The central square of Bruxelles was the anecdote of Belgium’s longstanding administrative and political history, as explained by Ella, Jack’s colleague and the English-speaking tour guide for the day. A tired-looking, but cheerful middle-aged lady.
From what Cay have been able to absorb during the walk-and-go schedule then was that several key politicians, particularly two governors during the early-modern to mid-modern age, had been responsible with the independence and reconstruction of the capital. Though he could not remember which of the authorities ended up being burnt alive.
One of the usual attractions was the Manneken Pis, which so many tourists were eager to take pictures of the historical figure, along with its’ imitation of urinal-waste disposal being done in an unrealistic fashion (its’ liquid shooting out from the small confinement of its’ loose grasp). There were more imitations of the original bust, such as a female version of the Manneken Pis named Jeannekke Pis and a bronze-coloured dog, with its’ right hind-leg up.
Cay took note of the wall arts displayed at random sites, intentionally by the jurisdiction and purposefully by independent artists of unknown origins (which had been mentioned briefly by Ella). Small bronze shapes of a clam that have been hard to spot had it not been for a careful eye were planted along the stony pavement, augmenting the already tourist-filled place with a stereotypical characteristic.
A relief for the two travellers was the lack of female companion tagging along, because Belgium’s well-known lace fabrics in shapes of mostly female clothing had been displayed just behind thin glass-walls of numerous shops as the tour went along. The price tags on the beautifully-tailored merchandises were not for the fainted heart and budget-travellers alike.
“For seafood lovers, I would recommend trying out De Noordzee.”, pointed Ella just before Cay interrupted.
Cay had questions regarding some of the unmentioned buildings, which looked worthwhile into understanding, but thought it would be rude to speak to the tour guide. He had to break though the invisible pressure just, so his small curiosity could be satisfied.
“Excuse me, Ella, but could you tell us more about the exhibition within that church?”, his head nodding towards the church on the group’s front right.
Ella went silent for a moment, almost solemn, and answered that she would not be able to bring the group into the torture exhibition not because of obligation, but it was “too sad” to visit.
Cay’s line of questions immediately evaporated as soon as Ella finished her answer.
However sad it was, that stain of disdain was part of the multicultural Belgium.
Cay walked beside a Chinese woman with a boy’s short haircut, she had an accent that was intended for dialects instead of usual Chinese Mandarin. Hoi was her first name. Judas walked closely behind a French couple who had been lagging in speed since the start of the tour, almost as if he was eavesdropping to their conversation in French.
Some of the Flemish architecture that Cay noticed were not aforementioned by any guides near the walking-group; Not many people continued their search for the bronze seashells, Ella had not pointed to any of them since the first one.
*
It has been months since Caynius Choy’s first part-time job in the United Kingdom at a regular filling station. Half of the academic year has passed, and he was confident enough with his savings. Time to treat Jenna to a special occasion.
The two left early in the morning for South-East Dorset, some people would say it was more of a beach holiday. Two day’s stay during a regular weekday on March.
Upon arrival at Parkstone train station with both of their orange tickets secured inside of his breast-pocket, the two were casual enough to board the bus to Sandbanks Beach without much needed guidance (the boyfriend was in-charge of reviewing and planning the trip). Cay was not too worried about going there as he had seek guidance before from his second younger brother.
Sandbanks Beach was dubbed as “a typical English beach”. Surprisingly, the chilly weather opened to an unexpectedly sunny afternoon. A life-saver for a mundane trip that allowed the two to take off their jackets.
The two held hands, with their shoes hanging on the tips of their available fingers. A Labrador ran pass the two and followed by a small family of Englishmen, their daughter giggling at their dog wanting attention from Jenna, in which she obliged to rub its’ underbelly.
Uncountable seashells laid dormant and dead on the surface of the long stretch beach, picking one up would make no difference to its’ sandy appearance; flocks of seagulls like the ones in Bath flew over their heads, offering a familiarity that have Cay sighed with relief.
“Give me a piggyback-ride.”, Jenna said to him with a low pout.
“Alright, put your shoes in my bag first.”, he managed to stuff both pairs into his black backpack.
Cay had not been exercising often than when he was in his first year of study and he struggled under the weight of his lover. However, he was determined not to show signs of strain in hopes of not embarrassing her and to make conscious of her own body weight. He was adamant not to spoil the perfect mood.
He was heaving more than piggy-backing, and before exhaustion arrived he put her down, not before finding a decent wall to lean on. They watched the row of miniscule vacation-houses painted in different singular colour, somehow reminding him of the South coast of Australia.
“Let’s have lunch after this.”, insinuating the walk on Sandbank Beach.
“Where to?”, Jenna answered absentmindedly while staring along the horizon of the English Channel.
“Once we get across Studland.”, Cay answered reassuringly.
“Then we check in at the hotel, it’s within walking distance from here.”, he added.
“Ok, because I’m famished right now.”
That was an expected answer as Cay let out a small laugh, which Jenna inquired about afterwards.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
