Our first full day in Bruges we climbed that famous clock tower. You know, the tower featured in the movie In Bruges, the tower one of the main characters takes a leap off of. My friends, that is a serious drop. I don't recommend it.
Showing posts with label Belgium. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Belgium. Show all posts
Monday, July 11, 2011
The Sights of Bruges, Antwerp & Oostende
Today's post will be somewhat photo heavy, but that's all anyone wants to see, right?
Our first full day in Bruges we climbed that famous clock tower. You know, the tower featured in the movie In Bruges, the tower one of the main characters takes a leap off of. My friends, that is a serious drop. I don't recommend it.
The view from the top was amazing and totally worth the harrowing circular stairway.
Around Bruges:
We also took some side trips to Antwerp (it's really hard for me to NOT write Antwerpen but I don't want to sound like a douche) and Oostende, a city on the North Sea. It felt like we went to a beach in Oregon, the weather was nice but the water was ice cold.
I promise to return to heeeeelarious commentary tomorrow when we venture to Germany. We learned many a lesson on riding the rails and I feel it is my duty to share that with the world so that you don't make the same mistakes.
Our first full day in Bruges we climbed that famous clock tower. You know, the tower featured in the movie In Bruges, the tower one of the main characters takes a leap off of. My friends, that is a serious drop. I don't recommend it.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Eating and Drinking in Bruges.
Going through my photos of Bruges, I realized that I would have to split the post up even further to go into any sort of detail. So in this post, I will focus on our gastronomic experiences in this gorgeous city and tomorrow I will share the sights of Bruges, Antwerp and Oostende.
When people ask what my favorite part of this trip was, I automatically answer Belgium, especially Bruges. Everyone we met was incredibly friendly and helpful and the language barrier was not present whatsoever. For example, our bed and breakfast was run by a man that knew at LEAST 4 languages (Flemish, French, English and German) and he liked to push more food on us, despite the overflowing bread basket still sitting on our table next to the homemade jams and fruit bowls. Our very last night in Bruges was spent getting drunk with a local who Jeff bonded with over futbol. He bought us drinks, we bought him drinks, we exchanged emails and phone numbers and a jolly good time was had all around. I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have happened in Paris.
Our first mission when we arrived in Bruges was to find dinner. I had made notes on vegan friendly places in most of the cities we were staying in and while Bruges wasn’t overflowing with options, there were a couple. Passion for Food was where we ended up. It was empty save for the employee’s family, which meant the man that helped us talked to us forever about what to see while we were here and his own visit to the states. It was a great experience and I encourage everyone that travels to talk to the people who live there, wherever you go! Generally they’re curious about where you’re from and willing to give you tips and recommendations. On to the goods!
My dinner was a tasty roasted veggie bowl with lentils, chickpeas, bulgur and apples. Being the most substantial thing I had eaten in days (and for days to come), it tasted amazing. Accompanying it was a beer that we would become familiar with during our stay in Belgium.
I don’t remember what Jeff had, but I doubt it was as good as mine, I tend to pick well in all walks of life. He did pick this tasty thirst quencher, though. The waiter told him, “you’re on vacation” when he pointed to the 9% alc. label. OH YES WE ARE.
The next day, after some strenuous sight-seeing (which I will grace you with tomorrow) we set out to find a pub called Staminet de Garre, famous for their incredibly potent house beers. As in, limit 3 per visit potent. It was tucked away in an alley, but you know I found it. I don’t think my face shows just how excited I was.
As they didn’t open for another hour, we decided to take the brewery tour at Halve de Maan, an ancient brewery on the edge of the city. The tour lasted at least an hour and is so popular they do one every hour, in three different languages! At the end you’re rewarded with a glass of the Brugse Zot, the same beer I had the night before. I wasn’t complaining!
My absolute favorite part of the tour? This guy.
Sufficiently buzzed, we made our way back to Staminet de Garre. You know, for more beer. Potent beer. It was everything I had every dreamed of, and more.
We managed to hit this place one last time before we left. The second time, we sat upstairs with a family from Canada who had an old man dressed in lederhosen having a grand old time. Upon leaving, one of the family members told the Scottish server, “if you’re ever in Canada, you let me know!” After they left, the server looked at us and muttered, “who would want to go to CANADA?” To which we giggled. I mean, after years and years of having to claim Canadian citizenship to avoid answering for the Bush administration, it felt good not to be the scapegoat. I love you Canada!
