Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Cornelia Parker

IMAGE VIA FLICKR 
If I go to a museum, and one piece stays with me, I consider the visit a success. This happened last Thursday when J and I popped into the Tate Modern and saw "Thirty Pieces of Silver" by Cornelia Parker for the first time. 
I believe the piece speaks for itself, but there was something about steamrolling giant quantities of abandoned (but presumably once highly prized) family silver that felt novel, even subversive. And then the act of suspending these pieces from the ceiling - barely touching the ground, these flattened family heirlooms appeared to be floating - created an illusion, and an installation, that was also truly pleasing to the eye.

Monday, February 2, 2009

London vs. NY vs. . . . Brussels?

The relative merits of London vs. New York have been the subject of endless debate (e.g., here). But heading to London this past weekend, I was curious to see how the city would feel - coming from Brussels rather than New York. Survey says: it feels like America. Big time. Yes, the English are still English - pouring out of pubs despite looming snowfall. Whilst in the suburbs, we even saw a typical (aka clearly bombed) English lass squeezing herself into her car, cigarette hanging from mouth, wearing nothing but a tank top, despite the freezing temperature. Some of these people put Britney Spears to shame!

My point is - London feels a lot like New York, especially coming from Brussels. Let me count the ways:

It is fashionable. Some people think NY is more so than London and vice versa, but the point is really that they both are. Belgium, particularly Antwerp, may be the seat of great design, but a lot of people here look like a prototype out of a Medieval hamlet, pre-mass-distributed self-care regimens. (Which is probably also why the gym is strange here.)

People speak English. I realize this is completely self-evident. And that some would argue they don't really speak the same language (see cockney rhyming slang). Don't get me wrong, I love learning and speaking French. But it was also really nice to be somewhere where making (or receiving) small talk was effortless, and where I could walk into any store and buy what I needed without playing charades with the shopkeeper.         

Real estate is crap. Finally, an area in which Brussels outshines its rivals. Despite supposedly falling rents in New York, we do not miss you, New York apartments. Not from our architect-renovated floor-through in a Bruxellois maison de maître. (It's true that we had fleas. And the weather outside is usually the same color as our smoky chic interior. But still.)

It is multi-ethnic. Walking around London, what struck me the most was that I was not surrounded by the repetitive cross-breeding of the members of one, maybe two tribes. No, London is teeming with the sights and sounds of multi-ethnic, multi-racial existence! Just like New York. Which makes me feel right at home. 

People are sometimes quite obnoxious. You know the sayings, the myth making: multiple variations on the "If you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere" theme. London has the same spirit, to a degree, resulting in part from the collection of a great number of people who are really good at what they do. The global financial crisis has moderated the narcissisistic tendencies of both cities, but only to a degree. There remain an outsize number of large personalities - and personality disorders, too. (Witness DABA, an absurd showing of Wall Street widow self-promotion and book deal grabbing. She could only have been born in New York, but would consider moving to London). On the other hand, almost everyone I've met in Brussels is modest and nice - even if they are quite reserved or shy (without a doubt, traits non grata for the NY-London set).

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Antwerp

On a recent Saturday, J and I headed to Antwerp for a leisurely lunch and some sale shopping. (In Belgium, by law, sales are allowed to take place only in the months of January and July.) I had not visited Antwerp since childhood, when I  briefly attended Antwerp International School. I was eager to go back and check out how the city had changed. And at a mere 35 minutes from Gare du Midi for only 7€ RT pp, I knew the journey there would be quick, cheap, and pleasant.

I found Antwerp changed, and impressively so. Throughout town, one finds the omnipresent footprint of the Antwerp 6, as well as a number of spectacular new buildings and cleverly repurposed old structures. And, especially compared to Brussels, the town is exceptionally clean - which I found to be a welcome surprise. Based on Antwerp's appearance alone, it isn't too hard to believe the Flamands are the flourishing half of this country.

After slogging through soft (but unrelenting) rain, J and I settled in at Tabl'eau, a cozy little restaurant near the Schelde. Excited to use the remnants of my Dutch, which has gotten pretty rusty after years of disuse, I ordered 2 glasses of warm kriek. The waitress looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Turned out it wasn't my Dutch, but rather that warm kriek is not typically served as a beverage. Instead, it was offered here as "coupe warm kriek," or ice cream with warm kriek. (This despite the Bulletin reporting that warm kriek had become the toast of the Brussels Christmas market, after vendors had run out of vin chaud.) I also ordered tongrolletjes, which I felt fairly certain would be (beef) tongue rolls (non-adventurous eaters, keep your comments to yourselves). I was therefore slightly surprised when I ended up with pinwheels of sole, which also turned out to be rather tasty, if not meaty. J ordered salmon risotto and enjoyed his meal without incident.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Ryanair: The Official Airline of Soccer Hooligans

 
Over the weekend, we went to Madrid (highlights: the food, Prado, Reina Sofia, the new Caixa Forum, our friends T and B's baby) for Thanksgiving. Which meant that we got to check out "Brussels South" Charleroi airport, a mere 1-hour bus ride from Gare du Midi, in order to benefit from Ryanair's cheap fares. 
Flying Ryanair was generally a good experience, with the exception of extortion at the gate, i.e., having to pay €20 per piece of checked luggage, even though I had dorkily taken out the tape measure to ensure that our luggage met cabin luggage specs. (This can be circumvented by paying €10 per piece online in advance of the flight).
What I wasn't completely expecting, though, was the fact that the flight would be booked to the gills by Feyenoord fans from Rotterdam. The closest, albeit imperfect, comparison to an American tribe/locale would be perhaps Boston Southie. As the Dutch themselves might say, oei . . .

Monday, October 27, 2008

Stuffed in Strasbourg

I had the opportunity to spend most of last week in Strasbourg due to J's work. While he was hanging out with Sarko et al. in the European Parliament, I went shopping with Carla Bruni. Just kidding. Instead, I wandered about the city and checked out a few museums - some of which seemed quite morbidly obsessed with death. I also resisted the temptation to sit in a tea room and gorge myself on pastries the entire time. This task was made easier by the fact that during the day I was usually still full from the previous night's feast. Whether it was flammeküche, jambonneau (pig knuckle), a "salad" composed entirely of ham and cheese, beef tongue, or boudin noir, it was all delicious. To top it all off, we passed through both the Alsace wine region and Champagne on our way home (where, sans réservation, we were spurned by Veuve Clicquot like 2 guys without dates trying to hop a velvet rope in Manhattan).

Monday, October 13, 2008

Macarons Luxembourgeois

Accompanied J on a work trip to Luxembourg City this past weekend. Although my overall impression of the postage-stamp-sized city was . . . average, I cannot get over the macarons at Wengé. The free wifi in Place d'Armes (as well as throughout the city) was also quite nice, not to mention the oursin and muscadet at Brasserie Guillaume. Finally, props to the Mudam (Musée d'Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean), even though it was in between installations.