Another Taste of Brussels

By Elizabeth Johnstone

Buoyed up by the success of my solo trip to Brussels in May – for a concert by a Finnish Mensan friend and her musical partner – I organised a similar trip with my husband in October.

We booked a Cresta Holidays package through our local Co-op Travel.  The return on Eurostar was uneventful.  We stayed at the Atlas Hotel whose interior was not quite as splendid as its exterior suggested, but was clean and cosy with friendly staff and free WiFi.  The breakfast was fine as long as you stuck to the delicious fresh baked goods, cheese and charcuterie.  I will draw a veil over the coffee and the self-service machine from which it emerged.  The hotel’s location was excellent, a few minutes’ stroll from the old fish market in the Ste Cathérine district with its many seafood restaurants.  We ate there all four evenings.

I didn’t do much sightseeing in May so we invested in “Brussels Cards” - 72 hours for €40 – covering all public transport and most major museums, with some discounts and special offers.  A challenge to my inner Scot! These things only work if you want to visit the attractions in the first place, but we got our money’s worth over the weekend.

On the first afternoon, we wandered around the Grand Place and the narrow streets nearby.  In May, the square was partially obscured by a sound stage for the Jazz Festival.  This time, it was clear until the Marathon which finished around Sunday lunchtime.

We walked down to the Manneken Pis statue, past the lace shop where bystanders were sternly admonished not to eat their waffles in front of its windows.  En route to our hotel we had already passed the statue of a dog relieving itself, the Zinneke Pis.  I wasn’t entirely disappointed to miss the sister statue of Jeanneke Pis.

Next day, we headed to the Belgian Comic Strip Center (sic).  Comic strips are held in high regard in Belgium and referred to as the “Ninth art”. The Museum is housed in the former Waucquez Warehouse, an Art Nouveau gem.  Glasgow has Charles Rennie Mackintosh, Brussels has Victor Horta.  I enjoyed the museum, but all the signage was exclusively in French and Dutch.  I can imagine Belgian visitors sighing nostalgically at the wealth of comic strips and their creators.  We only really knew Kuifje - “little quiff”- Belgium’s most famous son, aka Tintin.  A pleasant morning in light, airy surroundings rounded off with coffee in the Horta Brasserie. With hindsight, I may regret being photographed sitting in a comic strip time machine.  Oh well, personal dignity is over-rated.

We walked on to the Cathedral, via the museum of the National Bank of Belgium, where inflation was explained in typically Belgian fashion – in bilingual comic strips.

After lunch, we headed to the Musical Instruments Museum, in the splendidly renovated Old England Building.  I bet every child in Brussels comes here with a worksheet and clipboard. I loved it. Hundreds of musical instruments from every period of history and every continent, spread over three extensive floors of a renovated Art Nouveau warehouse building.  Stand in front of any display and your headset plays the appropriate music.  No language barrier.

The next day’s sightseeing began with a trip out to another of Brussels’ iconic tourist destinations – the Atomium.  Built originally for the 1958 World Exposition, it was restored in 2006. Unfortunately, we had brought British weather with us.  My photos from inside and out show artistic rain-spattered effects.  We got off the Underground at Heysel, a name synonymous for us with the stadium disaster of 1985.

We returned to the city centre and called in at the brewery museum in the Grand Place, enjoying our pre-lunch dégustation of the beer of the week.  My husband very decently accompanied me round the Museum of Costume and Lace, although we both sped up when a horde of little 8-year old girls arrived shrieking and giggling.

We braced ourselves for a dose of high culture on Sunday.  However, as we exited the Parc underground station, we found ourselves on the Marathon/Half Marathon route and paused to admire the stamina (or otherwise) of the runners.  Most impressive to see the army cadets running in team formation, brandishing banners and uttering bloodcurdling chants. 

We had arranged to meet a Belgian Mensan friend at the Museum of Ancient Art.  I have a particular fondness for Flemish Primitives after my appetite was whetted by the Memlings in Bruges and there was a fine selection. I also enjoyed the details - some scurrilous, all colourful – in the works of Bruegel père et fils.

At last we succumbed to cultural overload and gratefully sought out a café for a sandwich and beer.  The Magritte Museum would have to wait for another day, not to mention the other magnificent museums in and around the Place Royale.

Fortunately, a respite from the rain allowed us to wander around the park, admiring the wacky exhibits in the Brusselicious project, before a final coffee in a trendy café on the Mont des Arts, admiring the aptly named “Le Square”. Why does English have such kudos?

Our friend gave a scholarly disquisition on the historical, social and linguistic complexities of his native land, which led me to ask in bafflement “Is Belgium actually a real place?”  All too soon, it was time to part ways, and my husband and I strolled back across the city, tut-tutting at the discarded water bottles and other post-Marathon trash in the Grand Place.

That evening, as every other evening, we had exactly one speciality beer at the bar “Au Vieux Port” before selecting our seafood restaurant at the Quai aux Briques.  Somewhere there is a photo of me in a lobster bib which will never see the light of day.

