Chocolate, cheese and a lot of beer....Belgium unlimited...

I have never been a great fan of Himesh or his hat since the day the driver of the Volvo to Ernakulam decided it would be very funny to wake up the sleeping passengers by playing Himesh songs on full volume. Since that day I have gazed suspiciously at people who sport a Himesh beard or wear a Himesh cap lest it turns out to be Himesh himself. So moving thousands of kilometers away from the subcontinent of India, I never expected the spirit of Himesh or his cap to follow me in Europe. After I shifted to Paris, I heard the movie goers were swept out of thier feet by the commendable performance of Himesh in the wonderful movie called "Tera tera tera suroor". The fact that the movie was shot somewhere in Europe did give me creepy feelings, but still I was lucky enough to be quarantined from his disastrous songs till I landed up in the wonderful country of Belgium known for its chocolate, cheese and beer and of course glass. All deadly stuffs when you consider the fact that three of these can make your poor tummy inflate and blast away and the fourth thing can rip off ur belly at one go. So before my trip to Germany I went on this trip to Belgium where the spirit of Himesh and his cap managed to haunt me with a guy called Bhaskar from the hostel. Bhaskar is a been there and done that kind of a guy while I am progressing on his foot steps. So he acts as an inspiration for me coz he is almost bald and I am on the path of balding, majority of hair on his head is grey while mine are growing grey slowly, while he has embarked on the journey of marriage a long time back I am seeking motivation to get married sometimes in the future. So both of us set off on this weekend escape to Belgium thanks to the cheap first class ticket that we got on Thalys. So after much oohs and ouches and ifs and if nots from his side finally we did manage to find each other at the Gare de Nord station in Paris and set out for the land of Belgium. After a hearty breakfast on the Thalys where I was cautioned repeatedly for grabbing more than one of every item on the menu, we reached the city of Brussels. Taking one of those cheap intercity trains that runs every half hour to Bruges we set out again towards one of the bigges tourist destination of Belgium famous for its canals and beer. Passing the city, once you land up in the countryside the average Belgian looks like the cows he rears. He is as fat and as white as his cows. No doubt so much of beer, cheese and chocolate does take its toll on the average Belgian.

Once in Bruges, and after purchasing a city map which looked much more like an arcane treasure hunt map than a handy helpful city map we set off towards our hostel on one of the city buses. One small enquiry about the stop of the buses that we needed to get down at got a Belgian totally excited to help us out and then began a walk for 20 long minutes till we reached the hostel. The email from the hostel had promised a 5 minute walk from the city centre. Incidentally later did we realise that the man had taken us through all the wrong lanes and it was almost more than double the distance from the place we had started walking from, that he had taken us on. Once in the reception, the snob receptionist told us to come back at 2 in the afternoon to get our rooms and she gave us a map of the city that was much more readable than the arcane one we managed to get at the station. This map was hilarious in its own ways with suggestions about how one should not pee on the streets of Bruges as the fine amount would amount to some few hundred euros per litre of pee passed, that the best way to peev a Brugeian is to ask him/her where the nearest Mc Donald's is. So off we went with our huge bags exploring the lanes and canals of Bruges clutching the hilarious map which seemed to mock every place in its own way. The first place we entered made us pay 5 euros and it happened to be a church. Now I have never seen a church which charges entry fee since I came to Europe, but the person at the counter convinced us that it had a very beautiful museum and hence the entry fee. Alas the museum turned out to be a museum that had all kinds of lace attires and nothing more. The only good thing was that the church had a very clean and precious toilet that we made full utilisation of. The next stop was the chocolate factory that provided insights into how chocolate beans were used as currency in the olden days in some tribes and how 100 chocolate beans could buy you a strong and sturdy slave in the slave markets. I picked up a handful of chocolates from the complimentary counters irrespective of the muted protests of others and saw how they made chocolates. Overall the entire chocolatey experience in the museum of the chocolate fairy was quite a treat to the senses. Heading ahead we tried climbing the Belfry tower in the market square that has an epic 366 steps, the passage goes on getting narrower as one reaches the top. It was quite a harrowing experience carrying our bags to the top of the tower. Once we reached the top, the clock at the top started ringing horribly with its huge dongs that could have easily made a non susupecting