Check Stop Schuman

I get to the bus stop at Schuman, excusez-moi, c’est déjà passé le 60?, she doesn’t know, she’s American, but of course the bus is late as usual. Me and five more people are standing and waiting for the same bus. Two Southamerican women keep checking the time, calculating how many minutes they are taking away from the babies they are going to baby-sit. Bus 12 and 22 arrive, people get off and on. The newcomers to Brussels get off and wonder where to go: to the left or to the right, to the left on the sidewalk or to the left through the square? The works and the noise in the area make all look chaotic while is not. The girl, clearly lost: excusez-moi, où se trouve le metro? Two Norwegians walk together to the Norway House right in front of the Commission and of the bus stop. They are dressed light. They must be among the happiest here in Brussels, considering that in this period of the year the sun doesn't rise before 11 o’clock in the south of Norway…and never rises in the north (!). A couple comes, hand in hand, they kiss good-bye and the guy leaves. The girl is Italian. Of course. It’s like “Nespresso. What else?” (Hi George!). That tall guy in his suit runs to work, with his badge jumping up and down. Bus 12 and 22 come again and I am still waiting. The people who get off represent a good half of the world. I have troubles distinguishing among Scandinavians and Asians, and I assume not all Africans come from Congo or Morocco. ...Bus 60 finally arrives! See you tomorrow Schuman.