Day 10: Briefly in Brussels

Ten days ago this morning I was frantically working; trying to get everything critical taken care of before going away.  By the end of the day last Wednesday, I had worked something like 33 hours since Monday morning (more if I count Sunday).  Not bad hours for a Bay Street banker, but from my European-inspired perspective….not exactly my long-term objective.  On the topic of work, I was up this morning almost as early as I get up for work.  I had to catch the 7:25am train to Luxembourg!

Because of that jaunt to Utrecht, I cut out my time in Belgium.  Because of the Van Gogh museum and the lack of overnight trains through Brussels, I missed out on the Dutch countryside and windmills.  It’s funny how sometimes life opens doors that you thought were closed.  An early morning train out of Amsterdam allowed for a stopover in Brussels.  Conveniently enough, Sandeman’s Walking Tours has a daily tour that starts at 11am.  If Brussels is worth a day, I’ll still get the most productive part of it! Notwithstanding the excitement of getting to Brussels, I was a little heavy-lidded on the train out of Amsterdam…. There’s a windmill in the distance!  Almost too far to see the detail, there was a traditional Dutch windmill off in the countryside.  Then another.  And another.  Soon enough, there was a collection of four windmills grouped together, with modern windmills providing an artistic backdrop.  Maybe not the tour of a working windmill I had originally hoped for, but a scenic tour of the Dutch countryside through windmill country nonetheless.  Makes me want some cheese…

So concluded the Holland portion of this adventure.  Aside from a minor irritation when a slow-moving, luggage-burdened couple prevented me getting off the train at my stop in Brussels (it was a small comfort that the guy was also prevented from disembarking, leaving his confused-looking partner standing on the platform as we pulled away), getting to Brussels was smooth.  Even with the mishap, it was an easy workaround; the next stop was 5 minutes away, and another train had me back in Brussels Central within 15 minutes. (I can't help but compare that to the last time I got off at the wrong stop from a GO train...)

They say the Brussels is the most European city, and a recent analysis tagged it as #11 in the ranking of the world’s most important cities. (Thanks largely to the EU’s headquarters in Brussels.) Combine the character of Brussels with the unique aspects of Hoilland, and it was veritable culture shock when I exited the Brussels Central train station.  For the first time in several days, I felt utterly bewildered! (To add to my confusion, Brussels does not seem to have the same widespread Wifi to which I had grown accustomed in Holland, and my phone took a long time to connect to the data network. I had no idea where I was going to find my tour.)

Thankfully, Brussels isn’t really that big.  A few simple directions from a friendly hotel concierge, and I was standing in Brussels’ central square.  I was staring at some of the most fantastic-looking buildings I have ever seen:

In Brussels, as in Amsterdam, Sandeman’s Free Walking Tours seems the most convenient way to see the best of the city in limited time.  This time our guide was a Scot.  Still not a local, but at least he has a cool accent!  Seriously, I don’t know how the Brussels tour could possibly have been better.  Fraser’s passion for Brussels, politics, and the EU (Fraser went to school to be a lawyer, so this link to politics has a foundation) showcased the city exceptionally well.

More than perhaps anywhere else in Belgium, Brussels is where Flemish and French culture meet…and clash.  Over three-hundred years ago, the French claimed this former Dutch-speaking city as their own. The cultural divide is still evident in the duplicate names of streets and landmarks.  Whereas the French name for the central square is Grand Place, highlighting the grandeur of the area, the Dutch name is Grote Markt, a reflection of the market square that predated the French cultural invasion.  This cultural invasion by the French was reinforced by a military one, and the buildings around the square largely reflect the conquerors.  The Grote Markt was originally framed by the houses of merchants who owed their wealth to the markets.  These homes were destroyed during the 17^th century by the invading French (or French-speaking Belgians, perhaps) and these “modern” buildings were built in their place.  The Baker’s and Brewers Guilds were among the most prominent; the Brewers Guild stands alone as the only remaining guildhall still owned by the original association.

In addition to international governance and cultural diversity, Brussels is also known for something else (aside from chocolate):

Tintin!