soul go deaf. We came down from the Belfry tower after giving our whole hearted support to the Indian cricket team which was just across the English channel playing a test match against England(we met a British couple who were more interested in discussing cricket than climbing the stairs). After having a lunch of burgers and fattening fries we set off to claim our rightful rooms in the hostel and after struggling with the locks and the sophisticated security system we were finally able to get into our room. The room was cosy yet typically featureless and overlooked the kitchen of the restaurant underneath which had stacked up crates and crates of beer bottles which is yet another Belgian passion. To realise this passion we head next to the famous Bruggian Zot brewery that has guided tours that show how beer was made previously in the olden days. After buying a ticket for the tour that was supposed to culminate in a free glass of beer we realised that the smell of beer was enticing enough for us to buy a few more glasses till the tour started. The tour was conducted by a lady infected with the horrific Belgian sense of humor who took us around the old beer distillery sharing anecdotes with a face as serious as any of our politicians, but spiced with a very strong sense of humor. So the Belgian beer factory lady told us that packing Belgian beer into cans is an insult to the beer and that the Belgian beer should always be served in the right glass to make it taste all the more better. And finally that one should never complaint if the Belgian beer was served with a whole lot of froth. Pouring beer out of bottles or jars with the least amount of froth, was a game that we enjoyed and associated it with some kind of weired macho masculanity ideas, but in Belgium the beer lady proved it to be all wrong. According to her, the initial froth allows people to start up conversations while the froth settles down. She also said that people also start talking to their beer once in a while and it only becomes serious when the beer starts talking back to you. Then you know, that it is the last glass for the night. The customary beer followed the tour and with all the newly gained knowledge I analysed the contents of the beer- barley turned into malt, mixed with water and hoop for the customary smell and then cooled and fermented and bottled to make the golden yellow liquid that has long left me intriguied with its taste. The beer factory tour was followed by a 30 minute ride on a boat on the canals of Bruges. A sign on the boat at the end of the tour again proved the classiness of Belgian humor. The sign read that "Tipping is not a town in China". We followed the boat trip up with a trip to the old windmills on the outer fringes of the town and again wandered back along the canals to reach the city centre. There were roadside shows and a huge saturday night rock concert. By the time we realised that we were hungry, most of the restaurants had already shut down their kitchens. Finally we found this French continental restaurant that had kept its door open till late. As we sipped beer waiting for our fish and chips the music system started playing "Saiyan dil mein aana re". Sitting in a French restaurant on the northern fringes of Belgium and listening to a Bollywood song is nothing you would expect. But Europe seems to be filled with all these surprises and French guy from the restaurant said that his father in law is a big fan of Indian movies and hence he has a collection of Bollywood songs too. He even named Amitabh Bacchan though it did sound like Amitabh Bachpan. After a hearty meal and clicking pictures of the city canals illuminated at night by lights, we headed back to the hostel and slept like logs. The next day, the weather god was all angry and as we left Bruges for Brussels, the sky was pouring rain like cats and dogs. Brussels is a disaster when compared to Bruges. It looks like one of those post World War 2 towns, cold and damp and not so pretty. We took the city tour on top of those open air buses which could not be converted into open air ones thanks to the huge amount of rain that Brussels was subjected to on that very day. We were the only duo who seemed to be getting down at all the sight seeing stops, every one else seemed to be contended seeing Brussels from the bus. Finally at the end of the day, we landed up near the famous Mannekan piss. The small boy's statue that keeps on pissing all day and night in a narrow lane of Brussels. And finally we heard the much horrific music of the soul who had made my sleep on a bus en route to Kerela blaring from one of the shops near Mannekan's piss. No doubt he was a Pakistani who had set up a souvenior shop near the famous statue and Himesh was blaring full volume from the music system saying "Dil se pooch le, jaan se pooch le". Incidentally I did want to ask my dil and jaan that till what time I would have remained sane listening to naam tera tera Himesh. And thus ended our Brussels trip, on the way back the Thalys stopped at least 4 times on the track and was 20 minutes late to Paris. They said it is one of those for the record books. I said lets not talk about the Indian Railways record books.