Social Drinks

I am back in The Netherlands! I just loved it that much that I had to come back.

Really, it was for the King’s Day celebration. And it happened to be on my way.

After lounging with Cesar the hostel dog in Brussels, I spent a couple days in Gent, another medieval city with annoying cobblestone streets and beautiful old buildings. Unlike Bruges, however, this town had great energy. I do wish I’d had more time to explore everything it had to offer. However, as I only have 90 days in the EU and my friend expected me in Antwerp, I had to go.

Hard to tear yourself away when this is the view from bed

Between Gent and Antwerp I’m fairly certain I cycled over 100 kilometers. My route, though somewhat indirect, was only supposed to be 80. But, as I’m not using any navigational devices beyond route markers, it’s somewhat easy for me to become turned around. Thus, I followed the trail half an hour the wrong way out of the city. Thankfully I realized I was not supposed to be following the river, otherwise I might have ended up back in Bruges.

What’s more, the signposts that guide cyclists around the country are somewhat poorly placed and easy to miss. Especially towards the end of the ride, as my stomach rumbled and I ran low on water, I cruised right past most of my markers, having to double back a few kilometers every few minutes. But, somehow, I made it!

Had a great opportunity for a photo shoot, though

Even though they're weeds, I think dandelions are pretty

I also made some friends along the way

In Antwerp I got to reunite with more friends from Indonesia. Yet again, it was nice to spend time with familiar faces and to have a local bring out the greatest parts of the town’s social life.

There was even a becak to help the nostalgia. Photo obtained from Maaike's Instagram

A short two days later I set off again, this time for Maastricht, back in Holland. I took the train this time to make sure I was properly energized to celebrate Dutch royalty. This plan ended up working even better than I’d expected thanks to an Amsterdammer named Max. He is in the process of walking from his aforementioned hometown all the way to Santiago de Compostela, Spain (just under 3000 kilometers).

We bonded over being solitary travelers and took on the Maastricht King’s Day festival together. After breakfast, we ended up consuming nothing but beer (and one basket of fries) for the rest of the day. Three squares in the city had become giant outdoor clubs, and everybody danced.

This guy was everywhere

Thanks to Max’s Dutch nativity, he heard from one of the hostel employees about a local party during the night that would be far better than the public venues. After a recharging nap we found the venue: a squatters’ warehouse, filled with hippy vans and dreadlocks. Having no idea what would actually happen, we were delighted by a circus performance by the residents, followed by hundreds of people dancing to Balkan gypsy music and Spanish ska. I had wanted to do something a bit out of the ordinary for awhile, and this festival provided exactly what I needed.

All in all, yet another brilliant week on the road.

Social Food

What I tend to seek out most throughout my travels, after accommodation, is food. Despite the higher cost, I’ve decided to forego cooking for myself in order to experience what these different places have to offer. That’s what scrounging at home is for, anyway.

After Bruges, I was skeptical that Gent, another small historical city, would have much to offer in terms of local flavor. On the contrary, it ended up being a delightful surprise. It’s a major university city, with about 60,000 students living there. As a result, it has some brilliant alternative ideas. One such spot in the city’s thriving culinary scene really stood out to me.

Just off the tourist track, Parnassus is a non-profit eatery. Called a “social restaurant” it exists in order to provide broke students and professors (and travelers), the opportunity to eat a healthy, filling meal for a relatively low price. Also, it’s in an old church, which makes its concept even more fitting

More importantly, they reserve their staff spots for impoverished residents, immigrants and refugees. Instead of just charitable giving, it’s an establishment that dedicates itself to providing an opportunity to move forward in life to populations that find these chances hard to come by.

What’s more, the setup encourages diners to interact with each other, really fulfilling the concept of “social” restaurant. I’ve always loved places with such an atmosphere, since there’s hardly anything better than meeting new and interesting people. Food can only enhance the experience.

This isn’t something that I intend to preach as “everybody should do this.” Rather, it’s an interesting take on serving and improving the community. Though I do think it provides something to think about as a different approach to all sorts of businesses (note: I have no business experience, so I can only go so far as calling it interesting). 

