Ah Antwerp, how I love thee... and your beer...

Only in Antwerp will you see a tram like this - straight from the past, but more importantly, with a sign for Antwerp's own brewery, De Koninck, the brewery of the hand. I could tell you a lot about it, but all you need to know for now is that it is established in Antwerp since 1833, and that they make the 'bolleke'.

How should I describe this amber-coloured ambrosia, its velvety flavour and the rich foam which greets you as you lift the typical bolleke glas to your lips? Oh, and by the way, on tap, please, never from the bottle.

Drink it in one of Antwerp's brown cafés and you will never want anything else. I recommend some cheese and mustard as a side.

PS - sadly the tram team did not have bollekes on board. Shame on them all!

When food cultures meet...

Last Friday was the highlight of this shopping district's calendar: customer day. The shopkeepers set up a little stage in the little square off the main drag, arrange booths along the pavements, and generally stay open later. The local politicians stroll around (half the socialist party was there) in view of the upcoming regional elections.

In my case, it involved watching a botched attempt at trying to set a Guinness Record, having my munchkin's face painted and watching six munchkins devour pancakes cooked by the manager of our local KBC bank branch (which is in very troubled waters these days, but that's another tale of woe).

At the munchkin's request, we also joined a gaggle of Turkish and Morrocan locals near the stage as they watched a bunch of very Belgian pale women belly dance. The women looked uncomfortable, so did I. The men lapped it all up, clapping their hands and whooping to the music. And the munchkin enjoyed the music and the dancing. Help.

At any rate, on our way home, we discovered that we were in fact ravenous. Faced with a million choices, I chose the fast way out: Snack Rapido. The smell of sardines on the grill lured me, I swear. Usually, yours truly wouldn't venture near this place, given the number of men, and men only that frequent it. But the counter looked attractive enough.

So we duly found ourselves a table, ordered a kefteh for myself and something fishy for the munchkin and waited, as I sipped my extraordinarily good mint tea.
For some reason, the sweetness drew me back to the year I decided to trek around Morocco for a good month. I remembered the food, which, for the most part, was actually delicious. Especially the bowls of nutritious harira soup, which kept us going and only cost a few dirham.
Imagine my surprise then, when this dish arrived.
I hadn't even ordered fries with it. Too funny. Or how food cultures can, at times, clash.
We walked out to some enthusiastic rai music, and breathed in the smell of the sardines as they sizzled on the grill.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. No knife attacks, no sirens.

Sun! Oh god, the sun!

A quick photo post from my lair because I have spent most of this week in the sun, on the streets, on the squares of Antwerp, smelling lilacs, admiring the leaves of linden trees, hearing children play in squares and rediscovering my city.

So I leave you with some impressions, as I settle down for a relaxing evening.

The Facade Building around my corner: a Flemish author leaves here, hence the lemma for the word, facade, on the building.


The Boat House in the Museum district, which we bike by every morning and evening.


An installation on mobile living on the quays by the Scheldt, near the munchkin's school.


The Scheldt, and the port as seen from the Left Bank (we live on the right bank, where the cathedral is).

Although I love the port and its industrial structures, I am extremely aware of its impact on the countryside around it. At the moment, the inhabitants of Doel are fighting a desperate battle to protect their village from progress. I posted something on this last year here.

I took some photos in Doel last year in November. The quality is not excellent because they were taken at dusk. I chose to add these because last Sunday, when we drove through it, we found a changed village.

The former restaurant in the photo above, the white structure with the cars parked in front of it, has now gone. It has been demolished.

The mill is a heritage site, so they will have to either take it down and transport it brick by brick to the heritage park on the other side of the country. Or their other choice is to leave it there, so it can sit amongst the containers, like the dehallowed church of Wilmarsdonk, as seen below.

Photo courtesy of Hotlar on Flickr.

Either way, you can tell the residents of Doel are now under pressure to make way for the containers and cranes as progress looms on the horizon...


Something to think about on a nice, sunny evening...

