Godmorgon!
Det blev utgång igår kväll, Delirium igen – och det var riktigt kul! Fast jag vet inte om jag någonsin mer vill dricka vanlig öl när jag nu smakat både hallon- och bananöl! Och ja, det låter vidrigt, men det var gott! Vi satt mest och försökte prata, med betoning på försökte eftersom det var så mycket folk att det var rätt svårt att höra vad man tänkte, och så hade jag ett långt samtal med ett par killar som jag vid närmare eftertanke inser att jag aldrig presenterade mig för. En av dem kallade jag bara mr. Invisible guy eftersom hans kompisar höll en tom stol “för en kompis”, fast han aldrig dök upp. Vi pratade om allt från Alfons Åberg till Rwandakrigen -94. De var trevliga i vilket fall, men efter ett tag kände jag mig som en svikare som lämnat de andra vid vårt bord så jag sa hejdå och anslöt mig till de andra istället.

Fick se Grand place och Manneken pis igårkväll med. Grand place var helt fantastiskt – så storslaget! Manneken pis däremot var en besvikelse, men det hade jag nog väntat mig, men nu kan jag i alla fall säga att jag sett Bryssels (enda?) sevärdhet! Kvar på måste-listan är tydligen bara att äta. Äta pommes frites med majonnäs (wäh!), äta våfflor och äta choklad!

Nu måste jag dock hoppa in i duschen – eftersom rökrum inte existerar här luktar  man ju som en annan majbrasa efter en utekväll… Åker nog in till stan en sväng idag med – om inte annat så för att höra musiken på tunnelbanan – hur ofta hör man över huvud taget Cat Stevens Wild world hemma? Haha!

Bruxelles, capitale de l’Europe, du royaume de Belgique et de la Flandre s’est fait connaître par la Grand-Place, le Manneken-Pis et l’Atomium. Sous ses allures de gros village européen, c’est la ville idéale pour se détendre le temps d’un week-end.

Visite des places bruxelloises. S’occuper du décor quotidien sans reprendre les techniques du passé : voici l’Art nouveau, qui fait partie intégrante de l’identité bruxelloise ! Il rompt avec tout ce qui existait jusque là en architecture, en proposant des mariages de matériaux inédits qui s’inspirent de la nature. L’hôtel Tassel, considéré comme le tout premier édifice Art nouveau, illustre parfaitement ce propos. Un musée est dédié à son auteur, qui est également le précurseur de l’art nouveau belge, Victor Horta.

Si vous souhaitez comprendre ce style, promenez-vous dans ce musée à ciel ouvert que constitue le quartier des squares, et laissez vous charmer par les ferronneries, les décorations de mosaïques, les petites sculptures finement taillées… Ce sont toutes ces petites finitions qui rendent cette ville si attachante.

Bière blanche

A midi, pause gourmande... Puisque vous voici parti à la découverte de Bruxelles, c’est également la bière pression, blonde de préférence. Proposée à des tarifs abordables, on peut la déguster dans plusieurs quartiers sympas. Et puisqu’il sera l’heure de manger, la brasserie Falstaff (avec une magnifique décoration Art-Déco) ou le Délirium Café (plus de 1 000 bières internationales) sont des lieux tout indiqués, dans lesquels respirent la Belgique et son houblon, mais aussi les plats traditionnels de la gastronomie belge.

Après-midi : à la découverte de la bande dessinée La bande dessinée belge ne finira jamais de faire parler d’elle, et c’est tant mieux ! Tintin et Astérix ont bercé notre enfance, et Titeuf berce celle de nos enfants. Petits et grands se retrouveront donc à la Maison de la Bande Dessinée, à la découverte de cet art qui fascine toutes les générations.

Hola!!

¿qué tal estáis todos por allí?

Yo ya llevo una semanita aquí y puff esto es una locura. Me encanta todo la verdad, no os voy a engañar pero es demasiado despendole y una no se puede permitir tanto despendole a 80 créditos de terminar la carrera jejeje.

Bruselas es precioso y quien diga lo contrario es que no sabe apreciar una arquitectura de miedo y una cerveza que te quita el sueño. Aún no he ido oficialmente a ver el Manneken Pis aunque sí que lo he visto de pasada. También he visto a la Mannekene Pis, que es la versión femenina y bastante desconocida.

He probado mil cervezas ya y eso que solo llevo una semana, no me quiero imaginar qué voy a pensar de la Mahou cuando vuelva a España jeje.

Por aquí todavía hace un poco de calorcito, no nos podemos quejar la verdad. Pero ya se está dejando entrever el invierno y se me pone el pelo de punta solo de pensar el los 17 grados bajo cero a los que vamos a llegar… Pero bueno, vengo bien preparada jejeje.

Ais… es que hay tantas cosas que contar que no sé por donde empezar.

Ya hemos ido unas cuantas veces de fiesta y está muy bien, no es Chueca ñañaña pero no está mal jejejeje. Ayer en una fiesta erasmus hasta nos pusieron Britney así que os podéis imaginar lo que me acordé de vosotros.

Por cierto, si a alguno quereis venir antes de navidades a verme, la semana del 10 de noviembre estaría genial que es la semana lésbica y hay un montón de actividades culturales para promover la visibilidad lésbica y cómo os podréis imaginar aún no me he echado ninguna bollo amiga… jejeje

Que más, que más…

Bueno pues hoy lo voy a dejar aquí y ya os iré marujeando cosas más interesantes ¿vale?

Pues lo dicho, que os hecho mucho de menos y que os quiero un montón a todos. Por cierto, a ver si empieza eso de los emails contándome cosas que mucho hablar y luego a la hora de la verdad…. muassssss

Keith and I were originally planning to go on this vacation in the fall.  We both like to travel off-peak for better deals — not to mention for better chances of dealing with smaller crowds of tourists.  Just as we were about to book our tickets for November, Keith realized that such a trip was impossible; he’s TAing a class (beginning tonight, actually) that runs through December… which is how we ended up in Europe in August, surrounded by other visitors.

