La Jolie Belgique

Before I begin, I hope you'll allow me a little moment of poetry:

This afternoon, I was in a completely evil mood. I had just finished grammar class, which is incredibly helpful but turns my brain into a swamp, and was about to have oral expression. There's nothing bad about oral expression, but I just wasn't looking forward to it. I just wanted to go home. But you know what? Maybe I earned some good karma somewhere, or maybe God was listening, because I reached the classroom to find a note on the door: "Annulation de classe, professeur est absente." Quelle chance! Feeling significantly more lighthearted, I decided to take advantage of the blazing sun to go for a little spin in centre ville. I knew exactly what I needed to brighten my day. In Belgium, we had come across a little delight called Leonidas Chocolates. Feeling the loss of it upon our return to Angers, Melissa and I googled it, only to find that there is one here too! So off I went. The woman in the store was very sweet, and so sympathetic, much like her chocolates. I bought myself a few petites quelque choses. The chocolate shop happened to be right across from Galleries Lafayette, France's version of Holt Renfrew. Why not? I said to myself. Why not indeed. I popped in, and let myself forget for a few minutes that I am a student and cannot afford the lovely things this department store has to offer. I did, however, buy mascara because I found a kind that I use to wear and love, which has since disappeared from Canada! My appetite for chocolate and shopping satisfied, I got back on my bike. And oooh, the city at sunset is radiant! The light on the white buildings and the remaining tree leaves... The clouds were the palest yellow - big, fat poufs like the kind you would see in a rococo painting. They glowed as if being lit up by a giant nightlight from the inside. Once again, the simple pleasures of Angers life had chased away my terrible mood.

There, now that my moment of poetry is over, I'll begin with my travel tales.

Last Thursday morning, at an ungodly hour, Melissa and I met Katie outside our house. We had a few minutes of panic when it seemed that the taxi we had ordered was not going to come, but eventually it arrived. We got to the train station in good time, met Becky, and off we went. We had an hour stopover in Paris, where we had to make our way from Montparnasse to Gare du Nord. There, we got on the train to Brussels.

We arrived at the Gare du Midi and tried to figure out our route to our hostel, 2Go4. We had a little trouble buying tickets for the public transit system, which would only take exact coinage, but a nice man from the train company helped us out. We took the metro to the city centre, and got out of the station to find that it was pouring rain. Bien sûr. But you know, 'pouring rain' doesn't really do the weather justice. I might rather say that it was a torrential downpour. Or perhaps that we were being deluged with several oceans' worth of precipitation every minute. On top of this inadvertent swim we were taking, it also happened to be blowing a gale, so umbrellas were immediately made completely worthless. The one I brought with me died within minutes. Nevertheless, we struggled our way to the tourism office, taking note of the many chocolateries on the way. The Grand Place, the 17th century city centre, was incredible. We didn't spend a lot of time admiring it and taking pictures, due to the weather, but we managed to take note of the intricate architecture. The Belgians clearly have a thing for fine details. The square is made up of the town hall, the former duke's house, and many guild houses where the merchants and craftsmen of the city met with each other to... discuss business? Or something. Back in the 1600s, buildings didn't have numbers, so each guildhall was distinguished by a sculpture to represent its name.

After getting maps from the tourism office, we made our soggy way to the hostel, checked in, and took a quick repose in our room. We had booked a private, 4-bed room for the first two nights, and then a 14-bed dormitory for the last night because it was cheaper. After a little time collecting ourselves, we ventured back into the storm. We tried to do touristy things, I promise we really tried. We made our way back to the Grand Place with every intention of seeing a museum. But after my and Katie's umbrellas died (after which I bought another one - it broke upon opening. I took it back to the store, and the storeowner handed me another one), all ideas of doing anything culture-y disappeared. Chocolate was now the number 1 priority. Happily, the street we were on was lined with chocolate shops. Having done a little bit of research before coming, we had heard that Leonidas was a good choice. Was it ever! Row upon row of little delights sat before us, calling our names. A 250g box was only 5 euros, so it seemed the logical choice. After we made our purchases, we went in pursuit of priority number 2: beer. I stuffed my third umbrella into a garbage can on the way. It was as if the city was growing umbrellas that weekend - you would see them sprouting from every garbage bin like flowers in a flower pot. Others lay strewn on the ground like weeds growing between cracks in the cement.

