The Netherlands part 3

I thought the the trip from Brussels Charleroi to Brussels Nord would be a quick few minutes through the city. Instead, the train left Brussels (or what I thought was Brussels) and cut through open country. I was in the middle of nowhere. But everyone from my bus was on this same train. All these people couldn't be going to some place in the middle of nowhere. Could they?


As the guy walked down the aisle checking tickets, I pulled out 15 euros to pay for the ticket. I assumed the metal box strapped to his waste was for change. He checked the people sitting behind me and then walked past me and the elderly man snoozing in the window seat across from me. "Oh, well" I thought. I got off at Brussels Midi having no idea where I was and thinking I might have taken the wrong train. I explained this to the man running the information window. He told me which train to take, but did not tell me where to buy a ticket so again I assumed I needed to pay for the ticket on the train. By the time I reached Roosendaal, I figured out that I was supposed to buy a ticket beforehand. Oops. When I reached Roosendaal, I bought a ticket to Tilburg.

Then I made a mistake that I still deeply regret. I was so anxious to get out of there that I boarded a train that was close to the right platform, but not quite there. It was the wrong train. The word "Amsterdam" written on the wall in red lights should have immediately caught my eye, but I didn't notice until the train was already moving. I got off at Dortrecht and took another train back to Roosendaal. When I was in the bathroom in Roosendaal, I noticed my camera was no longer in my pocket or in my backpack. I tried to catch the train I left it on, but missed it. My camera was never recovered.

I finally reached Tilburg at about 5:00, I think, four hours later than I expected to be there. Poor Brother Edward had been waiting for me at both of the times I could have arrived. He returned home, of course, and I called him on my cell.