Now that it's springtime, 3-day weekends have become a precious commodity. It's not like in the fall where you practically live in a haze of 4-day work weeks, so you've gotta make each spring long weekend count. Last year, you may recall us going on a road trip through Germany, Belgium and The Netherlands (See: Beer, fried food and rocky road schnitzel). While in Belgium, we spent time in Brugge (or Bruges, if you're French) but didn't make it to Brussels. With President's Day weekend, flights to Brussels were uber cheap so we figured "Why not?". We loved Belgium the last time we visited, and let's be honest, what's not to love? You've got bitterballen (yuuuuuum), delicious chocolate and fries, nice people, beautiful cities and a beer so good it would make Grandpa from Willy Wonka jump out of his bed and start dancing. Sign us up again for that biznass.
We flew out of Sevilla, and I got to see another side of Elliot....a side that gets very annoyed with the French (or French-speaking folks). After dealing with some pushy old ladies in line at the little airport food/drink venta, and being surrounded by people who were a bit too ripe to be getting into enclosed spaces with others, I got an earful from him about how he wanted to play Revelry with his butt bugle (my words, not his) and say, "Here's a French onion for ya." Fortunately, he took the high road and kept his French onions to himself, but now I know how to rile him up....
After a fetid 2.5 hour flight, we finally made our descent into Belgium. Elliot glanced out the window and said, "Hmm, it's cloudy." To which I replied, "Yeah... I think there might be a chance of meatballs." Chuckling to myself until we de-planed, we picked up our rental car and made our way into Brussels. For weekend trips, we don't check bags as 1) it's 30 euros/bag for RyanAir and 2) we've become experts at getting everything we need that weekend into backpacks. I'm talking Mary Poppins style packing. It makes souvenir buying a bit trickier, but we've managed to get creative with how we transport things: See: Oh you should see the Colosseum, Spaniard. Plus, it saves us time after deplaning, as it took us over an hour to get our bag at London Stansted in September.
Brussels Charleroi airport is only about 40 minutes from downtown Brussels, so we made it to our Sheraton hotel around midnight. We got an insane deal on that room; only costing us 60 euro a night, it was cheaper than most hostels....except the Snuffel Hostel in Brugge...although I shudder at the memory.
Despite our late arrival, we had to wake up at 6:15 the next morning for our trip to the US Embassy. My youngest brother Jordan's college roommate's father ('s uncles' mechanic's cousin twice removed's mother in law) is the US Ambassador to Belgium, Howard Gutman. When we booked our flights, Jordan contacted Colin (his roommate) and a few days later, we had an invitation to the Embassy and Ambassador's residence for breakfast! The Ambassador and his family were due back in the States that afternoon to look at colleges for his youngest son, so an early breakfast at 7:30 was our only option. Grateful for the opportunity, there were no objections from us, and we were more than happy to wake up early for the visit.
Although we left with plenty of time, and I had printed out walking directions in advance, we still somehow got turned around. The streets were labeled pretty well, but there were a lot of unlabeled diagonal streets that threw us off. Finally conceding defeat, we turned on Data Roaming and discovered that we were only a block away. Despite being overcast and chillier than we're used to, we managed arrived at the Ambassador's residence right at 7:30 without getting rained on.
After showing the Belgian military members at the entrance booth our passports, we were allowed to walk up to the residence door where we were greeted by what must have been one of the house managers. After giving our coats, a butler (A BUTLER!) led us into the open sitting room. Being the graceful person I am, I immediately tripped over one of the rugs. Fortunately Elliot was the only one around, and I caught myself before looking like too much of an ass. In the sitting room where we waited, there were framed pictures on the tables of the Ambassador and his family with the President, the Vice-President, the Secretary of State and all sorts of celebrities like Ben Affleck, Jennifer Garner and George Clooney. There was also a gorgeous iron-wrought table and chairs next to an indoor fountain. AN INDOOR FOUNTAIN. I would flounder in high-society, as I am impressed far too easily.
The Ambassador met us in the sitting room before taking us into yet another sitting room to chat and have fresh-squeezed orange juice. We had brought a bottle of Spanish wine for him and his wife as a token of our gratitude (yes, we managed to fit even that into our backpacks). After chatting a bit about what we're doing in Spain, and how long he's been in Belgium, we went back into the first sitting room for breakfast.