Here are the Belgian highlights:

Tuesday
Checked into the Hotel Metropole, Belgium’s only hotel from the nineteenth century that is still operational.  Braved the crowds and wandered around the Grand Place before sitting down to an early dinner at Chez Léon.  Ordered moules á L’escargot with frites and the house beer (€22.20).  Ate outside; it was very warm, and besides, we don’t get to dine al fresco often in Boston.  I think it has to do with permits, which is a shame.  Wandered around a bit more and, after visiting the Manneken Pis, ended up drinking beers outside at A La Mort Sabite.  I had a Lambic Blanche, which was dangerously good.  A girl could get in trouble easily drinking those.

Wednesday
Darlington’s living in London now; she took the Eurostar in to hang out with us for the day**. Ate breakfast in the hotel, then headed out for a gossipy walk.  Sites visited included the Place du Grand-Sablon, Parc de Bruxelles, the newly-opened Musée Magritte Museum*, the waffle vendor outside the museum, Pierre Marcolini on Avenue Louise, A La Bécasse and all the nice little neighborhoods in between.  At Pierre Marcolini, we bought an obscene amount chocolates and had a tasting on a bench directly outside.  Similarly, at A La Bécasse we each ordered the “Lambic Dégustation” and sampled Timmerman’s Lambic Doux, Lambic Blanc, Kriek and Bourgogne des Flandres.  After a sad goodbye, Keith and I walked over to the Saint Catherine neighborhood for another mussels dinner at Le Pré Salé.

Thursday
Hopped a train to Antwerp; met an incredibly friendly Dutch woman who gave us a tour of the Grote Markt before going on her way.  Ate an unremarkable (but economical!) pizza lunch at Da Giovanni.  Meandered  into Walter and Yohji Yamomoto.  Couldn’t find the Ann Demeulemeester store and MoMu was closed, so headed over to the river Scheldt, where we ate more waffles and watched couples make out.  The view’s romantic, so we couldn’t blame them.  Looked like it was going to rain so we walked back towards the center, and just before the water started crashing down ducked into Quinten Matsijs and had a couple beers.  (Later, I found out it’s the oldest bar in Holland and Belgium.)   Dinner at Amadeus, back to Brussels for one last beer, then bed.

Friday
Caught a train to the incredibly picturesque city of Bruges, which is so pretty it’s almost ridiculous.  Also ridiculous were the sheer amount of people present, taking photographs of the canals, the city hall and Sint-Salvator Cathedral.  Checked out the Basilica of the Holy Blood, where I lit candles for my grandmother and grandfathers.  Ate sandwiches from Deldycke whilst sitting on the river Dijver, then dropped into ‘t Brugs Beertje, which stocks over three hundred Belgian beers.  I tried two different flavors of Lambic; Keith ordered a ‘t Smisje Dubbel after a mostaardbier by the same brewery.  Dinner at the mundane Poules Moules before we traveled back to Brussels.  Nightcap at Le Corbeau.

Saturday
Mid-morning train to Ghent.  Got the bus to the center, walked over to see The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb at Saint-Bavo’s Cathedral.  Lit some more candles.  Climbed way too many narrow winding stairs at Gravensteen, a castle from the Middle Ages that sits practically in the center of Ghent.  Incredible views, though interrupted by cranes.  Drinks at De Dulle Griet, which means Mad Meg and is a very famous painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder.  Utterly delicious dinner at Brasserie ‘t Klokhuys, where I ate a Flemish beef stew and frites (€12.70) until I was stuffed.  Beers at Het Waterhuis aan de Bierkant, where we met a retiring-in-one-week naval man who insisted Keith have a Rochefort 10.

Sunday
Last day, sort of, in Belgium — our plane tickets were round-trip out of Brussels Airport.  Brunch at Café Mokafe in one of the covered galleries in the city.  People-watch while chewed crusty baguette sandwich, then Keith-watched as he ate a waffle while we walked to Delirium Café for a beer.  Directly across the entrance is the Jeanneke Pis, which made me wonder what is up with this city and peeing children.  Strolled around aimlessly until stopping for a break at Chaff on the Place du Jeu de Balle.  Fell madly in love with the cleverest street dog ever, then stopped by Lola for dinner before packing up at the hotel.

* I know it is redundant.
** Darlington took some of these photos.

Cateva reflectii asupra vizitei in Belgia. Nu o sa pun multe explicatii istorice sa referitoare la obiectivele turistice. Alea le gasiti si in ghiduri sau pe wikipedia. O sa pun amanuntele mai interesante.

- este intr-adevar o tara superba

-  prima data am aterizat in Bruxelles unde am stat vreo 3 zile

- colcaia de romani ( cel putin in centrul turistic. Am intrat in cea mai mare chocolaterie, ne-a intampinat o tanti de la casa cu : francais ? english ? espanol ? … noi ne-am dat coate si am zis intr-un final english doar pentru ca tanti de la cealalta casa sa-i dea un cot primei, zicandu-i : ” Zi, fa, pe romana, nu vezi ca sunt de-ai nostri ?? “. Prima era de 5 ani acolo, a doua de 15. Aparent nu scapasera de fa. In schimb ciocolatele erau groaznic de scumpe. In toate ghidurile scrie sa nu luati de la ciocolateriile astea ci din supermarketuri pentru ca le gasiti, uneori pe aceleasi, mult mai ieftine. Asa am facut si noi.

