Waterloo, Finally Facing My Waterloo

The last trip day trip I took in Belgium was a little homage to home. I went to Waterloo, where Britain’s Duke of Wellington, along with Prussia, the Netherlands (and parts of Belgium), took on the might of the French empire under Napoleon Bonaparte. I’m not one for battlefields (I have no desire to see the many WWI or WWII battlefields scattered throughout Belgium), but this one was pretty cool.

The battle took place June 18, 1815 and was a pretty big deal. Afterward, Napoleon was defeated, and exiled on an island in the Mediterranean, and France left in shambles and the map of Europe was re-drawn at the Congress of Vienna and Europe would go on to enjoy peace (for the most part) until 1914. So there is a definite sense of occasion in the air.

Waterloo is a town an hour south of Brussels that’s actually quite happening, but you can’t tell this from the battlefield which takes place in the middle of nowhere. All you can see is farm land for miles and miles. The best view is from the Lion’s Mound, a cast iron lion statue that weighs 26 metric tonnes and sits atop a 41 metre-high hill, accessed by 226 steps (hardly my record but still quite a tiring climb). Erected between 1824 and 1826, it was erected on the spot where the Dutch Prince—and a member of Wellington’s army—was injured. It symbolizes the return of peace to Europe.

The Lion's Mound

Stairs leading to the top

The View from the top of the mound

The site is pretty impressive. With my €9 euro ticket I got to climb the Lion’s Mound, witness several cannon ball firings (very exciting once your ears stop ringing), an audio visual presentation, a film (that used children to act out the battle, which didn’t seem right), a huge panorama of the battle that was literally the size of a building and a wax museum as well as a guided tour of the battle in a bus. I was pretty happy with the day.

Napoleon

Getting ready to fire the cannon

There is one blazing omission I noticed at the site. There are memorials to the Prussians and Dutch, Victor Hugo (for some reason), and the soldiers that died, but there are no statues to Wellington who actually won the battle. All I could see was this statue of Napoleon.

I was told by some Brits I met that Wellington is celebrated in Britain, but you’d think he’d get some love in the battlefield in which he was the victor of. I guess not.

French soldiers hanging out

He did get his own museum in the town of Waterloo though, which was quite impressive. It was located in the inn Wellington stayed in the night before the battle. It not only housed his bed (which I touched), but the coat he wore to battle, and the bed that Sir Alexander Gordon—Wellington’s friend—died in (touched that too).

The inn Wellington stayed at the night before the war

Wellington's bed

A nice surprise of the museum was a room dedicated to Waterloos around the world. Sure enough, both Waterloo, Ontario and Waterloo, Quebec (who knew?) were featured, with big billboards and even a display case of Canadian maple syrup, beer and mayonnaise (definitely from the Quebecers). You Ontarian Waterlooers can be proud that apparently, the greatest Octoberfest outside of Munich takes place in Waterloo, Ontario. Fun fact, John Deere assembles their famous tractors in Waterloo, Iowa.

Canadian maple syrup and mayonnaise

Ghent-trified

Before going, I knew two things about Ghent. One, it was the last name of Drew Barrymore’s evil step-mother in Ever After—Baroness Rodmilla de Ghent. Two, it was in Belgium. This last point actually came as a surprise to me because after watching Ever After a million times when I was twelve, I was under the impression Ghent was in France (the rest of the movie was set in France, it made sense). In any case, people had been telling me for weeks that I needed to go. “Don’t leave Belgium without having seen Ghent.” Well, I saw it.

And it’s a good thing too, because it was by far the best place I’ve been in this country (that beats Antwerp and Bruges). There are three things that really put it over the top. The first is the architecture, most impressively embodied in three famous landmarks: St. Bravo’s Cathedral, St. Nicholas' Church and the Belfry.

St. Bravo's Cathedral

St. Bravo’s is my favourite. It was the first I visited and easily spoiled me for the rest. First of all, it’s absolutely gorgeous. I know I’ve gone on about churches on here before, but this one is by far the best. It was built in different time periods ranging from 1300 to 1560. The church is also home to a local celebrity: the Ghent Altarpiece, also known as Van Eyck’s Adoration of the Mystic Lamb painting. Ironically, the painting isn’t even on the altar. It actually has a whole room (a small chapel, technically) devoted to it and its admirers. A good thing too because it’s massive: 3 meters by 7 meters when spread out. Spread out because it a 12 paneled painting, what they call a polyptych.


I wasn't interested in the Adoration as I’d never heard of it (Flemish painters aren’t my strong suit), and so I resented the €3 euros I had to pay to see it. But it was worth it because admission came with an audio guide that explained--in precise detail--the intricacies of the painting, in terms of style and symbolism. It was phenomenal! I must have stayed there for over an hour examining different parts of it. And then, when I thought I was done, I realized there was an entire back side!