On a final note, I must talk to you about Speculoos. My friends on the PPK have been fired up about it for months and I finally understand why. I’m assuming you’ve tried Biscoff cookies at least once during your life. Well, this is a spread made of those cookies. A COOKIE SPREAD. It is the most amazing food product ever made and we went through two jars during our trip. They’re starting to make it available in the States and I encourage you to search it out. If you are close to me in person, I have a jar of my very own and I MIGHT share with you.
When people ask what my favorite part of this trip was, I automatically answer Belgium, especially Bruges. Everyone we met was incredibly friendly and helpful and the language barrier was not present whatsoever. For example, our bed and breakfast was run by a man that knew at LEAST 4 languages (Flemish, French, English and German) and he liked to push more food on us, despite the overflowing bread basket still sitting on our table next to the homemade jams and fruit bowls. Our very last night in Bruges was spent getting drunk with a local who Jeff bonded with over futbol. He bought us drinks, we bought him drinks, we exchanged emails and phone numbers and a jolly good time was had all around. I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have happened in Paris.
Our first mission when we arrived in Bruges was to find dinner. I had made notes on vegan friendly places in most of the cities we were staying in and while Bruges wasn’t overflowing with options, there were a couple. Passion for Food was where we ended up. It was empty save for the employee’s family, which meant the man that helped us talked to us forever about what to see while we were here and his own visit to the states. It was a great experience and I encourage everyone that travels to talk to the people who live there, wherever you go! Generally they’re curious about where you’re from and willing to give you tips and recommendations. On to the goods!
My dinner was a tasty roasted veggie bowl with lentils, chickpeas, bulgur and apples. Being the most substantial thing I had eaten in days (and for days to come), it tasted amazing. Accompanying it was a beer that we would become familiar with during our stay in Belgium.
As they didn’t open for another hour, we decided to take the brewery tour at Halve de Maan, an ancient brewery on the edge of the city. The tour lasted at least an hour and is so popular they do one every hour, in three different languages! At the end you’re rewarded with a glass of the Brugse Zot, the same beer I had the night before. I wasn’t complaining!
We managed to hit this place one last time before we left. The second time, we sat upstairs with a family from Canada who had an old man dressed in lederhosen having a grand old time. Upon leaving, one of the family members told the Scottish server, “if you’re ever in Canada, you let me know!” After they left, the server looked at us and muttered, “who would want to go to CANADA?” To which we giggled. I mean, after years and years of having to claim Canadian citizenship to avoid answering for the Bush administration, it felt good not to be the scapegoat. I love you Canada!
On a final note, I must talk to you about Speculoos. My friends on the PPK have been fired up about it for months and I finally understand why. I’m assuming you’ve tried Biscoff cookies at least once during your life. Well, this is a spread made of those cookies. A COOKIE SPREAD. It is the most amazing food product ever made and we went through two jars during our trip. They’re starting to make it available in the States and I encourage you to search it out. If you are close to me in person, I have a jar of my very own and I MIGHT share with you.
Friday, July 8, 2011
How we found Delirium in Brussels.
After waking up incredibly refreshed, eating breakfast provided by the hotel (fruit, bread and coffee for me, which will become the story of the trip) and checking out, we made our way to Brussels proper. The hotel clerk told us since there was no ticket machine, we just hop on the train and “sometimes we pay, sometimes we don’t. Such is Belgium.” I like Belgium already.
First on our agenda once we hit the ground was to find the Grand Place. It required a little wandering around and consulting our trusty map but eventually we just kind of stumbled upon it. And it was definitely grand.
After taking in the sights around the Grand Place and reveling in the fact that the tourist quota was somewhat low this lovely Saturday morning, we ventured to find that famous little guy taking a leak.
This guy is so famous, he has a schedule concerning his different outfits, and a museum displaying all of his outfits which we sadly didn’t get to visit. Here it is that we found the tourists. We were not the only people fancying Manneken Pis at such an early hour.
Our next stop was Cafe Delirium, a pub famous for the outrageous number of beers that you can choose from, something ridiculous like 2,004 bottles at the ready. According to my guidebook we were close. Rejoice! We found the street it was situated on, which is one of my favorite streets in Brussels.
And sitting quietly in the middle of two other bars was LITTLE Delirium. NOT Cafe Delirium, the Guinness world record holder. I consulted the book again, and re-checked the map. The address was wrong, but the map showed it right where we found Little Delirium. We popped in for a pint anyways, to sort out our confusion. I plan to write a strongly worded letter (points for the reference) to Frommers for the grave error.
