Belgium, Belgium, Bier, Bier

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Brugge – How lucky we were to be in Brugge/Bruges on the same day as the “Pageant of the Golden Tree”. This parade happens once every 5 years and involves more than 2,000 participants. They parade through the city, then head to the foot of the Belfry, which still houses the city’s medieval charter.

To the Belfry!

Knight in full armor

Three camels

 

Now, onto the good stuff! There are some really important aspects of beer culture in Belgium, which could leave someone in an awkward position, if not appropriately respected. Namely, one should not scoff at a healthy head of foam atop a Belgian beer. All beer glasses are designed to hold the appropriate quantity of beer, plus 3cm of foam. However, you are not supposed to drink through the foam. You see, as the foam dissipates, the drinker is supposed to be “developing a relationship” with the beer.

The drinker thinks about the beer, imagines what it is going to taste like, talks to the beer, etc. Once the foam is gone, the relationship has had enough time to develop, turning the first sip into heaven. Apparently, the drinker knows which beer is going to be the “last relationship” of the evening, when the beer talks back!

I learned all this thanks to our horrible tour guide at De Halve Mann Brewery. I guess if I was to retain nothing else from her impatient ramblings, this should be it!

My father-in-law ordered this beer, just to check out the glass. I thought I would try my hand at pouring the perfect 3cm of foam, but failed horribly! The waiter gave me a healthy (and very, very loud, yet friendly) ribbing when I poured an entire glass of foam and only 3cm of beer. A little bit of trouble-shooting and we were able to fix the problem.

A friend told us that the waffles in Brugge were made with a little bit of crack. He was right! Luckily, waffles are considered more of an any-time-of-day snack than a breakfast staple. WOW! They were soooo good!

Brussels – Brussels’ heart of the city is definitely the Grand Place. The square was listed as a UNESCO site in 1998 and is home to the bi-annual “flower carpet”.

 

Liv was included in our Brussels sight-seeing and apparently caught the eye of some other tourists. Here are the weirdoes who asked to take a picture with her while we were enjoying the Grand Place. Who does that?

Brussels is crazy about the “Manneken Pis”, a statue of a little boy relieving himself. The original was stolen in 1817, but a replica is dressed with the traditional costume of visiting heads of state and enjoys unbelievable notoriety in the city.

Finally, no trip to Brussels is complete without some mussels….

…and more waffles!

Amsterdam. Enough said.

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You know you are in a special place in your life, your marriage, and your familial relationships, when you find yourself enjoying, with your in-laws, all the activities that make Amsterdam!

After settling into our apartment, we realized that there is no ground coffee for the coffee maker. Here begins the story. We figured we would find a convenience or grocery store during our wanderings and pick up some coffee.

While waiting outside our dinner restaurant for a side-walk table, my mother-in-law (MIL) spotted a “coffee shop”. Figuring that she shouldn’t be walking alone in Amsterdam, I went with her. The turn-style should have tipped me off! So, we walk up to the counter and my MIL starts talking to the “waiter”, or whatever he was. Simultaneously, I look down and find a “menu” and am suddenly realizing that we are not so much in a coffee shop, as…well…a shop selling Amsterdam’s favorite crop. My MIL is already engaged in the following conversation:

MIL: Do you sell individual bags?

Guy: No.

MIL: Oh, ok. We were hoping to buy a bag to take home and make in the morning.

Guy: No, you can only have it here.

MIL: Ok, thanks!

What’s hilarious is that the conversation worked perfectly on both levels. The participants, however, just happened to have very different perspectives…and desired outcomes.

For those of you already well-versed in the “coffee” culture of Amsterdam, I realize that I have just made myself a very attractive target for mockery. However, in my own defense, there are just as many “coffee” shops that actually sell coffee!

Now, back on the street, I am laughing and telling my MIL what really was for sale there. I suggest we go into the shop next door. I full out knew that we were walking into a sex shop. Less than a minute later, I hear, “Ohhh!! Joe would love this!” from behind my back.

In my memory, the next few seconds occur in slow-motion, taking an eternity to actually pass into reality. I turn around, un-controllable laughter already starting an internal battle with pure curiosity regarding what my MIL thinks her son would enjoy in the sex-shop and is suggesting to his wife! A myriad of possibilities are flashing before my eyes, both literally and figuratively as I turn. She has found a system for making boob-shaped pancakes. Yup, Joe probably would like that.

After struggling to recount the events of the last five minutes to the boys without crying or peeing my pants with laughter, my FIL claims that he knew exactly what the two of us were getting into. Classic. Thanks General.  So, what does any other family do after dinner while visiting Amsterdam? Well, hello? Head to the Red Light District, of course!