Eventually, I had to stop and explore the rest of the church. It was so elaborate and full of small chapels, marble statues and intricate wrought iron gates. Sadly, I couldn’t take any pictures but I risked this shaky snapshot of the pulpit just to give you an indication of the grandness we’re dealing with.


All in all, I think I was there for about an hour and a half.


Afterward I climbed to the top of the Belfry, a giant tower across from St. Bravos’. On my up I found myself in the mechanized bell room as said bells were ringing which was fun. Like the Dom in Cologne, the views were pretty spectacular.

The Belfry from across the square

Views from the Belfry

Tunnels in the Belfry basement dug by the Nazis so they could escape from Allies

The next tower was St. Nicholas’. Nowhere near as cool as St. Bravo’s, but still respectable. An interesting thing about St. Nicholas’ is that the tower isn't above the entrance but pushed back to the main church.

St. Nicholas' as viewed from atop the Belfry

After checking out the main towers, I took a lovely stroll past Ghent’s other gem: its waterways. There are canals similar to Bruges and Amsterdam that offer great views of the architecture. One of the best was from St. Michael's bridge, from where I took this picture where you can see all through buildings.


From there I checked out the Castle of the Counts (yep, there’s a castle; two in fact), but couldn’t go inside because it was too late (they stop admitting people an hour before close).

So I just walked along the rivers and recorded the following scenes.


I also stumbled into Patershol an area the guidebooks described as a village within a village and it really felt like that with tiny pedestrian streets and little shops.

At this point, I had seen a good deal of the city but I stumbled on something while looking at the extensive and detailed guidebook the tourist office had provided me with. One of the "tips” they had mentioned was a graffiti street, Werregarenstraatje. I was sold. I don’t know why, but I think graffiti is really beautiful, so I set out to find it. And it was quite a challenge. But when I found it—another tiny pedestrian street linking two main ones together—it was so worth it.



Also in the guide book was a list of Top Ten Sights in Ghent. I did most of them (7 out of 10 isn’t so bad, the others were in a different area). One of them was Ghent’s people (the third jewel of Ghent). And I can attest to their “spirit and glibness of tongue.” A good example came as I was souvenir shopping. I returned to this one store after perusing a few others on the same street and finding it was cheaper and had a better selection. As I walked in, the owner bellowed, “Ah, so you’re back? Didn’t I tell you we were the best and cheapest in the city?” He hadn’t. “They always come back,” he said, arranging merchandise. “I could tell you we’re the best in the city,” he said now almost to himself. “But no one would believe me. You have to find that on your own.” I found it really funny.

But the best example of the generosity of Ghent citizens came after my arrival. I hoped a tram that I hoped was headed for downtown. I asked an older woman beside me to make sure. She confirmed I was going the right way. But she didn’t leave it at that. Instead, at the stop I needed, she hoped off the tram with me, grabbed my hand and started explaining in French various tourist destinations I had to see while I was there (St. Bravos and St. Nicholas were high on the list). She took me to City Hall, past a church, pointed to a tourist office and told me which direction to start walking, left me at an intersection with a friendly smile and a wave and went on her way. She was quite a bit older, so I knew I could take her if it came down to it, but it struck me later what an odd experience it was.

In any case, she was right about a lot of the sites she pointed out. Here are some of her suggestions:

Mason's Guild Hall
Town Hall
The "Marriage" part of City Hall where people walk out of when they marry.
I walked in through a throng of people thinking it was a church. It was not.

This Is How International Incidents Happen

As last weekend was my last full one in Brussels I decided to play tourist and see everything I wanted to before I left. While walking down a fairly major street, I was stopped by a smartly dressed couple in a tiny red car. I pulled the iPod earphones from my ears in time to hear them ask (in English, and then broken French) if I knew where a certain street was. I told them I spoke English and their faces lit up with relief. Unfortunately, I didn’t know where the place they were looking for—the Radisson—was. Instead, I pulled out my map and gave it to them. It was a free one I’d gotten from the tourist office and I needed to go there again anyway, so I could get a new one easily. They were so shocked at my kindness. The woman asked if I was American. I said I was Canadian, handed them my map, wished them luck and went on my way.

Feeling good about my good deed and a general sense of camaraderie with Americans, I kept walking down Rue de Loi. After living in Belgium for four months I’d yet to see the American Embassy and I wanted to see what it looked like (having seen the Embassy in Ottawa I wanted to compare) and I had been told it was close by. I was reminded of this when I passed a row of small pylons that looked similar to those outside the American Embassy in Ottawa. I looked up at the non-descript, white (and kind of small) building in front of me. Wouldn’t it be funny if this was the American Embassy? Well, it was. There was an empty flag pole in the front but lo and behold, the American flag was flying on the pole on the side of the building. Other than that, you would never have known it was an embassy. I’d looked down that street every day I walked home from work and never seen it. It perfectly blended into the street. Well done America! Here’s proof that your buildings aren’t all horrific eye sores! Having finally accomplished my task of finding the American embassy I snapped a few pictures (for pictorial evidence) and went on my merry way.

