Travelogue #24: Inner child.

Brussels was not an attractive city. 

Don’t get me wrong. The Grand Place and surrounding areas were historical, well preserved and filled with shops selling’s chocolate, lace, waffles, Tintin merchandise, and other things normal human beings don’t need.

The rest of Brussels however, had a certain barrenness to it. As much I as enjoy seeing Europe grapple awkwardly with modern architecture, in Brussels, there was a certain coldness in its urban layout. Wide streets, central parklands, well constructed buildings, but rather lacking in vibe. It wasn’t until we were munching on Middle Eastern food for dinner in Matongé that we could feel a slight buzz to the city, at the level where everyday life is lived. 

But it matters not, because all I’ll ever remember from the first time I visited Brussels are the leaves of late autumn. Piles and piles into which we jumped, kicked, rolled, tossed in the air, until the park cleaners came after us, yelling angrily in French. 

And then we giggled, and giggled, and giggled. 

Guardians of the City.

The Virgin and Child, taken from the Keizersberg Abbey situated at the highest point of Leuven.

Not-so-incidentally, this is the best place to watch sunset over the city.

With all this travelling intercities, I’ve hardly had time to tread the less trodden path in Leuven.

The photos below were taken on a quiet, sunny Sunday afternoon at the Groot Begijnhof in Leuven, one of the UNESCO World Heritage listed sights in the city belonging to the university. 

Come to think of it - what doesn’t belong to the university here? 

So cute - they were holding hands before Mummy and Daddy in front of them were holding hands. 

By the way, y'all LIED about Belgian weather, where is the rain?

FYI: For those who don’t know what a begijnhof is, and the history of Leuven's Groot Begijnhof. 

Travelogue #18: Across the divide.

It’s a general trend that most guide books on Belgium ignore the French part of the country altogether. And with good reason - Walloon cities are grittier and far more industrial than their storybook picturesque Flemish cousins. There are fewer museums, fewer landmarks, and more visible signs of stagnation across the language divide. But if there was one great thing about the French part of Belgium, it’s the terrain in the Ardennes - rolling hills, dense forests, meandering rivers, clusters of villages … 

On one sunny morning, I set off for the town of Dinant, on the banks of the Meuse river. As for the rest? I’ll let the pictures do the talking. 

Peep hole. 

Hey! Guess which country I’m in? 

The biscuits are a local specialty - couque de dinant. Basically, you should only eat it if you’re trying to get rid of one of your teeth. 

Yes, the saxophone was “invented” by someone. Yes, that “someone” was Belgian. And yes, he was born in Dinant, by the name of Adolphe Sax.

I judge every place I visit by the quality of its pastries. TRUFAX. 

Travelogue #17: Gent.

Everything back then felt spanking new. I had just moved into my new apartment in a new country, started a new semester at a new university, met new people, made new friends. And with such new friends, we headed out of town on a warm Saturday morning to Gent. 

In a way, Gent was a quintessential Belgian (or rather Flemish) city. It has nice market squares, river views, a Belfry, winding cobbled streets, and a young, vibrant, beer-drinking population.

Coming from Leuven and having just been to Bruges, Gent felt like the half way point between the two cities. Having a resident university in town meant that the city exuded the vibe of a student town, while tourist boats and rowers shared Gent’s busy waterways for a glimpse of the quaint views.

And like all Belgian cities, there was nothing spectacular or significant about Gent - just a gentle buzz beneath the surface and an atmosphere of a city intent on enjoying a good life. But on a warm, sunny autumn weekend, in the company of ace people, what more do you need? 

xx doots

Belfry, with the hideous construction crane in the background. 

One of the many squares in Gent. When we got there, the market was just packing up.

One thing I really miss about Australia: front lawns.

Gent castle. 

Decorations in the Vleeshuis, a medieval butcher’s house turned restaurant. 

What exactly is this country’s obsession with depictions of public urination? 

One of the two churches we went into - the first one being St Baafskathedraal where the famous Adoration of the Mystic Lamb (first known oil painting in existence) resides. This is the second, smaller church, which turned out to be much more photogenic. I can’t for the life of me remember what it was called. 

One of the university properties currently being used as public space. 

Friend’s rooftop apartment. 

View of Gent from the apartment, just outside the city centre.