Schmutzli, the anti-Klaus

Christmas Eve Day in Basel saw us walking around the town center--unfortunately the Christmas Markets had already been dismantled. But there were still plenty of things to see, including the Lällekönig (tongue king), who literally sticks his tongue out at resident of "Lesser Basel" which is on the other side of the Rhine.

The river divides the city into 2 parts, Lesser and Greater Basel.

Be forewarned, this guy is hard to find as he's kind of jammed in an outside

corner of a restaurant along the river.

I also saw the symbol of Basel, the basilisk.

We had hot chocolate at one of the cutest tea shops in the world--

I don't remember the name but it's right in the main square with the Rathaus.

It's above a

chocolate shop and it's exactly how you would think a Swiss coffee shop would be.

It had little old lady waitresses wearing black uniforms and white aprons and the whole place was panelled with really dark wood. Each little individual table is wrought-iron with marble tops. The only thing missing were the cuckoo-clocks.

Everyone says Switzerland is expensive and they aren't kidding. For a hot chocolate and a tea, the bill was 12 Swiss Francs (which is almost a 1 to 1 ratio to US dollars).

However, the waitress did give us two of these free chocolates for Christmas, so I can't complain too much.

I learned how to say Merry Christmas is Swiss German, "Frohi Wiehnacht". I have to admit, I'm still a little confused on Swiss German.

As far as I understand, there is no official written Swiss German but all Swiss people can speak German, although this is a foreign language to them. Also, apparently German people have a hard time understanding Swiss German. And not all Swiss German is the same. In Basel, since it's so close to France you say "Merci" while in Zurich (which is about 1 hour away), you say "Danke" like in Germany. From what I was told, there is a big rivalry between the two cities because of this. Who would have thought?

And they say British and American English is different :D

One really neat thing we did was to visit the monument Dreilandereck which is where the 3 countries converge (Germany, France and Switzerland).

We also drove into Lorrach, Germany, but it was Christmas Eve and nothing was open so I can't say too much about it.

One thing I found so strange about Europe was the proliference of Roasted Chestnut stalls. I've never heard of this (outside of the Christmas carol).

A Spanish guy selling them in downtown Basel let us have a couple to try (again with the free samples--I love it!). I have to admit, they weren't my favorites. I think they're called marones in French and German, but the idea of chestnuts roasting on an open fire is much better in theory than in actual fact. They were huge and kind of chalky with very little real taste.

At the end of the day, we went to my friend Laura's parent's house for dinner. It was so great to see how a real Swiss family celebrates Christmas. First of all, they have the big celebration on Christmas Eve, not on Christmas Day like Americans.

We had a wonderful dinner including this mushroom pastry they made because I'm vegetarian. How nice!

After dinner, everyone opened their

gifts, but unfortunately Schmutzli didn't come by the house. He is Santa's little evil helper, aka the Scariest Thing Ever!

The Swiss Santa Claus is called Samichlaus and he, along with Schmutzli, will come to children's houses on Christmas Eve. They consult a book and if you've been good, Samichlaus will give you an orange or candy.

However, if you've been bad, Schmutzli will stuff you in his sack and take you away to the Black Forest, the whole time beating you with birch twigs!

This actually happened to my friend's 40-year old coworker! Well, he didn't get taken all the way to the Black Forest--the Schmutzli let him out of the sack at the end of his driveway. But still, I can only imagine you'd be scarred for life.

I don't think today's PC world lets Schmutzli get away with those sort of things nowadays.

It makes the American Santa Claus look pretty tame by comparison.

Switzerland Ho!

My final morning in Belgium was spent last-minute packing and then dragging my suitcase through the extremely snowy and icy streets of Brussels, all the while praying the wheels wouldn't fall off my luggage.


Before catching my train to Basel, however, we did manage to squeeze in a few things, including eating a Belgian waffle! The best thing ever!

Unfortunately is wasn't from the guy on the left. He normally parks outside the art museum, but the day we went the buzzard wasn't there!


I had to get my waffle from this place.
It was still delicious, but not so great as getting it from a guy on the side of the road, Philly style.


We also hit some last minute shopping and a quick, but fabulous, trip to the Royal Museum of Fine Art to see the Reubens.

Immediately afterwards, we ran to the train station where I was promptly put on a 6-hour train ride to Basel. I was hoping and praying to get my little nook to myself, but unfortunately a rather unattractive and loud Belgian/French? couple sat in the seats opposite. They kept running out for cigarette breaks at all the stops, swilling beer and basically conversing really, really loudly in French.

Personally, I was most mad because nobody told me you could drink beer on the train! lol. I haven't seen that since the Long Island Railroad. I have to admit I always liked the idea of being able to drink a beer on the train home after a stressful day at work in Manhattan.