I ordered my now coveted Chimay Blue while Jeff had the Delirium Red. Now, in good ol’ Portland, a Red is a somewhat bitter ale. It is not made of fruit, and it does NOT taste like shit. Unfortunately, Delirium’s Red had what we THINK was cherry in it and it had such a horrible aftertaste, we were chasing it with Chimay and couldn’t finish the pint. The two of us not finishing a pint is something unspeakable. THAT’S HOW BAD IT WAS.
Frustrated by our beer woes and desperate to find the real Delirium, we wandered around the area for a good hour in search of the right street. Finally, after some emotional outbursts and cries of “I hate Brussels!” I asked a nice policeman how to find the bar. In thickly accented English, he gave us these exact instructions:
“Vous know zat big square, oui? Well, go down ze alley in ze direction I’m pointing until vous reach a T. Turn left and then right and vous will find it.”
Jeff said these directions were total BS, but I had faith. I followed them exactly and where did we end up?
The moral of the story, kids? Always have faith in the police when asking for directions to a bar ridden with tourists.
We managed to hit up Delirium three separate times during our vacation, even though we didn’t stay more than that first night in Brussels. The very last visit I will share about when I come to the end of the trip.
That concludes this post about Brussels, tomorrow we shall visit Bruges and take in all the glorious sights and amazing people.
First on our agenda once we hit the ground was to find the Grand Place. It required a little wandering around and consulting our trusty map but eventually we just kind of stumbled upon it. And it was definitely grand.
After taking in the sights around the Grand Place and reveling in the fact that the tourist quota was somewhat low this lovely Saturday morning, we ventured to find that famous little guy taking a leak.
This guy is so famous, he has a schedule concerning his different outfits, and a museum displaying all of his outfits which we sadly didn’t get to visit. Here it is that we found the tourists. We were not the only people fancying Manneken Pis at such an early hour.
Our next stop was Cafe Delirium, a pub famous for the outrageous number of beers that you can choose from, something ridiculous like 2,004 bottles at the ready. According to my guidebook we were close. Rejoice! We found the street it was situated on, which is one of my favorite streets in Brussels.
And sitting quietly in the middle of two other bars was LITTLE Delirium. NOT Cafe Delirium, the Guinness world record holder. I consulted the book again, and re-checked the map. The address was wrong, but the map showed it right where we found Little Delirium. We popped in for a pint anyways, to sort out our confusion. I plan to write a strongly worded letter (points for the reference) to Frommers for the grave error.
I ordered my now coveted Chimay Blue while Jeff had the Delirium Red. Now, in good ol’ Portland, a Red is a somewhat bitter ale. It is not made of fruit, and it does NOT taste like shit. Unfortunately, Delirium’s Red had what we THINK was cherry in it and it had such a horrible aftertaste, we were chasing it with Chimay and couldn’t finish the pint. The two of us not finishing a pint is something unspeakable. THAT’S HOW BAD IT WAS.
Frustrated by our beer woes and desperate to find the real Delirium, we wandered around the area for a good hour in search of the right street. Finally, after some emotional outbursts and cries of “I hate Brussels!” I asked a nice policeman how to find the bar. In thickly accented English, he gave us these exact instructions:
“Vous know zat big square, oui? Well, go down ze alley in ze direction I’m pointing until vous reach a T. Turn left and then right and vous will find it.”
Jeff said these directions were total BS, but I had faith. I followed them exactly and where did we end up?
The moral of the story, kids? Always have faith in the police when asking for directions to a bar ridden with tourists.
We managed to hit up Delirium three separate times during our vacation, even though we didn’t stay more than that first night in Brussels. The very last visit I will share about when I come to the end of the trip.
That concludes this post about Brussels, tomorrow we shall visit Bruges and take in all the glorious sights and amazing people.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
A story of a girl and a boy on a plane.
Hello! We just got back from our fantastic vacation a little less than a week ago and I wanted to start writing about it before I forgot everything! I think that the best way for me to do this would to be explore each country separately, giving it the time and love it deserves.
To start things off, I'm going to write about our travel experience with Icelandair and then dive into Brussels tomorrow. I should tell you upfront that we nicknamed this trip the "beer, castle and trains" journey. If any of this offends you (man, those castles are such bastards) you can't say I didn't warn you.
So. We booked our flight with Icelandair for two reasons: they were cheap and they gave us a 9 hour layover in Iceland. ICELAND, friends. We had to drive up to Seattle for maximum savings, but what's a measly 3 hour drive in the dawn of an international adventure? Well, then Icelandair cancelled our 9 hour layover and gave us one single hour to go through passport control and catch our next flight. The woman on the phone assured us that everything would be alright, they don't schedule layovers that are impossible. Well, ok.
