Thanksgiving. Far and away my favorite holiday, aside, of course, from National Sleep Until Noon Day and Pizza Appreciation Week. I thought last year may have been my best Thanksgiving yet, which I spent by myself watching all three original Star Wars movies accompanied by that Thanksgiving staple, a DiGiornos frozen pizza. How could this year possibly top that? How about this: Antwerp, the only turkey in Belgium, and cardboard costumes?
My friends Perrin and Emily are also doing an extended Euro jaunt, and after finishing an involved collaborative art project at a farmhouse in the Czech Republic, relocated to Antwerp. Their friend Salem from RISD already lived there with her German boyfriend Jens, and managed to get a fairly large flat for the month for a very good deal while it was under renovation. I had no idea they were there, but a week before Thanksgiving I received the call via MySpace, which I heeded immediately. Probably counter-productive to my adventures in monolingual isolationism, but speaking English with fellow Americans is exactly what I needed.
The day before t-day the alarm went off at 5:30, for today was about a ten-hour train day. I left Lina’s flat at 6am, and she sent me a groggy “goodbye” from her room as Otter and I left for Warschauer Str station. The train day followed thusly : Warschauer to Ostbahnhof to Dortmund to Cologne to Bussells to Antwerp. The train from Brussels to Antwerp involved a 20 euro supplement on my Eurail pass, due to it being a Thalys high speed train – probably the nicest in Europe outside of the Orient Express. Infact Otter and I had the front of the train, (the Salon) to ourselvex, and we immediately brought a meal of sliced beef, potatoes, bread, cheese, chocolate and coffee as soon as I sat down. There’s something great about train travel, something I admittedly have not done much of in the US, but am pondering doing once I get back. Maybe it’s the foreign countryside that rushes by as the miles tick way, or just that movement, the barely noticeable motion of train on track. I’ve never really been that bored on trains, and find that I can actually sleep on them, as opposed to airplanes which I find almost impossible. Plus, there’s no dining car on an airplane, so that may have something to do with it. Now if they could just figure out how to put high-speed internet on the cars I’d be set.
I arrived at Antwerp Berchem station at 7pm, crossed the courtyard to the number 8 tram, which brought me through the center of town to Perrin’s pad. Antwerp is a curious place: a mixture of old world Belgium and high finance, which means lots and lots of shopping. Being the diamond capital of Europe might of something to do with it, as well as its role as one of Europe’s busiest ports. Whatever the reason, one has the opportunity to buy lots of shit here, from jeweler to furrier.
There is also a huge Cirque De Soleil is semi-permanace, and their white circus spires are my signal to get off the tram. A few directionless rambles aside, I find Perrin and Emily’s flat, a fifth floor walk up with the steep narrow stairs you find in as you head West. Greetings, hugs, and warmth. As I drop the bags and Otter gets busy running around the joint, I notice that all the furniture is made out of cardboard. By furniture I mean the kitchen table, which is at a low Morroccan level, as well as the seating cushions, each decorated in revolving patterns by removing sections of the top cardboard layer by knife. There was a cardboard cornucopia filled with cardboard corn, tomatoes, and fruit. Even Perrin and Emily’s mattress was a creation involving a cardboard box spring. The flat came unfurnished, but they were supplied with a generous cardboard donation, which they obviously used to the maximum potential.
Perrin and I set off to pick up the turkey. At the local supermarket, Du Haze, the butcher presents us with two choices: a little five pounder and a massive fifteen pound bird, each decorated with a gold ribbon. Of course we take the biggun, as we’re expecting 10 hungry people, five US (Indians) and five Europeans (Pilgrims). As Perrin and Emily were commited to other dishes, I as only happy to provide turkey–cooking services, which I have done many times in years past and was looking forward to doing in a foreign country. Since I didn’t have enough time to do my usual brine method, I decided to do it breast-down, which supposedly results in a much juicier breast than when it is roasted in the traditional fashion. We shall see.
November 22, 2007
Today was spent in largely in preparation. After all, there was food to be made, and an argyle tablecloth to be made out of tape, created by Salem and Jens. Friends arrived from various locales: Emily's brother Everett from Amsterdam, Cecil from Groningen, Pieter from down the street. The kitchen was was packed with too many dishes vying for crucial oven time, the same as any american Thanksgiving. While I was occupied with all things turkey, Pieter and Cecil finished my aborted project of constructing a cardboard Mayflower replica. Perrin, Emily and Everett, meanwhile busied themselves with the all important costumes, truly authentic native american head dresses for the Americans, mad-hatter sized "pilgrim" hats for the Europeans. Nuts. When we finally sat down to eat it sort of resembeled a school play, only with a lot more wine. I late night excursion to the "Nachtwinkel" (night store) for more wine in full costume garnered appropriately confused looks from the Antwerpers, but Emily attempted to ease their confusion by explaining "It's Thanksgiving!", although I doubt that changed their perception much. However, from now on I am requiring costumes at every future Thanksgiving, cardboard or not. Oh, and the upside-down turkey turned out delicious!
