Belgian Beer Changes Lives

When last I left you, I was preparing for Dario's send-off, which turned out to be, as expected, a really damn good time. Dario cooked up some authentic Italian for the flat and a few friends. We handled a half-dozen bottles of wine and dessert, then played a Danish drinking game the was pretty much just like bullshit pyramid. Everyone was doing well by this point, and we headed down to the ground floor for a Parnassos hallway party. The night was riddled with Spanish and Italian drinking songs and oddly enough, a few David Hasselhoff music videos.
Een kartje of German beer later, I woke up Friday morning to ride around Utrecht completing my registration with the city. I spent a calm evening finishing my autobiography and packing for the weekend. We boarded a coach bus at 9 by Centraal Station. It was a large group of about 50 internationals and a few Dutchies. We drove an hour and a half south to the small Dutch harbour town of Willemstad. Willemstad is a very cool town with a booming tourist industry in the summer due to its access to the sea and the inland canals. The most interesting part of the town is the bunkers, built during the war and since used by teenagers as a post-bar close drinking haven.
Next, we headed further south to the province of Zeeland. Zeeland played host to a devastating natural disaster in the '50's, when quickly rising water levels destroyed the areas dykes and placed much of southern Holland under water, ultimately killing 1800 people, and leaving countless others possessionless. This prompted the Dutch government to start the Delta project, which over the course of a few years created a dyke system guaranteeing such a disaster would never happen again. The town had an expo about the disaster and project, as well as other miscellaneous sea-related things, including seals and manta rays. Though the most hilarious moment of the weekend occurred when Barry unknowingly walked into a life-sized replica of a sperm whale's penis. Not sure how he missed it.
After lunch and a coffee, we made our way to Antwerp, arriving at the hostel in great time due to the impeccable driving of Dick, our talented bus driver. Dick put that bus through some narrow Dutch streets without breaking a sweat. We had dinner and a few of the city's trademark beers, Koninick, around seven and then split off to explore the Antwerp pubs. We stared at de Engel. This pub had hands-down the best beer I've ever tasted. The rule for the evening was, if you're drinking Belgian, dubbels and tripels only. Dubbels are 7% and tripels are 8. After this pub we stopped by one of many karaoke bars in the centre, for one beer, and only one beer, and you can imagine why. Sweet Home Alabama just doesn't sound the same with a french accent.
In search of a pub boasting over 500 beers, we found a swank club called Berlin and stopped in for a beer and some kind of shot the Swedes swear by, which you light on fire than drink through a straw. Can't argue with that. We then swung by Buster's for another beer before heading next door for some Belgian fries. They had way too many sauces to choose from, but I trusted the employee's suggestion, as he looked like he definitely tried them all. While peacefully, albeit loudly enjoying the fries, a few Belgians got in a fist fight, the first I've seen in Europe. It ended anti-climatically with some kind of aggressive hug.
We capped the night off at the Celtic Irish, where I had a Guinness, which was practically a meal in itself. My first taxi ride here was entertaining, as the driver belted out Italian standards while failing to brake on most of his turns. I crashed in my bed around four, fearing the eight-o clock wake-up call.
My morning started with me grasping the door handle and then watching it fall onto the floor. Hungover, towel-clad, and fixing a door handle is no way to start the day. After breakfast and coffee I was ready to take on the scheduled city tour. Our guide was humorous, and used verbal irony generously. He also loved to make us guess which buildings were built when, as if we all had some extensive background in classic architecture. Antwerp is a harbour city, and has changed a lot over the past four centuries in its economic focus. The guide loved describing how Antwerpians stole business away from Bruge and Brussels. The weather was "a bit of shit" as the English girls say, so everyone was ready to warm up in the bus on the way back to Holland.
We stopped in Hilvarenbeek to visit De Roos (the rose), a brewery. I enjoyed a Bikse Tripel, and even purchased a 75cL, which I hope to send home with my folks, though I fear it may not survive the month.
This weekend did make me realize that it will take me a while to enjoy two of my favorite things, coffee and beer, when I get back to the States. Beer in the lowlands is just so good, and flavorful. And Italian coffee has qualities unmatched in a grande from Starbucks. In the meantime, I'll enjoy every sip and gulp that I can.
This week should be pretty calm, as I study up and prepare for my trip to Berlin this weekend. Barry, Mike, and I board a bus Thursday night, and return early Monday morning. I'm looking forward to a weekend of heaping portions, boots filled with beer, and a city with a very interesting recent history.