Our train departed at lunchtime the next day, so there was time for a last supermarket shop.  No doubt shares in Delhaize rose sharply on the stock market after my foray into the cheeses, baked goods, groceries etc. 

Our return was straightforward, although this nervous traveller was somewhat cross to spend longer in the Tunnel because of French security personnel getting off at Calais-Fréthun.

We had a great weekend, but there was more to see – the other museums in the Place Royale, the Parc Cinquantaire with its museums, the EU district, colourful outlying suburbs, not to mention day trips to Ghent, Antwerp or Bruges.  And with a travel time of two hours ten minutes from London, Brussels could well be on the agenda again!

First published in VISA 106 (December 2012)

Land of the Waffle

By Elizabeth Johnstone

We had a successful trip to Bruges in March 2012.  One of the best aspects of the trip was Eurostar.  I am a nervous traveller: I love being overseas, but I hate getting there.  Eurostar is, by far, the least bad option for me.  Travelling by train – rightly or wrongly - does not worry me, and the Channel Tunnel section only lasts twenty minutes or so.  And London to Brussels takes only a fraction over two hours!

So when a Finnish Mensan friend and her musical partner announced that they were playing a concert in Brussels on a Sunday afternoon in May, it seemed too good an opportunity to waste. 

Travelling on my own, I played safe and went for the ultra-standard option of the Ibis hotel chain.  The Ibis “Grand-Place” must have been named by the same people who name budget airline airports.  I booked a Cresta Holidays package through my local Co-op Travel and The Rough Guide to Belgium was my vade mecum. The ticket to Brussels South includes a transfer to other major Brussels stations so, after an uneventful journey (time underground obsessively noted by me as 18 minutes), I exited Brussels Central Station through a shopping centre and found my hotel within a couple of minutes’ walk.

The hotel was perfectly acceptable – clean, cosy and quiet, despite looking out onto the busy Marché aux Herbes.  Breakfast is always a treat on these trips, and I enjoyed hearty ham and cheese on wholegrain bread followed by French-style croissants and pains au chocolat.  The self-service juice and coffee from a machine was a slight negative.

On the Saturday evening, I met up with my friends and we enjoyed a bowl of noodles at one of the city’s many ethnic restaurants.  I returned to my hotel via an ice cream kiosk in the pedestrianised area and this French teacher was startled to be charged “un euro nonante”. I caught the second half of the Eurovision Song Contest.  Poor old Engelbert.  He never stood a chance against that bloc voting.  I expect the Greek Finance Minister was relieved that his country did not win.

The next morning, my friends were busy rehearsing, so I did a little sightseeing.  I walked up to the Cathedral which has lost a lot of its internal ornamentation but is still an imposing sight in its elevated position.  It is on the edge of the Upper Town, built almost literally to look down on the medieval warren of streets around the Grand-Place in the Lower Town.

Before anyone starts tut-tutting at my bad spelling of Grand-Place, I am sure you remember that grand comes from the Latin grandis which, as a 3^rd declension adjective, has the same form in the masculine and feminine.  The “e” was added later by analogy with 1^st declension adjectives.  But you knew that!

Sunday lunch was a couple of fantastic salades composées with a waffle buried somewhere on the plate and a generous helping of people-watching from our vantage point near the Bourse.

The concert took place later that afternoon at the Finnish Seamen’s Mission.  And what a treat!  Spanish music for solo piano/piano and soprano.  We were transported to Andalucía, not least by the 30° heat outside.  At the same time, we were in an outpost of the Land of a Thousand Lakes.  The cafeteria had a grocery section where homesick Finns could stock up on such essentials of life as salty liquorice and Koskenkorva vodka.

All too soon, the concert was over, the ladies changed out of their fabulous ballgowns and it was time for us to part ways. They set off on the next leg of their tour and I headed back to the city centre.  On a warm Sunday evening, the scene was animated and colourful.  I dined on some upmarket fast food, featuring delicious chips, one of Belgium’s gifts to world gastronomy.  I followed this with a fresh, hot waffle which melted in the mouth.

My train did not leave until lunchtime the next day, so I mooched around again with my camera after breakfast.  The magnificent buildings of the Grand-Place stood out against a Mediterranean blue sky, although they were partly obscured by a massive stage put up for the Jazz Festival.  More by luck than judgement, I ended up at the Manneken Pis.  The statue is tiny!  It is dwarfed by the oversized replicas made out of chocolate etc in the neighbouring shops.

You will not be surprised to learn that I wandered round a supermarket but my small suitcase could only accommodate a couple of jars of compôte and a box of chocolate truffles. 

I had conscientiously worked my way through the major Belgian food groups. As well as chips and waffles, I enjoyed a glass of Leffe Blonde and a free chocolate courtesy of a shop near the hotel.  Mussels next time! Belgium is truly foodie heaven, a marriage of Flemish heartiness and French finesse.

The return trip was uneventful, except for extra French security checks by personnel who got on at Lille and got off again at Calais-Fréthun.  This added nine minutes to our journey.  We entered the Tunnel from a standing start, instead of barrelling in at 100 mph or whatever, so the transit time was 20 minutes. 

What? Obsessive? Me?

