4.45am - a fine time for going to bed but not so great for getting up...this is what faced ten of the Kingston Branch on our day trip to the heart of Belgium.
We met up at Waterloo for the 6.53am Eurostar - and two and a half hours later, we were walking up the Avenue de Stalingrad to Grand Place, which was one hell of a shock for Martin who'd convinced himself we were going to Antwerp - and had brought along the relevant guidebooks complete with places he wanted to visit!!!
We window-shopped our way to the first stop of the day, one of the dozens of pavement cafes that fill the area. It was a glorious day, hot and sunny, very different to what we'd left behind, and Grand Place was already filling with locals and tourists when we sat down, ordering beers or coffees - depending on constitution and disposition!
From there, having planned a few points of "interest" for later on, we went to the Maison de l'Arbre d'Or, the only house on the Grand Place still owned by a guild - the brewers' - inside which is the Musee de la Brasserie. This is a small museum housing various bits of breweriana, and includes a beer in the entry price. After this, we walked along the Rue Charles Buls to see the Manneken Pis and, having sated this cultural desire, set about finding La Fleur en Papier Dore - which we couldn't, well, not immediately.
Having huffed and puffed our way up what must be Brussels' only hill, it was time for lunch. What can I say?! Nine assorted omelettes and one steak `americaine', which is, erm, raw horse with raw egg dip. (Nice one, Steve).
All his fears about the Continent were writ large on his face; it was round about this time that he also discovered we were getting the 9.00pm train home, not 4.00pm that he'd told his wife. Try reading the memos, chaps!
The completion of lunch was the time for a brief splitting up of the party as Phill and Sarah wanted to visit the Musee de Beaux Arts - I'd visited this on a previous trip and, believe me, there are only so many Christs on crosses you can look at in one lifetime.
The rest of the us wandered back down the Rue Alexiens in search of La Fleur and, this time, found it; one of the capital's more unusual bars, legend has it that Magritte and the Dadaists used to get ratted in here during the 1920s, and the walls are covered with graffiti, poems and doodles - not to mention enough bric-a-brac to keep a legion of carboot sales stocked for weeks.
Rachel and Charlotte turned cultural after this, leaving the "lads" to their own devises and off we went...
A brisk walk across town brought us to A La Morte Subite on the Rue Montagne aux Herbes Potageres, another 1920s bar that takes its name from a bottled beer; long and narrow with plenty of mirrors, its walls are stained with the nicotine of ages, and it has the reputation for having the surliest bar staff in Brussels (two visits, however, have shown absolutely no evidence of this). Along with some first-rate beers, you can also have a plate of cheese to accompany your drink...lovely it was, too.
Our next venue was the tourist oriented Le Cercueil on the Rue de Harengs: this is a converted funeral parlour with coffins for tables, UV lighting and a music range that features Wagnerian doom-and-gloom, Gregorian chants, and Chopin's Funeral March; your beer is served in an earthenware skull to add to the effect but there were no Goths hanging around...shame.
By the time we left, the party was whole again and it was to visit De Muynck Regnier on the Rue des Marche aux Herbes; also known as the Bier Tempel, it was exactly that and, as with most religions, we handed over lots of money to worship there. It sells over 150 different beers and their corresponding glasses either separate or in packs so...righteously loaded, we went off to find A La Becasse.
This ancient bar on the Rue de Tabora, fitted with long wooden benches, has a very Moorish architecture, a splendid beer menu, and serves simple but tasty - and relatively cheap - food, its speciality being snipe cooked in Lambic and served with ham on toast with side salad...mmmm, better than raw mince anyday.
After that, it was time to wend our way back to the Gare-Midi and eventually home. A small panic over a lost passport, a few "jokes" from Customs men about confiscating boxes of beer, and we were aboard; beer and cards followed - and we were back at Waterloo. Excellent day.
Whilst Bier Tempel is located just off from Grand Place, Beer Mania is quite a way from the centre of Brussels and, if you're contemplating a lot of purchases, a bus is probably the best way to get there. Don't be put off by this - the shop is really worth the effort, you'll not regret it. Nasser Efkhetari, the owner, knows his subject inside out, the shelves are stacked with all sorts of alcoholic goodies and beer-related bric-a-brac.
 |
 |
|
|
Nasser in action, decanting Fantome for our pleasure |
 |
 |
|
|
|