Before we leave Brussels, I have to post one more shot. Ok, wait I just realized I fibbed because I found one more. This one is of the King's Palace and if anyone out there can settle a long-standing dispute of whether when they fly the flag it means the King is at home and working or merely just in Belgium, it would be greatly appreciated.













I arrived in Basel about 8 p.m. and my friend Laura and her sister were waiting for me. We dropped my stuff off at Laura's place in Basel Country (which sounds extremely far away but is really just the next "village" over from Basel and took 5 minutes to reach from the downtown train station) and then we went to another Irish bar, Paddy Reilly's for Laura's birthday. It was great, but super packed and, living in California, I had forgotten how many people smoke in bars.


Here is her looking all pretty and me looking all sad sack after a long journey.

Beer, Blizzards and Frites, Part Quatre

On my (almost) last day in Belgium, we decided to take a day-trip to Ghent and Brugges. I specifically wanted to see Ghent for two reasons. The first is that I used to waitress at an Irish bar in a neighborhood of Norfolk, Virginia called Ghent. But more importantly to see this:

This is called (quite unimaginatively, but the name we learned in Art History class, The Ghent Altarpiece) or the older name of The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb.

I love art, especially Flemish and Dutch art. In a previous life I applied to grad school to get my Master's Degree in Art History. Luckily for me, Bryn Mawr turned me down since that would have meant I probably would have spent my life locked in a museum and not met my wonderful husband.

But I digress. This altarpiece, by Jan Van Eyck, is one of the world's masterpieces. And let me tell you, it is huge! The amount of detail and realism the early Flemish painters can convey with simple brush strokes is nothing short of amazing. You really see the swirls and the embroidery on the textiles come to life. You can see the sheen on the dewy pearls and feel the breath of life in the shadows of the robes.

Ghent is a beautiful city bisected by two rivers and many canals. Primarily a student city, it didn't feel nearly as touristy as Brugges. I really enjoyed myself here and also got my first (European) taste of frites, which were the most amazing thing ever!

There was a frites shop in Philadelphia when I lived there, but I don't remember it being all that. And as consequently it went out of business, I guess I wasn't the only one.

During the Christmas season, there is a special "shopper's train ticket" to Ghent from Brussels that was, I believe, 9 Euros.

The downtown tourist area is quite a ways from the train station and I'm not sure how I would have done it if I hadn't been with people who knew how and where to take the tram. If you plan a trip to Ghent, be forewarned it's a good 10 minute tram ride at least to downtown.

My friends didn't want to accompany me to Brugges as they said they had been there a million times on school trips and they had things to do, so I carried on alone. In preparation and in the spirit of research for my trip, I had rented the Colin Farrell movie, In Brugges.

I have to admit, I couldn't understand his whining about how much he hated Brugges until I actually got there. What a shame. It seemed to me like a Disney version of what a medieval city is supposed to be like. It is definitely not one of my top pics.

While the architecture is beautiful, it's almost ruined by the blase attitude of the people who work there. I mean, c'mon, I know you work in a tourist city but that doesn't mean you don't have to give a damn.

No one was rude, but it was definitely an assembly-line feel. Kind of like, keep it moving. No matter where you're from--Zimbabwe, Iran, Malawai--it was like "We've seen a million like you and we'll see a million more, so on your bike and good day to you all!"

That didn't stop me from get

ting some great pics though.

There was one thing that saved Brugges in my opinion. I encountered it as I was stumbling back along the cobblestones, trying to find my way back to the train station (BTW, everyone tells you the train lets you off downtown near all the tourist stuff. It doesn't. Rather, prepare to walk a good half-mile as the crow flies or a good mile or two fumbling your way along ancient alleys and churchyards until you randomly come upon the main tourist area. Or conversely, you can try to find your way back to the train station by following a family, loaded with Christmas purchases, for over a mile along the river only to discover they were going to the car park. As I unfortunately did).

The one thing that saved my trip was the Groeningemusem, where I encountered another of the world's great treasures, hidden in this little museum in a back alley. What gives Belgium? Anyway, it was another van Eyck and I won't bore you with the details.

After a rather uneventful train ride back to Brussels, we met up with another former student and friend of mine, Julie. We went to an apparently up and coming neighborhood of Brussels called Place Flagey. We went to an Irish pub with the unlikely named of de Valera's. We originally wanted to go to Michael Collins (which is referenced in the link to de Valera's) but due to scheduling conflicts we couldn't make it). If you go to Place Flagey, just know that there is seriously NO parking in the area.

But it was nice to see another of my students (poor girl, she came to the language school in early June when apparently Spain has its school holidays, so it was her, the 1 Belgium and a class of 7 Spanish people).

This picture was taken by a really drunk guy who fell off the stoop as he was taking our picture and I have no idea who the guy in the background is, but I do know he's friends with the drunk guy.

