Day 59, Thursday 16th October 2008
Today we met two lovely ladies who would be our travel companions for the next three weeks. The older lady with the Australian accent in the GPS unit Jenni brought from home was called Dolores (although later we discovered we could change her to the more confident-sounding American Samantha at the press of a button), but the other lady we met today never did acquire an official name, sadly. We’ll just unimaginatively call her Rennie, the Renault Laguna station wagon. By any other name, she would still be as reliable and comfortable.
We survived the taxi ride (often driving the wrong way down one-way streets to try and avoid traffic) out of Brussels, and Hamish then conquered the first roundabouts and tollways to drive the rest of us safely out of Belgium. Lille was a quick lunch stop, and our first on French soil, with a few stepped roofs in the town square to show we were still really in a Low Lands area. You’ll just have to imagine the stepped roofs, but I promise there was a big one out of frame on the right hand side of this photo:
We were really just using France as a shortcut to another part of Belgium – Ypres (Ieper in Dutch, or ‘Wipers’, as it was known to Australian soldiers during World War I). The area around Ypres saw three major Allied offensives, in 1914, 1915 and 1917, and became known as ‘The Salient’ (an area where trenches were advanced towards or past enemy lines).
The tourist information office beside the cathedral in the town centre had plenty of helpful maps and booklets about the surrounding battlefield, memorials and cemeteries. I was relieved to discover that we would probably be able to reach both Polygon Wood and Lijssenthoek military cemetery, where my Grandpa’s step-brother fought and was buried. But first, we paid a visit to the Menin Gate, which reduced me to tears. This was the city gate past which countless soldiers marched on their way out to the battlefields, and now it is a memorial to all the Commonwealth troops who died in the Salient and have no known graves. It is covered with 54,896 names.
‘To the armies of the British Empire who stood here from 1914 to 1918 and to those of their dead who have no known grave’
The names of tens of thousands more would not fit on the Menin Gate as originally planned, so they are engraved on other memorials around Ypres instead.
As it has been since 1928 (except for a forced hiatus during World War II when the town was under German occupation), the Last Post is played at the gate every evening.
One of the battles of Third Ypres, in late September 1917, happened at Polygon Wood. The memorial site is now about a fifteen minute drive from Ypres itself, along quiet, narrow roads between rolling green fields.
A lovely black donkey lives there, beside the small carpark. It started braying as soon as we walked across the road away from it, so I went back for a little chat and it calmed down. I was feeling happy that the donkey and I seemed to have such a connection, until Al pointed out that instead of being a horse-whisperer, I must be an ass-whisperer.
Before long, the donkey was calm, we were calm, and it was time to enter Polygon Wood.
The main memorial to the 5th Australian Division sits atop a mound known as the ‘Butte’, which was a key objective for the Allies during the battle. The woods now surround it again, but going by the photos on display, the landscape now would be all but unrecognisable to anyone who fought here.
About the same distance from Ypres but on the other side, so that it was out of the range of German artillery, is the Lijssenthoek Military Cemetery, which was used by casualty clearing stations and military hospitals during the war.
An impressive feature of Commonwealth War Graves Commission cemeteries is that although they are often unmanned, they all have a register, kept dry inside a stone receptacle with a metal door. The register lists each grave in the cemetery and its location, as well as details about each person buried here. And indeed, I found Grandpa’s step-brother, Fred McIntosh:
I left a message in the visitors book on behalf of the family:
And then followed the directions from Mum:
On the way to our home for the night, we also paid a visit to Fromelles, where Australian soldiers in unmarked graves have recently been found. A plaque to mark their resting place is planned.
VC Corner Cemetery and Memorial, Fromelles
‘Cobbers’
Filed under: Belgium
Day 58, Wednesday 15th October 2008 (Cath)
It was a grey day in Brugge. Everyone seemed to be rushing to get out of the cold and the intermittent drizzle, using every possible mode of transport. But it was not our style to rush for shelter. After the best sandwich I’d eaten in two months (herbed cheese, walnuts and roquette in a brown, heavily seeded and deliciously fresh roll), we rushed to jump on a boat and tour the canals before the drizzle could get serious. In one of the first houses we passed, though, this dog lying on a window seat stacked with comfy, dry cushions made us pretty jealous.
The progessively wetter canal tour was made bearable by a guide with a very dry, multilingual sense of humour (‘this is the new bridge – I don’t like it, but I am getting used to it – it was built in 1975′). The views of the lovely old Flemish buildings also made it worthwhile, luckily.
