Carnaval in Binche, Belgium

Okay, so sometimes I like to wait a while before I post. Not this time because what I'm going to share here was an adventure and the hassle was worth it for what I saw in Binche, Belgium to celebrate Mardi Gras.

So, since the 14th century, the small Walloon town of Binche has had a unique Carnaval celebration. In 2003 it was named a "Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity" by UNESCO. Not known for much else, Binche does Carnaval right and takes it very seriously. Starting at 4am or so, the Gilles -- about 1,000 or so men and boys -- begin to rouse their fellow Gilles and the town by marching around, banging drums, waving straw, ringing bells, and stomping their wooden shoes. They also start drinking around 6am.

In the morning there is a parade from the train station to the center of town -- the City Hall -- where all the Gilles wear their costume and masks that represent the sameness of everyone before God. (This is in part a religious and harvest celebration.) Once they reach the center of the city they take off their masks and mill around until 3:30pm.

At 3:30pm the parade begins. The Gilles put on these huge ostrich feather plumed hats, carry baskets full of blood oranges, and throw them into -- and at-- the crowd. The older kids, of course, throw them really hard, so many stores and homes put metal grates over their windows to protect the glass. The oranges represent wealth (gold) and are signs of good luck and prosperity for the coming spring. You *never* throw an orange back. The Gilles get testy. (And, they are carrying bundles of straw with which the could, if they wanted to channel "Black Pete" from St. Nicholas' Day, beat a person with.)

The Gilles I talked to (see picture above) told me that he'd been doing this for 40 years. He was going to do it for 10 more years so he could "retire" after 50 years and get the chance to participate as a Gilles in Carnaval with his son and grandson. The tradition is passed down on the male side of families. As for the traditions: they stomp their wooden shoes to "break winter." They wave the straw and ring the bells to tell winter to "go home" and to let the new and warm spring come in. And then the drums began to sound and he was off....

The parade lasts a long while and lots and lots of oranges are thrown and handed out. Belgians come with bags and fill them to the brim! I got a bunch myself, both on the fly and also handed to me. At one point I must have zoned out -- it's all a little overwhelming and the travel to Binche (as I'll explain in a moment) was difficult -- and was just staring at the whole thing when I realized that a young Gilles, maybe 8 or 9, was standing in front of me with an orange, saying take it. After I took it and said "merci" he just smiled and walked off to throw the rest of his oranges. Just really sweet. (Juxtaposed with the obnoxious gentleman to my right who kept yelling at people to move so he could take pictures and gather oranges from any and every Gilles he could nab.)

The festival goes on into the night with fireworks, but I and my Iranian friend (more on that in a second) had to leave around 6pm because of train issues....

So, getting there. Sadly, on Monday, there was a terrible train accident just outside of Brussels that has killed at least 18 and injured around 90 people. Train service has been really messed up all over Belgium and in France, the Netherlands, and even in Germany and England. Brussels is a major transportation hub. So, I knew today would be a little difficult.....

I got to Midi Station and got my ticket. Didn't see the train I needed posted so I asked and was told to take a train headed to the town of Charleroi and change trains in a town called Luttre. Okay, can do.

Well, I get to Luttre with a whole bunch of other people bound for Binche, including a very nice Iranian woman who speaks only Farsi and a little bit of English. At Luttre we all depart and wait. Then we're told, to get back on the Charleroi train, but not really told why. Just that we *should.* So I get on the train and happen across this Iranian woman. We'll call her MN who is having a hell of a time asking people what's going on. I manage to explain what the deal is and we end up sitting together and embark on a travel journey to Binche.

Once we get to Charleroi -- an old coal mining and metalworks town that is not on the upswing -- we are told that there are no trains -- none at all -- going to Binche or any town connecting to Binche. We have to take a bus. Fine. So MN and I and people dressed in face paint and balloon animal hats head toward the info booth for buses where they have....one person working. Yes, this is Europe. Yes this is the Latin part of Belgium. In the small info booth we hear English, French, Dutch, Farsi, Italian, Spanish, and many other languages and finally get our tram and bus ticket.

