Magic City - Monty Part 2

This is a massive mural (painted on concrete) in Montgomery metro - painted by Jean Folon (that's a man's name just in case you were wondering) in the 1970s. The official site for the metro says it's about having a faintly sinister sun indoors (hence my post just now about the yellow). I like it though as it seems happy yet stylized. In AA300 terms the metro is a border zone - we're facing in the direction of the forest where Flanders starts, as well as a bump in price because you've crossed the border.

Montgomery metro part 1

Montgomery (it's a famous junction in Brussels lorded over by a statue of Monty, the famous soldier guy - I've got a picture of the view of the Cinquantenaire 'Arc de Triomphe' arch through his legs but thought better of posting it) metro is a great place - lots of 1970s stuff, probably about to be ripped out - just like most of my brain. Anyway, this bit is near our old flat - this was on a hot night after a Wiener Schnitzel in a Croatian restaurant. I'm not sure why the walls are yellow - they smell OK, so maybe it's just part of the sun has migrated underground without telling us. Can you tell that haiku took about thirty seconds to write - that long I hear you say!

Rain rain rain

Last night we went to an Indonesian restaurant - I got loads of photos of rain ('cos that was what was happening) but let's face it - everyone knows what rain looks like. So here (on the left) is the person who took me out for dinner to celebrate my recent birthday and various other things. The photo is a bit weird as it's actually a transfer on a shopping bag, so I shot the bag, as well as bagging the shot.

Here's a poem about rain - my poetry group gave it a mixed reaction, which is all for the best I reckon.

RAIN

If it were a person, it'd be working for the Planning Office, or maybe Woolworths just before closedown, whatever, each rain is different. It always make you sweat
as if Nature, promising you'll be buried in the bliss of summer, has said,
'Hey now - here are my real prizes you soldier - big grey sensible drops of water

- these are my real signature - isn't it time you had one of your own?'

It makes you pensive. You stuff yourself with passion - a really tiresome business

-and like a junior exec. swivelling on a plastic chair your brain
quickens and tries to shove the rain in its soul, tries to put out the images
of hot-headed lovers, or gloss-lipped devils, those little Kodak slides
that flicker in time to the rain, tap-dancing on the stones outside.

After a lifetime, maybe rain gets bloated, kind of worn out, as if it wants
to go down to the coast, sit in a home and say, 'Well, it was all for nothing,
but maybe if I take a brief look back, like Kronos just before Tartarus,
or like that seal I saw in the zoo pausing before it jumped into the pool,
the smell of this life won't be as sour as I think.'

Amazing stuff, rain. Look how it thuds to the ground, rises up
again, softens all, almost vehemently, almost laboriously,
wistfully hinting at Eden and machine-guns
a hat of silver framing your hair.

Bear the pain!

On being told that he might have to co-Mod OUSA Cuddly Toys after all, and that it would definitely involve loads and loads and loads and loads and loads and loads and loads and loads of work with the E C and just about everyone else coming out as a secret cuddly toy fiend, OUSA Belgium's least convincing member held his rapidly emptying head with a mixture of remorse and mousse.

At the arms of Brussels

It's a good place - you can eat really well for 40 euros or so - in my case chicory soup, North Seafood gratin, fattened chicken, chocolate mousse, five hundred litres of house wine - and our waiter Patrick (who is not the guy on the left) was brilliant. I lost weight again - not sure why.

As this is a serious academic and political blog I should point out that the image on the left clearly highlights the enlightened tripartite identity of militarism, Catholicism and gastronomy that is hegemonic pursuant to the recent European elections. If only OUSA were as diverse, I can hear you sadly mutter.

Nights nights

It was a good Bank Holiday weekend as we went out three nights in a row: first night was to the centre of town (hint: don't sit at a table unofficially reserved for escorts, you'll get dirty looks and won't earn any money); second night was a birthday party in an underground cellar (hint: when people under 30 say, 'Would you like me to fetch you a Desperados?' don't take it personally); third night was a barbecue where we ended up playing with someone's Wii (hint: when people tell you to press the B button, don't say 'Why is it hidden on the back?').

This night-scene is our local park. It's built on an old cemetery and what they've done is used some of the old gravestones to make the paths. Click on the photo for the full spook effect.

Our poetry group had a session on night poetry. My effort is below (I did another more experimental poem that I'll have to come back to: anyway, this one owes a lot to a colleague code-word Oldtimer).

