If you really are familiar with my blogs, you may notice that most of this is a rehash of my very first blog, Chickens, Roads and Crossing the Globe. However, it is the time when I took this photo. After I reread the blog, I decided I couldn't have said it any better than I already did. So, here it goes again . . .
I'm not really a chicken.
Some people think chickens cross the road to get to the other side. I don't buy into that nonsense. No self-respecting chicken wants to cross the road at the risk of turning into cloud of fluttering feathers and a pile of smithereens. Every time a chicken - or a person - crosses a road, there is a risk of an accident happening. It
can happen any time, any place or anywhere. Some day my number is going to be up. Yours, too. I am just determined that it shouldn't happen while crossing the street in Columbus, Ohio. So, I can say I've ridden the trains in Madrid and the tubes in London. I've sipped at cafes in Ougadougou, Casablanca and Manhattan. I will not spend my life "hiding in the hen house".
I don't believe we're meant to live as chickens. We are not meant to live in fear. Yes, there are some terrible people "out there" who do horrible things. But, the world is filled with so many more incredible people. When you go out and meet them, you'll see that we are a whole lot more alike than we are different. And, differences only make us more interesting, not threatening. So, I cross the road and then I cross the globe.
After the Paris attack on November 13, 2015, chickens wouldn't have even stepped on to the sidewalk. Forget about the road! But, I had a ticket to Europe and it was non-refundable. I crossed the globe.
I didn't go to Paris. I would have if I had the time. Instead, I went to Brussels. If you followed the news on your smartphone on that weekend, you would have known that Brussels was on lock-down with the highest possible terrorist security threat. Some kind of attack was feared imminent. But, I don't have a smart phone. With my dumb-ass phone, completely oblivious to the news of the day, you might say I was a dumb . . . er, uninformed traveler. But in my defense, my phone doesn't work overseas. My friends in Antwerp wanted to warn me. There was no way to communicate.
So, I hopped on the train to Brussels. Apparently, buses and subways throughout the city were shut down for the weekend. The trains worked just fine. But, when I walked out of the station, parked right in front of me was some kind of military vehicle. It wasn't a tank, but several policemen could easily have been inside, ready to protect and defend against whatever or whomever came their way. I took a left turn.
I'm not really a chicken.
Some people think chickens cross the road to get to the other side. I don't buy into that nonsense. No self-respecting chicken wants to cross the road at the risk of turning into cloud of fluttering feathers and a pile of smithereens. Every time a chicken - or a person - crosses a road, there is a risk of an accident happening. It
can happen any time, any place or anywhere. Some day my number is going to be up. Yours, too. I am just determined that it shouldn't happen while crossing the street in Columbus, Ohio. So, I can say I've ridden the trains in Madrid and the tubes in London. I've sipped at cafes in Ougadougou, Casablanca and Manhattan. I will not spend my life "hiding in the hen house".
I don't believe we're meant to live as chickens. We are not meant to live in fear. Yes, there are some terrible people "out there" who do horrible things. But, the world is filled with so many more incredible people. When you go out and meet them, you'll see that we are a whole lot more alike than we are different. And, differences only make us more interesting, not threatening. So, I cross the road and then I cross the globe.
After the Paris attack on November 13, 2015, chickens wouldn't have even stepped on to the sidewalk. Forget about the road! But, I had a ticket to Europe and it was non-refundable. I crossed the globe.
I didn't go to Paris. I would have if I had the time. Instead, I went to Brussels. If you followed the news on your smartphone on that weekend, you would have known that Brussels was on lock-down with the highest possible terrorist security threat. Some kind of attack was feared imminent. But, I don't have a smart phone. With my dumb-ass phone, completely oblivious to the news of the day, you might say I was a dumb . . . er, uninformed traveler. But in my defense, my phone doesn't work overseas. My friends in Antwerp wanted to warn me. There was no way to communicate.
So, I hopped on the train to Brussels. Apparently, buses and subways throughout the city were shut down for the weekend. The trains worked just fine. But, when I walked out of the station, parked right in front of me was some kind of military vehicle. It wasn't a tank, but several policemen could easily have been inside, ready to protect and defend against whatever or whomever came their way. I took a left turn.
The New Normal in Belgium When I go to Brussels, I head to two streets where antiques are sold. I didn't see anything I had to buy. Whew! But, I had a very nice stroll in my favorite part of the city. Then, I decided it was time to wander towards the city center with its incredible marketplace. Things were entirely different the closer I came to the Grand Place. Stores were "mysteriously" closed for the weekend. I didn't know why. Streets were blocked off so no cars could get to the center. And police! All kinds of police with all kinds of fancy guns were all around the market!
I finally approached an officer and asked if he spoke English. I wanted to know if there was a specific threat or if this was just the "new normal" after Paris. The young officer spoke English, with the most delightful French accent, and shamelessly lied through his teeth. He said it was just the new normal. Well, new normal or not, I decided it was time to return to Antwerp. You may disagree, but my mamma didn't raise no fool.
Total time spent in a locked-down European capital city - one hour and a half.
I finally approached an officer and asked if he spoke English. I wanted to know if there was a specific threat or if this was just the "new normal" after Paris. The young officer spoke English, with the most delightful French accent, and shamelessly lied through his teeth. He said it was just the new normal. Well, new normal or not, I decided it was time to return to Antwerp. You may disagree, but my mamma didn't raise no fool.
Total time spent in a locked-down European capital city - one hour and a half.
RSS Feed