BELGIUM

So we headed over to Belgium Wednesday afternoon for some shopping, moulé, escargot, chocolate, and museums.  We got to Brussels just in time for dinner, which consisted of moulé (mussels as only the Belgians can do them).  As always, the meal was wonderful.  The pommes frites they served were fabulous.  They don’t call them French Fries, because what we call French Fries is actually a Belgian creation.  Ergo, it’s not considered “in” to ask for French Fries.  After dinner, we looked around the town a bit.  It hadn’t changed much since our last visit.  After the long drive, and sumptuous dinner, we were both ready for some lengthy “pillow time.”

Thursday, found us up bright and early, well, fairly early, and fairly bright.  We were once again in search of things that until that moment, we didn’t know that we absolutely needed.  Our first stop was the tapestry shop, where they carry, not only tapestries, but also wonderful purses made in the images of the tapestries of paintings by Bruegel, Elder and Younger, as well as others of that ilk.  After making our purchases, we headed for the “Ultimate Chocolate Shop.”  Upon making our choices of chocolates, the lady behind the counter admonished us for the way we, Americans, mistreat chocolate.  After her thirty-minute tirade, we left with our egos in pieces, but our chocolates intact.  Did we take this lying down?  Yes.  Thus it was, that we retreated to our hotel room for some rest, and a bit of the goodies…A quiet victory.  In the evening we found our old favorite restaurant for moulé, Le Sacree.  Of all the places we’ve tried in Brussels, they are the best at preparing this dish for which they are so famous.

Walking around the Grand Place in the evening, with the strategically placed lights, etc. is a wonderland for the senses.  The architecture practically screams, “Look at me.  I’m gorgeous.”  Just a quick aside:  To many of our friends, it seems incredible that we visit so many different countries.  However, if one looks at a map, it will be readily apparent that going from Germany to France, Belgium, The Netherlands, Austria, Switzerland, or the Czech Republic, is quite similar to going from California to Nevada, Oregon, or Arizona.  The only real difference is that in our country, English is basically carried over from state to state. Whereas, in Europe, each “state” is a different country with its own language.  Or as in the case of Belgium, three languages…Flemish, French, and a hybrid form of Belgian.

Friday evening marked the beginning of the Brussels Jazz Marathon.  It had venues throughout the city.  During the day, we found the Jewish Museum, which we went through for a few hours.  It was quite interesting to see the history of the Jews in ancient times, as well as the prevailing attitudes before, during and after WW II.  One of the major highlights was the section dedicated to CPT Dreyfus, who was railroaded by the military, until Emil Zola, and others came to his aid.  Dreyfus was finally released after serving twelve years on Devil’s Island.  The Belgians, as well as the Belgian military, are not too proud of that debacle.  After walking back to our hotel to unload more “stuff that we could not do without,” we made our way to the Grand Place to hear some of the bands in the Jazz Marathon.  We caught the last half of a piano, bass, drums, and vibraphone quartet, which was not bad.  While the next band was being set up, we had dinner.  We made it back in time for their second tune, which consisted of a five-minute vamp on a G major chord.  This redundancy was followed by another indeterminate vamp, which brought on a singer whose voice was indistinguishable from the bass drum.  This prompted us to take refuge in our hotel room, where we lit our Shabbat candles and had a bit of Shabbat wine.

Saturday, we decided to go to the town that prompted the Battle of The Bulge, Antwerp.  Hitler thought that if he could take Antwerp, a major seaport, he could prolong the war.  Thank goodness for our GPS.  Practically every street was under construction, and/or closed.  We were not to be denied our goal, the home of Peter Paul Rubens.  Yes, he painted mostly fat people.  No, he did not create Mounds or Almond Joy.  It just looked like many of his models had gobbled-up lots of those candy bars.  His home was truly a testament to his great success as an artist and business-man.  His influence can be seen in those who came after him, such a Van Dyke.  The entrance to his garden was quite similar to the entrance to the backyard of Hugh Hefner’s Mansion West, which is another testament to great success as a business-man.  As a quick point of information, be aware that the weather changes in Belgium more rapidly than the time it takes to eat a meal.  As we were dining, both in Brussels and Antwerp, the scenes outside changed from incredibly bright and sunny to torrential downpours.  It was truly amazing, as was the difference in languages.  In Brussels we got by with French, and a bit of English.  However, in Antwerp, it was strictly Flemish, and their own peculiar hybrid tongue, along with, thank goodness, English.

Following our prowling through Rubens’ house, and a bit of lunch, we decided to turn on the GPS, and head home.  Because of the aforementioned roadwork, it took us forty minutes to get out of town.  Coming home, we went through Belgium, and The Netherlands, before we got into Germany.  By the way, they still serve the thick, fluffy waffles in Belgium.