- pe langa romani mai sunt multiple alte natii, imigranti de toate felurile, fiecare cu limbile si obiceiurile lor

- n-am scapat nici de asa ceva, dar s-au gasit instant doi politisti in civil sa se legitimeze si sa o ia pe sus

- am vizitat si celebrul pisacios. In topul celor mai fara rost atractii turistice ar avea un loc fruntas. Dar da-i romani peste romani pozandu-se cu el in spate.

- centrul turistic din Bruxelles e o piata inconjurata de cladiri cum ar fi Hotel de Ville si in mijlocul careia se presupunea ca trebuie sa se faca acel celebru covor de flori al lor. L-am putu admira doar din ghidul turistic din cauza ca in acel an traditia se intrerupsese din motive necunoscute noua. In schimb am initiat o traditie a noastra : 10 beri de diferite feluri fiecare, noi trantiti pe jos si noi cascand ochii in jur.

- stateam intr-un hotelas pe langa gradina lor botanica . Belgienii au obsesii multe si insistente. Intre ele e aceea pentru benzi desenate. In mijlocul gradinii erau panouri cu benzi desenate cu personajele din Pif.

- Sasa, l-am gasit pe fratele de mult pierdut al lu Janne : era intr-o balta din gradina botanica.

- am vrut sa vizitam muzeul Horta de art nouveau. Pauza ca era inchis tocmai in ziua respectiva. In drum am trecut pe langa case cu robineti.

- apoi am luat-o prin parc spre Basilica Sacre-Coeur. In parc si pe campul din fata ei lumea joaca fotbal, se bronzeaza in costum de baie sau pur si simplu leneveste la soare. Odata cu Basilica am inaugurat un sir lung de turnuri in care am urcat, dezvoltand in timp gambe de gazela ( sau asta imi place mie sa cred.. ).

- seara aceea am incheiat-o la un barulet de servea vreo 100 de tipuri de bere si iar am mai incercat cateva. Unele din cele mai celebre la ele sunt kriek-urile, berile cu cirese. De la compoturi aproape pana la unele care mai pastreaza un strop de gust de bere. Fascinant era ca baietii uitau mereu ca e bere de gagici si o comandau cu insistenta, trezindu-se cu paharul de licoare visinie in fata. De fapt au o obsesie pentru combinatii, existand pe piata bere cu fragute, cu mere, cu caise si chiar si cu miere. Mai sunt berile de calugari ( Chimay si altele, cu diferenta intre abatii clasici si trapisti – n-am inteles pana la urma cine unde le face, dar in principiu calugarii la ei se ocupa cu produsul de beri, beri bune ). Mai sunt alea cu gust de tamaie, am concluzionat noi. De fapt sunt un soi de beri nefiltrate sau ceva de genu asta ce pastreaza gustul de plante. Alea sunt preferatele mele. Gradele de alcool sunt : double 6%, triple 9%, cvadruple 12%.

- aproape fiecare cladire avea cate o decoratiune, in special statui de toate felurile si majoritatea inverzite de timp. Le descopereai din intamplare, cam cum am descoperit-o eu pe tanti aceasta de sta pe vine.

- au sezlonguri in parcul acesta de vizavi de catedrala.

- mi-am implinit dorinta arzatoare si i-am tras si pe astia dupa mine prin tot muzeul de arta. Apropo, umblati cu carnetul de student dupa voi sau de note sau mai stiu eu ce dupa voi, pentru ca la majoritatea muzeelor primiti reduceri importante. Eu am umblat cu cardul de euro 26 care a fost perfect. Spre exemplu la asta de arta in loc sa platesc 13 euro, am platit doar 3 euro. Si cum spuneam, i-am carat prin tot muzeul, cam pe fuga, si in 3 ore l-am dovedit, si aripa cu pictura veche si aripa cu pictura noua, plus muzeul Magritte. Intre miliardele de etaje era dragut sa te plimbi cu liftul imens si cu canapele dragute mov pe margini.

- spre seara am fugit inspre atomium si minieuropa. Am intrat doar la cea de a doua si nu-i cine stie ce. De remarcat insa ca de la noi au construit in miniatura palatul Mogosoaia. Peste drum de el facusera baile termale din Budapesta, am de patru ori mai mari ca palatul nostru si frumos lucitoare in soare de-ti luau ochii. Hmm… ce-i mai atractiv ?

- metroul lor pe alocuri e la fel de jegos ca al nostru, dar vine in timp util si iti pune muzica ( seara mai ales iti pune muzica clasica ). Exista zone unde treci efectiv peste sine ca sa ajungi pe peronul celalalt. L-am folosit pentru a ajunge de la un obiectiv la altul si e cea mai buna varianta. Ah, si fiecare statie e decorata in stil propriu, ba cu mozaicuri, ba cu postere etc.

- am fost si la parlament. Elena dormea.

- am si mancat in Bruxelles printre altele la Chez Leon, un fel de franchiza a lor, dar fiecare restaurant are propriul bucatar. Mancaruri traditionale belgiene, dar nu numai, serviciu excelent si portii gigantice. In special  sa incercati midiile la cratita.  Eu, mai slab entuziasmata de experimente gastronomice, m-am rezumat la un cotlet de porc cu cartofi prajiti si un soi de ierburi necunoscut mie,  deosebit de gustoase insa.  Pentru inceput insa mi-am dres vocea cu o Mort Subite ( tot din aia de cirese pentru gagici ), dar mi-a placut mai mult bera casei, Leon, din aia cu aroma pronuntata de ierburi. La sfarsit tanti care ne-a servit ne-a adus acadele la discretie.

- apoi am plecat spre Gent. Mi-a placut cel mai mult orasul asta. E o bijuterie.

- am vizitat mai intai castelul Gravensteen unde am reusit performanta de a-mi rupe sandalele. Si nu in camera unde se practicau torturile. Undeva pe sus, de unde am si pozat niste panorame foarte dragute.