The day before our flight, a very stressful day that should never ever happen again thanks to my new-found resolution to quit procrastination once and for all, I find out that there are strikes going on at Icelandair. Strikes that will affect our layover and force us to miss our connection. But what can you do about it, other than cross your fingers and think happy thoughts? I'm all for strikes (my husband and closest friends are union members) but hey, universe, let's plan them for different airlines next time, 'kay?
When we gallantly arrive at Icelandair fresh faced and eager, they told us that our next connection would be missed, but it would be taken care of in Keflavik. They then put us in first class on the connection that we would be missing. WTF, NOT FUNNY DUDES. Our first leg was Seattle to Keflavik and only 7 hours. We tried our first beer of the trip (an Icelandic piss beer) ate a fruit bowl (they are not exactly a vegan friendly airline) and marveled at the extra inches of seat room. And the beautiful sights outside of the window. I mean, look:
We also gawked at Iron Maiden's tour plane, parked next to us at Keflavik during both connections.
Icelandair then put us on a flight to Copenhagen 2 hours later than the original flight. In Copenhagen, we were booked on a flight to Brussels just 2 hours later than the final connection. They also gave us food vouchers, which we spent on a pretty and expensive vegetable dish and the second beers of the trip.
When we finally landed in Brussels, it's around 8:30 and we have been up for almost 36 hours. We can't find the shuttle bus to the hotel so we hail a taxi. It cost us maybe 12 euro and I was so tired and relieved to finally be on land that I gave him a 20 and waved him off when he tried to give us some change. We got a big smile after that. Please note that I am not rich, it was probably a really stupid thing to do in my delirious state, but it happened and I'm not sorry.
After we checked in to the hotel and giggled at the beer in the vending machine, we decided to find food. We could only find one hotel bar with food open, so we went with it. They gave us tortilla chips with bbq sauce (which is so weird to me and yet SO GOOD) and my side salad was shredded lettuce. But look at those beers. And look at those scary bags underneath my eyes.
The vending machine in question.
After we finished our delectable and filling meal we crashed and slept until forever. Ok, so only 8am, but it was the best sleep ever.
Tomorrow I plan to post about our days spent in Belgium! I haven't decided whether to split it up, but I guarantee full on hilarity and copious beer.
To start things off, I'm going to write about our travel experience with Icelandair and then dive into Brussels tomorrow. I should tell you upfront that we nicknamed this trip the "beer, castle and trains" journey. If any of this offends you (man, those castles are such bastards) you can't say I didn't warn you.
So. We booked our flight with Icelandair for two reasons: they were cheap and they gave us a 9 hour layover in Iceland. ICELAND, friends. We had to drive up to Seattle for maximum savings, but what's a measly 3 hour drive in the dawn of an international adventure? Well, then Icelandair cancelled our 9 hour layover and gave us one single hour to go through passport control and catch our next flight. The woman on the phone assured us that everything would be alright, they don't schedule layovers that are impossible. Well, ok.
The day before our flight, a very stressful day that should never ever happen again thanks to my new-found resolution to quit procrastination once and for all, I find out that there are strikes going on at Icelandair. Strikes that will affect our layover and force us to miss our connection. But what can you do about it, other than cross your fingers and think happy thoughts? I'm all for strikes (my husband and closest friends are union members) but hey, universe, let's plan them for different airlines next time, 'kay?
When we gallantly arrive at Icelandair fresh faced and eager, they told us that our next connection would be missed, but it would be taken care of in Keflavik. They then put us in first class on the connection that we would be missing. WTF, NOT FUNNY DUDES. Our first leg was Seattle to Keflavik and only 7 hours. We tried our first beer of the trip (an Icelandic piss beer) ate a fruit bowl (they are not exactly a vegan friendly airline) and marveled at the extra inches of seat room. And the beautiful sights outside of the window. I mean, look:
After we checked in to the hotel and giggled at the beer in the vending machine, we decided to find food. We could only find one hotel bar with food open, so we went with it. They gave us tortilla chips with bbq sauce (which is so weird to me and yet SO GOOD) and my side salad was shredded lettuce. But look at those beers. And look at those scary bags underneath my eyes.
After we finished our delectable and filling meal we crashed and slept until forever. Ok, so only 8am, but it was the best sleep ever.
Tomorrow I plan to post about our days spent in Belgium! I haven't decided whether to split it up, but I guarantee full on hilarity and copious beer.
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