Belgium is more than friets: Brugge, Oostende, and Brussels

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.

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!

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.

Odd goods at one of the chocolatiers

Cookies, fresh from the artisan

Brugge has some incredible beer stores

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.

In Brugge, time seems to have stood still

An old Opel!

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.

That barge barely fit into the locks

Brugge: scenic, even in yucky weather

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.

Eviva España—one of 35 sing-along songs...

Beer lubricates the vocal cords

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.

Fishmonger on the promenade

Fishy, crabby, ...

... and mussly

The orange art gives much-needed color to the drab promenade

Good eatin'

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.

The old city center of Brussels

Inside the Royal Palace

This is where Europe's politicians don't get work done

Angela getting henna'd up

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.

We never did see Manneken Pis, but this one almost got Angela

What a great name for this street-cleaning device!

Details, everywhere

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

Amsterdam, zonder mijn fiets

My first non-German beer of the trip

Heresy. There's no other way to put it. How can somebody who professes a deep connection to all things bicycle show up in Amsterdam without his own fiets? The City of Canals is really ruled by the bike, and being an outsider in all this was a bit out-of-character for me.

Maastricht's city hall

Lunch with Regine and Angela, somewhere in Maastricht

Now, that's what I call a smoked salmon sandwich!!!!

At the end of our time in Schleiden, Angela and I gratefully accepted Tom and Regine's offer to take us to Maastricht, just across the border from Aachen and for us the most direct way to catch a train to Amsterdam. It was a sunny, hot day, and we were almost glad when we sat—after a few hours of sightseeing—in the air-conditioned train to A'dam. It's only a two-and-a-half hour trip, and riding in First Class was, once again, comfortable, uncrowded, and quiet. From the ornate train station, with its thousands of bikes parked in front of it, we faced another 5-minute walk to our hotel, the Doubletree. Dang, good planning!

Bikes, bikes, bikes—everywhere!

To get the best bang for our money we invested in a 48-hour Amsterdam Card, which for 57 euro provides free entry to pretty much all major museums and attractions, plus free ground transportation. (A ride on the tram or bus costs a whopping 2.80 euro, eclipsing even Berlin's steep 2.60 fares.) Even though the central part of Amsterdam can be explored on foot alone, the occasional transfer on the tram helps those aching legs. City cards are helpful in another way: At least I am more inclined to duck into some odd little museum and spend just half an hour learning about something that I might not have visited had I had to fork over another 10 euro in entry fees—and believe me, those fees add up!

Quite a catchy logo, also adopted by the Amsterdam Card

And so we visited for example the interesting Pipe Museum, as well as one covering the history of the handbag. We had a look at the inside of a typical house boat, and we learned everything we could have ever imagined in the Grachten Museum, which covers the canals in a truly innovative format. This was probably one of the best-designed museums I have ever seen.

The garden of the Geelvinck Hinlopen Huis museum ...

... where we received a personalized tour

Conveyances to cover all the seasons

Clay pipes broke all the time and people bought them by the case

Amsterdam house boat with roof-top garden

In the Diamond Museum, which of course could not be missed for numerous reasons, not the least of which is Angela's love for all things a-glitter, I learned about great diamond heists and coronations while also having a chance to see craftsmen polish gems. The gaudy diamond-studded skull looked a bit out of place.... BTW, Angela did not pull out the credit card.

Go away, Diamond Devil! Angela resisted the temptation—barely

Even diamond-enthralled Angela though that this was way over the top!

On Friday evening we landed a real coup when we went to the Van Gogh museum. I had noticed that it was going to stay open until 10 p.m., and when we got there a little after 8 p.m., there were no lines and we zipped right in. (The next day we saw what tour groups can do to museum entrances!) There was a DJ and later live music in the foyer of this still-modern building. I remember going to the "new" Van Gogh museum for the first time with my long-ago Dutch girlfriend, Dées, back in the mid-'70s. And now a new "new" building is being built next door, with some futuristic architecture. The paintings and exhibits continue to be timeless, and I'm really glad that we spent such a delightful evening immersed in "culture."