The butler (A BUTLER!) brought a basket of fresh bread, rolls and croissants, a bowl of mixed fruit, scrambled eggs and bacon. Coffee and water were also served out of pots so fancy that young Indy would swear they should belong in a museum. While we ate, Ambassador Gutman explained the US Art in the Embassies program as well as his accomplishments as Ambassador and the challenges he's faced. Not only has he lived an incredibly fascinating life (his Wikipedia page), but he has accomplished quite a bit while serving as Ambassador. You can tell that he is well-liked by the Belgian people, as he has committed to learning Flemish and French and visiting every city and town in the country. He also explained to us how the south of Belgium speaks French and only a little English, the north of Belgium (the Flemish) speak Dutch, English and French, and how people in Brussels speak French and English. He explained that they're divided by language but not by social or fiscal issues. His explanation made sense of the fact we couldn't find any bitterballen in Brussels :(
After breakfast, he gave us a tour around the residence, showing us the room where Presidents have slept, and the Embassy next door (accessible through a door). On the Embassy wall outside of his office, there are pictures of all the previous US Ambassadors to the country, including Eisenhower's son. On his office walls, there were framed emails from the president, his numerous degrees and awards and still photos from movies and shows he's appeared in. We also got a bag of Howard Gutman tortilla chips that a Belgian chip-maker made in honor of his visit. New life goal: get my mug on a bag of chips.
After saying goodbye and heading back to our hotel, we took a massively needed snooze before setting off to explore the city. I had downloaded a Brussels Guide app for the phone that didn't require an internet connection, and it recommended a little bistro in Saint Catherine's plaza that sounded pretty good. We did some wandering around by our hotel too, and got to see two memorials to the World Wars, weather-damaged but imposing and impressive. It was an overcast day in Brussels, but it made the stone architecture and statues around the city seem almost haunting. Brussels has some fantastic architecture, so I highly recommend a visit.
After our trips in Rome and London, we just wanted a weekend to just wander around the city without an agenda. There were a few things we wanted to see, like the Grand Place and the Mannekin Pis statue (little boy peeing into a fountain), but we honestly just wanted to walk around the city and drink some good Belgian beers. Elliot took a photo anthology of the ones we had on our trip, so he is the person to ask for recommendations. At lunch, I had a St. Fevillien and a Quintine, and El had St. Bernardus and Malgos Belgoo (all three abbey blondes) to wash down the cheese croquettas, black truffle ravioli and steak with frittes (with 3 sauces). I think we were a bit misled with the description of our lunch place, as it was advertised as having "authentic Flemish food" and being owned by the same family for hundreds of years. When we got there, the menu was most definitely French and a displayed sign listed a restaurant opening date in the '70's. The 1970's. The app was off by a couple hundred years or so. The food was good though, so we couldn't really complain.
The Grand Place is the Main Plaza/Piazza/Square/Whatever in Brussels, and is known to be one of the most impressive and beautiful in the world. It's a UNESCO World Heritage Site (what isn't though?), and it is an absolutely breathtaking area. There are a bunch of cafes, chocolatiers and bars that surround the Place, as well as typical souvenir shops. After taking a few pictures in the Place, we just wandered through the side streets, popping in and out of souvenir shops to get our magnets and postcards (a must for every city we visit). The shop owners all stand at the entrance to their store and try to convince you to come inside. The shops all have the typical fare: t-shirts, magnets, postcards, etc., but they ALL seemed to carry U.S. Marshalls gear. Every shop you passed by had mannequins wearing "Property of the US Marshalls" sweatshirts/pants or hats. Unless Brussels is a haven for criminals from the US, I'm not sure why they're such a big sell....
You may have heard of a beer called Delirium Tremors, that supposedly was voted "The Best Beer in the World". In DC, they have a huge neon sign advertising it at RFD's by the Verizon Center, which is how I know of it. The brewery, Delirium, has two bars in Brussels: Delirium Village (made up of several bars) and Little Delirium Cafe. We had already penciled in Delirium Village for later that evening, as it advertised as having 2,004 beers available. While wandering around trying to find Mannekin Pis, we stumbled upon Little Delirium and stopped by to have a drink. Blasting the Ghosbusters theme, with walls covered in beer signs and trays, it was basically how I want our future basement bar to look (and yes, sound):
We both had a Rulles Blond (another abbey one) before attempting to find Mannekin Pis. I had planned all sorts of epic poses for my Facebook album of me posing with random crap (including, but not limited to, one of me re-enacting the pose, cuz I'm classy like that) and was sorely disappointed to see the massive crowd all trying to get their own pictures. We knew that there's a museum of costumes that the little guy has worn throughout the years but were still a tad disappointed that he was decked out in a Carnaval costume and mask. Don't get me wrong, it was stinking adorable, but you really couldn't tell that it was actually the Manneken Pis (which means "Little Man Pee" in Dutch). Swallowing our loss, we stopped by a cool looking place to have a Blanche de Bruxelles (the French spelling of Brussels) and a coffee.
