Gare Du Midi: Lost By Translation
The Unexpected Parents are visiting. This is their first time in the land of the Belgians and while they are seasoned travellers in their own right, their French is weak and their Flemish is non-existent. I make sure they have my number before they go to explore on their own.
All is well of course, and I worry needlessly. The Unexpected Father makes sure that the relevant information about trams, destinations, tram stop names is in his back pocket. All goes well. Apart from today.
Today, he set forth on his own to the airport as he has a meeting with a business associate. Before leaving, the two of us where lolling in my kitchen making ourselves and our better halves some tea. We had often done this when I was younger, he making the tea and me feeling important because I put the cups on to a tray. It is still dark outside, and as the city awakens, I realise that the comfortable sensation of family is something that can take you back to a specific instant in your past. Mental time travel, I suppose.
You have arrived.
He interrupts my reminisces to ask me about the train that will bring him back to Gare Du Midi – the prime train station in Brussels.
“Which platform does that leave from?”
“Could be anyone, Dad, make sure you check the monitors. There is no dedicated platform for that train.”
“Okay. How many stops till it gets to Gare Du Midi?”
“Depends. If it’s the express, which is likely, it would be the third stop from the airport. If it’s a slow train, then it would be the,” I count the stops mentally, “fifth one, I think.”
“Okay.” He sounds unconvinced.
“Keep an eye out for the signs at the train stations – you can’t miss those. As soon as you see Gare Du Midi, get off.”
He leaves, satisfied with the directions.
A few hours later, after the sun crept up over the horizon and fought its way through the clouds, I look at my watch and realise that he probably will be pulling into Gare Du Midi soon. Figuring that he’ll catch the next tram home, I expect him here shortly.
Ten minutes later, I get a phone call.
“Hello Dad, what’s up?”
“I think I must have missed Gare Du Midi,” he says nonchalantly.
I have visions of him wandering around Antwerp, Amsterdam or, perhaps, Andalusia.
“I see. And where are you then?”
He reads out the station name and I recognise it for one that is not too far from here. I call a taxi and send them to pick him up.
A station by any other name would smell just as bad
When he gets back and I hear the story, I realise that the problem is in Gare Du Midi itself. While the entire city is bilingual and pretty much everything is in both languages, the signs at the train stations are not. The French and Flemish version of the station names are on different signs, several feet apart from one another. Dad looked out of his carriage window, saw “Brussels-Zuid”, shrugged and continued reading his paper.
Why do they do that?
Odd Signs keep you worrying about your parents? Leave us a comment and tell us about them!
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I can feel for this gentleman. Actually my wife had a similar experience during our travels in Japan 14 years ago, whereby she mistook a train at Tokyo main train station, boarded it and after an hour travleiing she found herself in the middle of rural Japan, in a small station bereft of any English sub titles. After a momentary panic, she managed to catch a train going in the opposite direction towards Tokyo.
Language is always a barrier. But so is common sense sometimes!
I was in Frankfurt a few years back patiently waiting on platform 5 heading to Stuttgart. When the train arrived 10 mins early, I was all too grateful to shelter from the cold weather.
It was an hour into the trip that I realised that the train was not early, but I had boarded a train heading to Berlin instead. That is what made me decide to better my German skills….that and the busty blonde train attendant who was so nice to me on my return
Henry – I know what you mean. In Asia, that sort of thing is worse since we Europeans can’t read the alphabet let alone tell where we are!
Jonathan – So what happened to that train attendant?
The Unexpected Traveller
I had an experience in France once on the RER. Instead of stopping in Noisy le Grand – a commune on the eastern part of Paris – I just kept on going. Cannot remember what the distraction was except that at the end of the trip I was sure it was not where I was supposed to be
Diane – Noisy Le Grand? A lot of the stations are noisy, if memory serves.
The Unexpected Traveller
Hi, I just found your blog.
Your parents’ experience does not surprise me. I do not know why the “Bruxelles-Midi” and “Brussel-Zuid” signs are spaced so far apart from each other. A couple of times people have asked me “does this train go to Bruxelles-Midi?”, and then later I have had to point out to them that now they should get out at “Brussel-Zuid”.
Hello Lydia and welcome to the wonderful world of the Unexpected Traveller!
Glad to see we have a newcomer on board … as for Gare Du Midi, it’s more a case of “missed the train, er, boat” with those signs …
Thanks for reading
The Unexpected Traveller
Oh no! It’s good that your Dad was so relaxed about it. Train station sign-age (or lack thereof) is definitely a problem here.Your conversation about how many stops it would be made me chuckle because I have the same one every time someone wants to come and visit by train.
Hello Alison – I find that the dual-signage across Brussels is an excellent way to make sure that both languages are treated equally but then the train stations let that impression down.
The Unexpected Traveller
[...] (Of course, having the name in different languages on different signs is dangerous for people not used to it – as my Dad found out awhile back.) [...]
[...] The Unexpected Father found out he can get lost because of a mis-translation in Brussels’ Gare Du Midi [...]