At St Pancras International, I was savvy enough to exit the train quickly to get through passport and security.  I crossed the road to Kings Cross, caught my local train (from Platform 9, not 9 ¾) and walked through my front door less than an hour later.

This trip was primarily to meet friends and enjoy the concert, but I plan to go back and have a closer look at the museums and the EU quarter. 

Or maybe I’ll get no further than a cornet of chips and a beer in the Grand-Place...

First published in VISA 104 (August 2012)

The Odd Neighbour

by Sally Branston

Much of Belgium looks a little rough around the edges: buildings are soot-blackened; roads potholed; metalwork rusty and paint peeling. So why do I spend a lot of time there? Well, for a start, petrol is cheaper than in the Netherlands where I live. Secondly, the Dutch haven't quite got the supermarket concept, so a trip to Carrefour at Liège is from time to time a necessity. And thirdly, it's a relief to get away from the acres of modern Dutch housing estates, with their concrete-box houses and their hard-landscaped gardens and box hedging, manicured to within an inch of its life.

Ghent

To illustrate this latter point, I'll tell you about something my art teacher said. I was trying to do a water colour from a photograph of an old, rusty, corrugated-iron shed in the Falkland Islands. The teacher asked me what it was and I told her it was a derelict farm building. "But what is it for?" she asked. "Nothing," I replied. "It's just abandoned. "You would never see such a thing in the Netherlands," she said. "We would knock it down immediately." Which explains the total absence of old buildings where I live.

A British friend told me about a visit from her Dutch neighbour to complain about the front flower bed. Flowers were creeping in a naturalistic manner out of the bed and over the edge of the driveway. "Cut them back where they belong immediately," she was told. "And while you're at it, you replaced your garage door two weeks ago and it hasn't been painted yet."
Belgium is in complete contrast. Forget the quaint tourist paradise of Brugge (Bruges) and think dirt, dereliction and dilapidation. That's Liège (Luik in Flemish). But at least it's interesting. The Christmas market offers the chance to taste food and drink from all over the French-speaking world and every Sunday, there's a massive market all along the banks of the River Maas. It was also the birthplace of Belgium's best-known author, Georges Simenon.

Further down the Maas or Meuse, you find the rather strange city of Dinant, birthplace of Adolphe Sax and a picturesque spot on the way over to France. A citadel perched on top of a cliff overlooks the river where you can take a boat trip or go kayaking.

Sundays in the town of Tongeren, there is an enormous antiques market which takes up most of the town's streets until lunchtime. You can enjoy a Belgian waffle (gauffre) in the oldest inn in the oldest town in Belgium while you're there.

Bruges

Bruges is probably the favourite destination for British tourists and it is certainly pretty. And clean. And expensive. For a change, try its slightly less well known neighbour, Ghent (Gent). You can take a boat ride along the canal or visit one of the five Sunday markets. There's a famous painting to see in St Baaf's Cathedral - the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb - and lots of interesting Flemish architecture. If you're looking for somewhere old and typically Belgian to stay, a hotel with character rather than state of the art facilities, try the Gravensteen, although I wouldn't recommend trying to park anything bigger than a mini in the hotel car park.

Belgium is a country divided by language. In the Flemish areas, if you don't speak Dutch, try English rather than French. In the capital, French is best.

Don't drive unless absolutely forced to. Belgian drivers have to be amongst the worst in Europe. They have little idea what to do with roundabouts; will stop when you're least expecting them to; don't signal where they're going; drive very fast; and leave swerving across the traffic to exit the motorway until the last possible second. Brussels is confusingly signposted for visitors, so go by public transport if possible or at the very least, plan to leave your car in the hotel garage once you've arrived.

The Grand' Place is one of the most stunning sights in Europe and there always seems to be something going on. There are plenty of cafes in which to sit and have a beer, but the quality of both food and service will improve if you head out a few streets in almost any direction. Mussels are the thing to eat, washed down by any of a huge variety of Belgian beers, each of which comes served in its own special glass. If you don't like mussels, try a carbonnade, a delicious beef stew cooked in the aforementioned beer. The other local speciality is chips (with mayonnaise).

The battlefield at Waterloo is worth a visit if you're in the area, but probably not a special detour unless you're a military history buff. Climb to the top of the Butte du Lion to imagine the scene as it might have been or visit the Musée Wellington.

Carpet of Flowers, Grand' Place

At the end of April or beginning of May, try to time your visit to coincide with the annual opening of the Royal Greenhouses at Laeken. This has to be one of the "must-sees" of Europe for anyone with the slightest interest in either royalty or gardening. Ignore the huge queues - they move very quickly - and every step of the way is of interest. 

Every other year in August, see the Carpet of Flowers when the whole of the Grand' Place in Brussels is covered with an intricate design of begonias.Then have lunch in the enticingly named restaurant called "Sudden Death" (A La Mort Subite), named after a game and a well-known Belgian beer.

And finally, don't forget to look out for a sand-carving or ice-sculpture festival, according to the season. They are well worth the time spent. Happy holidays in Belgium!

First published in VISA issue 72 (Apr 2007)