After sweeping through the streets some more and spacing out our golden beverages at a few more places (including having to overhear an obnoxious conversation by American exchange students wearing Charlotte Hornets hats (?), we had dinner at a little place called the Pasta Queen. We were still by the Grand Place, so there were a lot of restaurant workers trying to coax us into their place with lines like, "She's waiting for you inside!" or "We missed you! It's good to see you again!". I think we decided on the Queen's Pasta because she was the only restaurant in the area that didn't have someone outside trying to pressure us. Plus, they had pesto gnocchi on the menu, which is probably my favorite pasta and sauce combination. The Pasta Queen was Italian, and appeared to be the owner, bartender and only waitress in the place. No wonder she didn't have time to stand outside and heckle us. The food was very good though, so I shall bestow high approval ratings on Her Majesty.
At this point of the night, the streets were packed with folks out on the town. We decided to try our luck at finding Delirium Village and sampling one of their 2,004,5678910 beers. I'm lucky that I married Magellan, because that boy is good with a map. When we were in Rome, he would glance at it for what seemed two seconds and had already formulated the most direct path, an escape route and found a bunkered compound in case of the Apocalypse. I suppose at some point even the Mighty must fall though, as we wandered around Brussels for a good 15 minutes trying to find this place. I've never seen the man get so turned around in an unfamiliar city, especially one with difficult-to-pronounce street names. He finally threw up his hands and conceded defeat, saying that we needed to take a cab there. We popped into the first one we saw, told him we were going to Delirium Cafe and then slowly slinked back out after being informed that it was down the street, about 100 meters away. Oh. That close, huh?
Delirium Village was HOPPING (cuz of the beer! Ba dum ching!), and we had to go all the way up into the "Happy Loft" to find a spot to sit. Not sure exactly what kind of happy endings we were in for, we breathed a sigh of relief when it was just a bar. I had a cherry beer that was surprisingly good, but we were so exhausted that we left after one drink. After all that work to find this place, we leave after one.
The next day we had breakfast at the hotel before setting off for Cologne (Koln), Germany. Only about two hours away, we had wanted to see the Dom (Cathedral) there since we were in the area (Dusseldorf) last year. Despite the snow on the way there, we arrived around 12:30. When we had talked about road-tripping to Koln that weekend, we were ignorant of the fact that Carnaval was being celebrated. At first, we just thought the girl with a gold, sparkly top hat and Grand Marshall staff was just being saucy, but we figured it out when we started seeing clown costumes and what not. Despite the awful traffic around the city, and the Dom being closed (grrr) to the public, we still had fun walking around for a bit. The streets were roped off for parades, but people were partying on the sidewalks, with folks spilling out from the beer halls that lined the streets, drinking with their friends and celebrating life. We saw some interesting costumes, including a Cookie Monster with a strategically placed cookie, and heard music blaring in and around the halls. We got some street currywurst, frittes and these hash-brownish, fried, potato cakes that must have also been cooked in malt vinegar. They were fresh out of the fryer and so unbelievably good that I got the guy's card. Yep, a food cart vendor has his own card and website.
We made our way back to Brussels shortly thereafter, since wandering around Koln was proving to be difficult with the crowds. We did get to hear some sweet German tunes on the ride back though, including the lounge lizard swoon-worthy jam, "Goodbye my love, Auf Wiedersehen." Since we had figured out (thanks to the brilliant cab driver) where Delirium Cafe was actually located, that was our first stop when we got back. Once again, it was almost completely packed with tourists (mostly Americans), but we managed to grab a giant barrel "table" in the Main bar area. Like the Happy Loft and its counterpart, Little Delirium, the walls and ceiling were completely covered in beer signs and trays. There weren't any waitresses, just bar backs, so you had to had to go up to the bar to order. The menus on the barrels let you know what TYPE of beer you were drinking, the amount and price, but didn't give a description. We basically picked whatever had "Abbey blond" next to it, as those had proven to be our favorites thus far. We also ordered cut up salami that came with glorious mustard and cubes of cheese to snack on. The salami was so ridiculously good that I must've been talking about it non-stop, since Elliot was like "My God, you and this salami!". Oh well, it was freaking 10 stars out of five.
When Elliot put on his Whalers t-shirt earlier in the day, he commented that someone was DEFINITELY going to come up to him and yell, "WHALERS!!!!" My laughing reaction was paired with a pity head-pat and a , "Sure they will." Looks like he got the last laugh because one of the Americans sitting at the barrel next to us came up to him and said, "Hey man, is that a Hartford Whalers t-shirt?" Totally soaking up his victory, Elliot excitedly said yes and showed him the Whalers HAT he also had with him. I had to laugh because it was almost too perfect.
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After a quick breakfast the next morning and picking out a KILO of chocolate to take home, we boarded our flight with a French-speaking group of HIGH SCHOOLERS ON A FIELD TRIP TO SEVILLA. Combine that with me sitting bitch on the flight, and I was basically in the bowels of hell. Good thing the rest of the trip was basically non-stop laughter and fun. F'in French...
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