From Brussels With Love

First things first, a couple of newsworthy bits for everyone out there. As I'm sure you've noticed, this here blog got a face lift from its rather austere origins, as well as a name change. This name change was necessary for me to better reflect this blog's aim and purpose: rather than help me to adjust to Germany (of which it was quite successful) to instead share with everyone what it is that I am up to in this strange land.

And, as the title might suggest, this blog marks the first in a multi-part travel series! I hope to capture the essence of my madcap adventures throughout Europe and give all the folks back home something to talk about.

This weekend found us on the road to Belgium. We decided to capitalize on Adam's sister's hospitality and spend a weekend in Brussels. Being the excellent planners and logistical coordinators that we are, the only available option was a nine hour bus ride through exciting locales like Magdeburg, Braunschweig, Hannover, Antwerp, and finally Brussels. Few have experienced the magic that is a nine-hour bus ride through the night, replete with the noisiest snoring people ever thrown together in a small space.

Despite the lovely bus ride, we were undeterred in our efforts to experience Belgium. Upon stumbling out of the bus at the bleak hour of 6 in the morning, Adam's amazing sister Agnes met us at the station, and then proceeded to begin showing us all that Belgium had to offer with a half-hour car tour. We finally arrived at her flat, and after some catching up (Adam) and some much needed Z's (me) we hit the town. It really was quite amazing, with the Grote Markt, the City Hall, the Palace of Justice, and the EU Quarter dazzling us as we walked through the city. To be honest, our trip truly started when we hit the historic pub A La Mort Subite (which translates in French to the Sudden Death). We ordered gigantic beers and proceeded to drink away, finishing the tasty brews in no time, unaware that such drinks are meant to be enjoyed in the Belgian style (i.e. they take an hour to drink). Thoroughly feeling our oats, we toured the Marollen district, with some awesome comic pictures on the walls, stopped for another beer, and then got thoroughly drenched by the lovely Belgian weather. (In the same day it was clear, cloudy, rainy, foggy, and windy.) Day one ended at a lovely dinner party thrown by a friend of Adam's sister, in which we were introduced to a monstrous 10.5% beer, a portent of the following day.

After sleeping off our numerous libations from the night before, we woke up early and decided that we needed to see Bruges. We arrived an hour later (Belgium is tiny btw), having successfully smuggled ourselves in first class without paying. Bruges is of course famous for its historic atmosphere and apparently for its enormous churches. On the recommendation of Agnes, we embarked on a brewery tour of the Halve Maan Brauwerij (Half Moon Brewery). I feel it necessary here to comment on the Flemish language. Like its mother tongue Dutch, it seems as if a stupid, illiterate German person is attempting to communicate important information. Images of Calvin from C&H speaking with aliens/Suzy frequently came to mind throughout our Belgian encounter. French also sucks. Anyway, while the brewery tour was rather pro forma, the beer they made was delicious. One of our stated goals for Belgium was to try as many of their amazing brews as possible, and if we got loaded on the way, all the better. We proceeded to tour two of the finest local pubs, sampling some heavy beers (11.3%!) and mostly delicious and memorable beers. (If you too love beer, let me know and I'll give you our list of tasties) Satisfied that we had soaked up enough Brews/Bruges culture, we headed back to Brussels for some uninspiring Cuban food with Agnes.

Here's where the fun begins. After a couple of pubs with Agnes sampling a good number of beers, Adam and I proceeded to Delirium, a pub that prides itself on having 2504 beers in house, and some 100 on tap. Round after round, beer after beer, we drank until we couldn't remember what we had ordered. Finally, we managed to pull ourselves away in order to catch the last Metro back to our flat, and arrived at the stop without incident. As we were waling back however, we had a disagreement (as we are often wont to do) that resulted in us tearing down the street shouting at one another, complete with monumental falls. We were almost home (to the door in fact) when a voice behind us asked, "Is there a problem here?" Any mild-mannered drinker knows the answer to that question and we aced that exam, but there we were faced with no less than three squad cars of Brussels' finest. Apparently, two people had been seen in the neighborhood vandalizing cars and making noise, and since we were in the neighborhood, drunk and making noise, we were suspects one and two. Manhandled to the nearest wall, Adam and I were handcuffed, thrown into squad cars, and hauled off to the station.

After a lengthy period of statements, searches, and scowls from what seemed like half of the Brussels' police force, yours truly was put in the holding cell for what seemed an eternity. I was rudely awakened, escorted in, and signed a statement of what we had managed to tell the nice policemen. We left the station 6 hours later, feeling a bit more sober, and quite upset. Not only had we been arrested for basically nothing, but also the police had managed to lose my Berlin flat keys and 15 euros in small bills from Adam's wallet. We grumbled back to the apartment, collapsed on our bed, and wasted most of our Monday sleeping off what should have been a very bad dream.

Sadly, our Belgium excursion took on a bit of a sour note after that. We managed to score some of the most amazing pommes frites (that's be French fries to all you Americans) this side of the solar system, and also experienced the awesomeness of buying pizza by the kilo (750g is plenty for anyone, let me tell ya). We spent most of Monday lounging around, waiting for our Berlin airlift, but took the time to enjoy a couple more Belgian beers.

In all, an amazing weekend.

Alive and Kicking in the Frozen North

Wow...I realize it has been a long time since I updated my lovely little blog. It must be said that equal parts laziness and business have contributed to this dearth of writing. However, a fair part also lies in the fact that I feel like I belong here. After 3 months and a fair share of grief, it feels natural and comfortable to be here in Berlin. Call me presumptuous, but I consider myself a Berliner, however transitory such a feeling might be. It is amusing to note as well that this realization came in a discussion with my roommate over McDonald's hamburgers and their ubiquitous Monopoly game (it really does taste better in Europe). It raises a number of questions for me, however: Where/when was the so-called "hump"? Does it work the same way for someone in America? Hmmm. Harder still to believe that Christmas is so soon! Where have my three months gone? Though I am returning to the States for the holidays, I wonder if I too will experience this same sensation of acclimatization that I have undergone here. Is there a period of time?

In any case, for the scant three of you that have wondered what it is that I have been up to, the answer is not a simple one. Though I have not yet left the Capitol City, my weeks have been a whirlwind of shows, parties, dinners, snow (mind-boggling for a Texifornian), class, and all manner of interesting though not necessarily noteworthy interactions with Germans and the strange construct that is being "German."

As the title might suggest, its fricking freezing here. Literally. But I suppose it is winter, so I will stop grousing about the weather.