Went on a day trip to Germany today, thanks to one of the many tours C's work organises. The morning and early afternoon was spent in Monschau, and the rest of the day in Aachen.
The trip was billed as a chance to marvel at some of Europe's finest (ubiquitous) Christmas markets. Because me and C are so damn contrary, but more because we really have seen quite a lot of Christmas markets now, and to be honest, they're all much of a muchness, and sell the usual array of nothing particularly useful, we spent the whole day doing what we do best: wandering around, and stopping every now and again for food and drink.
Monschau is tiny and adorable, and seems to have been built specifically for tourists in mind, which of course it wasn't. It just feels like that. The weather was a shocker all day - heavy wind and driving rain, nice. - so we tried to limit outdoor time, and ducked into cafés more than even we would have liked to.
It was a bit like a fairytale kind of village: river running below, mini bridges, narrow side streets, inviting-looking cafés.
Enjoyed having a huge flapjack (surprisingly tasteless, even though it looked like it should have been delicious. Too dry) and coffee, whilst having a good natter with a group of middle-aged English women, sitting on the table next to us.
In the past, whenever I was away and heard English voices, I'd usually walk in the opposite direction. Since living abroad, I've begun to find the sound comforting and reassuring.
It was one of those very typical English conversations: lots of humour, lots of sarcasm, the odd bit of innuendo, a bit of a moan about the weather and how expensive things are in Europe (!), and how great it is to get away for a few days. All done without any kind of introductions, or any exchange of names or details about each other. Wonderful!
Aarchen was a lot easier to wander about in the rain, because it's an actual city and there was far more to see. The market was also quite big and actually had some good food stools.
The main cathedral was spectacular, sort of a mini version of the St Mark's Basilica in Venice. Really wasn't expecting something so impressive from the outside.
After having a decent meal at a trendy wine bar/upmarket bistro/restaurant (I always find it hard to categorise eateries in Europe) we went for a little wander in the cobbled centre (the rain had finally ceased), where we came across a small group of guys singing Christmas carols, in English and German. It was simply delightful, and one of those great moments that really make a day. I would happily have stood there and listened to them sing all evening, but after about 20 minutes they were done, packed up, and left.
It was also during this hour or so, before our coach was due to set off back to Mons, that we realised how much we were both beginning to miss England. More accurately, how much living in Belgium was making us miss England.
As I mentioned in my November 4th post, whenever we go away now, we feel like we're "re-entering civilisation."
C's new boss has said that he'd happily let us extend our stay (again) for a further year, and thus not return until December 2013, but we've pretty much made up our minds, and want to be home this time next year.
We want our culture back.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Wednesday 23 November - Pampered in Brussels
To celebrate our ten-year anniversary (the one where we first got together that is), we decided to take the day off work and head to Brussels for some pampering. Not wanting to trust something like this in Mons, we booked ourselves a day in a spa right at the heart of Brussels' EU quarter.
And a fine way to spend a day it was too. Not cheap (surely, you can guess what I'd write here?!), but well worth it. Access to all the usual facilities: pool, sauna, steam room, jacuzzi, and then we both treated ourselves to an hour massage, which was just heaven.
There was a great spa place we used to go to in Bristol, in Clifton, so this was a little taster of what we've been missing.
Finished off the day meeting our friend, who was over in Brussels for a few days doing academic-type work, for dinner at a good Morrocan place. Raved about on Tripadvisor, but not half as good as our little place in Mons.
See, it's not all bad here!
And a fine way to spend a day it was too. Not cheap (surely, you can guess what I'd write here?!), but well worth it. Access to all the usual facilities: pool, sauna, steam room, jacuzzi, and then we both treated ourselves to an hour massage, which was just heaven.
There was a great spa place we used to go to in Bristol, in Clifton, so this was a little taster of what we've been missing.
Finished off the day meeting our friend, who was over in Brussels for a few days doing academic-type work, for dinner at a good Morrocan place. Raved about on Tripadvisor, but not half as good as our little place in Mons.
See, it's not all bad here!
Friday, November 4, 2011
Friday 4 November - 2 Years!
And that's 2 years done.
Amazing to think that I've been living in Belgium, in Mons, for exactly two years. Before I began to write this post, I decided to re-read my previous summaries of my time here. After 3 months, 9 months, 1 year, and then 18 months.
