Outside of inching across runways in Albuquerque and Chicago to experience lumbering jet choreography in the age of LAL (Living At Airports) where when the pilot announces to the stewards, “Prepare for landing,” it should be followed, once you land, with, “Please have patience while while we crawl. If you’re wondering whether you will make your connecting flight remember there are skyscraper hotels nearby eagerly awaiting your overnight stay,” outside of this new discomfort the flights on United into Brussels were smooth. I’ll just add that it seems we’re at the point in the history of travel where the offering of in flight movies aren’t as plentiful or interesting as the streaming content on the TV apps. So now I’m nostalgic for the days when flying internationally would have me looking forward to catching up on the Hollywood fare that I might have missed.
Traveling in the Age of Aging! After landing in Brussels and taking our private coach into Brussels Midi (the train was practically empty), my first impression was that everyone seemed so young.
And tall. It’s like I fell asleep in Albuquerque to wake up in Belgium finding myself as an extra in “The Miniature Husband and Wife.” Make that tall and thin. It reminds me of European post war newsreel footage where everyone has the fit, slightly undernourished look of a survivor only the footage is in color and the fashion is dressed-down athletic wear.
Except for the sighting of the Poirot poseur we saw at the Place Flagey across from the Ixelles Ponds. We have a shot of him crossing in front of a café, but it’s at a distance, and I prefer the closer pic of him from the back like he just walked out of a Magritte painting.
At the Place Flagey in a large theater complex it was opening night of the Brussels Short Film Festival. The festival, although modest in comparison to Cannes, has, in language and presentation the independent proud-not-to-be-Hollywood vibe. It takes place over ten days and features European entries competing for awards. Tickets were sold at a “ticket shop” as opposed to a ticket window.
After picking up a brochure for the festival screenings, I couldn’t resist taking a peek at the Place Flagey bookstore.
I expected to be checking out the latest European fiction and non-fiction. How retro! How age-revealing! On display were large coffee table size graphic novels. At one table the current motif seemed to be various takes on Doom. Dark titles like “Le Monde Fini.” So, this is how the world ends, Mr. Eliot, not with a bang or a whimper but between the paperback covers of a big comic book where all the characters are screaming with anger.
At any rate, it’s a far cry from anything Marvel has to offer!