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.
Somewhere amidst our insistent movie quotations and waiting on the train platform, we realized it: we were going to Bruges.
The Provincial Court on the Market Square. Bruges
The city with one of the oldest standing belfrys in the world. With thousands of years of combined history and even a smell that felt timeless, the greened channels and medieval bridges cutting across them bridged the gap between imagination and reality, as another major check on our list was about to be ticked off.
Just hours before we had taken the train to Brussels International Airport to meet our fourth brother, who was finally going to be with us again.
Michael coming out of the BRU arrivals gate.
If you can't guess, that says "Brussels North"
Michael, who we declared as the true gadget wizard among us, didn't let us down when he walked through the arrivals gate wearing an active head camera. He looked like some sort of man of the future. (A man of today?) We exchanged hugs and caught up with each other, and started coordinating with a couple of his Belgian friends who we were to met in Bruges. After that we had gotten our tickets and waited on the train platform.
When the train came its doors hissed opened. After the others got off, we stepped on board and found our seats. It was a one-hour train ride to Bruges, which was the terminus stop.
When we arrived we swam through the crowd of tourists to disembark from the train, where we made our way to the front of Bruges train station.
There we met Ilia and Freya, Michael's two friends from Belgium. Friends he had met online, through a video chatroom which he had been a regular part of for years. Ilia did not hesitate to bust out his Persian jokes with Aryan, and the quiet Freya kept us company with her subtle sense of humor. Both were good company!
Frey on the left, Ilia on the right. In front of the unmarked Bruges train station.
Good enough to compensate
for that lens flare?
So the six of us made our way to the town of Bruges, to explore the city and its beautiful architecture. On my personal list was: climbing the Belfry of Bruges, and seeing the Basilica of the Christ. Whether you believe or not, making pilgrimage to a sacred icon of a major world religion, and the one in which I was raised, held a special significance to me. And of course I wanted to see the top of the Belfry, to prove Colin Farrell wrong: American's aren't too fat to climb it.
On our way, we explored some of the spectacular sights of the town, and took in the architecture and culture of it.
Finally we arrived at our first destination: the Belfry of Bruges. We stood in line, and climbed our way to the top. Didn't think to get pictures of the stairs, which were about an inch wide at their skinniest, tightly winding, and extremely steep.
We passed many a tourist huffing and puffing in a rest area, while we made a hearted (more like winded) effort to get to the top as quickly as possible.
We matched! Mostly. On the way up the few hundred stairs to the top of the belfry.
Only occasionally did we stop in a rest area, to see the inner workings of the belfry's bell mechanism.
Via Michael's GoPro: A giant music box–cylinder controls the bell tolls....
Atop the tower we had a perfect view of the rest of the town, including the channels running through it, and an examiner's-eye view of the others touring the streets, riding the channels, relaxing on a horse-drawn carriage.
View from the top, through the grating.
A thick-wire mesh stopped us from throwing each other from the top, so we were unable to re-create one of our favorite scenes from a particular movie: In Bruges. You know: where one of the main characters falls from the top.
Not that we really planned on doing it.
Pointers to landmarks in the city
Group selfie atop the Belfry. Via Michael's GoPro.
I also had a very unique experience at the top of the belfry, which I wrote about here.
Inside the Basilica.
Our next stop was the Basilica of the Christ, in the nearby square. We made our way there, stopping to rest and converse, before the interested among us entered the basilica to see the blood of Christ. Is it real?
Does it matter?
Inside was quiet, hallowed ground. Whispers seemed not to echo off the grand stained-glass and ornate statues decorating each wall. Those of us there sat down and meditated on the significance of what we were seeing. I deposited a couple Euro to approach the blood of Christ and genuflected before it, staring deep into it.
The priest smiled genuinely and handed me a small pamphlet. To me, the image was sullied by that, if only slightly, by the commodification of this sacred icon.
Yet the significance stood there, unshaking in my mind, as I walked back out to rejoin the others. From there we continued to explore more of the city, walking through Minnewater Park before making way back to the station, for our train ride home.
See the belfry in the background? Yeah, we climbed that. Hence Aryan's eyebrows.
Dapper as usual.
In Minnewater Park.
Back at the town square. I'm not sure.
Michael with two of his good friends, who came to see him and meet us.
Michael stayed behind for work abroad, which he does from his laptop.
That evening, we stopped at a grocery store in order to buy some food ingredients, so that we could cook our host dinner. Ailean seemed to enjoy it, as well as the beer. We sat around the table for hours, exchanging conversation, drink, and a very spontaneous pasta recipe.
We went to bed early by comparison to our regular schedule, so that we could wake up early for our trip to Antwerp the next day. There, we would meet Stefaan, a native Belgian and fellow couch surfer who offered to show us around town. Our time with him would prove especially interesting, with another unique chance encounter not to be forogtten...
What started as a short and sweet idea, blossomed into something I could not have possibly imagined. Aside from the fact I'm a pack mule, stuffed up the ass with American products for greedy European friends, I'm an adventure seeker with intentions of sampling every food the world has to offer.
I never fully understood the culinary art until my late teen years, and I have never stopped innovating or trying new things or places since. I have developed a reputation amongst my peers and family members as a personal chef, which comes as a blessing and curse. It's very fulfilling and wholesome to know people enjoy the food you prepare, but it's always a challenge when they yearn for something new. I guess that relates with my piano skills (but I don't really consider myself a great pianist, just merely amateur.)
On the side note, I love technology. I breath it and bleed it. Expect me to be the one with the gadgets and what not for the remainder of the trip.
For the time being, Lady Luck has been kind to me, and I have the opportunity to partake the last leg of my Brother's Eurotrip while working. Like the many first world problems I have, I had to pass on going to Europe at the same time with my Brothers as I had to attend a minor detour in Cancun for a week. Though there may be four days left of the trip, it will be the best four days all four of us will have. So this leaves me being number four. With the Brothers and I parting ways on the 18th in Dublin. I will continue the Brothers Without Borders Campaign as acting ambassador, meeting new people and trying new food, until I am content with my travels.
I am Michael N., and that is all you need to know about me.