Until 1990, cigarettes and alcohol were advertised on the sides of buildings in Brussels.  When the city decided to clean those off and present a more wholesome image, they were left with ugly brick walls.  So, in homage to Belgium’s passion for comics, the city engaged the Comic Book Association to produce murals of some of the iconic Belgian comic characters.  Another mural depicts a well-known Belgian comic character (who is not well-known to me, and so I have forgotten the name) strolling with his friend.  In 1991, this image caused some uproar as it was unclear whether the male comic “star” was strolling with a male or female companion.  Subsequently, the painting was actually adjusted to make the companion more feminine.  

Um…kind of.

All this in a country which has an openly gay Prime Minister! (By the way, this mural is up in the gay district.)

No trip to Brussels is complete without a visit to Manneken Pis.

Yep….that fountain is a statue of a peeing baby.  Fanciful theories abound about the source of this absurdity.  Fraser assured us that it’s not because he’s a bad tour guide that he doesn’t know the truth about why there is a peeing baby at this corner.  No-one does. There has been a statue of a peeing baby there for several hundred years; originally a stone carving, and subsequently upgraded to metal.  (Bronze, maybe?) This one is fairly new, as the statue has been stolen several times.  Once it was even stolen by French soldiers, and King Louis XIV returned it to Brussels with apologies.  To compensate for the insult of the theft, the King knighted the baby and proclaimed him a member of an elite order; rumour has it that French soldiers had to salute the baby as they passed. While he couldn’t inform us why it was there, Fraser did explain how this fountain became a meeting place for people to sell their pee.  You see, when you are really poor; when you have nothing, you still have urine.  There was a time when there was a use for urine (and I’m not referring to bottling it and selling it as American beer).  Urine is a source of ammonia, which is used in the tanning industry.  Next time you sink into a leather sofa, think about that!  Fraser didn’t mention this, but urine was also key in the production of explosives until scientists found a cheap way to chemically synthesize nitrogen.  I don’t know that Brussels was prominent in the development of TNT, but it was a European who brought it to market…

This is something I would have expected in Amsterdam more than Brussels:

The Brussels Cathedral (like Brussels park, locals drop the “Brussels” and refer to “the Cathedral” and “the park”…because when you’re in Brussels, it seems rather self-evident) looks an awful lot like Notre Dame in Paris from the front.

The construction of both churches started around the same time (around the years 1200-1300), hence the similar Gothic look.  Whereas Notre Dame was finished about a hundred years after it was begun, Brussels Cathedral took over seven hundred years to complete.  The difference?  Parisian Catholics had money.  As a result of this slow progression, Brussels Cathedral is a mix of architecture – Gothic in the front, and Baroque in the back. (See the rounded arches and fewer straight lines in the back, as compared to the severe angles, broken arches, and flying buttresses in the front portion.  Who would have thought my university course on French art and architecture would prove useful?)

While we were standing at the back of the cathedral, poor Fraser the guide, nearly got in a fight defending the tour group.  Some foolish driver roared past us, taking a blind corner at high speed.  We were a big tour group, and so were – admittedly – spilling off the sidewalk onto the street; Fraser was on the shoulder of this quiet, nearly deserted road.  When the driver zoomed by, Fraser turned in shock and shouted something at the car….I didn’t catch it, but I think it was less than flattering.  The driver stopped and stepped out of his car:  “Qu’est-ce que to m’a dis?”  Still upset, Fraser told the driver to slow down and be careful.  The driver repeated: “What did you say to me….at first?” Fraser had regained composure by this time and urged the man to slow down and continue on his way, but enjoy his day. He put a conciliatory hand on the man’s arm.  “Don’t touch me” the driver warned. He made a note of Fraser’s name, threatened that he would be calling the tour company and complaining, and left.  Fraser was profusely apologetic to us that the event happened, and that it had escalated so.  Then he turned to a couple of us nearby – “It wasn’t just me; he was driving really fast.  Wasn’t he?”  Yes he was.  Then Fraser chuckled, almost to himself.  “It doesn’t matter.  If he emails a complaint, it goes to the boss, and that’s me.” J Nevertheless, I made a note to write a positive review of Fraser’s tour on Trip Advisor, just in case there’s a need for positive reviews to balance any complaints.