- am incercat si specialitatea gastronomica locala dupa cum ne indemna ghidul. Waterzooi se gasea sub forma de peste sau pui in meniu. Am si intrebat inainte cam ce se presupune a fi. Chelnerul intr-o pasareasca intre olandeza si engleza parea sa ne convinga ca-i o mancare atractiva, motiv pentru care vreo 5 ne-am comandat-o. Intr-un final ne-am ales cu o ciorba, care de peste, care de pui, cu cartofi, morcovi si alte zarzavaturi prin ea. La gust era buna, nu pot sa zic nu, dar noi, romani seriosi, obisnuiti cu gratare, friptane si alea alea, n-am apreciat-o la adevarata ei valoare, desi cea de peste avea vreo 3 tipuri de pesti prin ea plus un shrimp imens in mijloc. Tot degeaba. Am comandat repede o oala de cartofi prajiti cu sos de usturoi sa ne dregem. Cand am inceput sa tremur pentru ca se lasa seara si eram totusi langa rau, a venit chelnerul  ( ala dragut dintre doi, unde unul nu era dragut ), si mi-a pus pe umeri o paturica, si la final iar ne-au dat bomboane iar oala de cartofi nu ne-au pus-o pe nota. Serviciile la ei sunt de nota 10.

- mananci la restaurante cartofi prajiti de te spargi. In general cu maioneza. In general, insa, sunt din aia congelati.

- peste tot te calca biciclistii in draci. Asta pentru ca undeva exista o lege tampita care spune ca ei au prioritate peste tot. Deci te calca, oriunde te-ai afla.

- ne-am dat si cu barcuta in Gent, iar nenea de conducea avea un ipod cu explicatii pentru obiectivele pe langa care treceam in 3 limbi. Ipod-ul era roz. Barcuta nu.

( va urma – stiu o sa va plictisesc ceva timp cu Belgia asta…dar eu zic ca se merita )

Selectia a fost la sange dintre pozele mai reusite. Sunt mult mai multe chestiuni pe care nu am apucat sa le pozez sau le-am pozat asa de pe fuga incat rezultatul nu a fost unul multimitor. Nu am mai avut timp sa modific niciuna din ele. Eventual, pe viitor, le voi mai cosmetica pe ici pe colo.

Nu degeaba am populat acest blog cu atatea reproduceri ale unor picturi celebre ciordite care de pe unde am apucat pe net. Pentru ca Zana Maseluta conspira eficient si imi va da ocazia in urmatoarele zile sa fac cunostinta personal cu alde Magritte, Delvaux, Dali, Picasso sau mai batranii lor colegi, Bruegel, Van Dyck, Rubens. Imi iau zborul intr-o expeditie culturala in Belgia. Ma voi indopa cu cantitati industriale de ciocolata, il voi trage de urechi pe Manneken-Pis  pentru ca exhibitionismul nu-i frumos si voi bate la picior orice strada voi vedea in cale ( evident ultima idee e fantezista de-a dreptul pentru ca ma stiu cum cad lata dupa 300 m ).

Va las sa imi clarificati si mie  pana ma intorc ce e cu acel concediu obligatoriu de 10 zile in care se presupune ca vor intra bugetarii, doar ca pentru multi dintre ei nu-i concediu ca trebuie sa munceasca totusi. Pentru ca eu refuz sa inteleg.

P.S. O sa revin si cu o tona de poze…mai mult ca sigur. Si daca sunteti cuminti ma voi abtine de la a manca toata ciocolata aia singura si va voi aduce si voua. Dar asta nu promit.

sharemyplaylists.com kan vara det bästa som hänt Spotify sedan… ja, sedan man lämnade in ansökan om sin iPhoneapp häromdagen. Och det ska väl sägas att man kanske ska ha lite tålamod om man ska hitta någonting värt på sajten, men jag lyckades relativt snart få fatt i den här pop/rock/indie-spellistan som jag måste dela med mig av. Dessutom har du väl sett reklamen på Spotify om sajten Bands in Town som håller koll på vilka konserter som spelas i ditt område? Jag gillar’n även om det är lite bristfälligt i dessa lite mindre delar av världen, men den kommer att bli välanvänd vid resor till London, New York eller andra storstäder.

Och så delar jag med mig av ett foto jag tog i desperat jakt på intressanta föremål här hemma. Jag längtar till ett eget ställe att samla bara intressanta och roliga saker på. Nu finns ingen plats för någonting. What. So. Ever.

Brussels was our last European destination before we were off to London. Its pretty quiet for a capital city but still has some cool shops and bars. As others had previously told us, Bruges was the nicer city of the two.

The major attraction for Brussels is Manneken Pis. This tiny, ancient statue of a small boy piddling is surrounded by a constant throng of tourists as if it was a holy relic.

Hours of enjoyment

They even dress it up for special events.

Tour de Pis

But no, the urinating monuments do not stop there. There is also a dog.

Zenneke Pis

And somewhat less tastefully (although I can’t figure out why), there is a female equivalent to the Manneken Pis that is kept behind bars right near the Delerium Tremens cafe. This awesome beer cafe has over 2000 beers available and at one stage (may still today) held the Guinness world record for this. The beer menu is like a phonebook. If they just made it non-smoking it would be perfect as it stinks like an old ashtray inside.

Mmmm...beers

So, once again we were forced to drink a lot of Belgian beers. We also ate more fries than a human being should in a single lifetime. I have a theory about those tiny shops; it seems to me that the obesity and hairiness of the frier operator and proportional to how good the fries are.

An interesting visual feature of Brussels is the comic panels drawn on walls all over the city. Apparently comics originate in Belgium although I missed out on going to the comic book museum there.

