The Two Facets of Experience: My Reflections on How to Evaluate a Trip to Brussels

I’m not an incredible fan of reading personal anecdotes. This isn’t to say that I don’t have an interest in other people’s experiences or stories, but I find that people struggle to strike the right balance between honesty and exuberance, especially when the story has to be recorded. I much prefer a chat. For me, documenting experiences is setting yourself up to be disappointed. Even for me, toiling to recount my trip to Brussels, I can’t help but realize how writing down my thoughts makes them less interesting, even less of my own.

And words aren’t the only records. I’ve had conversations with a number of people regarding my opinion on picture taking, including my host family. When people notice that I don’t take pictures, they all seem somewhat surprised. How could I waste the opportunity? How will I remember the experiences that I had? Or, in the case of my host family: what will you show to your parents (perhaps to prove that you aren’t squandering your time abroad)? Well, to each of these questions I have essentially the same response: if I try to capture the moment or record the experience, I will fail. It’s simply not possible to replicate. And I feel that if I try, I will cheat the experience as I’m having it.

Each time I take a photograph, I’ve asserted that the moment has some tangible permanence, to be called upon at a later date. Or even that the point of the experience was to be recounted, instead of experienced. But that’s to misunderstand the “now” of an experience. In recounting what the photo was supposed to have captured, one will inevitably feel like that experience wasn’t really so special: there it is, on the screen, just like thousands of photos you can find on the Internet. Granted, perhaps you took a selfie, but that reads like bragging-rights-materiel more than an authentic effort to recount an experience.

So it’s impossible to recount an experience. Or maybe it’s even defeating the purpose of an experience in the first place. Why am I even writing this article, then? Well, there just so happen to be facets of an experience. There is the actual act, the “now,” and a retrospective knowledge that has some kind of evaluation—a judgment. While I still contend that the former is sufficiently futile, the latter has some real value. We can (and should) have experiences for ourselves, in the moment, and without worrying if we’re properly recording it for later. But we cheat ourselves if we don’t also reflect back to evaluate the experience. This is what can be shared with others, and hopefully be useful.

I’ll take my own advice, and share things that are probably worth doing in Brussels, or not. I feel that this is the best use of my experience. Not to replicate, but rather to provide some (hopefully) useful information. Most of these things you can find on the Internet:

• Try Belgian frites. But the real ones. Fried in beef tallow at two different temperatures. Preferable get someone with which you can share—you’ll need to watch your insulin while in Brussels.

• Don’t see the Manneken–Pis: it’s not really worth looking like a silly tourist. See a photo instead.

• Maybe try waffles, but preferable when looking for a late-night snack. You’re judgment is impaired enough to feel like the insulin spike is justified because, “You have to eat waffles in Belgium.”
• Eat chocolate? Maybe. Certainly go into a shop or two. But probably not worth the insulin. Even for the cultural experience.
• Do check out the Museum of Fine Arts. There are actually four museums in the same building, but don’t try to do more than two in a day (and really one is sufficient).

• If you like Jazz, check out the Music Village. They have live music almost every night and cater to an Anglophone audience.

• And definitely do a beer tasting tour, even if you—like me—don’t like beer. Belgian beers might surprise you…but there’s still the insulin. (Also, don’t ever get a beer on tap; they’re rubbish. Go for the bottled ones.)

And, that’s about the extent of what I can offer. I successfully returned while staving off pre-diabetes. I do recommend going, but make the experience your own. Take photos if you feel you need to, but make sure you aren’t depending on the photos to make the trip worthwhile.

Oh, and why did I start taking photos? I figured I might as well have something to prove that I’m not squandering my time abroad (and they were required for this article). And a third reason: they do make a good reference point for reflection.

Matthew Beutler

Clark University