We board Tram 89 and head for the destination Andalouse. MN and I sit down and are facing this nice older couple. Hearing me speak English, the husband starts to give us the skinny on the tram ride. "It's going to take a half hour on the tram. Then we get on the bus. But all of this is worth one hour in Binche." It's obvious he and his wife have done this trip before. Now MN is zoned out, so I keep going with the conversation, especially since the husband was very proud to tell me that he learned his English 60 years ago in Lancashire and Birmingham, England. I decided to not tell him that I'm actually an American. (I'm often mistaken as being from England since I speak English and they associate English with England. I'm also told -- a lot, actually -- that I don't "look American" i.e. I'm not, um, overweight and I don't wear "American-style" clothes. Whatever that means....)

So, we take our 30 minute tram ride through the coal mountains -- literally -- of Charleroi and get off our tram and head for the bus. This ride is the least eventful of the trip and we make it to the outskirts of the center of Binche, are told "last stop" and head out, walking towards the festivity in the center of town.

The trip back was less eventful, since we now knew what we were doing, but still tiring. I was very glad ot have MN to talk to and wander around with. Between the two of us we managed to navigate the insane system the Belgian mass transit system had in this area of the country to get us to our destination.

It was also just interesting to meet someone from Iran. I know a couple of other people from Iran, but to run into someone from there in Belgium!? That's not something I wasn't expecting.

All in all, it was a wonderful experience and one that I'll remember for ever. It was worth the crazy transportation problems. Of course, I wish I could have shared with with friends or family from back home, but they'll just have to deal with a slideshow and me talking "about the time I was in Binche for Carnaval."

Less than three months to go! Argh!

(Top: Reverse of a 1939 Belgian Bank Note that shows a lace maker and the Cloth Hall and Town Hall of the town of Ypres that was destroyed in World War I. An interesting example of historical memory, in this case, dealing with World War I.)

(Middle: Front of a 1939 Belgian Bank Note that shows the profiles of King Albert I and his wife, Queen Elizabeth. Albert was known as the "Soldier King" and Elizabeth as the "Nurse Queen" during the war for their actions on the front lines during the war.)

(Bottom: The view from my seat at Café Maison du Peuple. This is Parvis St. Gilles. The church there was built in the 1860s. The café is in the old "People's House" that held meetings of the Belgian Worker's Party during the 19th and early 20th centuries.)

Well, I've been away from the blog for a bit for two reasons: I got sick and I got my butt in gear with work. First, being sick sucks and anyone who knows me knows I'm not a good patient. I was ill when I left the US and kept it in check while traveling with my friend, Paul. It came back toward the of his stay, though. I took a couple of days to fight it off, but then I made the mistake of getting a quick bite to eat at one of the dozens of Greek places near Grand Place and, well, food poisoning! Needless to say, having the bathroom three flights of stairs away doesn't exactly help matters....so I got caught up on TV shows. Then I got depressed.

Yes depressed because, I was sick and alone. Not fun. Depressed because I wasn't working and *only* had three months left so, of course, the solution is not get back to work, but mope and mope I did until about 1 February when, all of a sudden, I just felt better. Seriously.

I had a great and encouraging e-mail from an old professor friend; a great conversation with a friend from back home about what my project really is "all about;" and, of course, the patient encouragement of my girlfriend. All of that combined with just looking at my project differently meant that I came up with, well, a much stronger and engaging and focused thesis question about humanitarianism using my Belgian relief organization as a "case study." I also was able to lay out my chapters better and all of a sudden, poof! Not as hard, or crazy, or daunting as I thought it was and it was back to the archive, but this time to the library.

Honestly, sometimes the task of looking through unsorted documents in nameless, numbered files is tough. Libraries are a little more organized. So, I decided to go to the archive's library and search through their databases and lo-and-behold I found good stuff. Reports, diaries, old books from the 1910s and 1920s on topics I needed to investigate. I sat and read and took pictures.