Comic panels

We stayed at a hostel called 2GO4. It was clean and recently renovated but was run as pure business; not a shred of character to be found. It wasn’t one of my favourite hostels.

One night we heard this thumping music outside. We had a look through the window and saw a Hummer leading a huge parade of roller skaters down the street. It was a pretty surreal sight and I didn’t manage to get any good photos of the actual procession.

Street sans-skaters

We journeyed down to the Justus Lipsuius building to have a look at the David Černý sculpture, Entropa but were informed with no great joy by the smarmy information clerk that it had been moved back to the Czech Republic not much earlier. He seemed really cut up about it.

We also visited a brewery that produced traditional Lambic beers. The brewery was very interesting and so were the beers. They are a lot sourer than the normal commercial Lambics and I probably would have bought some if they had made it a little easier to try them.

Roll out the barrels, and we'll have a barrel of...incredibly sour beer

And with that, we were off to London.

Le pot'eau dos de face...

A Bruxelles, Vanessa elle m’a emmené chez un pote à elle…

We just took it fairly easy last night, I was knackered as i’d been up to 5 the night before and my accommodating Finnish host had work in the morning. A nice meal out in a very European restaurant (I had stoemp saucesses which is basically bangers ‘n mash) washed down with a few bières blanches and that was us.

I’ve awoken very late after having slept like a baby (which is a stupid saying, I didn’t wake up, scream and cry loudly, then have a glass of milk and nod off again 3 or 4 times through the night) so I won’t do too much today. A little trundle back into the city centre maybe but I need to spend a bit of time planning stuff.

A basic plan has started to formulate. I reckon I’ll stay here until Saturday, that way me and the Peckster can have a proper night out on Friday. As Belgium is pretty small I may do a few day trips on the train to places like Antwerp and Brugges. Come Saturday I reckon I’ll head to Luxembourg on the way to Germany. Anyway that’s the rough first draft readers.

Many hours later and I now have a more concrete plan. I’m going to stay in Brussels until Sunday and then go to Luxembourg for 2 nights (I’ve booked a hostel) and then get a train to Cologne.

Other German cities I will likely take in are Bremen, Hamburg and Berlin. I did fancy Munich too but it’s a bit out of the way so I might have to leave that for another time.

Tomorrow I’m going to head to Brugges for the day, Antwerp on Thursday and then Pekka will come with me to Gent on Saturday.

This evening we went to a decent local restaraunt and then to a couple of bars for some fine Belgian lagers. The Bismark pizza (ham and eggs) I had was belter. I’m enjoying this Flemish cusine a little too much.

A famous but less than impressive IMHO Brussels landmark was viewed while near the main Grand-Place, The Manneken Pis. It’s a statue of a little boy pissing that is supposed to embody the irreverent spirit of the city (according to my rough guide to Europe anyway). I did get a wee fridge magnet of it mind, and so it begins again.

I watched the rest ot the ‘The Baader Meinhof Complex’ when I got in after taking in the 1st half this afternoon. Interesting stuff. Ridiculous levels of hypocrisy shown by the ‘revolutionaries’ though.

The photo is of the mint birthday card Pekka got me.

Manneken Pis

Originally uploaded by diegolaje

Belgians are obviously cool people.

One of the most important corners in Brussels is monopolized by this little guy who spends all day, well, relieving himself.

It was quite interesting to see the predominantly Asian crowd posing for pictures and the Chinese chocolate shop right next to it. It is a great opportunity to practice Mandarin.

There is a glitch in this story, as Manneken Pis is a name given in one of the two languages spoken in Belgium. My suggestion would be to change the current name in French and replace it for “le garçon de pisse” as a tribute to one of Mel Brooks’ most memorable characters in the History of the World film.

Hopefully, this one won’t be beheaded.

Logic has never been my forte, so it shocked me and everyone I knew when I got an A in my Intro to Logic course in college. There’s a valid explanation for this, though. Homework in this particular class was optional, so if we didn’t do the assignment, there were no consequences; if we got an A on the homework, the professor would give us extra credit; and if we got all the problems wrong, we knew it wouldn’t impact our grade. Plus, the professor would always encourage us to go over our errors with her or her TAs at office hours. “Learning happens by trial and error” was her motto.

Our grades were based solely on midterm and final exam scores. Having nothing better to do first thing in the morning, I would actually go to class and even do the assigned homework. I never answered a single homework problem correctly, but after getting a big fat F each time, I’d go to office hours and the professor or one of her TAs would patiently walk me through each problem until I got it right. By the time midterms and finals rolled around, I could do all the deductive syllogisms necessary to pull an A.

What I’m trying to illustrate is that logic has never been second nature to me. Yet, to my amazement, I’ve managed to get through 35 years of life and counting, even though I grew up with a mind undiluted by rational thinking.

To offer another example of my imperfect left brain and hyper-developed right brain: at the same time I was taking Introduction to Logic, I was working as a clerk for a claims management office. For my first couple years there, I was unacquainted with the office computers. Mostly all I did was file medical malpractice and workers comp records all day, every day, which was fine by me since it gave my mind a chance to go off on its perennial pleasure cruises while my body followed a simple, Zen regimen of stuffing carbon copies of personal injury forms into manila folders. But every so often, as I went about my office chores, gonglike booms would sound from either side of the filing cabinets. After hearing these several times, I surmised that I was having paranormal experiences, that the Universe was communicating with me—and only me—through spooky, magical crescendos. For months on the job, I attempted to decode these communications. Was I being chosen for some epic destiny? Why else would I be hearing these dramatic surges? I later discovered that what I was hearing was the sound of my supervisors turning on their Mac PCs.

