The 'Twerp

Sweated my way through Antwerp last Friday with Taylor.  It felt good to bring some of that mess to a new city.  Oh wow, is it hot here.  Have I told you?  And the funny thing is, it's not even St. Louis-hot or Philly-hot or NYC-hot, but people are FREAKING OUT.  I mean, no one really has air conditioning.  In most cases, it's hotter to sit outside and sweat with the sun beating down on you (because you survive for those moments in which you think you just might kinda sorta discern a breeze) than it is to actually venture inside anywhere.  And the tram?  It's a new hell.  It's all I can do to try to keep from vomiting at the awful stench of overheated humanity.  People are slimy and sweaty and all up in your personal space because there's nowhere to go.  Y-U-C-K.  Maybe if I did vomit someone would give me a little space?  (Oh, and I'm totally off the raw meat during this heat snap.  If there's anyone who's reveling in this warmth, it's no doubt the parasitic larvae.)

Oh yeah, so this post is about Antwerp!  It's nice there.  Much smaller than Brussels; and everyone speaks English.  And the shopping is as good as they say it is.  Don't get me wrong, I think Brussels has some really good shopping, but shopping Antwerp in a day is much more do-able because things are closer together.  And there's water there.  *sigh*  I miss water.  My silly city buried its river.  Did you know that?  Brussels was like, "Water?  No thanks!  We're gonna drop some dirt over it!"  (OK, you can read the story;  it was polluted and stuff....  But STILL.  Brussels, what you did is UNNATURAL.  There was a river, and man decided to undo it.  I feel like one of these days, the Senne is gonna bust up through the city in a big stanky pop of 100+ year old terribleness and show us that we're still pretty powerless when it comes to nature.  Am I right, volcanoes and earthquakes?)

Sheesh!  Sorry!  Back to Antwerp, where there is indeed water.  (I didn't take any pictures of it, though.  Sorry.)

Wapens!  Makes me laugh!

This is some sort of ringing contraption for the door.  If you have one of these on the outside, you've totally got to have a Lurch type on the inside.  I should have pulled it just to see how one says, "You rang" in Dutch.

Double yumminess....  
Now wipe your mouth and move on!

Spotted these chaps shoe shopping.  The one on the left was a smidge grumpy, but they sure were cute.  And whatever, I'd be snappy, too, if I had all that hair in this heat.

My li'l iPhone can't begin to capture the magnitude of this church.  I will return to Antwerp with a proper camera, fearless readers!  Mark my words!

Playing Catch-Up

Has it come to this?  Posting only once a week?  I guess that means I've been busy, which is a good thing.  Anyway, here are some snaps from the past week or so.

Every time I see this sign I think to myself, well at least the old Crab provides parking.  I think there is a big logo development opportunity here.  Anyone have a submission?  I will totally knock on their door with it!  I'm not afraid of that Crab... OR his sons!

Went to the Marche aux Puces flea market at Jeu de Balle the other week.  It's confusing because the flea market is technically called the "Marche aux Puces," but it takes place at the square called "Jeu de Balle."  Or something like that.  Either way, it's the biggest flea market in Brussels (and one of the best in all of Europe), and it's open daily.  I'll tell you, there was quite a spread.  And the prices were pretty reasonable, too.  I think we'll be able to find some unusual pieces for our new place there.

Oh, anyway!  This cartoon was right off of the flea market square, whatever you'll call it.

And so was this!  Palais du Pantalon = Palace of Pants!  I mean, right?

Oh, Plopsa.  How I have wondered about you.  And why the children love you so much.  Is it your silly hat?  Or your ruffled apron?  Or that you look like Doc from the Seven Dwarfs?  Or is it because your name is onomatopoeia for something their parents tell them to do in the toilet?  Hmmm...

This is how you move into a 5-storey walk-up.  Up a "ladder" and through the window.  I would definitely spring for the extra insurance here.  Makes me glad we're on the ground floor.

I just like these.  Good job, iPhone camera.

Racist???
:)

And finally, happy birthday to Byro!  We went to his favorite Brazilian place, and they happened to be having a bbq in their back garden.  We were so happy to eat (delicious, imported Argentinian and Brazilian) grilled meats on the 4th.  No fireworks, but I think he had a good birthday.