One of my favorite Van Gogh paintings

Live music in the foyer of the museum—gentle sounds, beautiful sights

Bulbs at the flower market

Schattig meisje kin de kaaswinkel

Apart from visiting museums we strolled around town for hours. Amsterdam is so attractive! The canals were teeming with boats, small and a bit larger, that slowly patrolled the summer scene. Groups of friends, couples, solitary captains—everybody was enjoying the unusually warm weather (up to 90 F, which for Holland is out of the ordinary). The sidewalk cafés were chock-full of people, and bikes and pedestrians jostled for space.

No need for captions under these canal photos

On our first evening we ate what must be the archetypal food in Amsterdam (apart from stroop waffles and cheese, of course): an Indonesian rijstafel. Ours had sixteen different dishes that took us about an hour and a half to eat, right there on the Rembrandt Square. Ah, what a nice evening. And on the way home we somehow managed to walk straight through the Red Light district, with its prostitutes in the showroom-like cabins and live shows advertising fully nude copulation. The aroma of hemp was with us most of the time. Memories welled up—the Paradiso in 1973....

Rijstafel

Throngs of tourists in the Red Light district

Weed everywhere

In the district

Oops, that's Angela after her 10-minute Chinese massage

That's the real thing!

So, in other words, Amsterdam was a real hit. The place is expensive, whether it is accommodations or food. I maximized hotel points and credit card benefits to get us two suite nights in the Doubletree with a freebie thrown in at the Crown Plaza, thanks to a credit card deal. Food is expensive, plain and simple. You can't really expect to pay less than about 20 to 25 euro per person for a meal with just one drink—regardless whether it is something alcoholic or just a club soda. I am glad that the UCI contributes to my my European account....

Craftsman in the Diamond Museum inspecting his polishing job

Tesla recharging along one of the grachten

The ultimate in picnic baskets—perfectly suited to motoring in a Miata

I could see myself spending a portion of a summer in A'dam. There are so many things to see, so many cultural opportunities. We in West Texas have great weather a lot of the time and we can enjoy stuff that few parts of Europe have to offer, if at all. But the reality is, there is this other world out there, and we happened to visit it during the best of conditions. I like the Dutch language and could not believe how much came back to me in just a few days. And I like the people: self-assured yet friendly and open to the world. Not a bad place, at least in the summer, if it is sunny. Believe me, having spent a lot of time in the Netherlands when I had a Dutch girlfriend for four years showed me how miserable this place can be. I mean it: miserable!

Living room of our Doubletree suite

Nighttime grachten rondvaart

Thank goodness—or, que lastima????

Angela, with friets and frietsaus, but without THC

I doubt that it will be too many years before I am back. Amsterdam is way too exciting to be left alone.

Goodnight, Amsterdam

Jürgen

Alte Heimat

Panoramic view of Schleiden

It's not easy to update the blog when you're traveling, even less so when not traveling alone and especially when staying with old friends. After three nights in Berlin and another two in Cologne, Angela and I were picked up by Uschi, wife of Urban-man, and taken to my old hometown: Schleiden. That's where we stayed until yesterday with Urban's brother, Tom, and his wife, Regine.

Angela and Urban enjoying the beverages

I hadn't been back in Schleiden since shortly after Judy's death when I visited numerous friends in this area of Germany. Tom is like a brother for me, and we've always enjoyed each other's company, be it on long bike rides or while drinking our beloved Gemünder Naturtrüb Landbier.

Our old house, top row toward the left

While in Schleiden, I showed Angela where I grew up—the first house we lived in, where the fair used to stop over, the new house (which my dad sold after my mother's death and before moving back to Berlin). The weather was summery and Schleiden showed itself from its most beautiful side. It was quite funny when Angela asked T&R how often they have to water their exquisite garden and yard—on beautiful days it is so easy to forget how much it rains here and how ugly the weather can be.