Lost Monday

On the first Monday after Twelfth Night Antwerpers hurry over to their pubs and bakeries for the annual delicacy known as 'worstenbrood en appelbollen' (sausage rolls and apple pastries).

The munchkin and I thus had our task cut out for us after school. Make our way over to Bakkerij Goossens (est. 1884 or thereabouts), stand in line outside in the cold, burrow through the door, wait politely behind the rope with the other 5 people who fit in the store at one time and contain excitement.

The daily/hourly queue at Goossens

Because this place is the bane of my existence. I am incapable of thinking properly in the presence of coconut rochers, sukade breads (white bread, powdered with sugar and containing confit fruit), buttery pains au chocolat, beautifully rolled butter croissants, etc. The list, as you imagine, goes on.

The munchkin gnawed happily on the milk sandwich she was handed by the owner (this woman is able to spot a future customer/child a mile away in the sea of adult legs) and I fainted as the same woman then proceeded to walk in with a tray of warm sausage rolls, which she patted lovingly and then called out for all to hear: "freshly baked, who needs sausage rolls?".

We patiently waited our turn and then proceeded home with our precious cargo, which was promptly inserted into a 220° C oven, which should be immediately turned down to 180°, and delivered hot and crusty to the table after a good ten minutes.

At the town hall, the councillors are also traditionally served a meal of worstenbrood and appelbollen on this day, and in my old haunt (the jenever café in the centre of Antwerp) regulars are also treated to this snack.

Don't you just love traditions?

Hot chocolate lobster?

So where do I start? I'm doggone tired, people! This is the shortest week of the year, as I rush to try to finalize everything before next week's season of excess sets in. At some point, I will have to find the time to make some chilli jam or cranberry sauce (courtesy of Nigella, of course) before we leave next Tuesday.

On Friday, I will be the glühwein dispenser extraordinaire at the school fete (never mind that I hate the stuff with a vengeance, preferring mulled cider instead). On a good note, the team also decided to serve hot chocolate. But who cares about the second-hand liquid that they are trying to pass off as hot and chocolatey when you can go to Quetzal Chocolate Bar in Antwerp instead?

After being subjected to Fresco's odes to their chocolate concoctions, I was actually on the verge of hopping into Greta (my car) and driving to Ghent last week. So imagine my glee, when dear Fres brightened up my prospects considerably last night and told me that the kind Quetzal people opened one in Antwerp?

So early this evening, I scooped up the munchkin, blackmailing her with a ride on the merry-go-round and we headed straight over to the Cathedral, to chocolate Cornucopia.
It was bliss, dear readers. Really. Worth every euro cent.


71% dark chocolate (or milk, or white as your basic ingredient), with various interpretations, including cinnamon, marshmallows and chilli. Needless to say I have a customer fidelity card now.

And then, after a brief visit to the dentist (thankfully no cavities), I came home to this:



Living with a New Englander does truly have its advantages. They tend to buy fresh lobsters, which they hide in the fridge and then cook them, with hot butter sauce and serve them with delicious potato salad and prosecco as a surprise.

All in all, a very delectable day and I didn't have to do a thing. Such a sloth I am. But I'm sure I'm worth it.

A!

This is a perfect example of a lazy post. Why? Because I was looking for an excuse to post a photo.
This photo was taken from my car, as I approached the Cathedral and Groenplaats and the only reason I like it, is because of the tram lines and the geometric pattern they describe against the clouds, as the tram turns right to head into the centre.

To the left, you can make out the spire of Antwerp cathedral, the nave stretches out to its right (see building in centre of photo).

As I regularly work for the tourist office, and am even featured on one of their websites as an expat living in the city, I never eschew an opportunity for some blatant promotion. And since Lonely Planet recently voted Antwerp as one of the ten cities you must absolutely visit, here is their take on --A--.

"Even the New York Times agrees – Antwerp (Antwerpen in Flemish, Anvers in French) is Europe’s place to be. Appreciated by mode moguls, club queens, art lovers and diamond dealers, Belgium’s capital of cool and the country’s second-biggest city once again revels in fame and fortune.