Paws off, Cochino!

So I'd heard about filet americain, a common dish here in Brussels, and I'd seen it in restaurants and the grocery and reveled in how unappealing it looked.... and I'll eat just about anything.  But I was rather put off by it.  On a whim at the Delhaize market the other day, I picked up a container of it and didn't look back.  I live here now;  so my French is bad... at least I can appear local.

What exactly is filet americain?  It's a type of steak tartare.  The beef is finely, finely ground and mixed with onions, capers, herbs, other seasonings, and a raw egg.  I typically prefer my tartare to contain bigger pieces of meat, however, and this "filet americain" is more like a sticky spread--the meat is beyond "ground," really.  Well, at least I only set myself back about a euro on the container shown here.

 I decided to spread it on some bread, which is a dish commonly referred to as "toast cannibale" here.  Toast cannibale!?

Well, people, it is my new favorite thing.  It smells heavenly and tastes like deliciousness incarnate.  I allowed myself the two small helpings here and then waited a bit before helping myself to regular small doses throughout the day.  I felt like a "cannibale".... I was craving it, salivating for more, but afraid to eat too much because, um, it's raw meat and egg.  But I was like an animal for it, I tell you!  It is my new favorite thing.  And that's just based off of a grocery store version.  Need to go out to a fancy place for it.... can you imagine how savage I might become for the good stuff??

Oh!  And they spread it on baguettes for sandwiches, as well.  There's one with filet americain, olive oil, sundried tomatoes, and parmesan that I've got my eye on.  Maybe as soon as the weather cools down a bit.  It is, you know, raw.

A real live bouquet... and more!

Happy birthday to ME!  My mom and dad sent me a picture of the real live "bouquet" they had for me in St. Louis.  They also sent me a video of Aunt Helen, Uncle Bernie, Aunt Louise, and my dad singing happy birthday and blowing out the candles on a cake for me.  (There was even some controversy over an apparent "trick" candle at the end, but my dad managed to take it out.)  It was really great to see everyone!  Too bad I couldn't share in the cake, but as you will see I had a very nice dinner here.  

We went to Le Fruit Defendu on Rue Tenbosch for dinner.  It's a cute place that's virtually catty-corner from our current apartment.  It's really charming and small and all of the offerings change daily and are written on a blackboard that they bring around to your table.  This is really the only way, as far as I'm concerned.  We scored a spot on the terrace without a reservation and got right to it.

This was the amuse.  A marinated beef salad on the left (so simple:  beef, garlic, lime juice, onion), and a seafood mouse of sorts on the right.  Note the sole saltine standing by....

This was the lobster ravioli we shared.  Unlike many lobster ravioli I have had, it was quite light and not too creamy.  I swear, the filling was just lobster--so good!  And the sauce had an air of cinnamon to it.  

The winner of the night!  Swordfish with an octopus and artichoke vinaigrette over squid ink noodles.  It was incredible.  I think Byron was jealous, but the birthday gods saw to it that my food was tops.  He can best me (foodwise) on his birthday!

This was Byron's grilled sea bass.  Good, but no swordfish.  :)

And this was the molten chocolate cake, bien sur!  Well, what was left of it by the time I remembered to take a photo.  Dee-lish!

More weekend

I really wanted to have my picture taken by this, but I wimped out because there were people all around. But I love this tag.

Look at how cool Byron is sitting outside the Teddy L. patisserie on Chaussee de Waterloo.  Teddy has a few locations around town, so I was put off by its relatively chain-iness.  But really, the menu offered many choices, the sandwiches were good, and there was a nice patio out front.  Despite the blowhard Brit nearby going on about yoga the whole time, the meal was quite enjoyable.

Spotted in St-Gilles.

Spotted in St-Gilles 2.

This little feller was also in St-Gilles.

As is our new apartment building!  It's going to be grand!  (Found this site, which gives you the scoop on St-Gilles in a nutshell.)

