Brussels, circa day 4

Alex and Elliott
We were napping in our room when the new roommates arrived. Alex and Elliott are both students at the University of Virginia. She's from Colombia, is majoring in psychology, and is taking her boy around Europe to, among other things, visit her mother & sister, who live in Holland. Elliott just finished a six-year stint in the National Guard. They joined us in our search for the fabled Delirium Tremens Cafe. We had a general idea of where to find it...

We got caught in an immense downpour, the kind that brought about the term "coming down in buckets" and circled the area repeatedly without luck. As the rain cleared, Alex finally caved and asked for directions, and we discovered we were only 100 feet away. Delirium, and it's counterpart, Floris, occupies its own alley, which was full of intoxicated teenagers. The bar downstairs was spacious, but packed to the brim since Thursday is free music night. The band on stage was playing "I shot the sheriff" I immediately felt at home. I could easily imagine myself hanging out here on less crowded nights. We took a table on the terrace (read: alley) and soon discovered that Floris served a large variety of absinthe. Each of us tried a different variety, most of them arguably too vile for human consumption.

Subsequent topics of conversation included: The taxing nature of international travel, cultural differences within Europe, the psychology of language acquisition, the differences between Belgian and American beers (Elliott shares my love of IPAs) and our parents.

Shortly after our departure from Delirium, we found two oft-sought-after late-nite gems: an open kebab stand and a super-underground Moroccan discotheque. The rest is better explained on video.

The following day, Anders beard was released into the wilds of Belgium by a trained beard-handler. Both the beard and its host were in a temporary state of shock, which is perfectly normal given the abrupt nature of their separation. He had wanted a haircut, and the salon looked inviting, so we browsed through a catalog and found a super-Euro cut he liked. The hairdresser offered to “trim” his beard (not some other word with a more open-ended definition), but then, to our videotaped shock and awe, she promptly buzzed it all off. Steff and I agree that it's a good look for him. He doesn't seem to agree, but his face fuzz is growing back quickly.

-Eric