So we check into the hotel, RIGHT OUTSIDE of the parking garage. What luck! It's the Novotel off Grand Place, and it actually turned out to be pretty nice. One of those business hotels done Euro-style, meaning: smaller, sort of mod, strange uncomfortable couch/chairs, and removable shower head. Oh, and the toilet is separate than the bathroom. This is an interesting Dutch/Belgian phenomenon, and very different from the toilet IN the shower that we had in our Barcelona loft. I must say I prefer the toilet outside of the bathroom. But it's got windows that open onto the street, which though quite central, is not loud at all. Score!
First stop: The Grand Place, which is a couple of blocks away, and is staggeringly beautiful. I was, again, speechless, and again, that's hard to do. So this square began in the 12th century; and, rich from trading, Brussels had a large market in the Grand Place. Guilds built their headquarters on the square (so, the Place is bordered by these Guildhalls: The Baker's House, the Wheelbarrow for the grease-makers, The Fox for the haberdashers, The Golden Tree for the brewers, etc.), and it also featured the huge Town Hall with it's Gothic spire. Well, in 1695 Louis XIV of France bombed the crap out of BXL and the Grand Place, and destroyed it except for the Town Hall. The guilds rallied and rebuilt in 5 years! They rocked it! Anyway, it's beautiful: check it out.
The Town Hall is behind me...
After drinking a strange cappuccino with whipped cream (!!) piled on top and paying about €5 for the pleasure of looking at the Grand Place while doing so, X and I headed to the Musee Horta, the one thing I absolutely had to see while in BXL. Victor Horta was an Art Nouveau architect who designed and built many buildings in Brussels. The Musee is his two adjoining houses that he built around 1900.
The outside is not that special, but the inside was absolutely gorgeous. So much attention to detail--everything was finished, the keyholes even. Beautiful rich wood, caramel color, and peaches and gold adorned everything. I would never have thought these colors would be so lovely together, but I was in love. The dining room was like a metro station, all tile and metal. Beautiful. Xander's favorite detail was a little urinal in Horta's bedroom--it was fitted in a closet. Perfect for lazy boys. So lovely. Xander was bitten by the Art Nouveau bug, so we set off on our own walking tour of Art Nouveau around the Ixelles and St Giles neighborhood (but not until we checked out the strange Musee d'Art Fantastic, which I will spare you the details of).
We found some lovely buildings, and enjoyed tring to spot the Art Nouveau building as we neared the address. It was interesting how many of them blended into the surrounding buildings until you looked at them closely, but others were outlandish. Now we are looking forward to seeing some of the Art Nouveau in Berlin, and hoping to make a trip to Paris at some point this fall.
Time for a beer! We headed back to the hotel via the tram system and the metro, the latter of which was quite a shock after all the beautiful architecture we had just seem. Xander observed that the metro in Brussels looks just like the metro in Rotterdam, and we both bemoaned the 60's/70's architecture. What a blight on humanity. Back to the metro in Brussels: they had that same stupid pole in front of the exit that they had in Milano. Really convenient.
So we had a delicious beer at a Brasserie near our hotel. FYI: they speak French in Brussels. Then back to the hotel to get changed for dinner, and also to get sucked in to the Top 100 R&B countdown on MTV. The highlight: The Thong Song. Dumps like a truck, what what...it doesn't get more imaginative than that, friends. We finally manage to tear ourselves away to go to an obnoxious, trendy restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet (don't go to Belga Queen, FYI). Lucky for us, they had delicious food. But the service, crap, with stupid trendy uniforms and the place was one of those places that is decorated in some fancy way that they think will impress people looking to spend a lot of money on a Saturday night but which to people with any discretion looks like a way to convince me that the joint is cool. So I'll spend money there and like being treated like a nuisance by a snotty french-speaking waitress in an outfit that looks like a cross between a military uniform and a french maid's costume. This made me not miss New York.
To cleanse ourselves of the experience, a downer, we went to a very laid-back bar down the street, A la Mort Subite. Old and very casual, we had a great beer from a funny waiter in a normal waiter getup. Thank you, Lord. Then off to Falstaff, an Art Nouveau bar from one of Horta's disciples. The waiter there: also normal and in a normal outfit. And he was kind enough to fill us in on the fact that, to ask for the check, one did not say "le billet, s'il vous plait" ("the train ticket, please"), but "l'addition, svp". (sorry for the spelling) Which made us laugh heartily, as we had been asking for the train ticket for 12 hours. But he said it with a laugh.
And we walked home through the Grand Place, only getting lost once, and seeing the beautiful full moon over the guildhalls. Lovely.
The next morning, peeling ourselves out of bed after all the beer, we checked out of the hotel and headed to a Brasserie off the Grasmarkt near our hotel for some breakfast. Xander had an omelet with frites, me Quiche Lorraine with salad, and it was so delicious! X asked for mayonnaise for his frites and it took a little longer than expected, but it was HOMEMADE! No Hellman's here, y'all. This was the real thing, and it has completely changed my thoughts on mayo. I know like the stuff, and think it goes quite well on fries, with curry sauce (I've been in Holland too long). So I'm giving Xander a kiss before I go to the ladies' room, and realize that the funny French-speaking waiter is waiting for us to take our plates. I laugh, and say sorry, and he tells us that they have a room upstairs, we can take the key, and "lock ze door". It was very funny. I liked the folks in Brussels, except the lady near the toilet who made me pay 30 cents to use it. Considering that in Italy EVERYWHERE makes you pay, and this is my first time since arriving in Northern Europe that I have had to, I shouldn't complain.
We pick up more chocolates for good measure, and I snag one last street waffle, before we head to the car. I swear, these f'in waffles are like CRACK COCAINE. They are the most delicious things, and you don't have to put any topping on them or anything. There is sugar inside and coated on it, so much deliciousness I almost passed out.
Our last stop in Brussels was the Musee Rene Magritte, which we again found miraculously, as the sign was literally sitting on top of the ground at an intersection and Xander happened to see it. We were way in the 'burbs of Brussels, a very ordinary street, and what turned out to be a very ordinary house. Apparently Magritte, a member of the Belgian surrealists, was married to a very conservative woman and actually left Paris because of a falling out with Andre Breton (the founder of the surrealist movement) over his wife wearing a cross to a party. And he painted in a three-piece suit. And it was clean afterwards, every time. So they lived in a very conservative house, and lived a very quiet life. It was interesting to say the least. I saw the fireplace and the window and the lamppost I have seen in so many of his paintings.
The living room of 135 Esseghem Street, Jette, Brussels: Magritte's home
Originally uploaded by sarahjanenyc1
Perhaps to him the interest lay in taking this ordinary existence and finding the unusual in it. I've never been in any other artists' homes, but I was quite taken aback by the ordinariness of this one, as was Xander. Cool stuff. I would love to see where Breton or Dali lived now, or one of the Dadaists.
And then only a minor detour (unintentional) before heading home...but we got to see the Atomium from one of the World Fairs or something. It was pretty cool, very sci fi.
And then we headed home to good ol' Holland, where the people are smart (but cheap, according to the Dutch themselves) and the roads are well-kept. But not before seeing one more celebration of Belgian beer...
1 comment:
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