Brussels was born as an independent country in the early eighteen hundreds.   Having witnessed the abuses of power in the neighbouring countries, the smart Belgians insisted upon a constitutional monarchy. (Why they felt the need for a monarchy at all is beyond me, but kings were more or less in vogue at the time.)  Having decided on a constitution and a parliament, they then had to decide on a king….had to be of royal blood, of course!  The Flemish Belgians wouldn’t stand for a French King.  The French Belgians wouldn’t stand for a Dutch King.  The third option was to cater to the German minority in the south-east of the country.  A German noble was elevated to the post of Belgium’s first king – only after he had signed a vow to adhere to the constitution and to defend Belgium’s independence against all external powers. This latter principle was tested a hundred years later when the Germans decided the fastest route to Paris was through Belgium in World War One. Then and ever since, Belgian nationality has proudly carried the idea of “Brave Little Belgium”.

I’ve always been fascinated by the European Union, and Fraser’s tour of Brussels has whet my appetite to know more about this. Belgium’s prominence in the EU is partly a product of its small-state status (small states always prefer power-sharing and consensus over American unilateralism), and partly a product of sheer pragmatism (Germany wouldn’t want France to host the headquarters, and France wouldn’t want Germany to host, but they could both tolerate a small and less-powerful country playing host).  Belgium has taken on the role with pride.

After the tour, I had a few minutes to spare before my train to Luxembourg…time for fries with mayonnaise and a waffle!  Oh, those tasty Belgian fries!  That’s right – not French fries.  The Belgians are proud of their fries, and the way they do it differently than the French.  In fact, according to Fraser, Belgian fries were the original.  When the Allies stormed Normandy and pushed right through to Belgium, they thought they were still in France.  (The people spoke French…) The Belgian fries were mixed up as French fries thereafter.  The waffle was pretty damn tasty, too – and it was from a vendor in the train station!

Luxembourg train station is a little less impressive than Amsterdam or Rotterdam (or even Brussels Central station, which is in itself pretty basic).  Surprising, given that Fraser had warned that Luxembourg is exceptionally expensive! The area around Luxembourg is nothing special, either.  I was struggling with an internal debate as to whether Luxembourg was the right destination…until the peaked towers in the old city came into view.  It looked promising!  

I can’t really pretend that I did much sightseeing this evening.  I trudged almost 4km from the train station to my hotel with forty pounds of luggage…getting lost only once.  My phone battery was dying, and I couldn’t pick up the data network. I saw some beautiful views, but limited the time to take photos so that I could get to my hotel and put down my bags.  What I did notice, however, was evidence that spring is well underway in Luxembourg; much more than in Toronto.

A very friendly Luxembourger saw me peering at a map at a bus station, and helped me figure out where to go.  Finally, a very appealing view:

The kindest, friendliest woman at the reception upgraded my room, gave me a late checkout for tomorrow, and mapped out my day of sightseeing – the royal treatment. Third country today, and Europe continues to amaze.  I’m exhausted.  Good night!

Day 9: I Have to Gogh!

Anyone who speaks Dutch will know that my little play on words there is false, as the Dutch “g” isn’t pronounced as Canadians pronounce “g”.  It’s more like how Canadians clear their throats.  Nevertheless, I figured the context gave me a bit of artistic license. ;)

Garry – you were right.  Going to Amsterdam and neglecting the Van Gogh Museum is a missed opportunity. Kendra was selling tickets on Tuesday during her walking tour which allow the holder to bypass the line at the VG museum, so there was no rush this morning.  A meandering route even allowed for a return to the Albert Cuyp Market (I did not return to the Emaillekeizer as I had no new enamel needs), where I watched a seafood seller unload a case of cuttlefish.  Very weird looking, with the pool of ink (like squid, they release ink) in the bottom of the case.  During mating season (in the fishmonger’s imperfect English, the “season to make love”), the cuttlefish are brightly coloured and make for exciting scuba diving.

The VG tickets from Kendra didn’t quite live up to their billing.  I mean, it provided access to a shorter line, but it was still a 45-minute wait to get in.  Worth it!  I’m no particular aficionado of fine art, but this museum tells a very compelling story through the paintings themselves, as well as numerous write-ups that describe the art, the painter’s history, his techniques, and the impacts on the modern art movement.  I was reminded that Van Gogh only sold one single painting in his lifetime.  I hadn’t thought about the fact that he painted hundreds – where were they all stored??  I did not know that he lived as a veritable ward of his brother (I was going to say “leech”, but VG fans might find that denigrating).  Judgment aside, Theo Van Gogh must have adored and respected Vincent; they wrote to one another daily.