Sorry, no pictures to share. Walking through sex ladened, prostitute-lined streets with my husband and in-laws, one of which wears stars on his epaulettes, was experience enough. Taking pictures would have made the evening a little awkward!

Ironically, the Red Light District is the direct proximity of Amsterdam’s Oude Kerk (Old Church). After visiting the church the following day, I snapped this picture of the family. If you can find the prostitute, you can pick out a treat from the prize box!

My favorite part of the Oude Kerk were the choir stalls. Carved into the bottom of each chair is a proverb:

“Money doesn’t fall out of my arse”: money doesn’t grow on trees.

 

 

 

“It’s like trying to out-yawn an oven door”: a person can’t yawn as wide as an oven door, i.e. don’t try to accomplish the impossible.

 

 

 

When you step out of the church- just in case you forgot where you were- there is a little reminder in the sidewalk, bringing you back to reality. Back to the indulgences of Amsterdam!

In all seriousness, Amsterdam is more than boobs and bongs. The Anne Frank House is stirring, regardless of your familiarity with her diary. Sadly, very little of it is original. However, the moveable bookshelf and the pencil markings made by Otto Frank denoting the changing heights of Anne and her sister are still there. The magazine cut-outs and pictures that Anne glued to the walls of her bedroom are also preserved, but even more interesting are the stories behind the photos: who the people are, how they discovered themselves on the walls of Anne’s bedroom, and what they hope they meant to Anne.

Even more famous than Anne Frank are Amsterdam’s tulips.  If you can’t go during the spring bloom, the flower market is the next best thing. Almost any kind of flower you want, and of course….un-ending tulip bulbs!

Lastly, on your way out of the market, don’t forget to select your condom for the day night!

Romeo, Juliet, Aida

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Verona, Italy is best known as the residence of star-crossed lovers Romeo and Juliet. Although these fictional characters are over 400 years old, they are just that: fictional characters. The beautiful thing about Verona is that it allows Shakespeare devotees to blur the lines between reality and fiction.

Juliet’s house– After walking through a short entrance littered in love-graffiti, this is the first sign I spotted.

It reads (in short): This is a historical monument. Help us keep it clean…It is forbidden to damage or smear/smudge the walls. According to criminal law, offenses will be avenged with up to one year prison sentence or a fine of €1,039. I thought it was really fun for several reasons: 1) I understood it. 2) the irony of sign and wall. I waited patiently for the German-speakers to get out of the way so I could take a good shot and then wandered through throngs of people to find Joe and show him my clever discovery. He gave me a courteous sympathy-smile, then pointed out the same sign written in half a dozen other languages. Whatever.

Speaking of signs that tell you not to do things, this is a good one:

There are hundreds of locks in the courtyard, each one professing its own vow of love. (Hopefully each lover’s fate is better than Romeo’s and Juliet’s!)

Then there is Juliet herself, willing to be molested thousands of times a day, in the name of luck. Or love. Whichever you trust more.

Joe cops a feelski, in hopes of scoring some luck. Watch it buddy!

 

Juliet’s tomb– Despite 95o+ temps and oppressing humidity, I made Joe walk across town to find Juliet’s tomb, mainly out of curiosity. I mean, how could a fictional character be buried in a tomb? Shockingly, you have to PAY to find out. Out of principal, I didn’t want to pay, but curiosity was victorious this time. You need a large suspension of disbelief to really enjoy this. I’ll give it to the Italians. They have mastered the art of The Entrance Fee.

If you build it, they will come.

 

Ok, now for the real reason we came to Verona….performance of Aida at the Verona Opera Festival!

We figured the best way to see an opera, was in Italy, at the Arena di Verona. This amphitheater models Rome’s Colosseum and holds a festival each summer with 5 different productions. The sets are kept outside during the day, and re-assembled on stage each night for a different performance, via crane.

Arena di Verona and set materials.

 

 

It was a beautiful and slightly breezy night, great for sharing an opera with our Florentian friends, the Flammias,  and thousands of other spectators.

Flammias and Walls

Photography wasn’t allowed during the performance, but a few illegals never hurt…right?

Act II

 

Find the 4 horses on stage!

Death scene

 

Just as amazing as the show, was an Italian man (I assume) across the arena from us. After a great song (there were many), before the rest of the audience had time to react, he would yell “Bravo” or “Bravi”. The acoustics in the area are so good, that none of the performers use microphones, and this guy could be heard clear as day, every time. His joy added to the ambience of the entire experience.

I don’t think we’ll need to see another opera in our lives. It just can’t top this!