Nigel picks me up promptly (and rather perkily considering those mosquitoes) at 10:15 for our trip to Antwerp. We’re not bringing our bikes. This is actually the train we would have taken to Paris (quick thinking Nigel!), we’re just not going that far today. It never occurs to me there could be any other reason to go to Antwerp, aside from a work-around to my hotel reservation disaster.
We board the train.
As if to demonstrate, outside the train station is a handsome dock of city bikes to connect people to this transit hub.
We wander first through parts of Antwerp, which has a beautiful entry to their Chinatown.
“I’ve always wondered about that building,” he says.
I’m so trusting of Nigel at this point, it’s just not on my radar that he could be have an ulterior motive for bringing me here. But when we get inside, it’s not a movie theatre at all. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen. There are these descending escalators that look like the top floor escalators at Macy’s (the wooden ones).
Kids, pedestrians, cyclists
Afterwards, Nigel tells me we took a tram to a café for a drink. He says we had dinner at one of his favorite restaurants in Antwerp, Horta. He says we had a wonderful time. I believe him, but to be honest, my only memory is of that tunnel and the fact that Nigel, of all the places he could have taken me, brought me there. I thank him profusely, but he won’t hear of it. He’s just happy that I’m happy.
On the train ride back, I fall asleep with my head on Nigel’s shoulder. But when I get back to my hotel (I arranged to keep my hotel room), I am so jazzed I’m up till 2am tweeting about it. What could top this?
Well, we are planning a trip to Utrecht...