With little time to browse the internet, I haven’t been able to explore if anybody does this at home already. So if anybody wants to share any knowledge of something similar, please do!

Two More Cities

This past week ended up being a strange one for me. Frustrating even, but for strange reasons.  Mainly, I spent too long in Bruges.

Some aspects of this are easy to identify: very uncomfortable beds (and I’m hardly picky) to the soundtrack of debaucherous drunkards setting off the fire alarm or having sex in a room full of twenty people. I’m not sure if that or the Irish guy puking below me in Buenos Aires was a more awkward experience. As a result, a lack of sleep certainly played into my impressions.

Fatigue naturally evolved into frustration. Every time I ventured into the town, having to literally elbow through dense throngs of umbrella tours to get anywhere. I try not to judge other travel styles, but these felt pretty out of hand, especially with people stopping in the most inconvenient spots. Most of these folks, of many nationalities, fulfilled that tourist stereotype that is very easy to poke fun at (read: they were rude).

As a result, most parts of the town catered to this crowd: overpriced, mediocre meals and tacky souvenirs during the day. Everything appeared to wrap up by 7pm. Though, like the romance of a dorm room, to each his own, I suppose.

Like lines

But once those major crowds dispersed Bruges’ charm came out. It really is a beautiful city with some neat little gems to discover. My favorite happened to be De Garre, tucked into the city’s narrowest alley, serving tasty gouda cubes with every glass of its aptly named “Garre” beer. Particularly exciting about this was that one can only drink it in that bar. And it’s delicious.

This was the end of my second, so I tried getting artsy. Did I mention they're 12%abv?

After a couple of those I searched a night shop for a recommended bottle, but came away with this instead:

Speculoos is just... Wonderful in every way

Some Belgians just outside the store popped the top for me, and I wandered the canals reveling in the glory of having discovered the marriage of two of my favorite things.

During the day, there are also some great places to hang out. Most notable are the parks, where the largest group I encountered was but four people strong. These provided beautiful, quiet retreats from the masses. It was in one of these that I picnicked, eating a massive chicken breast with my hands after buying it from the market. One of the best chickens I’ve eaten.

I didn't photograph the chicken, but I ate it next to these flowers

Of course, despite finding these charms, I was ready to leave Bruges by the time I could move on (improvised lodging is already getting very difficult). I then moved to Brussels, where I’m quite enjoying the grit and relaxed chaos of the city center.

Not to mention the intense statues

Happy Easter!

Juxtaposed old and new

In front of the Finance Tower. Money is sexy, I suppose?

The most important part of my stay here, though, is the hostel. It stands in stark contrast to the last one, with only 19 guests and some of the comfiest beds I’ve slept in. Best of all: hostel dog!

Automatically awesome place

Herman the Station Master

People. They are the element that ultimately defines our travels. Some that we meet become longtime friends, others remain fleeting acquaintances. I’ve become increasingly interested in the latter group, from the barista I crushed on in Liverpool to the Belgians who opened my beer on a street corner last night (it’s legal here!).

What are their stories? Who are they, where did they come from and where are they going? Everybody has a (probably) interesting story, and these all influence our own.

One man, in particular, sparked this deeper reflection on the people I’ve come across: Herman, the station master in Belgium’s tiny border town of Essen.

Open borders are wonderful

Traveling back a little, I had originally wanted to cycle all the way from Rotterdam to Bruges in one day (about 150km). I ultimately decided that was a terrible idea, and the forecast for a strong headwind solidified that I couldn’t make it. I still wanted to bike over the border, though. So I rode to Essen, the farthest I could get in a (somewhat) reasonable time.

At last, I made it to the train station, and found it deserted, save for a lone ticket machine. Thanks to the chip and pin infrastructure of European finance, my American swipe card didn’t work, so my hopes of getting on a train felt pretty low. But then I noticed the tell-tale neon of a safety vest ambling up the platform.

