Leipzig/Antwerp/Brussels
Journal excerpts from my mid-semester break - a wee trip through Europe firstly to visit a Bristol pal also in exchange in Leipzig, a Mexico pal in Antwerp, and finally meet up with a Lyon pal in Brussels.
Leipzig
Leipzig feels quiet, and very East German, but modern and laidback at the same time. It is aware of itself but not in the flagrant way that Berlin is. There is an underground scene still alive and its inhabitants are dressed in polished and understated vetements. I wouldn't call it a beautiful city by any means. It is very spread out and interspersed with large green spaces and long roads of trams and cyclists. It is a modest place even though the 'Monday Demonstrations' (which eventually led to the disintegration of the DDR) originally began here. And despite all this - its slight mocheness and quietness - I feel more comfortable here than I do in Lyon. There are no architectural facades here, it is underwhelming, but you don't always need to be impressed by places.
On the Sunday, Elsa and I go on a "hike" (it is more of a long walk) with an English-speaking "hiking" group. It is through a large green space along a river. It starts to hail so we shelter under a bridge and Elsa and I eat our hummus sandwiches. At first the other "hikers" are vaguely annoying but soon become very annoying as the "hike" continues. It is a strange group of people and my plans to work in a hostel over the summer dissolve before my very eyes as I realise this type of person is very much akin to a hostel-goer (perhaps I was being too judgemental/hypocritical when I wrote this, being a hostel-goer myself). We persevere but share knowing looks as we are interrogated by a small, rude man who's trousers drag along the ground, and endure a group photo which takes an excruciatingly long time to organise. The small man hands out chocolates at the end of the "hike". Elsa refuses, not wanting to accept a gift from the e
nemy. I accept, realising that there will be less for him if I take one.
Antwerp
We arrive at the same time, by accident. It is raining. We walk down the main high street, past a statue of Van Dyck, to the nicer part of town - Thibault explains - where we recaffeinate in the graffitied first floor of a cafe. The streets are cobbled and the rooves Dutch-style (idk what name is). It is like Amsterdam but the canals and tourists have been replaced by trams which almost don't fit throught the streets and many edgily-dressed Belgians (I also learn that Antwerp is somewhat the fashion capital of Belgium). Even though it is torrentially raining it is peaceful, and Thibault takes me to various bars whose walls are lined with vintage signs and which boast an array of Belgian brews. We end up in a bar where we are the only ones on the dancefloor. We take tequila shots for old time's sake. Thibault mysteriously finds his sweater which he lost the night before. We get a taxi back to his house, which is a mixture of home/nursery and littered with children's wellies and miniature versions of everything. The next morning I introduce him to Radio 4 after the cleaning lady suggests that we listen to something in English instead of Dutch. He suggests the combo of smoked salmon and Roquefort on toast which I initially snoot at, but eat my hat upon trying. We get the train back to the city centre and spend a while (read: too long) in a secondhand clothing shop. It is rainy and windy again. We go to an exhibition about Japanese pop culture in the Museum am Stroom which features a communicative robot which I inadvertently give my data to. Whoops. The museum has a rooftop and we survey the city from above, reminding me of when we stood atop the Anahuacalli and did the very same thing in CDMX. Thibault walks me back to the station and we part ways. He has been invited to a quiz but can't decide whether to go. On the way to the station, he takes me through his uni; a large courtyard and old redbrick buildings. They are contructing what resembles a circus tent in the middle with mirrored doors where events (such as silent discos) will be hosted in the summer. I like Antwerp and resolve that I will return one day.
Brussels
Sometimes the red-brick buildings remind me of London, but I see many different styles drawn together in this architecturally-eclectic city. The centre is gilded, neoclassical (like Lyon's Presqu-ile) whilst underground the burnt yellow metro interior feels like a blend of Athens and CDMX's subways. The signs are French, Dutch and English. I catch Spanish conversations passing me in the street. The touristique centre is a honeypot of chocolatiers and sugared waffles, along with cones of fries on every street corner. We weave in and out of the streets, seek solace in the cathedral, sample Belgian's "finest" cocoaed goods, and get lost in the Magritte Museum. The room we rent provides an impressive view from the 10th floor - it overlooks red rooves, balconies, further out to church spires, the business hub of skyscrapers, and more tower blocks. I don't notice any marked differences between Belgian French and French French apart from a slight interference of English in certain cases (building instead of batiment). Dutch continues to sound like a strange blend of English and German which I cannot decipher.