I was back on track and still feel great about the project and am putting in full days. I'm even writing a bit now, aside from the usual grant application. It feels good to be back at it. I even changed my commute. Now I walk down a side street, through a park, to the back of the Petite Sablon and by the practice rooms of the Royal Conservatory. In the mornings its usually so quiet and the musicians are coming in. But when I leave for lunch, and return from my daily Skype call with Carly, and then when I go home at the end of the day I can hear the students practicing and it is, well, just wonderful. (It also helps that there is a Waffle Truck posted on this route that I now frequent on my way home.)

I'm also trying to spend less time just sitting at home, in my apartment. I try to get out after work a few times and read or work at Café Maison du Peuple, a short walk from my place. They have good beer, cheap food, wi-fi, and a nice active atmosphere. (See picture above.)

Yes, I still have less than three months, but I feel I can make the most of it work wise and still have some fun. Tonight it's off to an all night animated film festival with a friend. Then, on Tuesday, for Mardi Gras it's of to the town of Binche in Walloonia for what is supposed to be the most traditional and interesting Carnaval in Belgium. I've been warned to watch out for flying oranges.

So, yeah, just feeling better all around and figured I'd share. More on the films and Carnaval later in the week. And I'm also going to try to collection artifacts and such of my trip. I want to be that professor who has those cool old things on the walls of his office and say, "yeah, I got that thing when I was in such and such a place....) (See pictures of Belgian Bank Notes above.)

In Bruges...it's in Belgium (and so am I)

So, I went to Bruges and it is well, as the movie says, a "f-ing fairy tale." Bruges was the center (or a center) of Paul's trip to the Low Countries and he went up there a day before I did so I could get some work in at the archive. Of course, when I went up it rained and rained and rained. But, the town is still beautiful.

We climbed the bell tower that stands in the center of town and had a pretty nice view. Bruges was a cloth town and a very important one at that, so the town is awash in beautiful old guild halls and houses that sit on the canals. There is a certain "fake" quality to the place. Once the residents realized that they were never going to have the same wealth in trade, the decided to preserve the town as much as they could.

Paul and I ventured to the oldest cafe in Bruges. Since 1515 someone has been serving beer at this little bar that is off the beaten track. (Thanks Lonely Planet.) According to local legend, as told by my Lonely Planet, the painter Rubens did a dine and dash out this cafe when he ordered his brew and then painted a coin on the table. There was no trace of the coin.

After our beer and some food we made our way to a replica Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Built in the 15 century by a rich family it is a, well, weird church. In side is this morbid altarpiece that is covered with sculpted skulls, ladders, bones, tools. Just weird. According, again to our guidebooks, the church contains a "replica of Christ's tomb, complete with imitation corpse." Now, I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting what we found.

Paul and I began the "hunt for Jesus." We went up stairs and to the chapel behind the altar, no luck, until I found a little -- like 3 foot high -- opening in the wall and looked in. "Found it!" I reported to Paul and we entered the "replica tomb." Now, I'm not sure, but I don't think Jesus was buried in what looked to me to be a 1970s tiled room that could be found in the gym of my middle school. But, well, that's what this "replica" looked like. The replica body, too, was more or less just "off." We found this all together very funny. Good thing there wasn't anyone else in the church so we left before the lightening came down to strike us dead.

On a more somber and serious note, we did get to see the precious blood that is housed in the Basilica of the Holy Blood in Bruges. Brought back from the Holy Land during the Crusades, the blood is in a vial that is in a clear glass canister and, from time to time, put on display. It is housed in a double naved church. The lower nave is a bare Romanesque church with little decoration. The uppernave is more more impressive and gilt. Now, all relics are to be taken with a grain of salt since it's hard to test their validity, but the beauty in which it is displayed and kept and venerated is hard to dispute and, the Catholic I am, I followed the crowed and touched the canister that it is kept in, monitored by a stern looking nun dressed in a resplendent robe.

Walked around some more, took in the museum, and had a few drinks and some food. The walk back to the train station was in the rain, but we did manage to see the town after dark and it is a beautiful "night town." The buildings are light up well and the canals are so still that the reflections -- even in the rain -- are amazing. It's a place to go back and explore more on a better day.