Our next stop was Georgette, the first bar we came across. We spent the next while enjoying our chocolates and tasting some Belgian beer. Becky ordered a delicious Duvel, and the rest of us tried La Mort Subite, a kriek beer (meaning it has been double-fermented with cherries, giving it a kind of sparkling fruit juice flavour... not quite to my taste). Our palates thus gratified, we decided it was time to see the city come rain or... well, more rain. We went back to the city centre to see Mannekin-Pis, Brussels' two-foot tall metal statue of a cherubic boy peeing. It's kind of like the Mona Lisa - you hear so much about it, all the tourist shops sell every form of Mannekin-pis paraphernalia, but the thing itself is not actually that impressive. But funny! I think it's proof that the Belgians have a good sense of humour. Right next to Mannekin-Pis was a waffle stand. It was only appropriate to give equal attention to all of the country's cuisine, so we bought some. Soo yummy. Next we made our way to the Galleries St-Hubert which is a covered shopping street. Many of the stores we decorated for Christmas, so it was quite pretty. The cathedral was just at the end of that street, so that was our next stop. The bells were ringing as we entered. I love love love the sound of church bells! It was a lovely church. The stone inside was very light, and the gothic architecture was somehow less severe than in many churches. You could also go downstairs to see the ancient foundations that the church was built on. What's more, there were grates in the floor with hot air coming from them, so we could warm our feet while we warmed our souls.

Next stop was the bar A La Mort Subite, the bar that our first beer was named after. It was decorated in its original Art Deco style, and was filled with a good mix of locals and tourists. This time we each ordered something different. I tried a Chimay Brun, which was one of my favourites. After a little time spent there, we went back to the city centre to meet up with Matt, Jessica, and Vince, who were spending the night in Brussels before moving on to Amsterdam. The seven of us trudged off to find a restaurant that Katie's guidebook recommended as traditionally Belgian. It took us a while to find, due to the fact that its name, La Fin de Siècle, was not written anywhere outside the restaurant. We had to go inside to ask if we'd found the right place. When we got there, we were told there would be a 30 minute wait. So, we decided to go find one of the other restaurant's that Katie's book suggested. We eventually found that one, only to discover it was closed. Ok then. We walked up and down the main street, somewhat despondently, with no luck of finding something that looked both inexpensive and authentic. After a while we went back to the first one, where we were again told there would be a 30 minute wait. At that point, we just wanted to be fed, so we waited at the bar and ordered some beer (this time I tried a Ciney Blonde). When we were seated at last, it turned out to be worth the wait. Quite a tasty meal.
After dinner we went to a jazz bar, where we had heard there was live jazz piano. No such luck. We stayed for a few minutes anyway, and then made our way home, completely exhausted.

Day 2 was busy. We woke up early, and all seven of us went to the southern end of the city to see the daily flea market. On the way, we stumbled across the Palais de Justice, which is the largest building constructed in the 1700s. The entrance was incredible - massive neoclassical columns, sculptures, and wall carvings. We had some fun taking pictures before moving on. The flea market was full of the usual junk one finds at these things, but it was great. I love markets and the people who go to them. Matt, Jess, and Vince had to leave to catch their train after that, so we said goodbye and parted ways. Melissa, Becky, Katie, and I walked north towards the art gallery. We stopped at some more specialty chocolate shops (had a few dégustations [tastings]) and a lovely little church. It was lunch time, and Katie noticed a sign for fresh soup. Feeling more than a little unhealthy from all the chocolate we were eating, this seemed like the perfect antidote. The sign directed us to this closet-sized deli. The shelves were lined with incredible spices, sauces, pastes, and spreads. There were herbs hanging from the ceiling and the fresh food was giving off the most delicious smells. We eat got a bowl of hot, hearty soup.

