All tagged Belgium

Antwerpen Easy Drinkin'

Antwerpen Easy Drinkin'

Samuel Kazmer
Beer, Belgium, Brewery

In route to Antwerp from Brussels we detoured to the Trappisten, a roadside tavern across the street from the Westmalle Abbey.  Beneath a cloudless sky on the patio we sipped from chaliced Westmalle glasses: one golden, the other brown.  The brown was a mixture of the Triple and Dubbel (called a Trip-Trap), resulting in something between a Tripel, Dubbel, and Quadrupel.  Midday sun cut the Spring with Summertime.  The buds on leafless branches carried persistent remains of morning condensation.  They reflected tiny bulbs rising in columns toward the red-bricked wall surrounding Westmalle Abbey.

Refresh and Reflect

Refresh and Reflect

Samuel Kazmer
Belgium, Brewery

On the pike we carry heads of those we cross.  A deep gash cut ruby red turns black with fresh blood; the eyes once full of life become empty and distant, looking upon the fields to unknowable horizons.  They roll back and the croaking starts.  You start to shake for life, but it’s already gone with that final choke in blood.  You watch a young man die and look around to keep from throwing up.  From an opioid haze a few mental blocks from a padded room you remember what it’s like to go to war.  In the Jaques Woods I walked through someone else’s nightmare: perfectly spaced pines overlooking fields of grazing fire dotted with persistent fox holes.  The winter struck early and fierce in the Ardennes, 1944.  American and German soldiers, fleeced and furred, billowed vapor in a stand-off like two locomotives pushing continuously in opposite directions.  Dead bodies stacked rigor mortis and frozen provided cover for future barrages.  Rattling machine gun fire and the high pitch scream of artillery and mortars arrived in scores from both sides with little notice for exact grid location.  Certainly no one wanted to be there. 

Nunnery to Brewery

Nunnery to Brewery

Samuel Kazmer
Belgium, Brewery, Europe, travel

Our second stop, Brasserie C, brought us south for the day in the first place.  At the base of the Montagne de Bueren, next to the stairs running up towards the old citadel, we saw a sign to the left and up a narrow alley for the brewpub.  All the buildings looked and felt very old in this section of town, aptly referred to as Old Town.  We eventually found the entrance after circumnavigating the building and breached a doorway requiring a slight duck to avoid a bruise and headache.  We walked indoors to a dark, empty bar and met with Kerian, their Public Relations & Beer Tour representative.  The building, a nunnery in 1611 and an architectural museum in the 1960’s, began with solid ecclesiastical bones and consolidated much of Liege’s iconic furniture, paneling, doors, and fireplaces under one roof.  

A Belgian Blonde in Limburg

A Belgian Blonde in Limburg

Samuel Kazmer
Brewery, travel, Europe, Belgium

Comparing our arrival in Belgium to that in Mexico six months ago paints the canvas in black and white.  

In Mexico: we landed in Oaxaca at 10 PM, at an abandoned airport where everything and everyone lived in Spanish; Sara and I shared a seat on the bus (a van) burgeoning with bags and humans; we rode down dark dirt roads chasing stray dogs through the maze of wire fences and graffitied buildings; we bumped along for 1.5 hours to move 20 miles; last to leave the bus, we nervously walked with our 50 pound packs along a one light street searching for a red door and our home for the next month.  

In Belgium: we landed around noon; the airport, clean and streamlined, seemed designed for efficiency; our rental car was waiting, we purchased a SIM card next to the rental car office, and had the option to do it all in English, Dutch, or French; we drove down the Autobahn to Zutendaal for a week-long house-sit; at the drive-way, the gate opened and our hosts greeted us, showed us around and introduced us to a dog, two cats, and two horses; we walked the dog down narrow paths through the woods in the failing light, sat on the couch with wool socks and radiant heat building, made room for the dog by our feet, and looked out the window at a Whitetail bounding as the evening drizzle pattered on the skylights, sounding like static on a record.