Travels with Paul (Amsterdam and Utrecht)

Well, my friend Paul is visiting from the US so we’ve been doing some travel. Here is what we’ve done so far and some comments:

Amsterdam (Saturday/Sunday 9/10 January)

It wasn’t what I expected it to be. I thought it would be a larger and grander, but it wasn’t. The Dam – their central square – is actually pretty small and unimpressive. That said, seeing Anne Frank’s House, wandering the lovely canals, visiting the Royal Museum, and taking the Heineken Brewery Tour made the trip very worthwhile.

Paul, a master European traveler, found a great hostel with a great location and after a little mishap meeting up (Amsterdam doesn’t have arrival information at the train station) we set out to explore the city.

It was snowing and, from what we could tell, it always snows in Amsterdam. Despite the cold we made our way through the city and took a canal tour – very romantic. It took about an hour and we saw the narrowest house in Amsterdam – not much wider than the door itself – and the furniture hooks on the gables of the houses – narrow stairs preclude taking sofas and the like inside when moving, so they use hooks to bring things through the windows – and houseboats that people live on year-round. A good choice to see a lot of the city and do some icebreaking in our little canal boat.

We visited Ann Frank’s House, which was very powerful and moving. The secret annex – where she and her family lived during WWII before they were “discovered” – is devoid of furniture and it’s a little haunting. There are quotes by Frank, from her diary, all over the house and pictures of how the rooms had looked. Just thinking about being cramped in these small rooms with others and not being able to go outside, being quiet every day, was very affecting.

(There is no good transition from Ann Frank's House to anything else...so forgive the abrupt shift.)

After taking that tour and in need of some time to decompress we stopped for some food and a drink before wandering some more and, yes, we eventually visited the Red Light District. It is a disconcerting place, but Paul and I did not play “how much for that hooker in the window.” Nor did we stop at any coffee shops for some pot or hash. Just not our style.

The next day we visited the Royal Museum and saw some amazing Rembrandts and Vermeer. They had another exhibit that depicted the power and glory of the Dutch in the 15^th and 16^th centuries. I always forget how powerful the Dutch were at that time and it was interesting to see it all laid out before me.

Utrecht

Our time in Amsterdam was up and we moved on toward Brussels and stopped in a town called Utrecht. It used to be a seat of Catholic power, but after the Reformation the cathedral was ransacked. The faces of statues of saints are clearly smashed off and the niches where others are supposed to be are empty. Most interesting is that the church now only consists of the choir (where the altar is) and the transepts. The long nave that connected it with its beautiful gothic bell tower collapsed in a storm in the mid-1600s and was never rebuilt.

As Paul and I wandered around the church a man approached us and in German and English said if we had any questions we should ask him. “No,” we said,” just looking” as we made our way toward the altar area. “Oh, if you want to go up and look around the altar you can.” Now, Paul and I are Catholic and in Catholic churches you don’t do that, so we were a little taken aback. “Oh,” we said. “We didn’t know you could do that. We’re Catholic.” The kindly older man grew a little sterner and said “Well, we’re Protestant here so you can go behind the altar.” We did and checked out the tomb of a famous resident.

After lunch we climbed the 465 steps of the bell tower. For some reason when I travel with Paul I climb a lot of stairs. The view from the top was very pretty, though the snow and fog prevented a clear view over the Dutch countryside. Since there were only four of us on the tour, we got to see where the bells (the carillon) are housed the ropes that are used to make them ring on special occasions. (No, we couldn’t ring them, but Paul did play a nice little tune (When the Saints go Marching In) on a toy carillon in the tower’s museum.

After climbing down we got on the train and headed to Brussels….I gave Paul the usual tour and this weekend we’re of to Bruges and Tournai. More to come!

American Airlines Sucks, but my fellow travelers were really nice

So, I flew back to the US on 21 December and wasn’t expecting a big deal. But it was. See, England and Belgium have been having a lot of weather and snow. The weekend before I left for the US Brussels got a few inches of snow. I was happily sitting in my usual morning café and watched a number of cars just slide down the road. It seems that the Belgian drivers don’t really get what to do when it snows, even though it snows a bit each year. You just kinda push through, but don’t shovel or plow. (Not that they really can. It’s hard to plow or shovel cobblestones.) Makes for wet and cold feet, but the beer helps.