This is the Prison of St-Gilles.  So magnificent!  It's interesting because it is still a working prison and it's smack in the middle of a really nice part of St-Gilles.  I mean, there are some really fancy houses right across the street, where I took this picture.  In fact, it's quite residential (and high-end) all around the prison.  It is not too far from our apartment, and there's a picturesque point where you're walking down our street and if you look to the right, you'll see the Prison of St-Gilles down the road and if you look to the left, you'll see the beautiful commune building of St-Gilles.  And the whole thing just feels so old world European.  *sigh*

Check out this hot dog in a bag!  It's even called "Frank!"

I've been taking photos of house numbers, especially the hand-painted ones.  But this sign was too good to pass up.  Pret a porter de luxe.  Yes, I will.

Wherever is the parade this weekend, my good man?

We were looking for a sneaker store (which also sells fixed gear frames) on Saturday and stumbled upon the Eglise Notre Dame du Sablon (or Church of Our Lady of the Sablon).  It was built in the 15th and 16th centuries, and is just splendid.  It has 46-foot high stained glass windows, but it also has all of these other cool carvings, paintings, and statues!  There were two small, black and white marble chapels that looked beautiful but were closed when we went.  Without further adieu, some scenes from Notre Dame du Sablon:

Creeeeeepy dead peeps.

The patron saint of dandies everywhere?

Crests!

This must be the "dame" herself.  Nice dress, hm?

The "dame" classes up some candle holders.  Can I borrow 5 euro?




From there, we strode through the Sablon Antiques Market.  What a charming market, it is!  There were some really beautiful and unusual pieces there--from anything-you-can-imagine made of silver to jewelry to frames to art to bits n' bobs to walking sticks to keys to whatever your heart desires.  Come for a visit and we'll go!

And surely you recognize this old friend?

I am quite taken with the Mannequin Pis.  So much so that if I know we are in the vicinity, I beg to be taken there. (I say "taken there" because I am perpetually lost in this city.  I can't get my bearings--north is south, east is west--the whole bloody city just confuses me.  I had it *down* in SF and Columbus and Philly, but Brussels??  Woof!  I hope it's only temporary...  Even the damn Tenbosch Park is like a warp zone for me!)  I just like seeing what he's up to and, well, seeing him!  This was the first time I caught him in an outfit, and my how jaunty he looks in his neckerchief!  Turns out, his costume was related to parade that had popped up a few blocks away because there were real live people kicking it off in the same outfits.

So it's not a weekend in Brussels without a parade of some sort!  This one featured huge paper mache effigies.  Each figure appeared to represent a city or region in Belgium, and each was accompanied by proud citizens of that city/region and a band.  Yeah, each figure had its own band.  Nice touch.

And that was just Saturday!

Catching up...

With this post, I will actually be caught up.  Or rather, you will be caught up!  But what I'm saying is, this shizz just happened!  As in the photos at the park were taken about an hour ago.  As Kool and the Gang would say:  Fresh.

I want to be Elliott Erwitt when I grow up.  Spotted this guy outside of this old-man betting "office" on Chaussee de Waterloo.  Love the trampy air he has about him.  The soda can just adds to it.

Went to paint some ceramics last night with Lynsey and Fran.  It was freeing and frustrating at the same time.  I was frustrated because look at that lousy grade-school version of Cochino I did!  But it was freeing because how often to you get to sit around and paint??  We had a great time.  And they made us dinner, as well.  It was a homemade pasta with a light tomato sauce and ham, with a salad on top.  YUM.

The ladies with their arts.

This is Park Tenbosch, my afternoon treat.  So, it's not the best capture of the park, but I feel funny going around taking photos there because everyone's up to something.  I can tell you that it's masterfully laid out so as to provide many private spaces and a general feeling of seclusion.  Again, you don't get that from this photo, but I swear it's true.  I've never experienced anything like it in a park of so little square footage before.

Oh, and there's a petanque court where the olds get some lively matches going.  I met an old man called Henri and two Jack Russells called Tommy (Hilfiger) and Paco (Rabanne) there the other day.  *Sigh*

Ten....... BOSCH!