Choco-Story, a museum of chocolate, also sounded like it could be a quite bearable way of passing the time while it continued to rain outside. However, the one free piece of chocolate at the end, after a very rushed chocolate-moulding demonstration by a lady whose four languages blurred into one as she repeated each phrase in a monotone mumble, hardly justified the entrance fee. The most interesting things there were some frightening miniature chocolate versions of Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom and Bill Nighy as their Pirates of the Caribbean characters, and the section of the museum that tried to convince you that chocolate was completely healthy. I would have asked to see the studies behind the ‘evidence’ presented, but then I realised that this was not a claim I felt passionately about refuting.
So, I stopped thinking too hard, and was reassured to read that chocolate cannot make you ‘liverish’ (I had never heard of being liverish, but it doesn’t sound nice), and that chocolate only makes you fat if you are fat (in which case you should apparently slim down and then eat chocolate).
Chocolate Johnny Depp, not quite as good as the real thing
On leaving the museum, we were pelted with heavy rain drops, and ran to find seats in a warm, dry cafe. Unfortunately, the cafe we found was staffed by the rudest (but consequently funniest) waiter I have ever been ’served’ by. We were attracted in by the word ‘waffles’ on the window, and the placemats advertising the nearby Frites museum, as we all felt like just those sorts of warm snacks. A few minutes after we sat down, he approached.
Waiter: ‘So, tell me what you want’
Hamish: ‘Can we please see the menu?’
Waiter: ‘You don’t need a menu, tell me what you want to eat’
Jenni: ‘Fries, please?’
Waiter: ‘We don’t serve fries just like that. Do I look like a friterie?!’
Jenni: ‘Ok, do you have waffles?’
Waiter: ‘I’ll get the menu’
After he walked to the cafe next door and gave us some copies of their menu, he deigned to return after about ten minutes and took our orders. I haven’t felt the need to mention this before, but I am collecting labels from local beer bottles as I go, so I ordered a Belgian beer I hadn’t tried, and confirmed with the waiter that it was a bottled beer. When it arrived on the table, it was already poured (by the cafe next door) into an unlabelled glass, and the bottle was not brought to the table. I didn’t want to push the point, but asked ‘I think I ordered a bottle of beer?’
Waiter: ‘Yes, it came from a bottle. Usually we don’t need a bottle if we are drinking out of this invention called a glass’
Me: ‘Can I please have the bottle?’
Hamish: ‘She’s keeping the labels’
Waiter: ‘Ok, I’ll get you the bottle’.
The beer bottle never did arrive. Neither did a bill – we just had to trust that the total amount he said we owed was correct. While we counted out money, he made small talk with Al, perhaps because he finally realised he should probably try a bit harder for a tip. When he found out we were from Australia, he concluded ‘oh, I bet you’re going to Amsterdam now’ and didn’t believe us when we said ‘no’. It seemed like it had all fallen into place for him now. Not recognising the difference between a friterie and a place that just advertises frites, asking for menus, collecting beer labels – it all makes sense. They’re just crazy Aussies, probably on drugs.
It was a shame that the weather on our one day visit meant we could not do justice to what seems like a lovely city to wander around. One unexpected highlight of our time in Brugge, though, was seeing a Michelangelo sculpture (the only one to leave Italy during his life time).
Michelangelo’s Madonna and Child in the Church of Our Lady, Brugge
(there was also a tiny chocolate version of this in the Choco-Story museum, which would run a close second to the Pirates of the Caribbean series if there was a ‘Waste of Good Chocolate’ award)
Filed under: Belgium
Day 57, Tuesday 14th October 2008 (Cath)
The lady manning the information booth at the train station in Antwerp was delightfully helpful, pointing out points of interest on the map Jenni and I purchased from her.
‘This area here has very beautiful shops. But maybe this other area has better shops for you.’
We knew what she meant. We were also very glad she very kindly spoke English, as we were now definitely in Flemish territory. She also gave us another, free map of the city ‘for young people’. It highlighted the quirkier side of Antwerp, and had a list of tips for understanding the locals, including the fact that people refer to their friends not just by name, but as either ‘the Mark’ (for guys), or ‘our Marie’ (for girls).
