In action

Not often I like photos of me but I liked these ones Jess took of me in Bruges. The horse and I were obviously looking at something important.

In Bruges

Bruges Part I

Annie told me she loved Bruges, that it was a fantastic place to visit. She was so right. I enjoyed the black comedy In Bruges so was looking forward to climbing the tower shown in the movie and in the photo above. Jess and Sahara, today's traveling companions, and I queued for a while then decided to come back, to brave the 366 stairs to the top after lunch. Sahara's only five so it seemed like a much better plan.

We got wandering, saw some sights, took heaps of photos, dodged horses and their carriages, bikes and cars and then craved a little ice cream. By that time the tower was closed, a visit for next time maybe. Will write and add more photos later. I'm feeling a bit jaded, five year olds have heaps of energy. I suspect this one's worn me out.

Amsterdam

Yesterday we ventured to Amsterdam. We were late for the train, there was a queue so we paid on the train, a trap to be avoided. Still we got there, hungry and in dire need of a coffee. Anyone who's traveled with me knows that I'm a little grumpy when hungry, Di is similar. We found an excellent cafe, the best coffee I've had in ages plus a piece of homemade cake, yum.

We wandered around Amsterdam people watching and sightseeing; wandered past cafes where the fug of smoke told me what sort of cafes they were; wandered past the wonderful canal bridges packed with bikes; wandered past tourist shops and eating places. We even had a go at the trams when we were sick of wandering. Who would have thought that no one wanted to take our fare.

I've always wanted to visit the van Gogh Museum. We followed the map and found the place. It was wonderful to see his art all in one place. Most of my favorites were there. We finished the day with frites and a smooth red at a canal front cafe. Frites are chips and they're eaten with mayo not tomato sauce as is usual in NZ. I've asked at many places for a plate of frites.

"No madam they only come with other food," the waiter said haughtily when I asked in Brussels. Di cringed.

Well, I'm pleased to tell you, they're not so precious in Amsterdam. the bowl of frites was yummy, missed the tomato sauce though, mayo is not quite the same. You can take the girl out of NZ.....

Two of the photos are of the famous canals, the light came right for one but the day was dull and chilly. Dubai has painted camels, Capri has painted cows. I suppose it's only fitting that Amsterdam has painted elephants? The closer photo had me looking quizzical and Di laughing. There was a dog peeing on the tree behind me, not a publishable photo really.

Brussels

We went to Brussels today on the train. Di had a photo shoot with a new baby and his family, I got to wander the city alone. Now, I'm good with maps. Everyone knows that. But not in Roma and not today. You see the key to reading maps is knowing the starting point. Today I failed miserably on that front. Who would have thought that all the historically meaningful buildings would be pictured on the map except the Grand Place (doesn't sound so grand written).

So I began wandering from the place I thought was pictured as the Grand Place, wrong. No wonder I struggled to find the things I wanted to find and yet found other things that defied logic. Oh well, nothing was hurt in the process, except once again my leo pride.

I was footsore and hungry so found a place that sold falafal, a Greek restaurant with a smiling man inviting me in. How could I resist. I suspect he was a little surprised when I asked for tea with my meal. The men next to me certainly were and tried to convince me of the merits of their respective wines, white and rose, much to the amusement of all.

The two were as old as Methuselah and looked like the two old men on the balcony in the Muppets. They spoke to me in English, once they realised I was not a mademoiselle, and in other languages to the others in the shop. They appeared to have their own language for each other.

Needless to say under such peer pressure I sampled the Rose, much to the delight of the Rose drinker. The other tried to convince me otherwise, an argument ensued that had others laughing and left me bemused. When I left the shop I was invited to return tomorrow, the falafal were good enough to consider that while the Rose came from a very large bottle and tasted like it came from a cask.

Di and I met at the station and jumped on a train home to Antwerp. Then the fun began.

"Is this the train to the airport?" asked the man.

"No, it's the train to Antwerp," answered Di. The man looked shocked, horrified.

"So not the train to the airport then," asked another man, Irish I suspected from the faint accent.

Di, Fatima and Maria were convinced that they were on the Antwerp train, I smiled and nodded unconvinced of anything. You see we became good friends with Maria from Moldova and Fatima from Morocco who both lived on the Brussels/Antwerp line after we discovered that we were all on the wrong train. Not our fault apparently as the airport train somehow jumped in before the Antwerp one, an out of sequence that put us out of sorts.

We had a laugh about the situation, harder for Fatima as she was fasting and iftar was fast approaching, as we traveled back to the starting point and waited for the next train. Di shared her chocolate bar with Fatima as we chatted. Fatima has Di's card and my number and we have an invite to an eid celebration with her family, a mistake making a wrong connection into a good one.

Proper houses

There are lots of proper houses in Antwerpen, even the shops are proper. For the uninitiated, proper houses are those with stairs. Houses with an upstairs and a downstairs. Houses with a promise of mystery and history. What's up the stairs? Are there hidey holes for goblins and the like? Is there a dusty attic full of treasures?

As an adult I've aimed to live in proper houses, and succeeded for most of the time. The house that's on the market in NZ is a proper house. It has stairs inside and outside, one of the reasons I fell in love with it. I can remember walking up the outside steps for the first time, peeking around the corner of the hedge to see the house shining in the sun.

Of course being in a proper house has it's drawbacks. Di's new house is a proper house with very narrow stairs, two sets up two levels, 34 steps in all. Di and Gert and family have just moved in so the trauma of moving things up stairs hasn't faded yet. Time is a healer, and once things are in place, it feels like they always were.

The lady whose shop door way and stairs I've included here was telling us that getting the new stock upstairs is a trial. Her stairs looked so inviting, at times I feel like a kid who just wants to go up and explore what's at the top. Today I resisted urge, the lure of a good Belgian coffee stronger.

Funeral songs

We all have them, sometimes we get to choose them, sometimes others do. This talk of funeral songs led to trawling through YouTube and itunes to revisit and remember. We've discussed them all from Amazing Grace to Pink Floyd, the most common one in my family.

Dad's chosen Wish You Were Here along with Ride of the Valkyries, a stirring Wagner piece made famous in Apocalypse Now. There's been lots of searching for the right Queen tune from Di's mums funeral, Bohemian Rhapsody and another.

We're staying up for the funeral, 3am Antwerpen time drinking a nice red and eating Belgium chocolate, well that's the plan along with the three of us on our laptops searching for and sharing our favorite music. I'm pleased to say that we've moved on to drinking songs. This is a favorite of mine and Di's: