Christmas in Brussels was beautiful. The enchanting mixture of decadent chocolate and fresh Belgian waffles was the perfect enticer to make us literally hike to the center of the city two days in a row. However, it was time to leave, and our next stop was my brother’s house in Eriswell, England before heading to Glasgow, Scotland, which is where I’m currently sitting and typing away at my trusty laptop. But before I disclose today’s eventful adventures, let me first take all you faithful readers back to last night. It all began in the kitchen …

We managed to gather a few necessities on base for dinner because we all needed a home cooked meal at this point. The plan was to make halupkis, Bombalki, and chocolate peanut-butter cake. Of course, this would turn into a semi-disaster. Halupkis require cabbage, cabbage that my mom normally wraps in saran wrap to slowly steam in the microwave. Well, she couldn’t find said plastic wrap, and instead, opted for a gallon-sized Ziplock bag, which feigned to cook the cabbage and almost short-circuited the microwave.

You see, ladies and gents, that wasn’t even the biggest issue. The real issue lied in the fact that my brother had invited his friends to eat with us, and now we were on a time schedule. Somehow my mom managed to cook the halupkis in a Crock Pot in record time, even though half of the cabbage wasn’t fully steamed beforehand.

While my mom worked on that dish, my sister prepped the Bombalki, which is by far my favorite dish on this earth, and I only ever get to eat it at Christmas time because it is a Slovakian tradition passed down on my mother’s side of the family. The dish essentially consists of baked dough balls and sauerkraut all mixed together to create what I look forward to every year.

I was in charge of the cake, which I baked to perfection; it was a surprise considering I completely botched the last dish I made for a friends potluck, but we’re not going to talk about that incident. Let’s just say that my egg substitute did not perform up to standard, and my cupcakes were straight trash.

Eventually, the guests arrived, and six loud Americans, my brother’s roommate, and three of my brother’s friends all crowded around a small dining room table feasting on the amazing food while chit-chatting. Once the plates were cleared, somehow I assumed the role of dishwasher and waitress, cleaning plates so that they could be reused for cake. So, dinner turned into dessert, and dessert turned into a lengthy game of Cards Against Humanity.

At first I didn’t join in – remember, I was playing the role of waitress. I also enjoy just watching people play that game because it is the most ridiculous showdown of random phrases ever, and it always makes me laugh. However, I did eventually join in on the game, which went way past my bedtime. Everyone knows that I’m 90 and an actual grandma on the inside and get all warm and cozy in my bed well before midnight. On a good day, I’m asleep by 9:30 p.m. I know, I’m lame, but that’s okay.

At one point during the game, my sister played a card with a singular word on it just to get rid of it because she had no clue what the word meant. Now, this word was rated “M” for mature; so, it will not be disclosed here. When my brother’s roommate read the card and started laughing (because it was a contender for the winning card that round), my sister asked what it meant, and the look my father had on his face as the roommate gave the urban dictionary level definition was priceless. I laughed so hard – almost as hard as the Frenchman saying, “the states, baby [bae-bae]!”

Like I said, the game went on and on, which is why the bags under my eyes this morning were Gucci level. Speaking of this morning, we left my brother’s house at about 6:00 a.m., which meant that I had to get ready for the day bright and early. I slapped on some eyebrows, grabbed my belongings, and hopped into the turd for the trip to Scotland. Now, here is where the story gets mighty interesting.

For some reason, a lot happens to us when we take road trips. For starters, we almost got pulled over by the police, meaning that the we thought the cop was pulling us over, when in reality, he was trying to go around us. My brother ended up getting in front of the car, and then the police had to go around us, and they were irritated. It was great.

Next, an AdBlue alert kept popping up on the car, and my brother was convinced that it just meant he needed to add more windshield wiper fluid. It turns out, he actually needed to add a chemical that would help the turd process gas slower. There was a warning that said the car would break down and need mechanical services if we did not refill the AdBlue; also, the chemical itself was toxic. If it managed to touch the skin, it would start burning flesh. Great, exactly what we needed: a potential break down and an emergency room run. In the end, we were fine, but it could have been a disaster.

Then, because a coworker of my brother’s suggested visiting Hadrian’s Wall in England on our way to Scotland, we decided it would be a great pit stop. Of course, we were wrong. You had to hike to the wall on a muddy track, and none of us had the proper attire. Plus, I had consumed so much coffee and water that I was about to explode; therefore, we had to do an illegal three-point turn in the middle of a country road to back track to the only establishment with a public restroom for miles.

After that fiasco, we stopped for food and made the last leg of the journey to our lodging in Glasgow. We stayed in and just relaxed because we were all exhausted. Tomorrow’s adventures should include more scenery and social experiences; so, grab your steaming mug, and stay tuned!