It's funny looking back at them. They were so happy and optimistic and chirpy, almost innocently so. Most of the comments are the sort you'd expect someone to make who's new to a place, new to a country. And I stand by every word I wrote back then.
But, that doesn't mean my views have remained static. It's fair to say that whilst the gloss of living abroad remains intact, and the opportunities for travel that have come with it, my feelings about Mons and Belgium and Belgians have definitely shifted.
Whereas I used to enjoy not being rushed in a cafe or restaurant, with the waiters happy for you to take your time, in return for them to take their time in serving you, now it just annoys me.
I still like being able to spend a couple of hours sipping a lait russe, and like the nice little touch of a piece of chocolate or biscuit that accompanies it, but it does wind me up always having to wait so long to find someone to get the bill from, only to then wait another 10-15 minutes for it to arrive, and then a further 10 for your change to be returned.
But, mainly, it's the poor customer service that greets you when you enter somewhere. Or doesn't. You might get a nod or a grunt in your direction, but I've lost count of the number of times I've sat there waiting and waiting to be served. On a couple of occasions, me and C have just got up and gone elsewhere.
This also extends to the shops. I rarely find people working in them helpful or friendly. The service reminds me of all the things I used to loathe about customer service in England: the fact that you think you're putting someone out by asking for anything, or having to stand there and wait whilst they continue to chat with a colleague or friend.
The shops sell what I can only describe using a wonderful Yiddish word: schmatta. Basically, tat. Bits and bobs of nothing particularly useful. But, if you want your hair cut, or want to gorge on waffles, you're fine.
There's something quite socially inept about Belgians. They don't do day to day politeness.
I've mentioned this before but the lack of a thank you when you hold the door open for somebody, the not waiting until people have got off the train until you barge your way on, or the lack of apology if someone bumps into to you, whether deliberately or not, the inability to queue and then stay in one. All these things do grate, and maybe it's because I'm English and we're just so very different, but that's just how I feel.
I often think Belgians spend half their time with their head in the clouds. Almost slightly stoned, or just very vacant. They're the most placid people I've ever come across. Nothing seems to bother them. I'm not sure whether this is a good or a bad thing. They're champions at doing nothing. I guess with such a calibre of politicians for role models, who can blame them.
I still quite like Mons. It has character and charm, but there's very little to do here. And with winter round the corner, the sitting outside in the grand place routine will have to wait for a while.
I can't help but feel that a city like Mons in England would be far less shabby, better preserved, better kept. Some of the architecture is fabulous, but so much of it looks worse for wear.
The lack of culture is also difficult to contend with. I yearn for a trip to the theatre to see a play or a musical, or some live music.
A couple of months ago we actually went to see a friend of a friend's band play at a local bar. They were really good, but I just got irritated at having to find a table, where we were crammed in, and then having to wait about 20 minutes before someone took our order, and then who knows how long for it to arrive.
Something as simple as going to bar and getting a drink shouldn't be that difficult, but even the most basic of tasks seems beyond les Montois. This was certainly the night that I pined for a few drinks at a good ol' English pub, where you go to the bar and order. Save the table service for restaurants. You don't need it in a bar.
It's this kind of thing that wears you down eventually. I often ask myself: why is everything always so difficult?
I grew tired of Belgian food long ago. I came to the conclusion recently that it lacks finesse. There's nothing subtle about a diet which serves cream with everything. At least there are two places that do very good food, neither of them Belgian: the Moroccan and the Chinese. The former is actually a terrific restaurant, to which I've been numerous times.
And then there are the prices. I've got used to them, but that doesn't stop me having a grumble every now and then. I mean, how can you charge €18 for a starter, and then €20 for a main?
I think with every trip back to England, the more apparent the differences between the two countries become. I've now started to joke that when we visit another country, it's like re-entering civilisation.
Mons and Wallonia really are stuck in a 1970s time warp. Another year until I'm transported back to the future!.
Amazing to think that I've been living in Belgium, in Mons, for exactly two years. Before I began to write this post, I decided to re-read my previous summaries of my time here. After 3 months, 9 months, 1 year, and then 18 months.
It's funny looking back at them. They were so happy and optimistic and chirpy, almost innocently so. Most of the comments are the sort you'd expect someone to make who's new to a place, new to a country. And I stand by every word I wrote back then.
