Formula 3.5, then the Spa to Francorchamps tourist marathon

Getting There:

Brussels Noord: Take the train to Verviers Centrale (it actually goes to Antwerp or something, but stops at Verviers).

Verviers Centrale: Take the train to Spa.

Spa station: Take bus 744 to the very end, and then take the next bus that arrives on your side of the street, which goes to Francorchamps.

Getting Back:

heh.

I made it to the Renault World Series (which had Formula 2, Formula 3.5, Clio Sport and Clio V6 races, all of which were fairly cool) with some drunken Flemish kids (they taught me "zoller" [zaul-er], meaning "way cool maaaan!/awesome!"), and it was pretty good. Mildly boring, so I set off to try and find the karting track. That was life-threateningly scary, but fun.

I've had this running enfatuation with motorsport, and I wanted to try karting to see if I should still entertain my dreams of being a racecar driver. Karting makes you realize how fully insulated you usually are from any sort of displeasure when you're in a normal car. I don't think I've ever really felt G-forces until I took that 10 minute rent-a-kart session... and it wasn't terribly enjoyable. It was in that sort of white-knuckled, adrenaline-pumping way, but I've got paintball for that, which is mildly less dangerous and fills my quota of aggression management well enough. Hoorah. So yeah. I'll be hanging up the racing gloves it seems. I also ran into another group of drunken flemish people who offered to buy me a drink. I declined. haha

By the time I got back to the bus stop, it was close to 7, and me, being the innocent and trusting young chap that I am, just sorta assumed that there'd still be some sort of way to get back to Spa (and my train) via public transport.

Not so, as yet another group of twenty-something flemish kids and I found out. I tried hitchhiking for a bit (reminder: bring felt pen next time you go to Francorchamps), then started walking, and ran into them again. They'd given up on a taxi (2 hour wait), so a walk was had. It was actually a good time, despite the ache from walking. To be fair though, I kinda guessed this might happen, an entry in my blog-note-cum-journal-book-thing put it quite well:

"Of concern to me, however, is how the hell I am going to be able to get back into Brussels so late... Hopefully the buses & trains are still running (oh god I could use some food)."

It would be 10 kilometres before I'd get to the train station just in time for the last one, and then another 2 hours before I would make the most packed baguette sandwich the world has ever seen. I did have a victory plum though, as you can see in the photos. It was really quite OK though. I met some great people, had some great conversations, ended up with great photos, and now have great definition in my calf muscles. If everyone's as nice good-natured as they are in Belgium, I'm going to have a great trip.