I recall reading in my research that Belgium is the best representation of Europe all in one clean place—written by someone who loves Belgium, obviously! But I have to admit I found myself agreeing.
Our hotel was probably a 25 minute drive from Brussels International Airport for someone who knew the way, but of course it took us a bit longer to get there. Part of the problem of driving in Europe is the difficulty in reading the street signs (where there are signs). They’re small plaques posted on the sides of buildings, not brightly lit markers hanging from lampposts or traffic lights like here in the States. Then there are the one-way streets, not to mention how often a street starts out with one name and in just a few (non-linear) blocks it has a new name. Part of the charm, or part of the challenge? Finding our way always felt a bit of a triumph.
But we did find our hotel, the Crowne Plaza in the financial district of Brussels. Safe, within walking distance of the Grand Place, this neighborhood was a bit more modern than the rest of the city but my guess is that’s what you’d expect for the Wall Street of Belgium. And the price was right! Only 69 Euros per night.
After unpacking just a few things after our late afternoon arrival, we started out for the Grand Place.
This is in the center of Brussels, the old Market Square where the Gothic Hotel de Ville (Town Hall, pictured below) sits beneath its tall belfry and amidst other gems like 17th century guild houses and the King’s House (although a King never lived there). The guild houses (pictured to the left and another set below) were where various artisans and workers conducted their business—bakers, boatsmen, tanners, tailors, millers, carpenters, sculptors and painters, slate/quarry workers, cabinetmakers, coopers, archers, among others.
l’Hotel de Ville (Town Hall)
Guild Houses
The center of the square is cobbled and open for a flower market that’s often held there. But when we arrived there were just a couple of artists selling their sketches of sights in Brussels—and the many shops and street side cafés that are now housed on the first floor of many of the centuries-old buildings.
So we found a street-side café, ordered a pizza to share, and enjoyed talking to a gentleman sitting next to us who’d driven from Staffordshire in England. He came to watch a “football” game—one tournament or another with the popular game of soccer. We were probably just as hard for him to understand as he was for us—and all of us speaking English! Most of the conversations around us were French, or Dutch here and there. Belgium is largely influenced by either the Walloon tradition, connected to the French, or the Flemmings, influenced by the German/Netherlands of the north. But most of the shopkeepers and waiters in Belgium spoke English, and were very friendly.
You’ll notice a bottle of water in front of me. At first I thought it was just another way for restaurants to make money, selling only bottled water and not greeting guests with a fresh glass of free, unlimited ice water. But I learned later drinking water “over there” is a little like drinking the water in Mexico—unless you’re used to it, it could make you sick. I’m not sure that’s true since we used ice from our hotel room and brushed our teeth with tap water, but nonetheless the only way to get water in restaurants in both Belgium and France is to pay a couple Euro for a rather small, lukewarm bottle. Sigh.
It was a great start our trip, tough. The very next day we learned it was the 100th anniversary of Belgian independence—and that’s when I had the idea God planned the timing of this trip better than I had.
Join Me!