Last Weekend in Brussels

Last weekend was an extravaganza!

B was in town from Suede (I love that in French:  Sweden = Suede).  Friday night, we had a stellar dinner at Frenchie, wherein we opted for the 38 euro tasting with entree + plat + dessert, but did it with wine pairings... boo-ya!  (But really, 38 euros for a 3-course fancytimes meal is pretty darn reasonable.)  You may remember my experience at the Frenchie Bar a Vins earlier this year, but we were pleasantly surprised to be seemingly the only native English speakers at the restaurant proper.  We booked our table way back in August (yes, for a December seating), and we were sure to book another table for February (during PV week) before we left.

Saturday, we Thalys-ed to Brussels for the main event of Jamie and Frida's leaving party.  We walked around that afternoon in Brussels, and it felt strange to no longer have an apartment or a home base there.  We realized that it would probably be our last time in Brussels for a long time, and it made us a little sentimental... and maybe even a little sad.

The leaving do was a full-on partytacular, with good eats and "sippin' tequila" and dancing and a lot of shenanigans (including swim caps, kilts, blonde wigs, and men wearing lipstick...)  Brussels is going to miss Jamie and Frida, that's for sure.  But London is lucky to get them.

Here are some scenes from our last 24 hours in BXL.

Creepy brides off Dansaert.

Foxy.

BOOM.

And don't you worry, we managed to hit up our old stompin' grounds, the winter market.  It was nice to see that the booths were just about the same as last year, and our old favorites "Snails Guy" and "Gothy Arrow Enthusiast-slash-Raindeer Pelt Peddler" were there.  But the tartiflette booth gets us every time.  There are few ills that a steaming bowl of cheesy potato and ham goodness can't conquer.

This is the only picture I have from the party, and it's not even from the party, but from the morning after.  Nothing like a cryptic yellow sticky note to prove that a good time was had.

Another Move

Bye bye to our old place in Brussels...

We are officially moved out.  I miss our old place and the space it afforded us (almost too much space--imagine!), as well as the St. Gilles neighborhood and its authentic character.

Speaking of authentic character, here's some St. Gilles for you!  We noticed this on one of our last metro rides in Brussels.  Note the dark grease spots at head-level above the chairs.  This is what years of public heads on a white tile wall becomes.

Sick.



But on to Paris!

Our place here is big.  Giant really, for people of our (lowly) status!  64 m2!  Even the movers remarked on how big it is.  It was newly refurbished, so we don't have to deal with rotting cabinets or a crummy old potty.  But it sorta lacks character.  There are no wooden crossbeams or decorative moldings, but somehow that also seems to give it less of a creep factor (read:  ghost potential).  The other bummer is that the whole place (except for the bedroom) is tiled, which sorta makes it feel like you're living in a kitchen.  But it's nothing a nice area rug can't remedy.

Our place is just off the Republique metro/traffic circle/giant-lady-statue and a couple of blocks from the Canal St-Martin.  We are in love with our new neighborhood.  The Marais was beautiful and offered everything just outside our door.  But it came to feel touristy and too crowded on the weekends.  It felt less like my neighborhood and more like everyone else's.  Plus, it was all right there, shiny and bright and established.  The fun of where we live now is finding all of the good spots.  (More on that later.)  And it's definitely less touristy (though they do come for the canal), more real, and a smidge gritty.

But back to the apartment.  Here are some pics from the day we moved in:

See what I mean about the lack of character?  Oh well, it's clean and bright.

Taking an unfurnished apartment here usually means having to put in your own appliances.  I have already purchased a fridge and a washing machine.  An oven/stove is next on my list.  Until then, we eat out... not bad.

 The living room.

 Looking down the hallway with the bedroom on the right.

They used one of those cherry-picking machines to bring our stuff up to the 3eme etage (which is the 4th floor for those Stateside).  It's pretty nervewracking to see your belongings up on a lift like this, especially when they must go through the branches of a tree each time.  (Our place was full of leaves and branches afterward.)  But it all worked out and nothing but a cuckoo clock pendulum fell off, our gift to the neighbors downstairs via their balcony.

A lesson was learned, however:  Never go with the moving company who offers the cheapest bid.  So far, only one thing has turned up broken (a serving plate), but we've had a lot of "Are you KIDDING me?" moments while unpacking.  Like, glass perfume bottles being thrown together without being wrapped, while tubes of plastic chapstick were lovingly contained in paper.  WHAT?  They were a buncha dum-dums, for sure.

Though they did leave me with this incredibly labelled box...


Handbags, Parfum, Jewels


Jewels?!?  How did Zsa Zsa Gabor's boxes get mixed up with mine?  I never would have pegged her to take the lowest bidder!



One more thing.

Look who came out to say goodbye when I was leaving my old apartment.

Bye Bye, Brussels

Here I sit, sipping on a St Feuillien and missing Brussels already, though I'm still here.

But tonight when the 9:37 train to Paris pulls out, my time in Brussels will officially be over.

I remember when B got the job offer and we decided to move here, and I thought something to the effect of.... well, it's not Paris and it's not London and it's not Amsterdam, but it IS a centrally located city in Europe, so we'll make the best of it.

