Return to Brussels, again

Rhys for EC president

Brussels, Belgium – For a city Idon’t have much time for, I seem to be here an awful lot.

This time it was against my own free will, sort of. I took the Eurostar over on Friday for work and decided to stay for the weekend with a friend who lives here.

Sightseeing was no longer needed. Instead it was bottles of Vedette beer in blonde wood-lined bars, cheering on he Wallabies in an Irish bar in Antwerp and strolling through St Gerie in search of a good coffee.

And a visit to the European Council for internet access and a quick photoshoot, as featured above.

Brussels photo album

Jeu de Balle flea market

Near Grand Place

Centraal Station

Brussels, Belgium – As part of my ongoing campaign to pack light, I took only my 50mm 1.8 lens with me to Brussels.

It’s about half the length and weight of my normal lens, the Nikon 18-70mm zoom, so together with the D80 body it  was relatively easy to stuff in my satchel.

Unfortunately, 50mm is quite a long lens on a DSLR, equalling about a 75mm film lens. So it was a challenge to get everything in the shot. Great for portraits, not so great to capture an entire street scene.

These splits are my attempt to combine detail with a more pulled-back view for each scene.

For more photos of my trip to Brussels, check out the Flickr photo album.

Second time lucky

Brussels, Belgium – It may have taken me two visits, but I finally discovered Brussels’ nightlife. But who knew it would be in an 18th century church?

Brusselians go out late, so I didn’t have the pleasure of even beginning to line up outside the venue until 12.30am on the Saturday night (well, Sunday morning). An hour later we were in, walking into an enormous nave that was lit up like Christmas from dozens of laser lights and the sound of New Order’s ‘Blue Monday’ booming from the PA. We joined a couple of thousand Belgian hipsters and a handful of ex-pat Foreign Office types in the space, which was apparently weeks away from being turned into a hotel.

Sure, there were some logistical problems associated with having a club night in a building originally designed to worship the Lord. Such as a cloakroom that ran out of rack space. Or a bar with no beer. Or there being only two small bathrooms.

To beat the toilet queue, some of us may have (allegedly) used an unlit bathroom. I used the light of my mobile phone to illuminate the pitch-black room and was confronted by a shower stall of unimaginable horror. It was hard to tell how many people had used it before me, but one thing was for certain, if I dropped my phone it was going to stay dropped. It made the Trainspotting toilet scene look positively hygienic.

It was the latest I’ve stayed up for a long time, so our gang of three spent the Sunday leisurely exploring the flea markets down the road (where I found a kick ass 1970s radio/turntable unit with the frequencies of major Euro cities inscribed on the white plastic top) and then a spell of promenading around the lake at Elsene with a fortifying cone of frites.

Apart from raging in a church in the early hours of Sunday, the weekend in Brussels was a chilled affair – probably the best way to enjoy the city. It’s a little cliched, but if you focus on the key aspects of beer, frites and chocolate, then you can’t go wrong.

When in Brussels Backpack Storybook now stays at the leisure of Her Majesty (and I don’t mean gaol). Thanks Timmy!

Return to Brussels

The gang at Place du Jeu de Balle flea market

Brussels, Belgium – There’s so many great cities to explore in Europe, so its perhaps a little strange I chose to return to the one that I personally think is the most boring: Brussels.

I was there in the summer of 2008 with my sister and while it was nice to walk around for a few days, its not the prettiest city. It’s also expensive and almost impossible to find the private parties and one off shows that make up Brussels’ nightlife.

This time I was visiting a friend who recently relocated for work. Having a fixer who spoke decent French and got us into one of the best parties of the year made a huge difference. More words and pics to come.

End of the line

The Grote Markt, Bruges

Bruges, Belgium – “It’s old, it’s boring, I don’t give a shit.”

Bruges was where I fell suddenly and perhaps a little harshly out of love with the city break.

It started pleasantly enough. On the Sunday my sister and I took a double decker train an hour north from Brussels to Bruges. I marvelled at the the carriage. So sleek, so new, so quiet. Then the conductor arrived and kicked us out. We’d mistakenly sat in first class.

Second class was by no means bad, but it had the obligatory screaming kid, chewing gum on the floor and seats worn from people putting their feet up.