Antwerp has a rollcall of drawing cards. Start with its manageable size and timeless quality. The old city centre, built around the country’s most impressive cathedral, is as beautiful and intimate as it was centuries ago. Tucked away in cobbled lanes and backstreets are thousands of restaurants and bars, antique shops, art galleries, exclusive chocolate out­lets, designer boutiques and diamond shops where Antwerpenaars enjoy spending money.

The whole city is something of an architectural museum, from the medieval riverside fortress to modern waterfront creations and the famous Cogels-Osylei, where architects ran riot. Most distinctive is its Gothic and Flemish baroque architecture; it was the home of Pieter Paul Rubens, northern Europe’s greatest baroque artist. A visit to his home and studio in the city centre gives fabulous insight into the painter’s personal life, after which you can track down some of his most acclaimed works in churches and museums dotted around the city.

Antwerp’s role as a celebrated fashion hub means it’s a magnet for shoppers. For a city of its size, it boasts an astonishing number of world-acclaimed fashion designers and many have set up boutiques here. Designer-led stores buzz with shoppers looking for the latest in hip clothing and accessories.

On the backbone of the fashion and growing gay scenes, Antwerp’s club culture has expanded. The city runs on party time. Club extravaganzas burst out in summer and the nightly scene in the regenerated docklands to the north and south of town beat to the coolest vibes.

It doesn’t end there. The world’s largest diamond-cutting industry operates behind discreet façades in the Jewish neighbourhood. In the sailors’ quarter just north of the city centre, bored women sit framed in red lights while itinerant Philippino, Sri Lankan and East European seaman wander the seedy streets. Turkish, African and Chinese communities live northwest of Franklin Rooseveltplaats, ultratrendy style victims have taken over the fashion district, and businessmen and upper-class Flemish hang out around Koning Albertpark.

Cosmopolitan, confident and full of contrasts…Antwerp’s an essential stop on your Belgium itinerary."

So go ahead and visit. I'm sure you will enjoy it.

Chasing elephants....

Liverpool has its giant spider, Antwerp has its elephant parade, comprising seventy elephants, which have been placed haphazardly around the city. On the daily school run, we encounter ten of them (even witnessed them being set up), and today, we tried to chase down another 22. The munchkin crawled under them, ran around them, and generally had a good time*.



The Elephant Parade is designed to draw attention to the plight of Asian elephants. Artists are asked to create an elephant, which is then auctioned off.

We then stopped for an ice tea and other delights at the Brasserie Populaire, which has always been a favourite, and navigated our way home through the masses, who were taking in the Liberation festivities in Antwerp's Grote Markt. Brassbands and uniforms galore.

Another pitstop at Fisk Boutique, for some Icelandic codcakes and salmon for dinner and the day imperceptibly drew to a peaceful close. Tomorrow, the munchkin and I will be braving the rain and wind on the annual street outing to the middle of nowhere. A 5-mile walk with a 4-year old. Oh, joy...

* Yes, that is me in the background screeching on my phone. Photo courtesy of SO.

DDG on the move today and this is what I saw along the way.

"I guess it's just a feeling - in the city..."

Hark, the nightingale...

Every year, four blondes and a brunette meet up and hit the local open-air theatre for a concert. Last year, we boldly took ourselves to Rickie Lee Jones and yearned for the voice of yesteryear. With that experience still rather fresh in our minds, we decided that we needed some quality this year.

And so, under less than promising skies and after some cuba libres, we sat down to enjoy the voice that is kd lang.



What can I say? The woman can most definitely sing.

Some of the songs of her set:

Miss Chatelaine
Constant Craving
Hallelujah
Helpless
Close your eyes
Wash me clean
Smoke rings
...

We enjoyed every second, were fortunate to be right up there in front of the stage (her own special request, said we and she'd feel warmer) and the downpour only started after midnight and after several glasses of cava, jokes and laughter.

A good night was had by all.

Only in Antwerp...

can you take a ride on a pterodactyl on the magic roundabout.

The summer of Antwerp has finally arrived in our fair city!

Oh she was gorgeous: the Hôtel Max Hallet

Technically speaking this post does not belong in a list of gorgeous women. But I think of a house as being a feminine entity, nurturing and tending to the people inside, keeping them warm or cool, depending on the seasons, and embracing them as they come home every night.

I am excessively fond of old houses, and our house is no exception. Built in 1900, it has its quirks, but it also comes with a mosaic floor, a gorgeous stairwell, wood floors, a neo-classic façade and the original doors and glass windows.

When it comes to period architecture, however, I profess to being wholeheartedly smitten with the houses of Victor Horta. The Hôtel Max Hallet, recently reopened to the public as an events venue, is a perfect example of the Brussels' architect's art. Carefully and lovingly restored, the symphonic swirls of the banisters, the winter garden and the detailing in the stained glass windows make for a visual extravaganza. Likewise, the Hôtel Armand Solvay is a gem, and of course, the architect's own house, which is now a museum. My former boss is fortunate enough to live in one of his houses.

So, if you ever find yourself in Brussels, do try and make some time to visit these delightful exponents of Art Nouveau. In the meantime, click here to enjoy the Hôtel Hallet. And if you're in Antwerp, don't forget to take a stroll down Cogels Osylei, for a stunning row of period houses.

Sinksenfoor

The Whit carnival is upon us. It's an old tradition (that dates back to the 1920s, I think).

In the past, I used to be a fan of this particular ride.
That was before I had back problems and became an old fart.


This year's fun attraction is below. Not for the faint of heart, and thus not for me.


These days, I'm more into this...

Ah, how times have changed...

For a video impression, check here and click videos. Some great people watching to be done during this funfair, by the way. The chav factor is something else.

And of course no visit to the Sinksenfoor would be complete without laquemants (two warm waffles with syrup in between) or a portion of smoutebollen (fritters) from Désiré de Lille. I scoured the net for a pic of the former, but ended up having to take one myself.

Summer in the city

This coming weekend Belgium for once will hold that most enviable label of hottest place to be in Europe.

People have started driving like nutters, speeding with their car windows open, although we have yet to be subjected to insistent rap music or Rai stuff (which sometimes can be very good.) I always say that the accident rate rises in line with the degrees on the thermometer and the hemlines: the more skin women start to exhibit, the higher the chances of the hormonal young males in this city crashing into something. So far, only two buses down the road. Everyone escaped in pristine condition.

At the gym, there is currently an influx of weedy, tight-bodied women, who spend hours on the stairmaster or any other of the torture instruments that are so popular with women with a bikini itch, that needs scratching. I have never felt the need to make such a spectacle of myself clothes-wise. As you might have guessed, I have biked past the entrance of the gym, but I did not make it inside (too much work this week).

The good news is that now the terrace is open again, I can work outside. No noise whatsoever except the odd airplane.

Bliss.

PS - Pic to follow, but the harsh sunlight is impeding my creative and photographic juices.

Diamond Divas!

I've been completely fascinated by the poster for the exhibition "Diamond Divas" at Antwerp's Diamond Museum, which has been plastered all over Antwerp since a few weeks.



The fabulous eyes and lips of the grande dame of Sunset Boulevard, Gloria Swanson herself, have been chosen as the embodiment of the quintessential Diamond Diva. A better close-up, don't you think. Personally, I never knew that she was so fortunate to own so many diamonds. But, considering that she was the mistress of Joe Kennedy, I assume that he must have showered her with some gifts.

I was aware, however, of Marlene Dietrich's fabulous diamond cuffs and the beautiful ruby bracelet, which she wore in Stagefright... All were used for a settlement for unpaid taxes with the IRS...

Other divas include Daisy Fellowes, the Duchess of Windsor, the violet-eyed Elisabeth Taylor, the girl who famously sang that 'a kiss on the hand may be quite continental, but diamonds are a girl's best friend'.

