Janice and I went to Brussels Thursday, returning on Saturday. By fast train, the trip was less than two hours and a real joy. I even dozed a bit. I prefer European trains to airplane any day. The weather was constantly changing, from bright sun to cloud bursts of rain. Arriving at Midi, the southern-most station, we whipped out our iPhones to get directions and headed off on a 21-minute walk to our Motel One--sort of. It turns out that our phones were utterly confused. Mine indicated that every single direction was due north, which was hardly helpful, especially when there were no shadows. Then the directions on our Google map somehow took us on a complete circle, right back to the station. We were starting to wonder if we are now too old to travel by ourselves. But being elderly, we remembered that there are things called 'maps', so we bought one and were at our destination relatively directly, with occasional changes of rain gear, etc. Fortunately, we carried everything on our backs for ease and versatility.
We stumbled upon a flea market that was closing. We spotted nothing of value to us while strolling past, but enjoyed a bit of local colour.
Janice suddenly realized that it was past 1:30 and feared that restaurants might soon be closing, so we stopped at a modest place for locals and enjoyed some enormous salads. We could not translate one key word in Flemish, which turned out to be a good-sized bowl. The salads sustained us nicely. The best part of mine were the potatoes covered with a special mayonnaise, buried under the lettuce and chicken.
After figuring out where and how to get a plastic métro card for the two of us, loaded for 10 trips, we took the tram to the southern portion of Brussels, to Place Eugène Flagey, where we had tickets to hear Herreweghe's Collegium Musicum Gent perform Bach's Mass in b minor, a work I last sang in the year 2000. Stephan Gähler, one of the professional choir's four tenors, had stayed with us last summer while singing in the Early Music Vancouver summer Bach festival. We were happy to see him again and get caught up before the concert. I then had an excellent Belgian beer with him after the concert; it was then midnight, so Janice had turned in. The concert was worth the trip (and Janice claimed she liked it, though she faded toward the end; it didn't begin until 8:20 and intermission was our normal bedtime).
Before the concert, we got to walk around this non-tourist part of the city. I liked the Belgian waffle truck, but we didn't get any since Janice is watching her sugar intake most strictly.
It had just rained hard, but as soon as it stopped, young people were outside at cafés, sipping coffee on damp chairs, enjoying the fresh air.
This colourful bench honours the Portuguese poet and writer, Fernando Pessoa.
The weather looked most uncertain. Indeed, it rained hard during the concert and then politely stopped until we got home.
But before the concert, we had a bit of trouble finding an open restaurant. Few opened before 7:30 or so, and the concert was supposed to begin at 8:15 or soon thereafter. We finally found an ethnic Middle Eastern restaurant which served us reasonably promptly and the food was great. I limited myself to a single glass of wine, knowing that the lineup of elderly men can be quite long at the Interval (here called the 'pause').
This was the concert hall, actually a group of halls and offices related to the arts.
The next day (Friday) was ours, no schedule, nobody to meet, we could wander to our hearts' content. We started off by visiting the local cathedral, which I photographed in some detail. For now, I will just report on one little detail Janice saw and I overlooked completely (something that is quite common in our family). Jan Ruusbroeck (1293-1381) was one of the local saintly heroes. Among his achievements was that of keeping female heretics in their place. This was illustrated by the sculptor Jules Jourdain in 1917 most dramatically by having the saint place his foot upon the head of the guilty heretic, a woman who, as the more modern explanation reveals, was simply ahead of her time in speaking out for women's rights and their rightful place in the church. Church leaders so often mean to do what is right, but are dead wrong. This can still be the case today, of course, though burning those with whom you disagree is no longer practiced.
Belgium has long been known for its wonderful lace, though most is now produced by machines controlled by computers.
Janice caught me taking photos of a mural on the side of a building. I am wondering if it might work for some Abendmusik posters this coming season.
Janice also took this photo at the museum of a pig covered in carpet, something every household should have.
She also saw an exhibit of embroidery, and more...
While Janice was at the museum looking at Bruegel paintings and other Old Masters, etc., I pounded the pavement, taking photos in the city, or purchasing various bandes déssinées (like comic books, but top quality drawings and good stories, some historic). Brussels is known for these books.
Janice was amused by the Dutch/Flemish title of this sewing magazine.
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