Bruges was beautiful. A canal wound its way around the city perimeter. Horses clip-clopped past as they pulled carriage-loads of tourists. We followed a maze of cobbled streets past quaint chocolatiers and stores selling lace, a Bruges speciality apparently.

But soon the tide of day tripping tourists grew from noticeable to almost unbearable. Crowds seemed to pour in from every direction. Everyone seemingly sporting Goretex jackets, digital cameras and backpacks. The irony is that I was one of them, adding to the crush.

Each time I rounded a corner to find a picturesque scene, before I could even raise my camera and compose the shot a tour group would move into the frame.

We couldn’t find anywhere to buy lunch for less than 15 euros. Instead we settled for a bag of frites (delicious by the way, I’ve not tasted chips better anywhere than in Belgium) for 1.50 euro and a couple of wheat beers in a sunny beer garden.

Strolling back to the train station we spied several interesting looking cathedrals and buildings. A quick flick through our guidebook (for map reading and history purposes only, I swear) revealed they dated back hundreds of years. Full of intricate art works. Magnificent examples of medieval architecture.

And yet I wasn’t  the least bit interested. I’ve done museums to death, I thought. I’ve absorbed all the European history I can stand for the moment.

So I uttered the immortal words described at the start of this post and we pushed on, keen to get back to Brussels for a quick shower and then get down to the serious business of more drinking and eating in St Gery.

For more photos of Bruges, check the Flickr photo album here.

Weekend in Brussels

Sint-Hubertus Gallery, built in 1846

Brussels, Belgium – City break number three. Eurostar straight into Gare du Midi and then we’re lost in the bowels of Brussels’ Tron-themed futuristic metro system. Lots of dark lights and neon.

Find a cash machine. Buy ticket. Metro train north to Rogier to book into our hostel for the weekend.

I’m travelling with my sister, who is fresh off the plane from two weeks partying in Croatia. Even her feet are tanned. I’m fresh form a hard week at work in London. We’re both looking for some chillout time. I suspect we’ve come to the right city.

At just a million people, Brussels isn’t huge. In the space of a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon we saw most of the inner city. The majestic Stock Exchange building. The  Grand Place and its four sides of ornately decorated buildings.

But slowly our weekend in Belgium morphs into a culinary rather than historical rour or architectural tour of the city. This is more to do with the fact that we spend Saturday walking the streets, with a plan to see the museums and go shopping on the Sunday and Monday.

Of course, we discover they’re all closed on those two days.

Rue de Bourches

Chowing down
So we spend time in the narrow Rue Des Bourches with its dozens of restaurants serving moules and frites. The Vietnamese and Thai restaurants around St Gery. And next door in Bourse where the patrons at the outside tables face each other from all four sides of the crossways, drinking and smoking and chatting.

It’s in Bourse that we spend most of our time in. In what is a quiet city by European standards it’s the most jumping area of town and we’re down there for lunch and dinner most days.

On Saturday it was a big plate of spaghetti bolognaise with a demi glass of Leffe on the weather beaten tables along Rue St Gery.

The following night a fluroescent green curry from a funky Thai place under the flame trees on the cross roads.

We search for some nightlife but apart from a few gay bars with pounding disco music, socialising in this city seemed to consist of groups of friends sitting around tables, drinking and smoking. Great for kicking back. But a little tricky for two foreigners to meet anyone.

Near Rogier

Beer
Any lack of conversation was made up for by the range of interesting beers on offer. I didn’t stray too far from my favourites. I made sure I had a Hoegaarden or Grimbergen or Leffe with most meals.

My sister tried some of the darker brews. Interestingly they weren’t as heavy as expected. The Leffe Brun was a favourite: a kind of creamy, roast-flavoured beer.

Best of all was the different glasses they used for each brand of beer. Tall flutes. Shallow champagne-style dishes. Thick tumblers.

It all seemed such a far cry from London, where beer, even lager, is served quite flat with no head of foam. And often in a glass still hot from the dish washer!

For more photos of Belgium, check the Flickr photo album here.

Backpack Storybook tip: When in Brussels Backpack Storybook stays at Sleepwell Hostel in Rogerie. Clean, bright, if a little boring. Twin rooms from 30 euro per person.