But, that doesn't mean my views have remained static. It's fair to say that whilst the gloss of living abroad remains intact, and the opportunities for travel that have come with it, my feelings about Mons and Belgium and Belgians have definitely shifted.
Whereas I used to enjoy not being rushed in a cafe or restaurant, with the waiters happy for you to take your time, in return for them to take their time in serving you, now it just annoys me.
I still like being able to spend a couple of hours sipping a lait russe, and like the nice little touch of a piece of chocolate or biscuit that accompanies it, but it does wind me up always having to wait so long to find someone to get the bill from, only to then wait another 10-15 minutes for it to arrive, and then a further 10 for your change to be returned.
But, mainly, it's the poor customer service that greets you when you enter somewhere. Or doesn't. You might get a nod or a grunt in your direction, but I've lost count of the number of times I've sat there waiting and waiting to be served. On a couple of occasions, me and C have just got up and gone elsewhere.
This also extends to the shops. I rarely find people working in them helpful or friendly. The service reminds me of all the things I used to loathe about customer service in England: the fact that you think you're putting someone out by asking for anything, or having to stand there and wait whilst they continue to chat with a colleague or friend.
The shops sell what I can only describe using a wonderful Yiddish word: schmatta. Basically, tat. Bits and bobs of nothing particularly useful. But, if you want your hair cut, or want to gorge on waffles, you're fine.
There's something quite socially inept about Belgians. They don't do day to day politeness.
I've mentioned this before but the lack of a thank you when you hold the door open for somebody, the not waiting until people have got off the train until you barge your way on, or the lack of apology if someone bumps into to you, whether deliberately or not, the inability to queue and then stay in one. All these things do grate, and maybe it's because I'm English and we're just so very different, but that's just how I feel.
I often think Belgians spend half their time with their head in the clouds. Almost slightly stoned, or just very vacant. They're the most placid people I've ever come across. Nothing seems to bother them. I'm not sure whether this is a good or a bad thing. They're champions at doing nothing. I guess with such a calibre of politicians for role models, who can blame them.
I still quite like Mons. It has character and charm, but there's very little to do here. And with winter round the corner, the sitting outside in the grand place routine will have to wait for a while.
I can't help but feel that a city like Mons in England would be far less shabby, better preserved, better kept. Some of the architecture is fabulous, but so much of it looks worse for wear.
The lack of culture is also difficult to contend with. I yearn for a trip to the theatre to see a play or a musical, or some live music.
A couple of months ago we actually went to see a friend of a friend's band play at a local bar. They were really good, but I just got irritated at having to find a table, where we were crammed in, and then having to wait about 20 minutes before someone took our order, and then who knows how long for it to arrive.
Something as simple as going to bar and getting a drink shouldn't be that difficult, but even the most basic of tasks seems beyond les Montois. This was certainly the night that I pined for a few drinks at a good ol' English pub, where you go to the bar and order. Save the table service for restaurants. You don't need it in a bar.
It's this kind of thing that wears you down eventually. I often ask myself: why is everything always so difficult?
I grew tired of Belgian food long ago. I came to the conclusion recently that it lacks finesse. There's nothing subtle about a diet which serves cream with everything. At least there are two places that do very good food, neither of them Belgian: the Moroccan and the Chinese. The former is actually a terrific restaurant, to which I've been numerous times.
And then there are the prices. I've got used to them, but that doesn't stop me having a grumble every now and then. I mean, how can you charge €18 for a starter, and then €20 for a main?
I think with every trip back to England, the more apparent the differences between the two countries become. I've now started to joke that when we visit another country, it's like re-entering civilisation.
Mons and Wallonia really are stuck in a 1970s time warp. Another year until I'm transported back to the future!.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Saturday 29 October - Durbuy
To the Ardennes, at last. A beautiful, crisp, autumnal morning, giving way to a bright and mild afternoon, provided the backdrop to my first trip down south. Further south than I've ever been in Belgium.
Very hard to believe you're still in Wallonia. Such a contrast to the drab industrialism found in its cities. Went along with friends, and we really couldn't have picked a better day. The colours of autumn were in full bloom with browns, and oranges, and reds protruding from every vantage point. It really was a magical sight.