Given that Vincent’s father had a strong work ethic, I couldn’t help but wonder at the conversations that must have occurred around that family table:

Father: Vincent, when are you going to do something with your life?

Vincent: Dad, I’m an artist.  I have just completed an important canvas.

Father: Vincent, you’ve sold one painting in ten years.  How important can it really be?

Theo: Dad, give Vincent a break.  He’s an undiscovered genius.

Father: He’s a bum.  You’ve both been sucking on too much lead paint!

After touring the VG museum, I enjoyed a picnic lunch in the lee of the Rijks Museum

 How often have you been out and found your mobile is a bit low in battery? In the middle of Museumplein, there was a phone charging booth.  Free for anyone to use, and half a dozen or so different cables protruded, to allow for various phone connections.  Brilliant!  They may pay high taxes here in Amsterdam, but their tax dollars buy them some perks.

Yesterday was a day of nature, so today would be a day of museums and culture.  After the VG, I moseyed through the Sex Museum.  Slightly different than the VG, but fascinating nonetheless.  I did not notice how prominently sexual imagery figured in Pompeii, nor did I realize how significant it has been in almost every culture both before and since.  Frankly, we North Americans are a bunch of prudes!

From the STONE AGE!!!

I don't understand why chastity belts went out of style...?

I did not pick up a Russian souvenir, seeing as I have never been to Russia.

How do these things even get off the ground?

Walking back to my hotel, I finally took the time to really look at yet another fantastic church in Amsterdam

To round out the sexually-oriented afternoon, I returned to the Red Light District for my last night in Amsterdam.  Before getting there, I came upon an unusual but apropos scene in my hotel.  As I walked across the landing and through a (deserted) sitting area, I glanced through the gauzy curtains of a 1^st floor room…and saw a couple having sex.  Good on ya!  Near as I could tell, either she looked awfully good for her age, or he had scored a younger woman.  I gave a “thumbs up” to the room door as I walked past.

I don’t know if it was a quieter night, if more women were working and the consequent effect of more curtains being drawn made it feel quieter, or if the shock value had simply worn off a little.  It seemed….almost normal.  Normal in context, anyway.  Like the peeling paint in an apparently “luxurious” hotel, the mind adapts quickly.

Day 8: Waffling Over Belgian Waffles

Part of the fun of this trip is keeping things pretty unscheduled, and making plans as interesting things crop up.  Before leaving the hostel yesterday, the “concierge” (that IS an over-statement) recommended Keukenhof Gardens – the crown of the Dutch Tulip Festival. A flower garden?  I don’t know…could that really compare with a windmills tour?  Paul echoed the words of the receptionist at the hostel – Keukenhof is a “must-see”. (Paul, himself, had been there just the week earlier.)  Guess those are the plans for the afternoon, on the way back to Amsterdam.  Before leaving Utrecht, though, there was a canal cruise of a different sort waiting.

A few minutes by bike away from Paul’s place, there’s a place that rents kayaks for cruising the Utrecht canal system.  Instead of heading into the city and examining the urban canal system, we headed the other direction to enjoy the Dutch countryside. What a perfect day to be out in picturesque countryside!

Pancakes for lunch, at the side of the canal:

Leveraging the Wifi in the bus to Keukenhof, I found an overnight train from Amsterdam to Luxemburg. (Ha! Trip Advisor said it couldn’t be done!) I know I’ll have to come back to visit Germany, perhaps Belgium should be added to that trip?  The overnight train straight to Luxemburg means I can stay in Amsterdam until Friday, and still see the quintessentially Dutch windmills! I was trying to book the train when the bus arrived and I lost my Wifi.  On the to-do list for later…

Keukenhof is gorgeous!

I haven't been to the Sex Museum yet, but the middle of that moth looks a little phallic to me...

