1. Our guests from England were meant to arrive at something like 10:45 am
2. Ryan Air are a bunch of idiots.
3. No matter how big a strop Suze managed to throw, Ryan Air insisted on carrying out their Campaign of Stupidity.
4. Our guests actually arrived at about 6:30 pm. On a totally different airline.
But they did finally arrive (with a housewarming gift of a twinset of Veuve Cliquot no less!) and we decided to get right to work. So an Aussie and a Northern Irishman who both reside in England and two Americans who live in Belgium walk into a bar... Not just any bar though. Delirium. Jason and I visited this place when we visited Brussels in January 2008. They have over 2,000 beers here. It matters not to me. I will order the Delirium Tremens every damn time.
Then it was on to a moules et frites extravaganza for dinner. But the highlight of the dinner hour for me was afterwards as we were leaving. We saw this bunneh in a cage at a neighboring restaurant. I was scandalized. "How can they put the preshus bunneh out there for people to order up?!?" But fear not. The sign below him says: "Je m'appelle Lola. Je ne suis pas a manger." Basically: "My name is Lola. I am not to eat."
Ok, we've done bier. We've done moules. We've done frites. What's left? Chocolate. Suze is clearly very excited about scooping up some treats for herself.
Sometime around 1:30-ish we called it a night. We had a big day planned for Saturday. A day trip to Ghent. Where we wasted no time recommencing the festivities. (Of course that's a Delirium Tremens. What else?)
www.cutecouple.org (Suze's camera got accidentally switched to b&w...)
After booze and a massive bowl of frites, we hit up the much-raved-about mustard shop for a souvenir.
They scoop it out of a big barrel and fill your little pot right in front of you. This is no ordinary mustard...
Poor Jason. He made the best of the situation though and managed to get a couple of swipes out of the bag with his finger. (And if you want to know what an awesome guy Phil is, this about sums it up. Later in the day, Jason popped into a shop for a bottle of water and Phil took this opportunity to sneak away and buy us a new pot of mustard.)
However, mere moments later, tragedy struck. We were standing there taking some photos when we heard the awful sound of pottery smashing onto cobblestone. Jason had lost his grip on the bag and, let me tell you, it was a massacre.
After lunch, we had booked ourselves on a boat tour for 4:30 and by this time, we had about 20 minutes to spare. We were told to be there a few minutes early because the boat departs "right on time". And as luck would have it, the departure point was right outside the little genever bar (flavored gin) that Jason and I had visited last time we were here. Perfect. We had just enough time for a quick tipple. So Jason and Phil discuss their selections with Pol, the ever present owner.
He fills the little glass right up to the rim and you have to take a sip like this before you can pick it up and carry it to your table.
We took three stabs at getting a decent shot here and even though we did get one where we both looked normal, I'm using the first one - in which, for some odd reason, Suze and I both overarched our eyebrows and stuck out our pinkies.
So, we all finished our drinks in just enough time to get out to the boat five minutes early. And then we stood there and watched it pull away. Five minutes early. (Not to mention the boat was jam packed and even if it had still been docked, there would have been no room for us.) We immediately let the boat ticket lady know that we were displeased and she offered to put us on the next boat at 5:00. We agreed.
Hmmm, what could we do for another 25 minutes? Can you think of anything? Anything at all? Wait, I know!
(Not one, but two more rounds of genever. Yikes. And there is a pretty hilarious video of the three of them trying to get me to knock back my last one because we needed to rush out to make the boat and me just shaking my head and saying "I can't. I really can't y'all. Seriously. I can't. I'll gag. Seriously y'all. Seriously.")
Finally, we make it onto the boat. We felt we got a bit short changed though because our guide would go on forever in Flemish and all the other people would laugh and laugh... Then when he did it in English, it was all "On the right, there is very old church."
Some canal-side scenes...
I figured if we weren't getting the comedy routine from the guide, I would step in with a little joke for the English speaking population on the boat. So I handed them the guide book and pointed to the street at the bottom center and said "How would you guys pronounce this?"
Worked like a charm.
I really don't know why us southern-Americans get picked on so much. Why, tractor pulls are apparently the height of chic in Europe!
I also don't know why more places don't dangle hams from the rafters...
Our final stop in Ghent was at the place that serves up the giant Kwaks but makes you give them a shoe to put in a basket (which they then pully up to the ceiling) so you won't steal the Kwak apparatus. (Again, you may remember this from our previous trip.) Phil decides he must conquer the giant Kwak. So there goes his shoe...
Jason tries to be good and only has a small beer. Which we soon realize is something like 12% ABV. Which is like drinking an entire case of Miller Light.
And he's drunk. (I kid. But that makes the series of photos more hilarious, no? So just play along.)
The next morning, we go for breakfast in the Grand Place. You really have to love a country that gives out chocolate with your coffee. Standard practice.
I can only imagine what this conversation was. "Ew. What's that on my hand?" "Forget your hand. You've got pain au chocolate in your teeth."
We decide to make our way up to the Notre Dame du Sablon and Petite Place du Sablon. (Sablon!) But get sidetracked by the parade that happened to pass right in front of us. Apparently it was some sort of military appreciation day... I asked Suze how much she would pay me to start pumping my arm and yelling "USA! USA!" when the American jeeps went by...to which she replied "Team America, f**k yeah!" (As a side note, I can't be friends with anyone who hasn't seen that movie.)
A lovely alleyway en route to Sablon. (Sablon!)
RAWR! (Seriously, what the hell is this thing? We saw him at an antique market and, best I can tell, it looks half cat, half racoon. A catcoon, if you will.)
Jason and I captured in a moment of intense internal reflection. Or maybe we were trying to work out whether the two men depicted in the statue appeared to be gaying it up. (Yes, I'd say it was probably the last one.)
A quick stop at a faaaaannnnceeeeee patisserie for some ice cream. Nom nom nom.
Jason and The Boss
The Banksy-ish graffiti of Springsteen seemed a bit random until we rounded the corner and saw that this was a record shop.
And after a quick stop at Menneken Pis (Where I came so so close to getting a shot in which little Pis was, well...pissing on Phil's head. Alas, he must have sensed evil because he moved at the last second. Damn Phil!) it was time to say goodbye.
I'm happy to report that Suze and Phil made it home without incident.
Oh yes, and a big thank you to Suze for giving me some of her pics, which I used shamelessly in this post. Hers are the ones that are skinnier if a vertical shot or shorter if a horizontal. (Sablon!)