The man greeted me jovially and paid for my ticket with his own card (I gave him cash after). He then gave me a precise timetable and took it upon himself to carry my bags across the track. Herman stuck next to me until the train showed up and carried on a fascinating conversation the entire time. When I finally got on, he had one of the conductors accompany me through my transfer at Antwerp station.

It was a level of unobliged helpfulness that I had never seen outside of close friends or family members - probably even more than some such relationships. While chatting with the conductor he mentioned that Herman is probably the greatest person he’s met. It looked like plenty of locals might agree, as dozens of commuters arriving in Essen hugged and kissed him like a close family member while we hung out on the platform.

Encountering Herman was far from a life-changing or adventure-defining moment. Meeting him, though, was one of those brilliant moments that one hardly expects to matter. An unassuming man working a normal job in a very quiet town turned out to be truly fascinating. I couldn’t help but reflect on it during the train ride. What is his story?

I’ll probably never meet him again, which is part of what makes our interaction so interesting. This reflects most of our interactions, both in travel and at home. One can’t remain close friends with everyone they meet, but our brief interactions impact us anyway. It’s one of the most beautiful things about life: there is so much to humanity connecting all of us, and all we need is five minutes with a stranger to remember it.

Losing Track of Time

I feel like time might be spinning a bit out of control for me. Or I’ve truly slipped into a wandering state of mind where the day of the week is only marginally important. Essentially, if I’m not worried about a museum’s opening days or… busy bars, I suppose, it’s fairly irrelevant whether it’s Monday or Saturday. So I’m shocked that it’s already been a week since my last post.

Sticking with the theme, I’ve seen Holland in just such a manner. From my discoveries, I’ve determined it’s the best way to do it here, anyway. The cities are replete cafes and eateries whose charms are best appreciated at random. Even in the more governmental and stately city of The Hague, I happened upon the many great sites it offers by chance.

Like Indonesian beer

For a few days, Den Haag held its place as my favorite Dutch city (Amsterdam was too crowded and touristy). Then I arrived in Rotterdam. It’s a modern, architectural marvel, bristling with an underground-style energy. I ended up getting such a great impression that I extended my stay by two days.

And who could leave these guys?

And I’ve just walked, taking in as much as possible.

Yarn bomb!

One great advantage of cities here is their compactness. Instead of limiting the culture, they simply make it more accessible. As a result, one could theoretically traverse the downtown in half an hour, but would never manage to do so for the endless selection of park benches, cafes and pathways from which to take in the world.

I prefer thrones

There have been a couple times during my travels that I’ve questioned if this is the “right” way to travel across Europe. I quickly remember that it’s a silly question to pose, as it’s allowed me to meet some brilliant people and indulge in specialty stroopwaffles.

Even better, it allows me to move around the continent at will. As I don’t know the day of the week, I rarely know where I’ll end up in two stops. For now, though, I am preparing a long-distance ride to Bruges. Somehow, just as time has gotten away from me, so has my time in the Netherlands. In no time at all, I’m already moving on to another country. Where did that come from?

To New Lands!

I’ve noticed that I’m inclined to find poetry in most of life’s occurrences, especially as I travel. Leaving England further reinforced this sensation as I watched its coastline disappear over the horizon while my ferry slipped into a haunting, grey fog in the North Sea. The shroud never abated until we docket in Ijmuiden, the port town west of Amsterdam.Though the sky remained ominous, there was a warmth in the air that indicated spring really has arrived.

I would share the picture of the fog, but it's pure grey

The customs officer was the most cheerful I’ve ever encountered and, after stamping my passport, commented with an impressed tone that it is almost full. He bade me a safe journey and set me loose upon this new land as the sun broke through the low clouds. I then cycled over 70 kilometers almost entirely on a dedicated bike path. Even when I did have to “share” the road in the countryside, there was no fear that motorists would run me off the road (some cyclists did pass a bit close, though). This was a massive relief after England, and a major thrill to just go.

Holland’s flatness allowed me to fly along the cycle lanes, through picturesque villages and past towering windmills. I felt even more liberated than before, something I did not expect to be possible. Biking here is even more hospitable than I had expected, and I can only hope that such infrastructure takes off at home like it is poised to do. The benefits to society would be immense.