Then I got here and was able to spend an unemployed summer exploring the city and making myself at home, finding our haunts and deciding what neighborhood to live in, and well, by then Brussels had me under its spell.  It really is a great "starter" European city.  There are other languages spoken, so you definitely know you ain't in the US no more, but most people speak English, too, so you're not that far out of your element.  The food is good (it had more Michelin-starred restaurants per capita than any other city when we moved here) and the "hits" are approachable--frites, mussels, chocolate, waffles.  The architecture is incredible; there are so many deco gems and beautiful details, in even the most ordinary of buildings.  It is a walkable city, and B and I enjoyed some of our best times just wandering around like we're wont to do.  And the beer... oh, the beer!  I knew we had it good here (B and I especially, what with living so close to Moeder Lambic) but it really took moving to Paris and being confronted with the shit selection of beer in the groceries to make me appreciate the quality of beer at your fingertips here in Belgium.

And our apartment!  I know you saw the pictures way back when but it breaks my heart to leave our most lovely apartment here.  It was just perfect for us--and for having friends visit.  It was nearly 100 m2... that is GIANT as far as EU apartments go.  And we really fell in love with our neighborhood of St. Gilles.

But things change, jobs end and others present themselves, so here we are in flux again.

I just signed a lease on a great apartment in Paris, right near the Republique metro and 3 blocks from the Canal St. Martin.

Nice, right?

It's all new and big for Parisian standards at 64 m2 (I don't know in feet people, I just don't...), but if I had to grouse I'd tell you that it lacks old Parisian character.  But then, that also makes me feel that it will be sufficiently un-ghosty (you know I worry about this)... a big relief.

So this Friday, they move all of our things from Brussels to Paris.  And B will bring Chichi on the train on Friday.  (Please no poops on the train, please no poops on the train...)  I am really excited to have her there with me, to have someone to come home to.

Paris is great.  I mean, it's Paris!  But it's not without its challenges.  (I am super-excited about July because some of my favorite people on this planet will be coming to visit.  I can hardly sit still about it!)  Brussels was nice because we had a network of friends here, but we'd also established ourselves in our neighborhood, knowing the people at Bar du Matin, and Moeder and our Night Shop and pharmacie and all of that.  And though the people in Paris have been friendly and welcoming and helpful, I will still miss the rhythm and ease of Brussels.  I am glad I got to experience it for the past year, though I feel like there are many parts of Belgium I had yet to explore.  I'd like to think I will still get to Gent or the Ardennes but honestly, now I have France to explore and it's probably not likely.  Still, I think we made the most of our time in Belgium and I will always treasure it.  I know I'm a lucky duck for having had the opportunity.

So.... on to the next chapter!  Thanks for the memories, Brussels.

Back to Brussels

In Brussels this weekend, mostly to clean out our apartment in preparation of moving all the stuffs to Paris.

Thalys tray shot.

 Pretty Belgium.

 Yikes.

'Tis the season.

Still obsessed with missing kitty posters.

Mini pineapples!!

I will miss you, A. Breart.

The Other Weekend, In Brussels

Oh, Brussels.  Every time it gets harder to leave.

Find Yoshi!

The thing I like about Yoshi's poster (besides the fact that he's missing... boo) is that his mom/dad shows him in so many different situations.  Here's what Yoshi looks like sleeping on the couch.  And here's how he is under the kitchen table.  So if you find a cat that resembles Yoshi, just pop him in one of these situations as a double-check that you have the right cat.

 La Bottega Della Pizza never does me wrong.  At the front is a pulpo carpaccio pizza.  So simple and perfect with just a smidge of lemon juice and some rocket.  YUM.

This is Oslo.  She graciously had us over for a bbq.  She also has mad tree-climbing skills.
Look at the intensity in her eyes.
I think she is challenging YOU to a tree-climbing contest.
Now try your best!

Because delicious ceilings have run their course.

Well it took all that to make him a dood.  Guess those kegstand rumors were just that... rumors.

One Determined Cat and A Clean Mustache

When Cochino wants Greenies, she will stop at nothing to get them.  She gnawed right through the bag! Here she is inspecting her work.

And Mr. Mustache was hung out to dry today in anticipation of his upcoming trip to China.  Mr. Mustache is quite the world traveller.

Our neighbors must think we're so weird.

Antwerpen

Banana milkshake at Lombardia.  I want to eat everything there.

Jupilers, gummi bears, and some weird bolognese-flavored ring-shaped crackers on the midnight train home.
There was exuberance... and sleep.

Street Scenes

Snaps from around town.

ABOVE
PALTROW

I have also seen the following:

Above
Murphy (for Eddie Murphy)

Above
Wahlberg (for Marky Mark)

I will keep you posted on who pops up next.

Here's a shot of the street cleaning system at work.  There are two sets of pipes below Paris, one carrying potable water and the other carrying water to clean the streets.  It all dates back to the Hausmann times.  Usually there is someone with a broom sweeping the rushing water away.  The act of sweeping water seems to be a very Parisian thing.  It's a weird concept for me, but it seems to work.

These guys must be friends.

Pretty-ness on my way to the Sentier.  I love that there is a fabric/garment district here and that it's walkable from my office.

Delicious!

This bugs me on so many levels.... but most glaring is that apostrophe.  Your pants are possessive???

Incroyable Hulk.
Cool.

If you ever wanted to know how to tell someone not to shake a baby in French.... you're welcome.  Apparently dumb white trash Americans aren't the only ones with this problem.

Yeah, you tell 'em Brussels!