The exhibition is on my list of things to do next week! Not that I'm vying for my own rock... I'm a silver girl, no rocks required.

oh she was gorgeous - Fouquet's Madonna

I had one of those weeks where I have been working like a dog again. But in the last two days some exciting museum-related jobs landed on my desk, which will keep me happy through February. So, reflecting on my home town's museums, I thought about the extraordinary painting of the Madonna by Jean Fouquet, which rests in the hallowed halls of the Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp.

The painting itself is striking, surreal almost, considering it was painted by the artist somewhere around 1450. The second panel of the Melun dyptich, which depicts its benefactor, resides in Berlin. It is said that the person who sat for the Madonna is Agnès Sorel, the first mistress of a French king to be officially recognized as such. Sadly, the power that Mlle Sorel amalgamated over King Charles VII and the court at Chinon did not do her much good, as she eventually died, from mercury poisoning. The order was probably given by the heir to the throne.

What is interesting about this work first and foremost, is of course the apple-like exposed breast at the centre of the painting. French kings seemed to be infatuated with their mistresses' breasts. For instance, did you know that the "coupe de champagne" apparently was modelled on the breast of Jeanne Poisson, better known as Madame de Pompadour (all I can say is, judging by our champagne coupes, that there was not much to write home about... an A cup at the most. So pour me seconds please.).

You will also notice the lack of angular shapes in this painting. Everything is curvy, or rounded, even the nude, chubby angels, who are positively glistening. The rounded shapes contrast with the angular, distant manner in which the mother holds the child on that pristine white silk.

Also, the angels are not staring adoringly at the mother and child. In fact only one gazes in their direction, and his eyes actually are oriented beyond the painting, to us, as it were.

And finally, the colour of the angels themselves. All I can think of is latex. Lots of latex. I was thinking about making a remark about the French tricolore, but that would have required Fouquet to have a glass ball to predict the Révolution... and the French flag... so I'll just leave it at that.
Anyway, I just thought to share this treasure with you, so I posted it among my gorgeous offerings.

Integration

Cutest moment of the day: the munchkin and her friend each enveloped in a towel, saying 'we are ballerinas' during the Sunday playover exchange-over with our next-door neighbours three houses down.

Cutest moment no. 2 of the day: the two of them sleeping in between the towels in the middle of the living room on the floor, turned towards one another.

Most satisfying moment of the day: seeing the two of them toss handfuls of 'snow' (ticker tape) at one another with several other kids during the neighbourhood's new year's cocktail in the park, kindly brought to us by the Antwerp section of the socialist party and our mayor.

Most unnerving moment of the day: realizing that everyone around you is straight and that you're the only gay parent in a 1-km radius. Makes you want to instantly run for the hills, but the only thing that retains you there is that your neighbours are there, that everyone is nice to you and that your kid is having one helluva good time.

Parenting: who said it was easy?

Antwerp mayor says 'sorry' to Jewish community - has anything really changed?

Interesting news item:

Yesterday our mayor, socialist Patrick Janssens, apologized to the Jewish community for the municipal government's role during World War II in a video message to a congress on the Nazi extermination of Jews during WWII.
Recent research seems to indicate that Antwerp officials and police were actively collaborating with the German occupying forces at the time. With more than 1,200 Jews rounded up for subsequent deportation to various concentration camps in Europe, it would seem that the Antwerp police assisted the Germans during the summer of 1942 in tracking down Jewish people in Antwerp and later actively rounding them up.
The Brussels municipal council and police apparently refused any collaboration.
About 65 percent of Antwerp's Jewish community were deported during the Nazi occupation.

All this during the same weekend that thousands of members of the white supremacy organization Blood and Honour converged on Wolfsdonk in Aarschot for a concert featuring neo-nazi bands... There is currently no ban on such meetings and organizations in Belgium, which is why this meet could take place.

Sometimes I think this country just doesn't get it and is unable to looks its war past in the face.
I should probably say something here about communitaurian differences (Walloon vs. Flemish) and link it to the current problems that the various parties are having trying to form a coalition and subsequently a government, but frankly, I am so exasperated and ashamed about the lack of unity at political level that I don't want to talk about it.