These examples are part of a longstanding pattern of absentmindedness and harebrained conclusions that started way back in my childhood. They even preceded the night that our dentist’s son, Johnny Markewicz, came to spend the night at our house in the spring of 1979. I was five years old and my brother Kent was nine. Johnny was a year ahead of Kent in school and Kent wanted to get in good with an upperclassmen, so he begged our Mom to ban his embarrassing little brother (that would be me) from joining in the good times he and Johnny were planning on having together, playing with G.I. Joe action figures and Matchbox cars. Never one to suffer silently, I howled and screamed worse than any werewolf or werewolf’s victim until our Mom handed down the verdict that it was only fair that I should be able to be wherever I wanted in the house.

Kent gnashed his teeth and called me, “Brat!,” as usual. It was an insult, sure, but it wasn’t a swear word so he could get away with it. Still, it hurt every time he said it, especially since I didn’t want Kent feeling annoyed by me. His steady stream of jokes were so uproarious, I felt I just had to follow him everywhere he’d go, including to the bathroom—the one place where he could yell for Mom to finally shake me off his trail. Who could blame me, though? Kent was the one who taught me such humdingers as:

“So, the doctor said, ‘Here’s my thermometer, now where did I put my pen?’”

And:

“Doctor, Doctor! I think I’m a goat!”

“How long have you felt like this?”

“Since I was a kid!”

After punching out these staples of his comedic repertoire, I would double over, blinded by tears of laughter, only to straighten up and find that Kent had made a break for it. I’d sometimes have to spend hours sleuthing out where he went but most of the time I managed to find and pester him until he told me more jokes.

At first, every time these early shoots of Kent’s comic genius broke through, I’d end up wetting my pants. To put an end to this putrid habit, my parents imposed a new house rule stating that, whenever Kent made me laugh to the point of urination, I’d have to go straight to the bathroom and wash my hands after flushing. On paper, this all looks reasonable enough, but my trips to the bathroom ended up quadrupling as a result of their new ordinance. Not only that, but my time away from Kent meant that I was missing out on a good three-fourths of his inspired knee-slappers. I also failed to understand why one had to pee in the bathroom, of all places. Why not pee on the sidewalk, the grass, or against a brick wall? It only seemed logical that, wherever one spent a penny, a whirlpool would appear to flush the urine away with a whoosh.

So, with official permission to participate in the fun and frolics of Kent and Johnny’s sleepover, I suited up into my sunny yellow footie pajamas, which had white padded feet and white rings at the cuffs. Kent wore his orange and blue Chicago Bears PJs while Johnny’s pajamas had a white background where assorted Superheroes—Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Aquaman—showed off their various feats of power and dexterity. Johnny’s jammies alone showed how much cooler he was than us. I wanted to be around him even more than Kent. This whole affair was nothing short of thrilling for me, even though they both cold-shouldered me the whole time, hoarding their Hotwheels cars and barricading the two-tiered Mattel highway system with their bigger bodies. The best I could do was assume the sidelines. Still, I was so excited to be with the big boys, I hardly noticed their ostracism.

As we all hunkered down with toys on our bedroom’s shaggy red carpet, Johnny caught sight of the Tigger knockoff that I got for Christmas the year before. This particular orange plush-toy tiger was squat, whiskery and stationary where the real Tigger is lithe, bouncy and has only a few strands of whiskers shooting from both ends of his upper lip. Still, it was clearly a tiger, which is why the observation that Johnny made next struck me as not only bizarre but stupid. He turned to Kent and said, “I like your lion.” A lion? I sneered as I turned to Kent, awaiting his response. Kent picked up the knockoff Tigger, shook it around in front of his face and said in a gruff cartoony voice, “Tiger. I ain’t lyin’!”

Johnny merely giggled but I stood up, held my belly and gasped with laughter, gobbling gulps of oxygen like a fish. I laughed and laughed and laughed until I could feel my bladder growing heavy as an Acme Anvil. Then I laughed harder, harder than I’d ever laughed before. Flouting what I saw as a nonsensical convention, I refused to go to the toilet to relieve myself. Instead, in a fit of hilarity, I climbed on top of my mattress and stood above Kent and Johnny’s heads, catching my breath before unzipping my footie pajamas, lowering my Underoos crotch and chuckling myself pink as I hosed down our shaggy red carpet with a pipeline full of pee.

Kent and Johnny Markewicz could not help but pay attention to me now. But why weren’t they laughing? They both looked at me like I was a bank robber, who’d shot the teller pointblank before turning the gun on them. To my equal dismay, though, as the last few urine drops fell, I noticed that no vortex of water had arisen, as planned, to drain the offending liquid from the carpet threads.

Hot tears streamed down Johnny Markewicz’s face as he screamed that he wanted to go home. He refused to sleep on any of our beds and he wouldn’t even accept an offer to sleep in a sleeping bag on our basement floor. After all, our basement was carpeted and God knows what I might have done on it during a funny moment on, say, The Banana Splits. After Mr. Markewicz picked Johnny up to bring him home, Kent glowered at Mom for allowing me to come along and ruin his every shot at primary-grade popularity. As Mom knelt beside a bucket of soap and water on my bedroom’s shaggy red carpet, scrubbing away and remonstrating me for this senseless act, I stood in my now zipped-up footie pajamas, scratching my chin and wondering why the hell the whirlpool never showed up on my bedroom carpet the way it always did in our toilets.

Excellente idée de guérilla marketing pour l’un des emblèmes de la capitale, voire de toute la Belgique.

Le Manneken Pis, cette célèbre statut (ridicule) d’ enfant entrain d’uriner est très souvent habillée en fonction des fêtes nationales ou locales.

Prix en photo par des millions de personnes chaque année, c’est l’un des meilleurs ambassadeurs de Bruxelles au travers le monde.

Par conséquent, le fait que l’association belge des urologues est  utilisé ce support de communication pour annoncer la journée européenne de prévention de la prostate a permis de faire parler de cette journée partout en Europe.

