Moules-frites. That’s it.
Not because I don’t like the place, but because of the memories tainted by one bad egg in that place.
In all my travels, I have been bolstered in spirit by the amazing fact that everywhere I’ve been, I have encountered nothing but kind people who wanted to help. Russia, the Middle East, the DRC—in all of these places, so many things could have gone wrong, especially when I was traveling alone. But they didn’t.
Instead, I encountered good people who took me under their wings and helped ensure my safe passage. And all of these experiences have culminated in a remarkably simple worldview: the world is full—let’s say 99.9% full—of good people. And 100% of humanity is imperfect, complicated, and flawed. But mostly good.
Brussels was the place that tried to break that extraordinary faith in humanity.
It didn’t work.
It grew stronger.
And that experience didn’t make me who I am.
I didn’t let that one bad egg define me.
I made a conscious choice to continue letting the thousands of good people I have met around the world define me and my worldview.
These people I’ve met, loved, and connected with across the world—they are the ones who get to define me.
Always.
Someday, I will tell the full story. But for now, I will only say, “If ever in Brussels, try the moules-frites! Amazing!”