After lunch we stopped by another church, and then went to the Musée des Beaux Arts, where there is both a modern/contemporary and a classic art section. We gave ourselves until 3:30 to look around at our own paces. There was a beautiful Breughel section, that had paintings by both the father and son. I also got to see the painting Marat Assassiné by Jacques-Louis David. It was a good gallery - not so large that I felt stressed trying to see everything, but large enough that it had a bit of everything. Except the impressionists, strangely enough. After the gallery, we went back to our hostel. You don't realise, when on vacation, how many more things you try to do as a tourist than you would normal fit into your day. We took another little rest before going back out on the town. This time we stopped at the Delirium Village, a street of bars that are all connected to each other so that you can't really tell which bar you're in. The menus coming in huge binders, and each beer is described in detail. I ordered a drink, but after waiting 10 minutes, I was told they were out of that beer. Harrumph. After that bar we went to dinner. I don't remember the name of the restaurant, but the food was tasty. I had a nice big omelette and a salad. And a beer, but I didn't write down the name of that one. We also got free beer with our meal, because the doorman was hitting on us. He and one of the waiters (both middle-aged) invited us out to go clubbing with them later, but we politely declined. Going to bed seemed like a much better idea (I know, we're SO exciting... but I think it's safe to say that going to a bar with anyone more than twice your age is inappropriate in any country). So, back to our hostel we went.

Day 3 was our trip to Bruges! Bruges is a medieval city that was largely abandoned in a few hundred years ago. In the 1900s, it was rediscovered as a historical gem, and repopulated. As a result, it's very well preserved. We took an hour-long train to get there. First item on our agenda was a brewery tour. We bought our tickets for the De Halve Maan Brouwerij, the last remaining brewery in the city. We went for a cheap and unexciting lunch first across the street first, and then started our tour. Our tour guide was really enthusiastic. The brewery only runs Monday-Wednesday, so we couldn't see it in action, but it was interesting nonetheless. And at the end of the tour, we got to try a glass of the delicious product itself! Next, we stopped for our daily dose of chocolate, I bought another new umbrella, and then we went for a boat tour on the canal. Bruges is one of the many cities that calls itself 'The Venice of the North.' The canal weaves past all the loveliest and oldest buildings. It was raining, of course, but it was nevertheless a cool way to see the city. After that tour we did a little more walking around, but didn't end up going into any museums. We'd already spent so much money that spending 4 euros to walk up a bell-tower just didn't seem appealing. Instead, we directed ourselves to The Beer Temple, which is Belgium's answer to the Beer Store. Becky's uncle had requested she send him a 12 pack of Ciney Bruin. Finally, we stopped for dinner. I had a wonderful beef stew, just the thing for such a cold, wet day. I also had to pay for a glass of water. It seems you can't get free water at any restaurant in Belgium, something that just blows my mind. How can anyone justify making a fellow human being pay for water? But nevermind, it was a good meal. When we finished, we walked back to the train station and went home.

Back in Brussels, we switched from our private room and into the dorm. We met a few people, but everyone had their own plans for the night. For our part, we wanted to return to the jazz bar to see if we could hear live music this time. When we got there, we found out that the live concerts were only on Sundays now. So we went back to the Delirium Village. My lungs were not very happy with me that night, as Belgians are still allowed to smoke in bars. We went to the pirate bar, which specialises in Absinthe. Now if you're about to be shocked and appalled at me for trying it, let me defend myself. Absinthe is no longer made in wormwood, so it's not hallucinogenic, just bloody strong. And also, since it tastes revoltingly like black licorice, I paced my one shot over about fifteen minutes. Disgusting. We had to get a group of 16 year olds next to us to show us how to ignite the sugar cubes that you're supposed to dunk into your shot... Being again rather sleepy, we went home after not too long.

The next morning, we repacked and dressed in the dark of our dorm. The boots and the shoes that I'd brought were both still soaked. I had been rotating my footwear each day to try and give my poor, soggy feet a little respite. I felt like I was going to get trench foot, that disease that soldiers got in the 1st and 2nd world wars from having perpetually wet feet in the trenches. We gathered all our stuff, checked out, and made our way back to Gare du Midi to catch our train. But like all good travel stories, we reached a little complication. TRAIN DELAYED 2 HOURS. That was the promising sign we saw when we reached the platform. Excuse me? Ça alors! We went to the info desk to find a sea of people crowded around it. It turns out the tracks were flooded, and that all trains going to France were indefinitely delayed. Wonderful. We sat on the floor and awaited further instruction. After an hour of no news, we were beginning to panic. But all of a sudden, the crowd of people all began to push towards the platform. We gathered our things are ran after them to find that a shiny red train waiting to take us back to Paris. Victory! Within a few hours, we were back home, warm, dry, and clean. It was a very successful vacation.