Journey of A Heart

Desert Heat

On the train to Bruxells, I watched a passenger try to evade the ticket man because he had no ticket.  His passport and visa was confiscated, and the man just ran off the train into Bruxells.  Very strange to me.  As I stepped off the train in Bruxells, I saw a new, but familiar face.  I saw an old woman with squinted eyes looking and yelling at me in a language I did not understand.  Once again I seemed to be the only person noticing this woman.  I immediately began to think about Satan once again.  I continued into the main terminal of the station.  It was like the modern Wild West.  There was music blasting, people walking around drunk everywhere, groups of people walking around wearing the same colors, dogs running freely that with one bite could bite off 50% of my body, and pictures of chaos everywhere.  In the middle of this chaos was a woman with a hiking backpack holding a wooden cross.  In English, Slovak, Dutch and French were the words, “Jesus loves you.”  This woman was walking up and down the train station at a steady pace.  She did not look anyone in the eyes, but just stared a few paces in front of her at the floor.  I admired her courage and walked by and gave her a thumbs up.

I threw my computer case on my shoulder and decided to go explore the city.  My train did not leave for 5 hours.  Walking around the city, beautiful street art was in the tunnels of the overpass.  Belgium waffles were on almost every corner, and the food was the best value I had encountered thus far.  There is a sandwich in Belgium that uses a French roll, puts whatever kind of meat you want on the roll, adds ketchup, thousand island, then a large French fry over it with salt and then adds more ketchup to complete the sandwich.  It was so good, so filling, and only 2 Euros.  My body went away from Belgium happy.  My mind and soul however were not so fortunate.  I was back in the desert heat.

Walking back from taking pictures, I turned down a street and saw a short Middle Eastern woman.  She approached me and said, “Choppy, choppy.”  I responded with, “Excuse me?”  She then repeated herself with the motion of a man masturbating and then pointing to her mouth.  I understood clearly now.  This was my first time ever being approached for sexual activity so directly.  I told her no, and continued walking away.  I was shocked!  I came to the corner of the street and while waiting for the light to turn, a man just fell out and hit his head on the street post.  The man was standing erect in good posture one minute, then the next his eyes turned blood red and he just collapsed.  A man tried to help him back up but he was as flimsy as a fish out of water.  All I could think of was drugs, alcohol, and the two old women who were yelling something at me.

My mind was in a state of confusion, and my soul was swinging its sword combating evil at what was literally at every corner now.  I went to the train station with my mind telling me that I just needed to see my friend, then return back to Prague.  It was too dangerous to be doing this for another week.  I went to the Hagen Daz and ate a Belgium waffle with ice cream.  I watched as drunk Italians yelled comments at and tried to grope girls as they passed.  Another drunk guy was the only person trying to prevent these drunk guys from trying to do these perverted things to women.  I became tired of watching these guys and moved tables.  As I sat at the table, a drunk guy approached me making airplane noises, bent over, and tried to take my computer case that was between my legs.  Where were the police?  Where was the order in this place?  My mind was racing with fear at this point.

I went out to the main terminal to just wait until my train arrived.  While waiting, I observed 4 girls instigating a fight between two other girls, a thief being chased across the train station by 3 policemen and a police dog, and a conductor of a train try to solicit sex from teenagers.  This place was outrageous!  It was one of those times a grown man wants to put his thumb in his mouth and cry, “I want my mommy!”

I left Bruxells never wanting to return there again.  At least not without a baseball bat.  My spirit was in battle with evil around me everywhere, my mind was in shock from all it had just experienced, and my body was full with food and warmth.  I was on my way to Amsterdam.  The train to Amsterdam was a little different then the other trains I had rode.  There were no cushy, plush, gray and brown lining seats in sections of four.  There was no entrée tray at the back of every seat, or ash trays in the arm rest.  This train had bright orange, ripped, plastic seats.  Graffiti was on the inside of the train, and the seats were arranged in couples and no