Brussels Part II: We Found Heaven (and then missed a train)

Hello Everyone,

My name is Mr. T. I recently took part in a 5 week expedition across Europe with 4 really good guys. As we set out across this great continent, we did many a thing; some were spectacular, some... not so much. Even if I hadn't made it to heaven on this trip, it still would have been one helluva good time.

Which brings me to my story... but first, a few more pics of Belgium with the whole Crewe:

This is the place we ate at the first evening, which happened to be, coincidentally, right next to the pissing boy statue.

A vertical panorama that Alex happened to have his face in.

Okay, so I only had two pictures. Now onto the story...

To put it simply, I wanted to go to Brussels for the beer. Sadly, only 2 out of 5 of us were able to appreciate what were truly the best beers I have ever tasted (I think Elon will agree for himself).

It was the morning before we departed for Paris, our train left at 3pm. I decided that morning that I had to fulfill my primary mission --to whet my appetite for Belgian beer-- and whomever wanted to join me could lay down their swords and kiss the ground at my feet. Apparently this did not work. Elon was the lone man brave enough to yield and join my ranks. Here he is, eating a cheeseburger at a Quick Burger:

Quick Burger, the French-Belgian equivalent to McDonald's, is McDonald's-gone-wrong. I would have never believed it, not in a million years, that it could get much worse. But then again, that was before I tried Quick Burger.

The beer we quested for were the infamous Trappist ales. This Monk-brewed beer is known for its heavy body, lacy head, and sweet, complex tastes. Oh yeah, and its high alcohol content.

And so, the two of us set off on a journey from the rest of the group...


We wandered around for a while, looking first for a place to eat. We found a little stand that had true Belgian Waffles and we each ordered one. Mine had melted chocolate sauce on top and I think Elon indulged with a whipped-cream/chocolate sauce duo (sadly I did not think of taking a picture). They were pretty good but we wanted beer. So the search continued.



This was a really cool mall-like thing that we were directed to by a friendly lady which we passed by. She actually had suggested that we first buy some ice cream from a specific shop and then walk through this mall. We skipped the ice cream for obvious reasons -ice cream is the antithesis of beer.

The mall was filled with gourmet chocolate shops and clothing stores. After stopping by a few of the chocolate places, we carried on looking for a good local-looking bar to get a drink at.

Eventually, we found ourselves walking through a somewhat crowded alley-way in a seemingly random location. Just as we passed by another street, Elon stopped me by the shoulder and pointed down the road. Up yonder in the distance was the bar we had only heard rumors about, the Delerium Cafe! Elon had found it!!!! Good work Elon, I knew you would be a valuable asset to my troupe! (just kidding... our troupe).

So instead of finding a local pub, Elon had found the one-and-only Delerium Cafe which, according to the Guiness Book of World Records, holds the largest amount of beer on hand out of any other bar in the entire world. That would be just over two-thousand five-hundred different beers (although they only guarantee they'll have 2200 of them at any given time). Hell yes. We could see the light alright, and we made a beeline right for it.

The "bar" part of the bar, which was in the basement and was the only section of the Delerium Cafe that was open while we were there. There is also a nightclub here and a cafe which were upstairs and were both closed.

The place was practically empty save a for a few kids our age hanging out at one of the tables. Oh yeah, and the transvestite Elon sat next to at the bar (again no pics... sorry, I know how much you want to see this one but really, you don't.)

Our bar tender.

Take a look at that menu for a good second. Wow.

The beers were organized amazingly. Each had a description written about it in much the same style that a wine would be reviewed. This place is awesome.

Scopin' the place out, I guess.

Great beer... one of the bar tender's favorites.

After we had each tried a couple of beers, I suggested we keep our eye on the time as our 3:00 train departure was quickly approaching. Elon easily persuaded me that we should stay and have one more.


After we each had another beer, I suggested we keep our eye on the time as our 3:00 train departure was quickly approaching. Elon persuaded me that we should stay and have one more.

I think this is my favorite beer, ever.

After we each had another beer, I suggested we keep our eye on the time as our 3:00 train departure was quickly approaching. Elon tactfully persuaded me that we should stay and have one more.


Okay, now it is 2:00pm. Elon, you sly devil, you can't trick me anymore. We need to try and make this train. But the Elon is a devious and cunning creature and could see right through our present situation: 1.) We were in the (arguable) beer capitol of the world, at the (unarguable) bar with the largest selection of beers in the world. 2.) We had 1 hour to make it back to our hostel, which we had no idea how to get to, grab our bags and make it to the train station, which we also didn't know how to get to. and 3.) Belgian beers, as said previously, are known for their higher than average alcohol content.

Taking all of these into consideration left me with the only choice. So Elon and I stayed and had one more beer.

We both had to have the classic St. Bernardus Abt 12 - right from the mother's teat, so to speak. Nothin' beats drinking an import (for us Americans) in the country its brewed in. This was no exception.

