We met in Madrid. I'd fantasized about that moment hundreds of times over. It was nothing like that. We fumbled on our phones, waited for delayed flights, and finally, I managed to guide Joel over to the metro station where I was waiting. We hugged and kissed and marveled at the fact that the other was real, warm, truly more than the image on the computer screen we'd been for the last 5.5 months, before heading to our next flight's terminal. Then I thought I'd lost my passport, and with 30 minutes until our flight left, following desperate phone calls to our program coordinator, the consulate, whose office was closed, and my roommate to see if I'd left it at home, Joel pulled it out of his pocket. So we made it to Amsterdam and were not stuck in the country for the break, and after that point, it was magical. It was wonderful to find out that he and I are so compatible as travel buddies.
After my first night in Amsterdam during my layover on the way to Istanbul, a prominent reaction was: my mom has been to this place, that's weird, what kind of business does a respectable, substance-free woman like my mother have in Amsterdam? Luckily, this time around, as we ventured further than the smoky center with its infamous red light district, I had the chance to find out what kind of business that might be. The canal city is beautiful and charming, and the citizens are ridiculously happy and friendly. To quote the Heineken Brewery's video describing the founder himself: "intelligent, handsome, and extreeeeemely likeable!" The brewery, with its whimsical "become the beer" experience, explanation of proper beer tasting, colorful, interactive exhibits, and of course, two beers at the end, was an excellent way to start off our first full day. Another museum highlight was the Tropenmuseum, which is a sort of cultural anthropology museum that focuses on the evolution of the world through imperialism and colonialism, as well as native cultures and societies. But I'll be honest: the highlight was cuddling. There's nothing like physical contact after going so long without. Oh, and eating a pickled herring sandwich with onions! I have a remarkable knack for finding the weirdest, most fermented/salted/uncooked/obscurely combined local delicacy and thinking it sounds incredible, and then finding it incredible. Yeah, haggis. I'm coming for you.
Next up was Brussels. For one night, we stayed in a fancy hotel, which was silly. It turns out fancy hotels are places where you pay lots of money so that you have the opportunity to pay lots of money for random services you don't need, like dry cleaning your bowler hat or feeding minced filet mignon to your pet fennec fox, or for normal services like laundry that you could get at a quarter of a price anywhere that isn't a fancy hotel. Plus, the interior of the building was awkwardly fancy. I much preferred the cozy hostel of the next four nights. We got off the metro stop to get to the hostel and were dumped right in the middle of a huge Christmas market, in between an ice skating rink and a giant ferris wheel. Tangent (but not really): Europe knows how to do Christmas. It was the first time I didn't anxiously await the end of Christmas because of the insufferable music, but instead was sad when the markets closed down and the lights turned off. They don't seem to bother with outside house decoration, but every city strings banners of colorful lights above the main streets, creating hallways of cheeriness. They range from standard Christmas-y designs to psychedelic to funky lit up wire-framed shapes. The markets in big cities go on for block after block lined with tents selling all kinds of delicious food, mulled wine, crafts, and candy. It's neat to see more secularized nations embrace the holiday in such a fun way, bringing light, warmth, and joy to the otherwise gloomy northern winter. (Kind-of-tangent out.)
So I always strolled extra slowly through the market while Joel pulled forward, taking the time to admire the same tasty looking food for the fourth, fifth, sixth time, wondering if this time should be the one in which I gave in to the smells and sights, or whether to resist just a bit longer, after all, I already had a "Big White Sausage" and fries for lunch...right, food. I don't know how they make their mayonnaise, but it's delicious and substitutes ketchup on fries. With the power of the internet, maybe I can figure out the secret. Other things we ate: chocolate, obviously, it's Belgium. Cuberdons, cone-shaped fruit gummy candies with a brittle shell and goopy inside. Mussels, which were kind of disappointing since I didn't splurge the extra euro for cream sauce. Steak a l'americaine--remember the whole "gross sounding delicacies" thing? That's a patty of raw beef, into which you mix mayonnaise, capers, onions, raw egg yolks, and assorted sauces for seasoning. It's also referred to as toxoplasma-salmonella delight in some circles, but I figured: it's a thing here, this is a first world iI and the woman next to me is also eating it. It was delicious, and I'm not dead yet. I liked it even better than Joel's stoemp (elaborately spiced mashed potatoes) and carbonnade (steak in burnt sweet sauce). And, of course, beer. All Belgian beer is delicious but the country is uniquely known for two styles: lambics and trappist ales. Diverging from the standard careful, sterile process of fermentation, lambics are fermented by exposure to the wild yeast and bacteria of the Senne valley, in which Brussels lies. The beer then develops a sour and dry flavor. My favorite type of lambic is kriek, which is refermented with sour cherries. Trappist ales are some of the strongest beers aside from novelty creations, frequently 8-10% ABV, but you wouldn't guess from the taste, which I can't describe more accurately than as the epitome of the taste of beer you drink because it tastes good, and the polar opposite of Natty Ice. They're rich, nutty, and sweet.
I guess we also went to some museums when we had extra time in between eating, drinking, and strolling through the Christmas market. The best was definitely the musical instruments museum. They give you a pair of headphones and you plug them into headphone jacks next to each instrument and you end up hearing music of all styles, from all cultures, and from all periods. Another excellent one was the Magritte museum, which displays many of the brilliant surrealist painter's best works. The city's love of comic strip cartoons can be found everywhere, from huge murals, to sculptures, to the Museum of the Comic Strip. The Tintin exhibit took me back in time.
...That's more than I expected to type, and definitely longer than my bulleted list of everything we did in all five cities, but such is the bloggy process. I will leave Bruges, Paris, and London to my next wave of procrastination.
In irrelevant news, 6,8 on my philosophy midterm, that's a B on my UC transcript. Not dancing in the streets about it, but totally acceptable. (1-10 scale, below 5 is a Spanish fail, below 4 is a UC-adjusted fail.)
No comments:
Post a Comment