Adventures in Antwerp

Apparently, being deprived of sleep and walking all over a city as soon as you arrive makes for a great night of sleep. Or mostly great. I have certain duvet issues that make it hard for me to be 100% comfortable in any European hotel room. I've written about it before, but many European hotels and B&Bs have a sheet on the mattress and a duvet (with cover) on the bed, and that's it. There are no intermediate layers, like a top sheet or blanket. It's just you and the duvet. I'm assuming this practice wouldn't be so popular unless a lot of people liked it, but I am not one of those people. I heat up very quickly, and putting a duvet over me in any other circumstance than a winter's night in a room with poor to no insulation is like sliding me into an oven and setting it to 400. I bake.

So, while I did sleep deeply for a good chunk of time, there were a number of moments where I woke up just enough to slide the duvet off half my body, then slide it back on, then poke my feet out, then pull them back in, then poke just one out, and so on. Even so, I woke up feeling good enough to venture out after breakfast to visit the famous painter Peter Paul Rubens' house, or Rubenshuis, as they call it here.

The morning was gloomy and overcast again, but seeing as I come from the land (or state) of the never-ending drought, I decided to just embrace clouds and rain as part of the experience in this foreign land. I've walked this main road a few times now, which is primarily pedestrians and bicyclists, and while the buildings are beautiful and look as though they might have some historical significance, they all now house a bunch of shops--the ones you see in any major European city now: H&M, Fossil, ESPRIT, Mango, and (this one surprised me a little) Urban Outfitters.

The courtyard and gardens of Rubenshuis offered a welcome respite from all of that.

A few shots of the interior:

(sorry about the accidental finger blur)

If you happen to think, "Rubens and his wife must have been tiny people!" after seeing that bed the way I first did, here's a fun fact for you: people in that period (16th to 17th C.) believed that sleeping in a sitting up positing (or at least slightly reclined position) was good for the digestion, so that's why all the beds were so short. No one has ever explained that before, and I've seen a lot of short beds in historic homes/castles. I suppose anyone who suffers from heartburn might have figured that out, but I had no idea until I read it in the little guide.

Some of Rubens' paintings:

And yes, for those of you who remember my post about Paris from a couple years ago (anyone?), I am continuing my tradition of seeing beautiful, historic sites with hordes of school children.

You've already seen this, but I had to take one with some sunshine, which came out as I was exiting.

Afterwards, I trekked back to my hotel to drop off a few items and just lie down for a few minutes (the jet lag was hitting me right about then, which I calculated was 2:00am California time), scarfed down some lunch at a cafe, then hoofed it over to the harbor area to join the bicycle tour I'd signed up for. Turned out to be me and two women from Scotland (although they are currently working as nurses for a huge oil company in Saudi Arabia), along with our guide, Steven. Some highlights:

1) There is an old Antwerpen legend about a man who was small during the day but would grow into a giant during the night and go through the city looking for children and drunks to take with him out to the river to drown (nice way to try to scare the shit out of wayward children and drinkers, right?). Here's a statue of him about to snatch up two poor drunks at his feet:

Fortunately, another part of this legend was that if you had a statue of the Virgin Mary on your street corner with a lamp under it, you were safe. It also kept you from being taxed, for some reason I can't remember, so it was useful for those superstitious and thrifty, which is probably why there are hundreds of them all over the city:

Another thing you'll see frequently in Antwerp,or Antwerpen,  (sorry, no photos) are hands--the name of the city comes from another legend about a giant. This one lived by the river and would demand boatsmen pay him or he'd cut off their hand. One day, someone got tired of this and cut the hand off the giant while it was sleeping and threw it in the river--"Ant" being the "hand" part, and "werpen" being the "throw" part.

We got sidelined for about 20 minutes due to another downpour, then continued through a lighter rain, which was enough to get me pretty soaked. Again. But it eventually cleared up and we got to enjoy places like this:

2) Beguinage is an example of something you'll find in every city of Belgium, according to Steven. Not quite a convent, it was a property owned by the Catholic church where women who were "in trouble" or in need could go live in peace and safety without going the full route of committing to being brides of Christ for good. Currently, it is now home to a number of senior citizens and others who use the buildings as private residences. Some cats also live there, although they do NOT want to be petted. As Steven was talking, I watched tourist after tourist approach the cat and try to pet it. It started by simply dodging them, but by the third or fourth attempt, it resorted to a loud hiss and a swipe of the paw. I guess it would be annoying to have a bunch of strangers try to touch you all day when you're just trying to chill at home.

We then crossed the river to get a view of the city from the other side. Antwerp, for no reason Steven could explain, has no bridges. They just have two tunnels under the river--one for cars, and one for pedestrians and bicyclists. Normally there is an elevator that can take you down, but as it was broken, we had to use the escalator. Riding the escalator isn't that big of a deal, but doing so while holding/balancing a bike is a little scary the first time or two. Fortunately, it got easier with practice, which was a good thing since we had to come back.

3) the two Scottish women and a glimpse of the escalator behind them (it was quite long, and there were two levels of them)

The tunnel (Look, Ma! I'm biking under water!)

After all that cycling (over 3 1/2 hours), I was ravenous. I asked Steven where I could get an authentic Belgian meal, and he sent me to Bomma's, which is Flemish for "Grandma's." Belgians really love their meat (they have streets named "Bacon" and "Slice of Ham"), so I went for the mixed grill dinner (including cauliflower in cheese sauce and mashed potatoes with broccoli and sweet potato), along with my first beer in Belgium. The grandmas watching over me were pleased.

Fun randomness that made me happy today: the ATM machine asked me to enter my "secret code" after I inserted my card. Isn't that about a hundred times cooler than "pin number"?

Time to wind down and get to bed. Tomorrow I'm going on the hunt for a chocolate shop recommended by Steven, then taking the train to Bruges.