Leipzig
Leipzig feels quiet, and very East German, but modern and laidback at the same time. It is aware of itself but not in the flagrant way that Berlin is. There is an underground scene still alive and its inhabitants are dressed in polished and understated vetements. I wouldn't call it a beautiful city by any means. It is very spread out and interspersed with large green spaces and long roads of trams and cyclists. It is a modest place even though the 'Monday Demonstrations' (which eventually led to the disintegration of the DDR) originally began here. And despite all this - its slight mocheness and quietness - I feel more comfortable here than I do in Lyon. There are no architectural facades here, it is underwhelming, but you don't always need to be impressed by places.
On the Sunday, Elsa and I go on a "hike" (it is more of a long walk) with an English-speaking "hiking" group. It is through a large green space along a river. It starts to hail so we shelter under a bridge and Elsa and I eat our hummus sandwiches. At first the other "hikers" are vaguely annoying but soon become very annoying as the "hike" continues. It is a strange group of people and my plans to work in a hostel over the summer dissolve before my very eyes as I realise this type of person is very much akin to a hostel-goer (perhaps I was being too judgemental/hypocritical when I wrote this, being a hostel-goer myself). We persevere but share knowing looks as we are interrogated by a small, rude man who's trousers drag along the ground, and endure a group photo which takes an excruciatingly long time to organise. The small man hands out chocolates at the end of the "hike". Elsa refuses, not wanting to accept a gift from the e
nemy. I accept, realising that there will be less for him if I take one.
Antwerp
We arrive at the same time, by accident. It is raining. We walk down the main high street, past a statue of Van Dyck, to the nicer part of town - Thibault explains - where we recaffeinate in the graffitied first floor of a cafe. The streets are cobbled and the rooves Dutch-style (idk what name is). It is like Amsterdam but the canals and tourists have been replaced by trams which almost don't fit throught the streets and many edgily-dressed Belgians (I also learn that Antwerp is somewhat the fashion capital of Belgium). Even though it is torrentially raining it is peaceful, and Thibault takes me to various bars whose walls are lined with vintage signs and which boast an array of Belgian brews. We end up in a bar where we are the only ones on the dancefloor. We take tequila shots for old time's sake. Thibault mysteriously finds his sweater which he lost the night before. We get a taxi back to his house, which is a mixture of home/nursery and littered with children's wellies and miniature versions of everything. The next morning I introduce him to Radio 4 after the cleaning lady suggests that we listen to something in English instead of Dutch. He suggests the combo of smoked salmon and Roquefort on toast which I initially snoot at, but eat my hat upon trying. We get the train back to the city centre and spend a while (read: too long) in a secondhand clothing shop. It is rainy and windy again. We go to an exhibition about Japanese pop culture in the Museum am Stroom which features a communicative robot which I inadvertently give my data to. Whoops. The museum has a rooftop and we survey the city from above, reminding me of when we stood atop the Anahuacalli and did the very same thing in CDMX. Thibault walks me back to the station and we part ways. He has been invited to a quiz but can't decide whether to go. On the way to the station, he takes me through his uni; a large courtyard and old redbrick buildings. They are contructing what resembles a circus tent in the middle with mirrored doors where events (such as silent discos) will be hosted in the summer. I like Antwerp and resolve that I will return one day.
Brussels
Sometimes the red-brick buildings remind me of London, but I see many different styles drawn together in this architecturally-eclectic city. The centre is gilded, neoclassical (like Lyon's Presqu-ile) whilst underground the burnt yellow metro interior feels like a blend of Athens and CDMX's subways. The signs are French, Dutch and English. I catch Spanish conversations passing me in the street. The touristique centre is a honeypot of chocolatiers and sugared waffles, along with cones of fries on every street corner. We weave in and out of the streets, seek solace in the cathedral, sample Belgian's "finest" cocoaed goods, and get lost in the Magritte Museum. The room we rent provides an impressive view from the 10th floor - it overlooks red rooves, balconies, further out to church spires, the business hub of skyscrapers, and more tower blocks. I don't notice any marked differences between Belgian French and French French apart from a slight interference of English in certain cases (building instead of batiment). Dutch continues to sound like a strange blend of English and German which I cannot decipher.
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