Antwerp in means "Hand Throw."

Grote Markt, a main market square in Antwerp, with a view of the
Cathedral of Our Lady, visible in the background.
The square is surrounded by guild halls and the city's town hall.
This is often cited as the tourist destination for Antwerp.

According to folklore, the origin of the city's name comes from a giant named Druon Antigoon, who lived in the area. He would charge a toll for anyone crossing a bridge across the river Scheldt or, if you couldn't pay, would cut your hands and toss them in the river. But Druon was eventually slain by a Roman soldier named Brabo, who cut off the giant's hands and threw them into the river.

Waiting in Antwerp Central,
doing the fusion dance.

Not yet mindful of that story the four of us met Stefaan, a highly educated and cultured young man of high repute in my eyes. We'd exchanged some emails online and he offered to show us around Antwerp, just because he's a great guy.

When he arrived, we exchanged conversation for a bit and immediately got to touring the area. He made plenty of offensive jokes that I won't write here, which were tastefully intermixed with cultural insight and intellectual expository on the city's history, and the history of its buildings.

On the side of the cathedral, these builders were placed because construction never officially ended.
That's right—this cathedral has been under construction for 662 years.

One of the most famous shots of Antwerp—in fact I just saw this on the back of the
Portland International Beerfest booklet.

Stefaan, the Renaissance Man of the day, guided us with acuity and expertise. If he weren't already working someplace nicer, I'd suggest he work as a tour guide, part time. But no, he does it because he likes doing it.

Stefaan in all his overcoat glory. He took us to a few places for some beer, and educated us....

And we sat transfixed at his teachings.

Really though we enjoyed some good drinks, thanks to his expert recommendation.

In a previous blog post, I wrote about meeting some Japanese women at the top of the Belfry of Bruges, where I had the opportunity for a completely organic exchange in Japanese. Well, as we walked around the square near the Cathedral of Our Lady, one hundred miles of train from the Belfry of Bruges, we ran into them again! We had a great conversation for about fifteen minutes.

This time, I got a picture! Disregard the Nguyenning photobomb that went completely undetected.

And we explored the city some more.

Michael, geared up with his nifty flip-flop backpack attachment. That's straight up web gear for you.

About the most legit acoustic bass I've ever seen.

In front of the town hall. Aryan was channeling his Smeagor.

I'm actually quite ashamed of this. Also, sorry Michael. In front of Het Steen

After seeing Het Steen, a little fort on the waterfront, we enjoyed some Belgian mussels (which turned out not to be prepared as our Dutch guides had suspected!) and headed back to enjoy a surprisingly good dinner with our host, Ailean. Out of sheer kindness Ailean was kind enough to allow Michael to stay with us that night, and even call an early-morning taxi for us to ride to Charleroi Airport (not terribly far from Brussels but a proper 90 minutes of mass transit).

At Charleroi, waiting for our two-hour delayed flight (thanks, RyanAir), we made a new friend: Marion! We made small talk and learned about Norway, where she was from.

Michael, trying to work using Charleroi's shoddy wifi.

Finally about to board the plane! Note my displeasure at the long delay.

Marion was a conscript at the time, working for NATO in Belgium, and planned to enter school as soon as her conscription ended. In the meantime, she made the most of her sparse vacation times by traveling all around, to places like Dublin.

And that's where we'll be next!