The village itself is attractive, without being prissy, and was relatively free of the usual hordes of tourists villages in the Ardennes are famed for. Although there was a lot of Dutch being spoken. Not the Flems this time, but Dutch as spoken by the Dutch. Didn't hear much French anywhere we went.
Having grown rather tired of Belgian cuisine, we settled on a picnic for lunch, and sat on a grassy bank alongside the main car park, but in front of the river. Seemed like the perfect spot for it, and I was surprised that others hadn't thought of the idea. We even had our picnic rug. "You can take the English out of England..."
Walking around the place reminded me a little of Luxembourg. Funny that, considering Durbuy is in the Belgian province of Luxembourg. Or maybe an archetypal English village, possibly Boscastle, in Cornwall, where I went a couple of years back.
Only here the valleys were a lot smaller, and without the dramatic drops down below. The forest in the distance, the small bridges, and the river running through it, all helped give it a special feel.
I've heard that this place looks spectacular around Christmas time, with all the lights on and decorations up. Even more so when the snow arrives. I can imagine.
Very hard to believe you're still in Wallonia. Such a contrast to the drab industrialism found in its cities. Went along with friends, and we really couldn't have picked a better day. The colours of autumn were in full bloom with browns, and oranges, and reds protruding from every vantage point. It really was a magical sight.
The village itself is attractive, without being prissy, and was relatively free of the usual hordes of tourists villages in the Ardennes are famed for. Although there was a lot of Dutch being spoken. Not the Flems this time, but Dutch as spoken by the Dutch. Didn't hear much French anywhere we went.
Having grown rather tired of Belgian cuisine, we settled on a picnic for lunch, and sat on a grassy bank alongside the main car park, but in front of the river. Seemed like the perfect spot for it, and I was surprised that others hadn't thought of the idea. We even had our picnic rug. "You can take the English out of England..."
Walking around the place reminded me a little of Luxembourg. Funny that, considering Durbuy is in the Belgian province of Luxembourg. Or maybe an archetypal English village, possibly Boscastle, in Cornwall, where I went a couple of years back.
Only here the valleys were a lot smaller, and without the dramatic drops down below. The forest in the distance, the small bridges, and the river running through it, all helped give it a special feel.
I've heard that this place looks spectacular around Christmas time, with all the lights on and decorations up. Even more so when the snow arrives. I can imagine.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Sunday 23 October - Villers La Ville
Home of the ruins of a very famous abbey, not far from Charleroi.
Had to change trains here and hop on a two carriage jobby, which then chugs it way along a very small line, stopping every few minutes at the kind of train station that Network Rail would have loved to have consigned to extinction long ago. The kind where about two people get on, and either one or none get off. It really felt like a blast from the past.
When I got off the train you're immediately confronted by a row of houses and a street with about two shops on it.
The walk to the abbey led us through a small forest, running parallel with peoples' homes, and the obligatory barking dog every few hundred yards or so. It reminded me of being back in the English countryside: the purity of the air, the tranquility, the nature. I've been so starved of greenery these last two years that this really came as a welcome relief.
The abbey really is well worth the visit. For a while we were the only people around. It was one of those days where it was freezing out of the sun, but glorious in it. I kept positioning myself in its glare; the shade being far too cold for a wimp like me.
A huge place, where you're still able to see the scant remains of some of the rooms, such as the kitchen, dining room and servants quarters. I love these kind of things.
Yesterday evening there had been some sort of function, with the media in attendance, which explained the discarded tea lights scattered all over the place, and the remains of a few of those giant candles, and candle holders, still propped up against the walls. It must have looked amazing at night. Incredibly atmospheric, but ever so slightly haunting, out in the open, all exposed, with just the forest for company.
On a warmer day, a great spot for a picnic. Instead, we lunched at a bistro/pub type place, which from the outside looked like something straight out of Switzerland, with the building dwarfed by the forest around it. It was us, and dozens of bikers for company.
A lovely way to pass a few hours.
Had to change trains here and hop on a two carriage jobby, which then chugs it way along a very small line, stopping every few minutes at the kind of train station that Network Rail would have loved to have consigned to extinction long ago. The kind where about two people get on, and either one or none get off. It really felt like a blast from the past.
When I got off the train you're immediately confronted by a row of houses and a street with about two shops on it.