Like saving us from parallel parking

So far in Holland I’ve stayed in Utrecht with my cousin, Michelle. She and her boyfriend, Michael, have very generously taken me in to provide a base for exploring the northern part of the Netherlands.

The cats greeted me very warmly

Michelle showed me around Utrecht’s downtown and we climbed the 112 meter Domtoren, which is about the same height as the Liverpool Cathedral’s tower. I’m getting fairly good at dealing with heights by this point. I spent another day exploring Amsterdam’s city center (centrum in Dutch), which feels like a larger and more crowded version of Utrecht. Despite my curiosity, though, I haven’t yet ventured into any coffeeshops.

I'm getting great practice with "grand, sweeping views" photography

No foreigner can pass this without getting their photo taken. It's the law. Try to find me.

What I’ve most enjoyed, though, is getting to spend time with a cousin that I haven’t seen much lately. One of the greatest gifts that our parents and grandparents (great grandparents, even) have given us is a close-knit family. The cousins, as we tend to refer to ourselves, have grown up with each other and still look forward to family holidays as some of the greatest moments of the year.

Even without seeing each other for years and living across the world, we can still meet one another not as distant relatives but as close family. It’s a gift that I know not everybody has. That makes me value such a bond even more, and I’m elated that my brothers and cousins are carrying this on to the next generation.

Rainy Days

My fortune with good weather finally ran out. But I had a great streak, especially considering England’s reputation for rain. Apparently, it’s so notorious, that’s how a vast majority of the population begins a conversation. Somehow, though, I managed to go three weeks with only one rainstorm and a couple drizzles.

The trend finished in grand style in an Edinburgh graveyard, specifically in front of the tombstone of one “Tom Ridell”. For those paying attention, you may recognize that name from a famous book series known as “Harry Potter”, an alternative spelling of the name being that of the series’ arch villain. This was where JK Rowling strolled to look for inspiration for her character names. If an icy rain was going to dump itself upon me, reintroducing me to precipitation, I can’t think of a better location for such a change of pace.

A surprisingly nice aspect of the rain is the fact that it has pushed me inside a little more, helping me to slow down and reflect. An immediately entertaining result of this was having the opportunity to spend all afternoon discussing life in a pub with a Brazilian physicist, an Argentine lawyer and a Scottish journalist. Most of my remaining time in Edinburgh reflected this atmosphere, passing long hours in cafes and pubs.

Inclement weather can also, sometimes, be advantageous by providing an alternative view to the perfection that postcards prime us for. Beth, my current host and friend from IACS last year, and her friend brought me to the Tynemouth beach despite the misty, chilly atmosphere. The fog hanging over the coast kept any crowds at bay and provided a properly eerie atmosphere that I quite enjoyed. It was actually a lovely alternative to the stereotypically sunny day at the beach (though I’m hardly opposed to that concept).

It may be a result of the novelty and the company, but I even found the chilly air to enhance the indoor nightlife. After the beach, I went to the Tyneside Cinema, a historic and independent Newcastle establishment to see Grand Budapest Hotel (which I really recommend). The trek through the cold and mist made the large armchairs extra comfortable and the concept of drinking beer in a movie theater all the more enthralling. Even more enjoyable, though, was a night spent at a pub where local musicians gather in a corner to play traditional tunes on whatever instruments they bring. Anybody can join and it’s entirely for the pleasure of maintaining the music. Good music, good people. Hardly a better way to enjoy a pint.

The company of the week, of course, has made the inclement weather pleasurable in this way. Beth and her flatmates are the loveliest people and have been wonderful to spend time around. It’s meeting such people around the world then continuing to share our experiences with them that makes travel so meaningful.

This one stood out to me one night as Beth and I indulged in Indonesian food while practicing our bahasa with our waitress from Jakarta. While we continue to move on, the nostalgia for such an impactful program runs deep. It's good to reminisce from time to time in order to keep us going.

Silat on the beach helps, too