La couverture médiatique a été extrêmement forte, bien sûr en Belgique, mais cette opération a même eu les honneurs de la une du SUN!

Pour une fois, le ridicule ne tue vraiment pas!

First of all, few words in English to Jett : We hope that you enjoyed all our talkings and visits in Brussels and Waterloo as we did. Thank you for everything and have a good time for the rest of your trip. And never forget : follow the tower !!

Voilà, Jett est reparti ce soir vers Paris, après deux jours passés ici à Bruxelles. A son arrivée dimanche soir, nous avons été boire un verre dans le bar juste à côté du Manneken Pis. Au retour, nous avons découvert que le métro s’arrêtait à minuit. Retour obligé à pied !!

Lundi, nous avons été tous les deux visiter Waterloo. Jett le voulait vraiment et on a réussi à organiser ce voyage en transport en commun. Ce n’était pas forcément évident car le site de la bataille se situe sur plusieurs communes. Arrivés à Waterloo en train, nous avons visité le musée Wellington (le quartier général des forces britanniques), qui est très intéressant pour se remettre à niveau sur la bataille de Waterloo. Il se situe juste en face de l’Eglise Saint Joseph de Waterloo :

Après Waterloo, nous sommes allés en bus jusqu’à la butte du Lion et le lieu de la bataille proprement dit.

Nous n’avons pas eu le courage de monter les 226 marches de la butte. On a donc pris des photos de loin ! Par contre, on a fait le battlefield tour, qui permet de faire le tour du site de la bataille dans un véhicule (une sorte de 4×4), avec commentaires en français, en flamand et en anglais, et de se rendre mieux compte des distances et des positions des forces de Napoléon et des forces alliées.

DIA 1: ZARAGOZA – CHARLEROI – BRUSELAS

Aunque he metido todo el viaje en la categoría de Holanda pasamos un par de días en Bruselas pero no lo he querido dividir en dos categorías.

Este viaje se fraguó el día que me dieron el calendario laboral del 2009 allá por Noviembre del año anterior. Vi que había bastantes puentes a primeros de año y enseguida me metí en la página de Ryanair para ver precios y plazas.

La Cincomarzada me pareció el puente perfecto. Así que llamada en el trabajo a Marcos y tras insistir 0,5 segundos dio la conformidad. La pena fue que el billete nos subió 30 eurillos en cuestión de 5 horas.

Todavía no nos habíamos ido a Londres y ya estábamos embarcados en otro viaje.

A los pocos días Angie se animó también (con poco se anima he de decir) con lo que ya estábamos un grueso importante de los integrantes del viaje a Londres.

Nos íbamos a Bruselas y a Ámsterdam. Llegaríamos a Bruselas donde pasaríamos la primera y la última noche. Las dos noches del medio las pasaríamos en Ámsterdam a donde llegaríamos en tren desde Bruselas. Más o menos ese era el planning.

Ya teníamos los billetes con lo que sólo faltaban los hoteles. El de Bruselas lo pillamos por booking mientras que el de Ámsterdam lo contratamos a través de Viajes Marsans, con los que contactamos y conseguimos muy buen precio gracias a la empresa donde trabaja Angela.

Así que tras irnos primero a Londres en Navidad, mandarnos bastantes correos entre nosotros y pasar casi 100 días desde que compramos los billetes (con cuenta atrás incluida) llegó, por fin, el 4 de Marzo de 2009.

Salimos a las 18.30 desde Zaragoza, el vuelo duró menos de los previsto. En una hora y media más o menos estábamos en Charleroi (Bélgica).

Los billetes de bus que nos llevaran a Bruselas los teníamos que comprar en el aeropuerto de Charleroi ya que no se pueden comprar dentro del avión como en otros destinos de Ryanair. Así que hicimos una salida relámpago del avión y “volamos” por el aeropuerto, comandados como siempre por Marcos (su rotura de fibras no iba a ser ningún problema), hacia la ventanilla donde comprar los billetes que nos llevaran a Bruselas.

Llegamos de los primeros así que no hicimos casi fila y pudimos meternos en el primer bus que llevaba a Bruselas.

Este bus iba a ser nuestro primer restaurante. Al no saber a que hora llegaríamos a Bruselas decidimos llevarnos bocadillos de jamón desde Zaragoza. Los de cierta pareja fueron elaborados artesanalmente mientras que el resto de la plebe se tuvo que conformar con bocatas del Panishop. Para postre hubo palmeritas.

A lo que nos estábamos limpiando con las servilletas nos dimos cuenta que ya habíamos llegado a Bruselas. Nos dejó en la estación de Midi, a cuatro paradas de metro de nuestro hotel.

Tras una pequeña indecisión en la estación cogimos el metro sin problemas.

Cuando salimos del metro vimos que estábamos muy cerca de todo, mejor de lo que creíamos. Pronto encontramos la calle del hotel y nuestro Abberdeen.

El Hotel tenía mala pinta por fuera y peor por dentro. Pequeño, estrecho, escaleras empinadísimas…pero hay que reconocer que las habitaciones se salvaban de la quema. De hecho yo fundé una teoría (basada en nada) sobre que el hotel lo habían cogido un grupo de chavales jóvenes y que lo estaban reformando poco a poco. Bueno para dormir sobraba.

Nuestro Abberdeen

Nada más llegar dejamos las maletas y nos fuimos a dar una vueltecilla por la Grand Place y alrededores. Vimos la Henneken Pis que es la versión femenina del conocidísimo Manneken Pis pero que no se porque no es tan famosa, al menos yo no la conocía.

Henneken Pis Manneken Pis

Marcos y Eva se fueron a continuación al hotel mientras que los demás nos quedamos un rato. Acabamos en un bar tomando nuestro primer chocolate belga. De allí al hotel que estábamos cansados del viaje y por la mañana teníamos que madrugar…Nos íbamos a Amsterdam!!!