Half way down the street I looked up to see a Belgian policeman in front of me. Confused, I stopped abruptly. There was another one behind me and they both sounded quite winded. They had just chased me down the street, who wouldn’t be a bit peaked? “Bonjour,” I said nonchalantly. I knew exactly what they wanted. “Le camera mademoiselle.” They wanted to see the pictures I took of the Embassy. Sighing heavily at having been disturbed by this ridiculousness, I pulled out my camera and showed them the two pictures I took of the Embassy. “Ça suffit?” (Happy now?) I asked. No, they wanted me to delete them. Again, heaving another heavy sigh at this waste of time and violation of my rights, I deleted the pictures and then showed them my empty camera disk (I had just emptied the memory card before I left). The one in front of me did not look so sure, but I didn’t care. I knew I was being a bit over dramatic but I couldn't get over how ridiculous this was. Eventually, after looking at the blue screen of my camera for a while, he moved aside and I went on my way with a shake of the head and a “Merci beaucoup.”

As I walked on I marveled at my two completely different interactions with America that day.

p.s. Homeland Security, if you’re reading this (which you probably are), I promise they’re actually all gone. But kudos on the security.

Roman Holiday

As I mentioned earlier, a part of my visit with Cassandra included a trip to Trier in Germany. It was only 45 minutes away from Luxembourg and was a city full of Roman ruins making it one of the most interesting places I’ve visited. We started with the Porta Nigra, the largest Roman city gate north of the Alps. Built from about 180 to 200 AD, it is one of four gates each placed at the corners of the rectangular city (there are remnants of the three others but I only saw this one as it’s the best preserved). It’s also a UNESCO World Heritage Site in case you were wondering. We climbed it and took in the views.


On our way down, we were barred from going any further by this chap.


As a Christian in a Roman city I was immediately worried. But it turns out there was a live re-enactment starting in 10 minutes (only in German) complete with Roman costumes. Cassandra and I were severely disappointed we couldn’t take part.

From there we walked through the town taking in the Jewish quarter (there’s always one in German towns) and the main square, admiring the gorgeous buildings including the nicest looking H&M I’ve ever seen.

Along the way we passed the Cathedral of Saint Peter, the oldest cathedral in Germany. The cathedral is actual two buildings, a Romanesque part constructed after the conversion of Emperor Constantine (around 330AD) and another Gothic section with work beginning around the sixteenth century. Unfortunately, the Roman part is under construction so Cassandra and I settled for the Gothic part and its beautiful gardens. The Cathedral is home to the Holy Tunic which is supposed to be the garment worn by Jesus when he was crucified. Unfortunately, it’s only exhibited every few decades so we could only see it through several layers of glass and wrought iron fencing.

Next was the Basilica that was once used as the thrown hall for Emperor Constantine and is now a Protestant church (oh, how the mighty have fallen), and the Palace of Trier.

Then we proceeded to the Roman baths. I’d seen pictures of the Roman baths in Bath, England and so I figured they’d be similar. You can imagine my disappointment when I got there and discovered that these baths were never used as baths. Instead they were used as army barracks—which turned out to be a million times cooler!


I had so much fun exploring the underground tunnels, with the low lighting and sound of water droplets, I felt like I was a Knight Templar or something. There were a bunch of minute details—the walls were wet, the strong mossy smell, the multitude of torch holes—that made the walk a little eerie but so much fun. I spent way to long exploring those cavernous areas. Here are some pictorial highlights.

Next I headed up to the Amphitheater, which I was even more excited to see, if that’s possible. And it definitely didn’t disappoint. It’s not as big as the one in Rome, but it was still pretty amazing. I walked through the rooms the gladiators were kept before battle and all I could think was “This is so cool! Real people fought for their lives here while hundreds of people cheered.” It was really astonishing.

I saw the secret compartments the animals come out of (just like in Gladiator). I would have liked to explore more but circumstances prevented me from doing so. Circumstances being a sign in German that I’m sure read “Danger, do not go in here you idiot!” coupled with the fact that the room looked like it wasn't structurally sound. Instead I took these pictures.


Then I walked up to the grass covered hill where the seats would have been and imagined I was watching Russell Crowe duke it out with Joaquin Phoenix.

After my Roman adventure, I went to visit the birthplace of Trier’s arguably most famous citizen: Karl Marx. Indeed, the prominent philosopher/socialist/revolutionary was born in Trier and spent his childhood there. The museum was really well done; very high-tech with great graphics and a solid audio guide (which I listened to in its entirety). I did a project on Marx in Grade 12 and was surprised to learn that Marx lived for a few months in Brussels after he was forced out of Paris; and that two of his three daughters committed suicide. What was really interesting about the museum was that parts of it were in Chinese, a language I have never seen in a European museum yet. But I guess it makes sense right?