Anyway, I got to the airport about 2.5 hours early and, since I wasn’t checking a bag, was just going to use the kiosk, get my boarding pass, and chill with my book. No dice. So, I went to the counter to check in. Again, nope…back of the line…of about 900 people. See flights were cancelled left and right AND the Eurostar (the high-speed train) to London was shut down because of weather. And, of course, I was flying to the US so we all had to go through like 50 layers of security.

Now to vent I call my poor girlfriend – it’s like 5am or something in the US when I do this – for no other reason to vent. And I just wait, but thankfully I met two really nice travelers: Damian (a Belgian) and Amy (a Brit). We’re all three on the same flight to London (Damian is on it to go to Boston where he’s studying and Amy is on it to go home, she was stranded because of the Eurostar problem).

We had a lovely time chatting about the insanity of travel, our thoughts on our own countries, on each others’, Christmas traditions in each country, and the like. It was just a pleasant time. Thankfully our flight was delayed to let all the passangers get through security and passport control, then we waited an hour at the gate to get a new flight plan and then got in the air.

The rest of the trip was fine-ish and I was just happy to get home and see Carly and not lug around a suitcase.

Carly's Visit

This is, I’m sad to say, probably going to be a long post so bear with me. [Then again, it could always be a lot longer....]

Two months into my research trip in Brussels, Carly came for a visit. She flew in on Halloween and left the following Sunday, so we had a week to explore Brussels and do a bit of travel. It was great having her here, showing her “my city,” and bringing another part of my life – my relationship – with me to Brussels. I love my work and I’m focused on it, but it was nice to take a break and just enjoy my new home with some one dear to me, rather than on my own.

Brussels
Of course, since I live in Brussels, we had to do the usual sights: Grand Place, the Royal Palace, the little boy peeing, waffles, fries, and the like. The weather was eh, so we made the most of the sun that we could. Carly was a trooper on the first day. After a short nap, she was ready to explore the city. We had a beer on Grand Place – something I’ll never tire of – and took in the usual sights. One evening we found our way to a great little restaurant near where Audrey Hepburn was born. It’s called Les Brassins and it’s one of those places you’d never find unless you already knew about it. (Thank you New York Times’ 36-hours in Brussels.)

Les Brassins is an unassuming little restaurant that serves good, traditional, Low Country food at a good price. Carly had a beef stew that’s made with dark brown beer and I had stoemp, a dish of mashed potatoes mixed with a vegetable (artichokes this time) served with a fat sausage and think slice of bacon on top. Fantastic. It was also a cold and rainy night so it was the perfect meal.

We also did some chocolate shopping. When Carly arrived I got her some chocolate from Wittamer, one of the two chocolate shops accredited to the Royal Court of Belgium. This stuff was delicious. So, of course, we went back for more. Wittamer is right on the Grand Sablon, my favorite place in Brussels and we spent some time exploring the church there (we attended a beautiful Gregorian Chant mass her first Sunday here) and the park that is opposite the church.

I also gave her my research tour: stopping by where the Germans had their administration during World War I, where the Belgian relief group had their offices, and where the Americans had theirs. I’m not sure how interesting she found that part – most of these places are either gone or transformed into Russian airline offices – but I indulged the tour guides prerogative to point out the inane as well as the Grand….

Grand Place was a constant in the trip. We got fries, of course, and they were up to par. (The second trip to Frites Land wasn’t as good. When the fries are good there, they are good. When they aren’t they aren’t.)

One evening we had dinner at Aux Armes de Bruxelles, an almost 90-year-old establishment on Rue des Bouchers right off Grand Place. We had a nice three-course meal. Among the great dishes, I had a traditional starter plate: endive, wrapped in ham, and baked with cheese and cream. It was, well, delicious. Thankfully, the main course was the famed mussels and fries, which is a bit lighter than many of the other items on the menu.