Tom preparing the Würstchen

I had a chance to talk to a few of the "old timers." There was Lothar, who used to run everybody's favorite town-pub, the Ratskeller; he now is an antiques dealer. And there was Herr Hardy, who has been working for the same bank for 39 years and who still recognizes me immediately when I enter. But the most heart-warming encounter was that with Frau Wiertz, the 93-year-old mother of my childhood friend Hans-Peter who is a few years older than I am and whom I haven't seen in at least 40 years. We walked by her house, and she happened to peek out and immediately exclaimed, "Das ist doch der Jürgen!" We spent a delightful half hour in her living room, which looked and smelled exactly the same as almost half a century ago. Man, that was worth the entire trip!

Frau Wiertz—still living by herself at 93

On our last evening we all grilled sausages. The three Scheld-brothers (Tom, Urban, and Gregor) and I managed to put away quite a few beers while discussing the world. It doesn't get much better.

Jürgen

World Cup fever in Germany

Chocolate soccer ball in the Schokoladenmuseum Köln

Since our arrival in Germany on Wednesday afternoon I have been seeing more black, red, and gold than I have in a long, long time. Cars feature flags and German-colored hoods and mirror covers, shops offer cheap leis in the colors of the Vaterland, and otherwise normal-looking people have painted their faces. It's either the second coming of Hitler—or the soccer World Cup!!!

Could they be fans?

Tonight is the big game. Germany and Brazil are facing off in less than two hours, and Angela and I are taking a quick break from our exploration of Cologne to rest up for the much-anticipated final. I'm not sure yet where we will watch the game as most of the bars, pubs, and restaurants will probably be mega crowded, but if worst comes to worst we'll hang in the bar of the hotel lobby or even our room here in the Hilton. This afternoon, bands of semi-drunk men already hollered their songs, even if they knew only two words: "So schön, so schön, ..." and then they trailed off.

It will be a massive party night, and if Germany loses, well, it'll still be a party. If they win, no telling when we'll be able to sleep. I am sure fireworks are already stashed by the truckload.

The face belies the fact that Angela does not like Kölsch (or any other beer)

We will blend right in: Two days ago, while visiting the Nivea store in Berlin, Angela was given two free national soccer team shirts since Nivea is an official "partner" of the German team, and we're wearing them today (see above). As they say: If surrounded by the Romans, do as the Romans—or something like that.

I better stop so I can review the national anthem and don't start singing the forbidden one, the one that starts with "Deutschland, Deutschland über alles...."

Jürgen

Mid-year update

By the time I get done with the finishing touches on this entry, it'll be about midnight—midnight on June 30, or, if you want, early July 1. Why is this not summer solstice? It's right in the middle of the year, ain't it? OK, I don't need a lecture on pagan rites.

Half the year is already gone, again. This time last year, I was getting ready to return from Germany, after that damn sailing accident. I still have all those plates and screws. Still, it has been a fine year, and I hope things will continue on a similar trajectory. If you have followed my perambulations over the past 12 months you know that I have led an interesting and exciting life. Whether it is enviable remains the question. For some people it is, but they may just see a small part of it all. What is dear to you may not hold much importance for me, and vice versa. But I think we all agree that family, friends, and home are important to some degree.

Freshly Thompson-Water-Sealed fence and Adirondack chair; please note sun tea

I still grapple with the loss of my dad. In 10 days or so, I will sign the final documents in Berlin so that things are settled, at least from a legal standpoint. Next: Relationships are not always easy, but if I were to complain, I'd be a hypocrite. And my home? Oh man, am I glad to be home for a few days and enjoy la casa to her fullest.

Do you have one of these ....

... or those?

So here we are: The beginning of July. It is hot and windy in Lubbock, but I have re-stained my cedar fence; the weeds are mowed; I get an opportunity to entertain friends once in a while, dishing up eatable foods; my wine cellar still cradles 300+ decent bottles; and next week I'll be on a plane for another European adventure. And lest I forget: I'll serve as Chief Referee for the inaugural Vuelta del Llano after the July 4 fireworks have been launched.

The fruits of our labors

Life, indeed, is good, notwithstanding 101 F degrees and 25 mph sustained winds out there. Beats the hell out of playing an accordion in hell with ol' Satan looking on and making you replay Mozart's fugue K21 if you happen to trip somewhere along the way because of dehydration...

Jürgen