Beer, Blizzards and Frites, Part Trois

There are 2 tips I wanted to share before I begin: the first is that many places in Belgium don't accept credit cards. This came as quite a shock to me as I had planned to finance my trip that way and I come from the land where you can put a $1.69 coffee from 7-11 on plastic. Who would have thought? Definitely check first at a restaurant before you order.

The second is that (at least for the next month or so) the Brussels subway is free. Technically, it's on the honor system, but almost no one pays. The first time this happened to me was entirely not my fault. I was looking for the ticket taker or a guard, but there was no one anywhere. So I went to the platform figuring you must pay down there. But no. Apparently, whoever was in charge of constructing the subway figured people don't need to be policed and forced into paying. They would just do it of their own free volition. Obviously, this didn't happen. So they are in the process of installing turnstiles, ala NYC, but as of now, it's a free-for-all.

On my 3rd day in Brussels, we went to CarreFour to buy boots (my Belgian friends were surprised to learn they have CarreFours in Brazil. I know this because I bought some chocolate in one and my friend Danielle and I found spiders in one of the chocolate bars. Eww).

My not so sexy, but oh so dry and warm boots.

My friend Delphine and I walked around quite a bit since it wasn't so snowy and we went everywhere. Including the European

Parliament, which truth be told, wasn't all that interesting. Even Delphine, who is majoring in European politics, kept muttering

about how lame it was. There weren't any Parlimentian (is this a word?) members there, and the audio tour spent such an inordinate amount of time waxing poetic about this abstract sculpture in the middle of the foyer, that it made me think they didn't have much else to say about the European Parliament.

Oh, they talked at great length about the architecture of the building too.

One nice thing I noticed about Brussels is that they give you a lot of free samples in an attempt to get you to buy something. But no one is pushy at all if you just want to try the free sample. Here is Delphine as we sampled free, and wonderful, hot chocolate and chocolate samples at a store downtown. I wish I could remember the name of the shop, as they had cool flavors like Japanese Citrus Chocolate, Black Pepper Chocolate and Chili Chocolate, but the store was all done up in pinks and it's down the street from the Royal Art Museum.

We also walked around the main touristy area. But as my local friends told me, don't eat on Butcher Street. This street is almost too cute to be believed, but I have it on good advice that it's completely nasty inside the kitchens of the restaurants (apparently they all connect in one big un-hygenic cellar underneath). The word on the streets is that all the seafood on display is rotten and will give you a nasty case of Montezuma's Revenge (or whatever the Belgian version is!). Also the waiters stand outside and harass you to come in and eat. Which is pretty much what they do in the Gaslamp Quarter in San Diego, so I almost felt at home.

I forgot to mention that the night before we had dinner at Second Element, a Thai restaurant, in the area called Place St. Boniface. This is a non-touristy but "hip" multi-cultural area, however, the thing I liked best was that you could ask for a to-go box/doggie bag and they knew what you were talking about! Apparently this staple of American life is not well

-known in Europe. All I can say is that they are seriously missing out! The doggie bag has been a godsend of breakfast for me for as

long as I can remember (I'm not a huge breakfast food fan). Plus, you end up getting 2 meals for the price of 1!

There is a "Lower Brussels" (which apparently doesn't rate very highly on Trip Advisor as it's number 59 and nobody could even be assed to write a review about it) but I'm not sure why. It's more of a residential and shopping neighborhood but still quite a good place for visitors. I actually prefer this type of neighborhood and it has plenty of great shops, including very nice home design shops and similar mixed in with local corner markets.

As we kept walking around, there were some spectacular views of Brussels from the downtown area, including this look-out point.

Beer, Blizzards and Frites, Part Deux

So after laying awake until almost 7:30 a.m. due to jet lag from the West Coast, I awoke bright eyed and bushy tailed at 11:30 a.m. on my 2nd day in Brussels. Just in time to get ready to meet another of my friends and former students, Amandine. Due to more snowfall, we weren't sure if she could make it but she's a trooper and pulled through.

We met her at the Central Train Station and then went on to lunch at Maison des Crepes, which is downtown but not very touristy, which is great.

It was so cute, all the tables were so close together and they had this little staircase upstairs where the bathrooms where. It would definitely be hard to be really fat in Europe. Everything's smaller! You wouldn't even be able to fit between the tables at a cafe.

After lunch, we hit the Brussels Christmas Market and went for some hot wine. Now, I have to admit when I first heard about this hot wine, I wasn't so sure but after the first sip I was a convert! It tastes like hot sangria! So delicious. And they have all these hot wine tents everywhere with heaters. What a great idea--why can't America do this?

There was a Merry Go Round downtown at the Christmas Market!

Here is one of the Christmas Market stalls. The cotton candy maker inspired an interesting conversation on what cotton candy was called in American and British English (fairy floss, don't ask me why).