1.5 million bulbs make up the gardens here that are at their prime in mid-April. (Woot!) The hundred thousand or so that Holland sends to Ottawa each year suddenly seems a little less impressive… The tulip farms around Keukenhof are stunning in their own right.   Solid bands of yellow, red, pink, and purple tulips, largely farmed for export. Holland supplies 60% of the world’s tulip and daffodil bulbs.  This is quite the evolution since Charles de l'Ecuse, who introduced the tulip to Holland.

Back in Amsterdam, I looked up that overnight train to Luxemburg again.  Oh…..um…..maybe Trip Advisor was right.  The “overnight” train has a five hour stopover in Brussels….starting at midnight.  Glad I didn’t book that! Ok, looks like it’ll be a crunch to get both the windmills tour and the train to Luxemburg done in one day, but it’s attainable.  I hope Luxemburg is easy to navigate at 10pm!

Wandering back through Amsterdam (it really is getting to feel like "home" in an odd way), I noticed for the first time that Amsterdam, too, has doors that open right onto the canal.  I guess you have to be creative for your front stoop:

Tonight’s hotel overlooks Sarphati Park in Amsterdam, I love this neighbourhood. J I consider it a perk that it is outside of the "alcohol" area.

(Opposing sides of the same pole.)

When I’m traveling in Canada or the US, I use Hotwire to book my hotels, and I tend to stay in four or five star places.  Even through Hotwire and Hotels.com, accommodations are so expensive in Amsterdam that I’ve been staying in two and three star places (and that hostel…).  Clean and basic, they work just fine for me.  Tonight’s hotel was an exceptional deal, and the late arrival at said hotel meant that the room was upgraded.  Absolute luxury!  Well….on closer inspection, the paint was peeling, the tub was scratched, the floor was a little damaged…. Regular price for this room?  300 euros per night.

In the spirit of my earlier quotations for your enjoyment:

Day 7: I trekked to Utrecht

I’ve been here a week; I figure it’s time to get a walking tour of this city.  Sandeman’s Free Walking Tours in London were really great, so let’s see how they showcase Amsterdam! (Though I am a bit of a cheapskate, these tours aren’t truly “free”.  The guides request that you pay-what-it’s-worth at the end.)

The tour congregated at Dam Square, right at the National Monument.  Sandeman’s has a distinctive red colour scheme; I couldn’t help but notice that there were a few other tour companies sporting red t-shirts and name badges.  According to our guide, these are, indeed, trying to lure unsuspecting tourists away from the rightful Sandeman’s operators! (I’m sure our guide has no bias in this regard.) When I toured London, it was a home-bred Brit who taught us about London.  There’s a certain credibility when the tour guide grew up in the area.  Today, my guide was from Alaska.  Right….

The tour started and we walked right out of Dam Square.  Um…?? I asked I our guide whether Dam Square itself would be a “stop” later on in the tour.  Nope.  Apparently there isn’t much to say about Dam Square.  The River Amstel used to flow right through the centre of the city, until they built a dam. (The Dutch are pretty practical in the way they name things…)  Now there’s an unoccupied palace that occasionally opens as a musem – at irregular intervals throughout the year.

I’m pretty sure the carnival is a recent addition.

Although it wasn’t a tour of the Red Light District proper, the tour focused on the District early on. One of first stops was in the heart of the Red Light District, at the Old Church:

Catholicism is great, ain’t it? In the 1300s (I think), back when Amsterdam was nothing more than a busy port, the sailors coming back from months at sea would be seeking a bit of lovin’.  The Catholic Church didn’t want the sailors negatively influencing the morals of the upstanding ladies of Amsterdam, so the church recruited “women of questionable morals” (I’m not sure if this means they were already prostitutes, or maybe just Protestants…) to satisfy this urge.  Nothing like a little vertical integration to consolidate business success, the church then happily sold indulgences to the sailors as they emerged from the brothels, before those sailors would return to the dangerous life at sea.  