We ended up having an after dinner drink at Le Roi d’Espagne. An old world café in an old guildhall on Grand Place. Two things of note: the dried and inflated pig bladders that hang from the ceiling and, in the men’s room, pictures of women peering down toward the urinals. What’s with this country and the act of peeing?!

Paris
By high-speed train it’s a 1 and 22 minutes to Paris. We took the high-speed train but, for whatever reason, we had terrible luck with the train. Going there we were delayed 20 minutes for no reason. On the way back they put us on the wrong track so we had to double back to Paris to get things going right. Aside from that Paris….

For Carly’s birthday we went to Paris and walked and walked and walked. It was a rainy day, but we stayed dryish. We went up the Eiffel Tower, visited Notre Dame, and walked along the Seine. The highlight, though, was the Musée Jacquemart André (thanks LW and NR). This place is a little off the beaten track, but well worth it. We had tea and cake in a most beautiful tea room adorned with tapestries depicting the life of Achilles. The museum itself was the home of a 2nd French Empire “upper middle class” couple who instead of having kids, collected art from around the world and held lavish parties. The audio guide was wonderful and gave nice insight into how the favored lived during the time of Napoleon III.

We found a nice little café for dinner and enjoyed being warm for a bit and having some nice French wine. We actually got a cab to get us back to the station and then headed for Brussels.

I really liked Paris, but it has the familiar “big city” feel and we spent a lot of time traveling between places in the city. Next time I go – and I hope there is a next time – I’d like to take one district and really focus on it and explore it.

Antwerp
We decided on Antwerp for our final out of Brussels day trip. Antwerp has an old world feel that is different than Brussels. Only about 500,000 people it’s smaller, too, but has one of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world. Of course, having a number of P. P. Rubens on display doesn’t hurt. The magnificent “Descent from the Cross” stands to the right of the main alter and is captivating. It’s one thing to see a painting like this in a museum, but to see it in the church it was designed for and displayed as it is designed to, is just incredible.

It’s a triptych altarpiece for the Arquebusiers whose patron saint is St. Christopher (whose name means “cross bearer.”) Since this is during the counter-Reformation, the main scene could not be of St. Christopher – as the Arquebusiers (early riflemen) wanted – so Rubens creates a triptych that gives his patrons multiple cross bearers as Christ is taken from the cross after his death. It’s simply amazing to see it in person and to see it in the grand and light cathedral.

On the lighter side, there is also a building in Antwerp, for the butcher’s guild, that is designed to look like a rasher of bacon. There are red and white strips of stone that turn it into a bacon building. Well done, Antwerp.

Back in Brussels
All in all I think it was a wonderful trip. Carly surely has more to say and these are just some of the things we saw in Brussels, Antwerp, and Paris. Her visit has really made this trip real since I have now been able to share this place with someone from back home. It’s not the same describing it in an e-mail, or over the phone, or in this blog. I’m glad that she’ll now be able to picture when I say I was at Sablon or on Grand Place or at the supermarket.

Now it’s six weeks until I come home for Christmas. I will, however, get to be here for Belgian Christmas. St. Nicholas and his helpers arrive by boat on 18 November….see David Sedaris for more.

A trip to the countryside

Brussels is nice. Really, it is. And, yes, I’m a city boy. Well, as much as a suburban Long Islander can be a city boy. Nonetheless, I like cities. Big cities, though, are, well, big and most have a similar feel. Brussels is, as I’ve said before on this blog, the “Capital of Europe.” It is host to the European Commission and the executive Council. Who knows, if the Irish pass the Lisbon Treaty today Tony Blair may soon be taking up residence in Brussels as President of the European Union….Anyway, because of that it has an international feel which is great, but I’m here to study Belgium to some extent and you can only do so much of that in it’s capital.

I don’t know many people here, but when I arrived I was put up by a former Belgian BAEF fellow, SC. SC and his girlfriend and sister have a place in the university section of town and they were very kind, took me out for lunch and dinner, and helped me get settled before I found my place in Saint-Gilles.