After wandering around the Christmas market for awhile, getting our feet completely soaked with slush and watching the ice skaters we decided to grab a coffee at another cafe, J'Aime

Again with the cuteness factor. And so different from American cafes where they burn and turn tables in order to maximize the tip factor. While it's a little annoying not to get acknowledged immediately by the waitress, it's wonderful knowing there's no rush and when you get your order, you can sit there all afternoon if you want.

In the States, you'd get a big ol' cup of the stink eye if you tried that.

In between snow flakes, we also managed to see the Grand Place (which was amazing, but pictures can do it justice since it's so humongous!)

We also saw the famous symbol of Brussels, Mannekin Pis which to my great consternation and dismay, wasn't dressed in one of his many fancy outfits. He's also very small. In the picture I took, you almost can't see him and he's pretty much hidden behind the icicles he's urinating out.

This much bigger chocolate rendition is better.

We also saw some medieval urinals outside a church (not sure of it's name) in the downtown square. Today, they are full of graffiti.

I also saw this fabulous shop window.

Beers, Blizzards and Frites

After a four hour delay in Chicago and an hour delay at the luggage carousel (never again American Airlines), I finally arrived in Brussels. Right after the biggest snow storm of the year and the coldest day of 2009. Nice.

My friends Laura and Delphine surprised me up at the airport and then told me they were going to take me to do something "not so touristy". That was the understatement of the year. I'm not sure what I next expected to hear, but it certainly wasn't, "We're going to take you to a Concentration Camp." Definitely not what I was expecting.

As it turns out, they had had out of town visitors every week for a month and were sick of doing the expected touristy things, so they thought something different might be in order.

As they pointed out, it's part of American history too. And hey, I'm game for just about anything.

The camp we went to isn't one of the famous ones. It's called (Fort) Breendonk and is outside of Brussels (about halfway to Antwerp, which makes it about half an hour outside the city). Here is the description from Wikipedia.

"During World War II the fort was briefly used as the General Headquarters of King Leopold III, leading the Belgian armed forces. After his surrender to the Germans it was transformed into a concentration camp by the Nazis (primarily as a transit camp for transport to Auschwitz). It gained a grim reputation as a place of torture and interrogation of a wide variety of prisoners. Amongst those to be incarcerated there were the linguist Herman Liebaers, fencer Jacques Ochs, Communist Party of Belgium politician Bert Van Hoorick and anti-Nazi fascist Paul Hoornaert."

This is the photo for the parking lot of Breendonk.

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.

I think this was one of the coldest days I've endured, and coming from Michigan, that's saying something. However, it added to the feel of the place, because you realized just how miserable and hopeless a place it was.

We did the audio tour and while not every stop was worth listening to, it really explained some things that I don't think we would have gotten a feel for otherwise. Including the gruesome torture room, where they would torture even women and leave the door open for others to hear to serve as a warning.

If you care to go, the address is Brandstraat 57, 2830 Willebroek,

Belgium. Open daily from 9:30 until 5:30 and costs 6 Euros (5 for students)

But it's not easy to find and we had to ask a few passer-bys (I don't think I've ever felt more like I was in a Monty Python sketch than when we had to stop the car to ask people building snowmen in their front yard with their children, "Excuse me, do you know where the concentration camp is?").

I felt a little off-kilter but no one seemed to think it was strange. They just pointed us on our way. BTW, outside of Brussels, everyone speaks Flemish. Since I was with native speakers 99% of the time, I didn't have to worry about seeking out English speakers since I quickly learned my Spanish skills were of no use in Belgium.

A picture of us before we went in to lighten the mood. Did I mention it was freezing that day??!!!

Who killed Archie Mitchell?

One of the pleasant side benefits of a holiday in Europe is that I can catch up with the one and only soap I like, "Eastenders". Being that it^s a British soap opera, I don^t really catch it all that often. Meaning that I only watch it every few years when I,m in Europe or when my local PBS station decides to air a decade old episode.

So imagine my delight when I learned they give not one, but 2 episodes of Eastenders daily in Swtizerland! My enthusiasm was slightly dampened when I realized it is the exact same episode, but nonetheless it^s Eastenders and who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

I spent one entire morning on Wikipedia reacquanting myself with all the characters and plot twists and turns since I^d last ventured into Albert Square in 2005. Much has happened, yet much has stayed the same. Ah, the sage wisdom of Eastenders.

In case youäre (damn European keyboards!) interested, I^ll leave you with the cliff hanger of the decade (literally). The Eastenders Christmas special 2009 entitled, "Who shot Archie Mitchell". Admittedly a cut rate rip off of Dallas in the early 80^s, but c^mon the show has been on for 25 years already. I^m sure the writers are starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel with new plot lines.

Without further ado, the Eastenders 2009 Christmas special (well, a part of it anyway)