The walk to the abbey led us through a small forest, running parallel with peoples' homes, and the obligatory barking dog every few hundred yards or so. It reminded me of being back in the English countryside: the purity of the air, the tranquility, the nature. I've been so starved of greenery these last two years that this really came as a welcome relief.
The abbey really is well worth the visit. For a while we were the only people around. It was one of those days where it was freezing out of the sun, but glorious in it. I kept positioning myself in its glare; the shade being far too cold for a wimp like me.
A huge place, where you're still able to see the scant remains of some of the rooms, such as the kitchen, dining room and servants quarters. I love these kind of things.
Yesterday evening there had been some sort of function, with the media in attendance, which explained the discarded tea lights scattered all over the place, and the remains of a few of those giant candles, and candle holders, still propped up against the walls. It must have looked amazing at night. Incredibly atmospheric, but ever so slightly haunting, out in the open, all exposed, with just the forest for company.
On a warmer day, a great spot for a picnic. Instead, we lunched at a bistro/pub type place, which from the outside looked like something straight out of Switzerland, with the building dwarfed by the forest around it. It was us, and dozens of bikers for company.
A lovely way to pass a few hours.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Tuesday 11 October - A Breakthrough (many of them)
This is an article I've had published elsewhere which outlines some of the successes that have taken place over the last few weeks with regards to the forming of a new government. We're almost there! It doesn't go into too much detail about the successes, but acts more as a background as to why modern day Belgium is the way it is.
So, rather than repeating myself, I'll attach a link to what I wrote about it and which can be seen on my website:
http://benmitchellwrites.blogspot.com/2011/10/making-sense-of-belgiums-political.html
So, rather than repeating myself, I'll attach a link to what I wrote about it and which can be seen on my website:
http://benmitchellwrites.blogspot.com/2011/10/making-sense-of-belgiums-political.html
Friday, October 7, 2011
Thursday 6 October - Independence? No, thanks!
Another one of those "do you want Belgium to survive?" type surveys came out today. And this time produced some unexpected results.
A poll of over a thousand Flemings found that three-quarters of them do not want Belgium to split up. Only 22% supported an independent Flanders. However, this figure rises to 56% for supporters of Flanders' far right party, Vlaams Belang (VB). Which, if you think about it, is still a lot lower for a party that advocates complete Flemish independence as its raison d'etre than it should be. Surely, it would be somewhere up in the 80s, or even 90s, otherwise why would you support such a party?
Its strong views on immigration (limit it. A lot) probably provide more of an attraction for its supporters than its call for independence. Hence, it represents something of a protest vote, rather than a deep-seated desire to see Belgium break up.
Only 37% of those who back Bart De Wever's Flemish nationalists/separatists, N-VA, also support independence, with 61% against. Another really surprising stat. A bit of a slap in the face to the Flemish nationalists I'd say.
30% of all those polled still believe, however, that Flemish independence is inevitable within ten years, with 66% saying it's not.
And, fully 73% of those quizzed said they were proud to be Belgian, rising to 80% for younger Flemings.
No matter what the nationalists may say, support for Flemish independence currently isn't there. Having said that, they are stil heavily backed by voters in Flanders, but probably not for the reasons they think.
A poll of over a thousand Flemings found that three-quarters of them do not want Belgium to split up. Only 22% supported an independent Flanders. However, this figure rises to 56% for supporters of Flanders' far right party, Vlaams Belang (VB). Which, if you think about it, is still a lot lower for a party that advocates complete Flemish independence as its raison d'etre than it should be. Surely, it would be somewhere up in the 80s, or even 90s, otherwise why would you support such a party?
Its strong views on immigration (limit it. A lot) probably provide more of an attraction for its supporters than its call for independence. Hence, it represents something of a protest vote, rather than a deep-seated desire to see Belgium break up.
Only 37% of those who back Bart De Wever's Flemish nationalists/separatists, N-VA, also support independence, with 61% against. Another really surprising stat. A bit of a slap in the face to the Flemish nationalists I'd say.
30% of all those polled still believe, however, that Flemish independence is inevitable within ten years, with 66% saying it's not.
And, fully 73% of those quizzed said they were proud to be Belgian, rising to 80% for younger Flemings.
No matter what the nationalists may say, support for Flemish independence currently isn't there. Having said that, they are stil heavily backed by voters in Flanders, but probably not for the reasons they think.
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