And, if you haven't seen the photos of our new apartment yet, well dagnammit because they took the photos off the website because it's off the market!  We had the hardest time deciding between this place and another one in a more expat-y area (read:  fancyville).  We went for the one in St-Gilles, which has a more local (and sometimes very Portuguese) feeling.  The space is great, and the apartment's full of character and interesting details... and the best part is it has a grand bricked in "yard" in the back.  And it's all ours!  I can even take Cochino out there on the harness without anyone looking at me funny.  :)

Anyway, we are going this weekend to see it again, so I will take some snaps and post 'em.

Amsterdam with a Dash of Paris

So Wednesday I had an interview in Amsterdam for a company called ModeDesign, which is a large Dutch company with 700+ employees.  That's all well and good, but what you really need to know is they have a brand called "Sandwich."  Yup, as in club, BLT, what have you.  A womenswear line called Sandwich.  How about that?  It made me REALLY want to work there.  heh.

Spotted this bus on "Pause" on my way into Gare du Midi to catch my train.  It's hard to see from the picture, but there is a steaming coffee cup (or maybe it's a cup o'soup?) icon right next to the word "Pause."  This is cute.

Here it is!  One of my favorite broodjes!  There's a yummy sandwich shop at the Central station in Amsterdam--nothing fancy, we're talking train station sandwiches here--that I just love!  This is the second time I've gotten this same sandwich (chicken [kip!.... haha if your name is Kip!  But then, translation aside, isn't that embarrassing enough?], bacon, rocket, tomato and wouldja look at that beautiful egg?).

I must admit I got excited as the train pulled into the station, bringing me closer to my true sandwich love. (Lies.  I have no true sandwich love.  I've been slutting around with a whole lot of them of late.)  I grabbed one and sat outside in the sun to eat it, watching all of the tourists walk out into the sunlight and take their first glimpses of Amsterdam.  (My favorites are the groups of backpacked young people huddling up and planning their attack on this city, which embarrassingly thwarts them in the end as they over-consume and end up stumbling around or incapacitated.  But here they are all bright eyed and excitable... tomorrow, bleary and feeling badly.)

The scene of the broodje-eating.

So, I had the interview at the company I now just call "Sandwich," and it went really well.  Great work environment and nice people.  It was a good experience and I got back to the train station in enough time to catch the first half of the England/Slovenia match at a bar there.  I had to watch the England match because no one gives half a crap about the US game that was on at the same time.  There was a group of 20-something British guys in there watching and if there's one thing that connects all viewing circles of British men watching their team, it's the shared tone with which they cry out, "Rooney!" when he gets the ball within scoring range.  It's done with the same breath and excitement and hope as a child would exclaim "Santa Claus!"  Magic.  Anyway, I quietly gave away my citizenship in the way I dramatically measured my breath or rolled my eyes.  Though no one noticed, it was satisfying to me, being that I was outnumbered.

So I board the train, getting updates from loyal friends on the game, and was feeling pretty good by the time we got to Brussels.  We were at the Gare du Nord in Brussels as I was thinking about what I was going to pick up from the market that night, waiting for the 5 minutes until we reached the South station.  (There are three main train stations in Brussels--the north station or Gare du Nord, the central station or Brussels Central, and the south station or Gare du Midi or Zuid.  If you think the fact that one station has two names and that the "Midi" station is not the "Central" station is a tad confusing, then surely you will be understanding of what happened next.)  I was lost in my thoughts and playing it cool so as not to get up until we reached the South station when the train started moving again and I noticed that it was the South--NOT North--station sign that was growing smaller........ SHIT!  I missed my stop!  Did I miss my stop?  I missed my stop!  Hey, do you speak English?  Was that the South station?  So... we're going to Paris???  What do I do?  Go to Paris?

Well, that's what I did.  Surprise!  Went to Paris.  I had never been so disappointed to go to Paris in my life.  The train manager was helpful and understanding (he could see in my eyes that I felt bad about my mistake, an honest mistake), whisked me off the train at Gare du Nord in Paris and turned me over to his colleague on the 9:20 pm train back to Brussels (the next train out), who sat me on the train back with less compassion and less conversation than Claude (my angel!) from the Brussels train.  But whatever, I didn't have to pay for my mistaken leg to Paris, nor for the return to Brussels.  The only thing I wasted was time, but without a job these days, I'm getting quite good at that.

Think about it.

Bathroom in Ixelles.