If we asked to a series of persons what is the first thing that comes to their head if we ask them about Belgium, for sure the answers would be very varied: chocolate, beer, the Atomium… But it is sure that the majority would not overlook the only word in dutch that we have been capable of memorizing, the Manneken Pis (but sure that we pronounce it badly…)

BLOG. Any tourist in Brussels, after remaining open-mouthed with the Grand Place, centres his search on the Manneken Pis. On having seen it, besides a nice face for so peculiar figure, this always accompanies to a small disappointment on having seen the tiny size. But, someone knows why there is a child who urinates in Belgium?

Manneken Pis

His origin gives place to different legends, the most famous of them tells that in 1142 the troops of the duke Godofredo II of Brabante put the infante two-year-old gentleman in a basket and hung it of a tree to encourage. From there, this one was urinating on the troops of the Berthout, which ended up by losing the battle.

But the statue that we see nowadays is not the original one. This one goes back to the 15th century and has been stolen and replaced several times, being the current one, a reply done in 1619 by the sculptor baroque Fleming Jerôme Duquesnoy, who disappeared in the 60s.

Different customes

Is habitual that the habitants disguise the Manneken Pis in notable dates. Disguises that can be seen in the Museum of the City. His figure is almost always present in the valued souvenirs and, in addition, his fame has made him turn into personage of video games and appear in Astérix’s comics.

But, do you know that also there is a Jeanneke-Pis?

Paloma García Fernández

Quand M. Paul m’a annoncé «Oh, au fait, le week-end du 9-10 mai on s’en va à Bruxelles. J’ai acheté des billets de train. Ils étaient vraiment pas chers.» J’ai répondu «Cool!» avant d’aller changer mon statut Facebook pour «MissK est à la recherche de bonnes adresses (restos, boutiques, musées, n’importe quoi de tripant) à Bruxelles!»
Parmi les attraits touristiques proposés, mis à part la Grande Place, tous ceux qui ont répondu à l’appel m’ont dit que pour être une «vraie touriste», je ne devais pas porter des sandales-bas-blancs, mais plutôt aller dire «Bonjour» au Manneken-Pis (et, accessoirement, au kiosque à gaufres à côté). Ce que j’ai fait (oui, oui, au kiosque à gaufres aussi). Deux fois plutôt qu’une pour le Manneken-Pis. Parce que le samedi, ce p’tit homme qui aurait, selon la légende, sauvé Bruxelles d’un incendie, portait son costume de typographe:

Me voici heureuse, après avoir défriché mon chemin de tous les Japonais présents pour me rendre jusqu'à la statu(ett)e. Ne sentez-vous pas mon immense joie?

Mais moi je voulais le voir tout nu, bon! Ce qui était le cas, le dimanche!

Un plan plus rapproché permet de constater l'air satisfait du jeune homme...

Marie-Julie et Mylen m’avaient aussi parlé de la version féminine du p’tit bonhomme de 61cm, la Jeanneke Pis. Bien accroupie au fond de la rue de la Fidélité (en plus, c’est une impasse, cette rue… héhé), cette petite statuette, créée par Denis-Adrien Debouvrie, a été créée en 1985 puis inaugurée en 1987. Oeuvre caritative, elle vise à amasser des fonds pour la lutte contre le sida et le cancer (par la vente de cartes postales la représentant, entre autres):

Comme vous pouvez le constater, la jeune fille bien accroupie derrière ses barreaux rouges pourrait difficilement se sauver...!

Mais personne ne m’avait parlé du «Citoyen Pis»! J’ai pourtant été fort surprise de découvrir de magnifiques urinoirs permettant aux messieurs (et, pourquoi pas, aux dames si elles le désirent… À bas la discrimination!) de soulager… sur la pierre… d’une église! Des toilettes publiques en pleine rue, j’en ai vu! Mais des urinoirs encastrés aux églises, ça, j’avoue que je n’en avais jamais vu. Enfin, des «imaginaires» ou «improvisées», oui, certains soirs de beuveries lors desquels les copains avaient peine à réprimer l’écoulement.

Voici la chose:

Des spécimens de «Citoyen Pis» sont identifiés par des flèches rouges...

Vous comprendrez que les visages ont été volontairement dissimulés dans un souci de confidentialité (et parce que la hauteur des panneaux nous empêche de les voir )

Mes parents ont profité du long week-end du 8 mai pour venir nous rendre visite pour 3 jours ici, à Bruxelles.

Ce 8 mai, on reste à Bruxelles. Demain, comme cadeau de fête des mères (en Belgique du moins), ce sera Bruges. Dimanche, avant de partir, on profitera encore d’une longue journée à Bruxelles, pour finir de découvrir la ville.

Alors vendredi 8 mai, visite de Bruxelles vraiment complète: le pentagone en entier, la Grand Place, le Manneken Pis, etc. Dimanche, il restera à voir le quartier européen et notamment le Berlaymont, la Maison Antoine et le parc du Cinquantenaire.

Voilà quelques photos des visites ‘en famille’ de Bruxelles:

Devant le Parlement européen :

Devant le Palais royal :

Devant le musée Jacques Brel :

Avec le Manneken Pis, déguisé à l’occasion de la Gay pride :

A l’occasion de la fête de l’Iris (fête de Bruxelles-Capitale), des animations étaient prévues dans toute la ville ce week end : des concerts, des DJs, du cirque, etc. Une planche de BD géante (la plus grande du monde !) était installée au milieu de la grand Place :

Malgré un ciel gris et beaucoup de vent, nous avons quand même eu droit à nos gaufres :

Une derrière photo (on profite de pouvoir être pris tous les deux !) dans les Galeries Royales :