Last weekend was the Fête du Communauté française de Belgique (Festival of the French Community of Belgium) with all sorts of things going on around the French-speaking part of Brussels and Belgium itself. A day or two before the start of the festival, I wandered through Grand Place to see a huge stage set up and a sound check going on for some Belgian pop star. It was an interesting mix of old and new.

It was around then that I got an invite from SC’s sister to join her and her family in their hometown about 30 minutes by train outside of the City for a dance performance called “Décrocher la Lune” (to take down the moon). Heeding my mantra of, “yes, I’ll go!” I took her up on the offer and planed for, well, I didn’t know what to plan for. I had no idea what this was. Evidently the same guy who put together the stage show for Celine Dion in Vegas was responsible for this. Having never seen that Vegas show (or any Vegas show for that matter) I was happily ignorant of the spectacle that was going to unfold on the small square in La Louvière, the small town where the performance was to take place.

I met EC at Gare Nord (North Station) and took the train south into Brabant Walloon. “So, you went to Ypres last weekend,” she said. “Yup,” I replied. “You know that’s a center of Flemish extremism, of separatism.” “No!” I said. I had no idea. The divisions in this country are interesting and I’m fascinated by who thinks what and so on. EC likes her country as one, as do most Belgians when it comes down to it, but there are centers of extremism, especially in Flanders where the economy is booming. The fact that Ypres is a center of it is interesting since that was the place where the Allies took a stand in World War I to stop the Germans to save a unified and free Belgium. (Something for the blog, I thought!)

Anyway, the trip was nice and the countryside was beautiful. We arrived at the station and went with her father to their house, a nice place literally in the country. We drove down a one lane road after we left the town passing fields of wheat, corn, potatoes, and a golf course….the Scots got here, too!

Lunch was very nice – it was nice to have a home cooked meal, though I’m trying my best to cook as much as I can at my place – and then EC, her mom and I headed out for an impromptu tour of the area. I didn’t see this coming. (Oh, and the festival started at 9pm and we all wouldn’t be back ‘till late, I was to stay over. Of course, I had no change of clothes….oh well, when in Belgium….)

First we went to the church in Nivelles. A Romanesque church that, well, um, the US destroyed during World War II. It seems we didn’t have smart bombs then either and missed the target destroying the church, La Collégiale Sainte-Gertrude. In what I’m sure Glen Beck would have thought was a terrible waste of our tax dollars, the US offered to rebuild the church after the war.

Now, the kindness of those I’ve met here has been phenomenal and the tour of the church we took was no exception. EC’s mom hired a very nice docent to give us the tour. Of course, it was in French. Thankfully our kindly tour guide spoke very slowly and, of course, a bit more loudly than necessary (it’s a universal thing, it seems). I got about 1/3 of what she said about the church, 1/3 from the various hand gestures, pointing, and the like, and 1/3 from EC and her mom translating bits and pieces here and there.

Sainte-Gertrude was (is?) a pilgrimage church and there is one part of one pillar that acts as a “portal” where if you step through it, you will go to heaven. I did it. I fit through. I’m going to heaven. No problem. What was really cool was that the stone around this portal was so worn down all the pilgrims who had passed through it over the years. Pretty cool.

After the church we drove by the Battle of Waterloo site. It’s a big field with a man-made hill at one point with a cast-iron lion (the Dutch lion) at the top facing toward France as warning…sadly, the next enemy came from the other direction. Twice. (EC’s mom told me that every so often they have reenactments and people dress up as Dutch, French, Prussian, British soldiers and such. She said, "often people ask, “Where are the Americans….” Um, we weren’t always meddling in the affairs of Europe….)

Then we visited the ruins of an abbey. We got there late and only had about 20 minutes, but it was beautiful and peaceful. There was a bride and groom having their pictures taken in the nave of the old church, left half standing after a local businessman had sold, brick by brick, the stone buildings of the abbey for the building of new houses. This all happened after the French Revolution. Nonetheless, the place was hauntingly beautiful.

This is a long post, so I end this one here because the next bit of fun was the festival and, oh year, watching WWF wresting dubbed in French….