Mention Belgium in the US, and most likely you will draw blank
stares. If you talk to a cyclist, chances are that something like
cyclocross and
Liège-Bastogne-Liège will be dropped. Talk to a beer aficionado, and
Jupiler, Leffe, and
Hoegaarden will be mentioned. But only somebody who has actually traveled in the country will know what you mean when you talk about
friets.
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| Mid-night snack: friets |
See,
the Dutch like their French fries, but the Belgians are fed the
national staple from day one. Drive along a Belgian secondary road, and
eventually you will come across a handmade sign that lets you know "
Friets, 200 meters!"
When I grew up in Schleiden, just about 10 miles from the Teuto/Belgian
border, which in those days still existed, our family would go on the
occasional excursion into the Ardennes, to Malmédy or Eupen, and
invariably we'd end up eating
frites. They'd be unbelievably
greasy, soaking through the newspaper-cone into which they were
shoveled, and they'd always come with mayonnaise as a sauce—nope,
nothing but back in those days. Halfway through eating one of those huge
portions you'd realize that your tongue was starting to stick to the
roof of your mouth, thanks to the grease. An entire nation fed itself
with this staple. No wonder they can persevere in cold, miserable
cyclocross races: Their joints are permanently greased!
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| Antwerp train station |
Not much has changed, even though I have not seen a single
fritture
packaging the fries in homemade newspaper cones. But then, we traveled
to only three of the larger cities: Brugge, Oostende, and Brussels. I am
sure that proper packaging still exists outside of the metro areas.
Mayonnaise no longer is the only choice of sauce as there are numerous
other flavors that most likely are no more harmful. As Angela asked: Why
aren't there more really fat people here? Good point.
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| Odd goods at one of the chocolatiers |
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| Cookies, fresh from the artisan |
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| Brugge has some incredible beer stores |
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| At 1.80 euro a pop, these macaroons add up |
But Belgium is much more than just
friets.
I had never been to Brugge, a UNESCO World Heritage Site that has
almost 2,000 years of history. The old city center, which is surrounded
by a canal, is home to about 22,000 people who most likely live off the
gazillion tourists who arrive at the nondescript train station just on
the other side of the moat.
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| In Brugge, time seems to have stood still |
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| An old Opel! |
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| Unfortunately, we didn't get to take a boat tour. Next time. |
We
spent two nights here, having arrived Sunday afternoon. Monday was the
Belgian Independence Day, but since 75% of the businesses are tourist
related there was no dearth of
chocolatiers, beer shops, and lace
mongers that were plying their respective trades. What a pretty city!
The architecture makes you think that you're in some Disney fantasy,
while the horse-drawn coaches are reminiscent of Vienna and New Orleans.
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| That barge barely fit into the locks |
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| Brugge: scenic, even in yucky weather |
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| One of four windmills in the city center |
With
the weather a bit on the iffy side—yet no rain—the photo opportunities
were a bit limited. But we enjoyed the stay, even if the Hotel Academie
was no substitute for where we had been staying so far, even though it
was more expensive than all of the other places. The first night's
dinner was taken in a small restaurant just down the cobbled street—a
fabulous Belgian beef stew for Angela and mussels in wine sauce for me.
OK, let's not talk about how much it costs to eat out here. We had fun
going to the chocolate stores (where Angela managed to piss off the dour
female keeper of one of them) and just drifting around the cobbled
streets. With several thousand Belgians we stood in the square for the
Independence Day concert, singing along to old pop songs that the local
COC had chosen for a 35-song sing-along.
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| Eviva España—one of 35 sing-along songs... |
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| Beer lubricates the vocal cords |
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| City hall in the waning light |
From
Brugge it is only a 15-minute ride to Oostende, from where ferry boats
leave for Dover, gateway to Great Britain. So, before heading for
Brussels after two nights in Brugge we decided to check out the coast
for a few hours. We spent our time walking along the seaside promenade,
listening to the seagulls and me reminiscing about the family trips we'd
take to the North Sea. Yep, the water is still murky looking and the
wide beach stretches on for miles and miles. Fish stands peddled their
wares, and we even spent a few euros on the small aquarium that houses
Dover sole, blue-tinted lobsters, and cat shark. After dodging the
hundreds of (mostly) Belgian tourists and their kids we settled in a
small promenade restaurant and had lunch. I have to say, this impromptu
side trip was well worth it.
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| Fishmonger on the promenade |
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| Fishy, crabby, ... |
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| ... and mussly |
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| The orange art gives much-needed color to the drab promenade |
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| Good eatin' |
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| Panoramic view on a blustery day of the beach and harbor areas |
We
spent our last two nights in the Hilton Brussels, a nice place at a
reasonable cost (and free drinks for Diamond members like me). Did I
mention that I like Leffe and Hoegaarden beer? It had been ages that I
had been to Brussels, and I had forgotten how beautiful the city center
is. One afternoon we visited the chambers of the European Parliament.
Wow, Europe has spent a pretty penny, I mean, cent on these fine digs.
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| The old city center of Brussels |
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| Inside the Royal Palace |
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| This is where Europe's politicians don't get work done |
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| Angela getting henna'd up |
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| The final opus—2 euros |
Angela
indulged in one of her favorite past-times, shopping, and even got a
henna tattoo from a Moroccan street artist. We ate well, enjoyed the
return of sunshine, and marveled at the cosmopolitan nature of Belgium's
(and, in a way, Europe's) capital. Lucky for us, the royal palace
happened to be open for a few days to visitors, and we seized that
(free) opportunity. If you wonder about the significance of "free": Most
museums and other attractions in this part of the world will set you
back by 10 to 15 euros if you want to visit them.
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| We never did see Manneken Pis, but this one almost got Angela |
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| What a great name for this street-cleaning device! |
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| Details, everywhere |
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| Hilton, I love you! |
And
that concludes the Low Countries portion of our trip. One more stop to
come: Spain. But that will be covered in the next entry.
Jürgen