For a taste of culture, we visited the house of Rubens, which displays many of his students’ paintings and those he collected, but unfortunately only a couple of those he painted. It was still interesting to wander the house he designed, inspired by Italian architecture at the time (early seventeenth century). The Hamish was lucky enough to see some Rubens works in the impressive Cathedral of Our Lady soon afterwards, but the rest of us were either too cheap or selective to give the Catholic church money to enter.
Rubenshuis courtyard
Fountain in the Grote Markt, in front of guildhouses from the 16th century. The figure on the top is holding what looks like a severed hand with water coming out of it. ‘We don’t know what it means and why it is throwing a hand either’, says the Antwerp Young People’s Map.
The Al, posing with a statue of ‘the water spirit Lange Wapper’. I am not sure why the water spirit wears a hoodie and looks like it wants to stomp on people. The Map was silent on this issue, unfortunately.
Our Jen and I discovered we have exactly the same boots (all the way from Santini at Chadstone)
This stone in the old city fortifications pleased me – a waffle (or waffle griddle) coat of arms?
This shop looked like one of the most exclusive in a city known for high fashion: all-white decor, completely black clothes, and the only customer a lady dressed entirely in black with a little black dog on a little black leash.
The shopping in Antwerp was, however, completely overshadowed by this contraption. I am posting this here on the proviso that you, dear reader, will not pinch the idea. We are going to bring it to Melbourne – it’s a pedal bar! A party on a paddle-o! A multi-cycle mobile beer hall! We need to work on the name a little, but we think it’s time for Melburnians to be able to sit on stools pedalling themselves through the streets while pouring and drinking beer and singing.
Filed under: Belgium
Days 54-56, Saturday 11th – Monday 13th October 2008 (Al – with Cath as ghostwriter)
It was Saturday morning when we said goodbye to Sarajevo, beginning an almost non-stop train trip across Europe. Cath couldn’t get Kraftwerk’s ‘Trans-Europe Express’ out of her head (thanks for that, Steve). 8 hours from Sarajevo to Zagreb, overnight (in our own 4 person sleeper) to Munich, then another 6 hours to Brussels via Cologne. It actually went quite smoothly, particularly the part spent at Munich station – see the previous post.
(Inside our couchette, overnight from Zagreb to Munich – a welcome taste of Germanic cleanliness and industrial design)
Arriving at our rather deluxe hotel (see exhibit A below) in Brussels to find the other Park party of two had arrived was exciting. We headed upstairs, where our neighbours had left their door ajar to hear our arrival. After months of talking and planning, we finally met up with my brother Hamish and cousin Jen, fresh off the Eurostar from London.
(Exhibit A)
After a quick chat, some much needed freshening up, and a lot of trying not to think about the price of the room, we met for a drink in the lounge and then headed out to dinner. We were a little intimidated, but looking forward to our first chance at speaking French (or should we really speak Dutch? We were still not sure).
The answer seemed to be French, and we bombed. Hamish’s lessons paid off, but the rest of us did a lot of smiling and nodding, with the occasional ‘merci’ thrown in. Luckily, the food they gave us was still delicious. The next morning we also found a great cafe nearby for breakfast, although the girls seemed to be as motivated to visit by the waiter who put milk on the cereal as they were by the other edible produce on offer. Suddenly their French improved – ‘Bonjour monsieur!’
(Sadly, no photo of homme de petit dejeuner available)
Cath was also excited to shop at Zara again, and found some dark jeans and a winter coat within minutes of entering the store. The rest of our time in Brussels was spent wandering the city, mainly between places serving Belgian fries with mayonnaise, Belgian beer, Belgian chocolate and Belgian waffles. When in Belgium…
Cousins outside a big building in Bruxelles
Sign inside metro train – no yummy foods allowed
Brussels Grand Place (we’re not sure why people are lying on the ground, either)
Shopping for doilies and candelabras at Les Galeries Saint Hubert
Frites avec mayonnez!
Brothers reunited (and possibly damaging a piece of comfortable public art)
Mannekin Pis – even smaller than the Lonely Planet’s description of it as ‘disappointingly small’ led us to expect. And dressed in a jockey’s uniform.
Contemplating the pillaging and plundering of the Congo that financed this beautiful building and park
Finally, a photo of us taken from more than arm’s length (thanks Hamish)!
We also visited the European Commission and EU headquarters while in town. Although we are not qualified to comment on its function, they must be doing something right economically. Apart from the language, the biggest lesson we will need to learn very quickly is how to cope with every price being multiplied by two to get the Australian dollar equivalent, not divided as it has been for most of our trip so far.