NIGHT TIME
The moon mops up. We step back inside
to rest our lives on the mattress upstairs.

We have left the shades outside
a necessary quietus...
since the tactics of light against dark
are studied and perfect.

Listen, how the lowered volume
of our house feels like a soft slide
into a succession of freedoms.

The moon breaks in without comment,
hushing the breaths from the cot.

Melting

This is the Greek restaurant (Omiros, Rue des Deux Eglises) in Saint Josse, Belgium's most cosmopolitan commune www.meltingshopping.be - download the leaflet about a guided walk and make your Eurostar break in Brussels more interesting!

Before we went in to eat, we sat outside drinking ouzo watching (and you can see them if you click on the photo) the Turkish community arrive for a fund-raising event for a mosque. I remember particularly talking to a woman carrying a bag mentioning a particular European Institution and its slogan 'a bridge between Europe and an organised civilised society' who was complaining about feeling like a member of a white minority. By and large though, people get on.

The meat of the matter

Someone (whom I would never disappoint willingly) asked what we ate last night. I had gigot d'agneau (leg of lamb). Gigot is related to gigue (leg) and giguer which means to hop about or something. Not sure if the English jig is connected. There's also 'gratin dauphinois' which means gratin from the province of Dauphiné.

This photo is more interesting if you use your mouse roller to zoom in and out - play the Ride of the Valkyrie at the same time and you're in meaty multi-media heaven.

More from DD200

Here's a bit more from last night. At the end of the video you can just glimpse Sarah rushing to rugby-tackle someone reading Mrs Thatcher's Bruges speech under the table.

Governing Europe's Diet

Not in any sinister way - here is a snap though of last night's visit from a group of DD200 Mothering Europe students, scoffing loads of Belgian food.

We are in a place called the Grand Café, and this picture was ably taken by the tutor, Sarah. Thanks also to Esy and Neil for covering for me when I lost the students down a hole in the road.

Click on pictures to make them bigger.

Cherry trees are best by night

This isn't the best road for cherry trees in Brussels, but lit up by streetlamps this white cherry tree looked pretty funky (I'm lying on my back).

The main cherry tree area in Brussels (see here http://mikeinbrussels.blogspot.com/2009/04/schaerbeek.html) has a joint Belgo-Japanese celebration every April. The commune Schaerbeek produced cherries for the famous Kriek beer and so I guess that's why they planted loads. This road Avenue des Cerisiers is split between two communes one of which is Schaerbeek - you can tell the border because the street signs change.

Fonko rules OK

Here's the label from the wine we had last night at our local Serbian restaurant (scallops on blinis was nice). The wine is actually Macedonian and as you can see it's named after Bucephall (ox-head - strange) Alexander's horse, who ended up in present-day Pakistan http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Porus - not bad for his selling price of thirteen talents. Talking of talent, I think Miss California is great - not many people could stand on stage in front of all America wearing next to nothing and say anything at all about gay marriage, and she has helped the gay marriage cause no end.

Mountains and seas

That's the name of the resto last night we went to. We were interrrupted by some strange text messages that I cannot go into here! This food was good (escalope pizzaiola - here's a recipe http://www.paperblog.fr/511187/escalopes-de-veau-a-la-pizzaiola/ basically it's veal bashed up and a sauce made up of bashed up bits of tomato, garlic, capers, origano and white wine - really it should be called bashed up cow). It also made me take off one and a half pounds. On the way back I lay on the pavement and took pictures of cherry blossom illuminated by street-lamps, but I won't put them here because I'm in anti-flower mode.

Bel....

....is a small town near Geel (North East of Brussels - about one hour's drive) famous for its sandy soil. As you can see, this extends even into the woods.

Bel is on the TOM-TOM but it is not on many maps - we found our way there by negotiating the Aarschot Ring, which has a windmill so is more pretty than it sounds.

The unmarked walking route (10 kilometres plus 1000 kilometres and/or years wasted trying to understand the stupid directions in our guidebook) starts by an old graveyard and then takes you to lots of gloomy pine forests. We needed the walk though as last night we went out with a group of very select young ladies, the oldest of which was 88 - think we had about four courses.

Les petits snobs belges!

That was what three men from Paris called us last night because we wouldn't go with them to a pub called The Loft.

Still, they weren't that bad - and as they were all younger than us maybe it was a compliment.

Here's a picture of me in Paris lying stomach-down on the pavement in order to adore the locals.

The last OUSA Belgium Branch Committee meeting was even more exciting than usual.