November 23rd, 2007
Tonight I was to set off for Amsterdam to meet my friend Robert, but before catching the train we did some important walking around. Ostensibly a search for Belgian waffles, we wandered along the harbour, through the Maritime museum, into an creepy abondoned building and through the main square. The merging of semi-ancient and modern is perfect here, with the narrow winding streets opening into grand spaces and back again, trams running back and forth and shoppers spending an ungodly amount of euros. I decided on Beligian Frites rather than the pre-made waffles across the street, and sadly have determined that the Dutch version is decidedly better, based solely on crunch factor. These things are important, folks.
Perrin and Em were kind enought to watch Otter for the weekend, so I set off to try to catch the train. While I eventually did, I could not find a cab to the station just didn't feel like messing around with trams. I eventually found a cab willing to take me to Antwerp Central, wandered around the staion for a bit, and boarded the train for the 2 hour ride to Antwerp Centraal. One stop before the end, at Shiphol airport, the nearly empty train was invaded by obnoxious English 20-somethings out to party for the weekend. Excruciating. I broke free of the mod squad and met Robert outside, where he took me to punk squat bar Cafe The Minds, while we waited for his ex Kat de Lijn to show up. The thing about Amsterdam (and Europe in general) that make most Americans shit their pants is that they really don't care about how old you are in regards to the drink, and saw a lot of kids in that bar that couldn't be muc older than 14. I mean, they looked young. Which means Robert and I felt old, so when Kat showed up we bailed via taxi for a club called Pacific Park.
This place is huge. Probably as big as the Sage in Berlin, but more open, and with an upper balcony that provides an overview of the dancing throng below, which I completely forgot to get pictures of. Japanese tourists, rockers, artists, old dudes, young girls and everyone in between packed this place to the gills. Wooden Tit was supposed to play but they cancelled, so another garage combo played in their stead. A great night, marred only by the sudden appearance of unstoppable hiccups, and I was unable to find my only remedy (peanut butter) until we reached Kat's place, where we were staying that night. As soon as we got there, relief could not come soon enough as I'd been hiccuping for about 20 blocks, and with sweet peanut butter putting my hiccups to rest, we called it a night.The next morning/afternoon consisted of a concotion that Robert made involving turkish sausage, cumin cheese, scrampled eggs and mayo on a baguette that was miraculous. We later boarded a train for Ahrlen, a small Dutch town occupied primarily by an outdoor shopping district. I didn't but anything, but I did come across a curious display of wax ears. Apparently Ahrlen is the center of worl'ds ear supply. We wandered around while we waited for Robert's
friend Mark to pick us up for Koln, were I would make my second visit to the Sonic Ballroom.
The next day I declined the invite to carry the party on to Utrecht to catch Two Tears again, as I was anxious to relieve Perrin and Emily of dog watching duty. I arrived back in Antwerp just in time for Thanksgiving leftovers with Salem and Jens, with a ghetto-kids-make-good double feature of Roll Bounce and Drumline. Lessons learned from each film: girls like guys with big skates, and one band, one sound. True 'nuff.
The next few days in the 'Twerp were filled with pinball, walking, more movies on the computer (Disturbia and Real Genius) and the search for a reliable internet connection since the freebee we were using was shut off by the man. We spent some time an Antwerp staple De Vagant, home to Jenever, a belgian grain alchohol infused with a variety of flavors. The final night we went to club on the edge of town to see French art punkers Papier Tiger, and became involved in a dance party that lasted until 4 am, in which I somehow managed to tear he crap out of my shoulder, an injury for me when I have too much to drink and become obsessed with lifting people. The next day would be a long one, as I had to go to Diegem, Belgium to resolve a work issue. Diegem is basically the Brussels airport and a succession of Office parks, and the "station" is merely a platform. Getting to the Belgian office involved a train a tram ride to Antwerp Berchem, a train to Brussels, a train to Diegem, a mile walk with Otter and my all my bags, then a walk back to the station, then on to Brussels, to Koln, To Berlin. I needed to move into a rental apartment for a few days, so from I went to Lina's grabbed my junk and we huffed it the four blocks to the apartment and up the five flights of stairs, finally capping off the night at Fuermeder, a sweet punk bar we had a beer, battled it out on Spiderman 3 "flipper" and retired to our respective flats, exhausted.
December 1, 2007
Tonight I met with Daniel, the owner of the Alien Snatch record label that is putting out the Hex Dispensers album, at the John Schooley One man band show in Kreuzberg. We talked official rock biznatch and had a few beers at Franken, then mover on to The Bull Bar, a small uncrowded joint with good music. We met again the next night, with Phillip from the Kidnappers and had amazing pizza at a gigantic, bustling Italian joint called Due Forni, and caught the last two-thirds of the set by a reunited Undertones, which was a great show save for the presence of two shirtless skinheads who insisted on the "skinhead staredown". I met my friend Jessica and her boyfriend Dav who were travelling from Seattle, and we shared a shot later with fellow ex-seattleite Chris Bell, who was DJing at the Franken. Always great to see friends from back home, but I called it an early night and got back to Otter and sweet, sweet sleep. Next its off to Paris to meet the mom and sis, and hopefully a successful search for more permanent digs. Stay tuned.
1 comment:
I'm readin'... just not commenting (yet). Hope all is well!
Post a Comment