Over the years, prostitution was regularly outlawed, but it never really went away.  Eventually, the practical Dutch decided that taxes were better than policing, and so the practice was officially put into law.  Our guide remarked that both she – as an independent guide – and the prostitutes have the same type of business license as a one-person business.  They get basic healthcare and protections under the law as a result.  My guide might earn less than the prostitutes, but they look pretty bored when you walk by, whereas Kendra seemed to be having fun.  Trade-offs…

Practicality fiures strongly in the Dutch mentality, it seems.  Catholicism was banned for a time in Amsterdam’s history (this is after it established a thriving District), but the city didn’t want to cast out the wealthy Catholics. So arrangements were made for Catholics to practice in “hidden” churches.  One of these hidden churches had the second-largest organ in the country!  Apparently police would follow up on complaints from Protestant Amsterdammers on Monday or Tuesday, and find these “hidden” Catholic Churches empty.  No need to arrest anyone!  The same approach characterizes the “coffee-houses” in the District today.  They aren’t smoking weed.  They are smoking….coffee.

I apologize that I can’t share photos of the Red Light District here.  The women behind the glass are not okay with their photos being taken.  Our guide warned us that to do so might result in us being harangued, our cameras being damaged, or urine being thrown in our faces.  That last might have been hyperbole, but Kendra proceeded to highlight that if any of us wanted to have urine on his face, there was a girl in the District who would do that.

Amsterdam has more museums per capita than any other city in the world.  There’s the Amsterdam Cheese Museum (which…..is kind of a museum), the Tulip Museum (which doesn’t resemble a museum in any way; simply a store), and a multitude of others, in addition to the better-known bastions of culture like the Rijks Museum, the Van Gogh Museum, and the Sex Museum. Interesting tidbit I learned on the tour today?  Being a museum has tax advantages, and the Dutch feel they are taxed more than any other nation in the world! (Paul and I talked about this, and it may be true…)  I stopped by the Amsterdam Cheese Museum yesterday and ate lots of cheese, so right now that’s my favourite!

As with any Amsterdam walking tour, this one passed many more beautiful canal scenes:

The Amsterdam coat of arms adorns all kinds of public buildings and structures (including park benches, etc)

This is a joke, right?  The Amsterdam coat of arms is "XXX"?  Art imitating life.

The next story we learned is especially interesting to me.

This statue is of Eduard Douwes Dekker, who highlighted the abuses of the colonial system in the Dutch East Indies in his book Multatuli. In essence, he was the founder of fair trade!  Of course, Dekker also gained fame in Finland as the Finnish Multa Tuli translates as slang for "I have ejaculated".

Upon the conclusion of the walking tour, I grabbed my stuff and headed to Utrecht to visit Paul.  The bicycle parking lots at Amsterdam Central station are big.  At Utrecht station they are massive!  Thousands upon thousands of bikes everywhere around the station (and, as I later learned, along the canals and everywhere else in the downtown).  Paul explained that a significant proportion of these bikes at Utrecht Central are never retrieved – he estimated 1 in 5.  Bicycle culture is a little different here.  Frequently, people lock their bikes up to render them useless (lock it such that the wheel can’t spin) but they don’t lock it to anything.  Many of the bikes are older and practical rather than “impressive”, and so the risk of theft is reduced, I suppose. (Even “my” bike while I was at Paul’s was in need of a rather major overhaul, but it did the trick while I was there perfectly!)  The problem with locking your bike without locking it to anything, of course, is that someone else might move your bike….and when there are thousands of them, if it’s not where you left it, or if you don’t quite remember where you left it….it’s gone.

Paul has got a great place.  My “hotel” for the evening:

Paul was right that Utrecht was worth the visit!  Beautiful canals and cobblestone walkways winding through the old downtown.  Apparently one of the major European bike tours is starting a stage in Utrecht in the next couple of years; I would NOT want to face those streets on racing wheels!

The attendant host, Paul made classic “Dutch pancakes” for dinner, and they are a dinner food here.   Not for breakfast.  They may still be sweet (Paul made bacon, pear, and banana pancakes…not all in one), and their suikerstroop (syrup) is like a thin molasses. Dinner-time conversation ranged from the international running scene to Dutch food, to what Paul knows of Canada: clear-cutting for oilsands, and Rob Ford.  What a terrible situation when our country is known for its third-world style resource extraction, and Toronto’s buffoon mayor! 

After dinner, we headed back into the downtown and had more food at a restaurant right at the canal level.  The interior of the restaurant was built underneath the walkway above, though we sat out on a heated patio within arm’s reach of the water’s edge.

What an amazing, unexpected part of this trip!