And so, to cut the rest of this story short (and because I only have one picture left), we somehow made it back to the hostel to retrieve our bags and began our stumble towards the train station around 2:40, with a slight hope that we still might catch our 3:00 train.

We eventually made it to the train station. At 3:15. Oops. So, we sucked it up and found the ticket salesman to purchase a new ticket. Luckily, trains between Brussels and Paris are very popular so they run just about every hour. We bought a ticket for the next train which set us back around 17 euro.

Why the looong face, Elon? You've got the golden ticket!

And so, here ends the tale of two men who searched for beer in Brussels and found more than they could have ever dreamed of. Needless to say, the train ride from Belgium to Paris was a blur... because the train was moving so fast of course!

Paris

Our excellent hotel on Ile de la Cite. Cheap, even by Paris standards, and complete with private rooms and showers. Thanks again, Mrs. Jones.

A little park directly across from out hotel. At least 10 restaurants surround the park, so it's always filled with people talking, drinking and playing Bocce ball.

Trying to figure out the massive metro map.

Metro Bunny!!
Taken from Pont Neuf, or old bridge in English. The bridge spans the Seine, connecting Ile de la Cite to both banks.

The Seine at night.

Dutch pancakes were excellent, but they hardly hold a candle to the majestic crepe. You can find a creperie on every street, each serving up a variety of crepes filled with ham, cheese, or, my personal favorite, Nutella.

Tony was in no hurry to cross the street.

The Louvre. Like many European museums the building was once a palace. You enter the museum through the glass pyramid and take an escalator ride into the heart of the museum.

I'm pretty sure this is a young Hercules beating up another animal, but I can't say I blame him. For four years I contemplated doing the same to every Canada Goose on UNF campus.

Mona Susie, or something like that.

Notice the woman standing in front of the mural. The sheer scale of the work is amazing, but the detail remains as precise and intricate as many of the smaller paintings. I also like it because it's like 'Where's Waldo?' but instead of Waldo, you have to find Jesus.

In many of the big museums, art students would set up canvas next to a work and try to recreate it. While their efforts far exceed my poorly-scrawled stick figures, one can't help but look from the original to the replica with a little disappointment.

Chantal, playing hostess at her apartment in the city. She basically held our collective hands during our three days in Paris, and I'm still thankful for it. Not only does she know the city and the people who inhabit it, she speaks French fluently.

The gang, looking good before dinner.

Spencer talked about this restaurant with increased regularity and vigor as we drew closer to Paris. It was only after dinner that we could fully appreciate his love for l' Entrecote. I'll be back in Paris someday, if for no reason other than the gastronomical love affair that is l' Entrecote.

The restaurant takes no reservations, and after the initial seating customers are let in only after full and satisfied customers waddle out. When it's time to order, all one must do is say how they want their steak cooked, because Steak Frite is the only main course on the menu. The picture here is one serving. If you're able to fit it all in, there is a second serving of equal size on its way.

Out to see the Paris nightlife after dinner.

Arc de Triomphe. Construction of the Arc was started by Napoleon to honor those who fought and died for his French Empire. Beneath the arc is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier from WWI.

Napoleon's column, modeled after the columns of Marcus Aurelius and Trajan.

Sacre-Coeur, or Sacred Heart, located on the top of butte Montmarte, the highest point in Paris.

Tony decided to skip the cathedral and took a trip to Versailles.

Inside Sacre-Coeur. Signs posted at the entrance discouraged photography, but I couldn't help myself.

Eiffel Tower from Sacre-Coeur. Even if cathedrals don't enthrall you, the view of Paris from Sacre-Coeur is still worth the hike.

An entrance to Pere Lachaise, the largest cemetery in the city at more than 110 acres.
Even though the cemetery is huge, the individual plots are very, very close to one another. Over time, empty space has become scarce, and plots from the 18th century sit next to 21st century plots.

Oscar Wilde's tomb, covered in lipstick kisses and graffiti.

The Lizard King's grave. The plot was blocked off and there was a guard watching the visitors. Also, the grave was incredibly hard to find. We had to team up with another group of lost Americans before we found our nation's greatest gift to the French since we saved them from the Germans, twice.
There were more, but these were the three most-striking concentration camp memorials.

Chantal demonstrates proper water-gathering technique at a fountain outside Pere Lachaise.


Spencer forgoes the bottle for a more-direct approach.

Brussels, in less than 24 hours.

We splurged in Brussels and stayed in a budget hotel. The in-room sink and locking doors were much appreciated.
The Belgians love their beer. Beer is undoubtedly the alcoholic drink of choice amongst Belgians, and the wine menus we had grown accustomed to were replaced by beer menus of equal girth. The Belgian love of beer stems from the country's penchant for being conquered by beer brewing nations.

The Manneken Piss, or "little man piss" in English, is one of Brussels more-famous statues.
The people of Brussels have different costumes and outfits which they dress him up in on special occasions.







Like the beer, the architecture in Brussels is heavily influenced by the different nations that once controlled the area. While it is mostly Gothic, German, Dutch and French motifs and concepts can be found throughout the city.