2018.7.16 Day 16: History of Belgium, Antwerp City Tour
2018.7.17 Day 17: Art and Culture of Belgium, Cathedral of Our Lady, Rubens House
2018.7.18 Day 18: European Union, Museum Plantin-Moretus, MAS museum, Panorama view of the city
2018.7.19 Day 19: Mechelen, Museum Hof van Busleyden, St. John’s Church, St. Rumbold’s Church—climbing 538 steps to the top of the tower
A sudden occurrence of serendipity: my story of sleeping through our train stop and ending up in the middle of nowhere
2018.7.20 Day 20: Bruges, Church of Our Lady (Michelangelo’s statue), Chapel of the Holy Blood, Groeninge Museum(Jan van Eyck / Bosch)
2018.7.21 & 22 Day 21 & 22: solo-trip to Luxembourg—le chemin de la corniche, thoughts on train ride
2018.7.16
Day 16: History of Belgium, Antwerp City Tour
Today is our first official day in Belgium. The morning lecture was an introduction to Belgium’s history, identity & politics.
Belgium’s history can be traced back to the 17 provinces within the Burgundian Netherlands. The Eighty Years’ War (1568-1648) led to the split between the Northern Dutch Republic and the Southern “Spanish” Netherlands. The French Revolutionary wars made Belgium a part of France in 1795, putting an end to the semi-independence of areas which had belonged to the Catholic church.
After the defeat of the French in 1814, a new united Netherlands was founded. However, the north Netherlands and the south Netherlands had become polarized in terms of religions — Protestantism vs Catholicism — at that time. The Protestants in the north advocated for austerity and efforts of becoming perfect Christians. Yet the Catholics in the south embraced the joy of life and allowed people to occasionally commit sins, making fun of and playing with human flaws and dark sides of life. The Netherlands split one more time during the Belgian Revolution of 1830-1839, giving birth to three nations, the nowadays Belgium, Netherlands, and Luxembourg.
After 1830, Belgium was ruled by only 2% of the population in the Parliament. The Parliament copied from the United States and made Belgium one of the first countries to experience an Industrial Revolution, which brought prosperity in the 19th century but also brought forth great inequality between liberal elites and socialist workers. The socialists formed labor unions to pressure the elites and advocate for greater democracy. By a way of communal living, the unions were able to hold general strikes during the late 19th century.
Belgium was politically and culturally divided between the north and south. There are two main reasons. First, there were way more socialists in the south than in the north. The reason for the ideological division is that, the northern population consisted mostly of religious farmers, instead of workers in the south. Since socialism is critical of religion and sees it as “the opium of the masses,” the conservative southern farmers rejected its ideology. Second, the majority of those in the north French spoke Dutch while those in the south spoke French. French became the official language in 1830 due to the economic domination of the industrial south.
Hendrik Conscience’s The Lion of Flanders, written in Dutch, kindled a Flemish movement, which opposed French and agitated for the equality of their language and culture with French. There was a fast-growing sense of Flemish identity and pride in the north. It was only after the United States took advantage of the result of WWII and spread Capitalism to the world, did the north began to develop. The way of doing business changed. Due to Antwerp’s port in the center of the northern Flanders, farmers started new companies and the north has become the economic center.
Now, Belgium is divided into three regions: Flanders (Dutch-speaking) in the north, Wallonia (French-speaking) in the south, and the bilingual Brussels in the middle (located in Flanders while having more French speakers). There is also a German-speaking population along the border with Germany that was given to Belgium following the 1919 Treaty of Versailles.
Thus, we can see Belgium as a country of Belgian unity but with regional autonomy.
In the afternoon, we took a city tour in Antwerp, guided by a medieval studies professor of University of Antwerp. His wife was a very fashionable lady in her 70s. During lunch, she shared with me her favorite designers in Antwerp, such as Ann Demeulemeester and Dries van Noten. She also told us that her daughter is an artist who smeared famous historical oil painting with patches of paint to protest against the idea of iconic authorities, or something related to that.
Antwerp is Belgium’s second city and biggest port. It is also seen as a dynamic modern city famous for its fashionable designer shops, state-of-the-art museums, vibrant nightlife, and diamond stores. In the 16th century, it was also home to Peter Paul Rubens, the most influential Flemish Baroque artist known for his portrayal of plump nudes and dynamic actions.
During the tour, I noticed that the streets were much quieter and emptier than those of Amsterdam, even in a sunny afternoon. I wonder if that has anything to do with people’s flight to other countries, including the Netherlands, after it became the military target of Germany during both WWI and WWII. Moreover, besides the linear layout along the Scheldt river implemented by a city expansion, the rest of the streets are all curvy and lead to various directions. It is a great city for those like me, who want to wander all new places blind, because one can really get lost amid the branchy streets — but only for a little while, since the city is so small and nothing is far away.
We visited St. -Carolus Borromeuskerk. The original ceiling was painted by Rubens, but the church on the Hendrik Conscience Square suffered a lightning strike that burnt up the masterpiece. However, the richly decorated Baroque façade, its portico altar, rich marbles and detailed wood carvings of angels all survived.
The church music was constantly humming in the air. Even though I’m not religious at all, I couldn’t help but sit down in front of the altar, gasped at the golden and extravagant decorations of this Catholic church, and lose myself to the spirit of sacredness above me.
We walked for so long, past streets, castles, lawns, and even through the old underground tunnel to the other side of the Scheldt River. The sun roasted all of us for more than two hours, and at 5 we were finally free for the rest of the evening.
After shopping in the designer stores for about an hour, we went to a seafood restaurant called Fish a’gogo. There we sat next to two Chinese girls, one with crew cut and a green Hawaiian shirt, talking about the difficulty, if not impossibility, of meeting men who understand their souls.
It started raining here at 6. Then it turned into a light drizzle. From the dazzling sunlight to a cloudy grey sky, the city closes its curtain and exits the stage early.
2018.7.17
Day 17: Art and Culture of Belgium, Cathedral of Our Lady, Rubens House
Today we went to Antwerp’s two most representative places of art in Belgium, the Cathedral of Our Lady (architecture) and Rubens house (painting).
The Cathedral of Our Lady is a Catholic cathedral in Antwerp, Belgium. Flourished during the Late Middle Ages, Gothic architecture evolved from the heavy and castle-like Romanesque architecture earlier. The style is characterized by the pointed arch, rib vault and flying buttresses. The soaring, heavenward-reaching heights of the churches lend themselves to appeals to emotions, springing from faith toward God.
The Cathedral of Our Lady is the highest (123m) and largest Gothic building in the Low Countries, and also the most famous one. In 1521, the cathedral was finally completed after nearly 170 years. It was originally planned to have two towers of equal height. But after the cathedral was gutted by fire in 1533, all money went to its reconstruction. The construction of the second tower was delayed, which led to its final abandonment.
The façade with the main portal features an eye-popping decorative integration of architectural and sculptural art. Those who enter the cathedral receives a solemn warning above their heads, as the Last Judgement is portrayed on the tympanum. In the middle, a monk sits with a skull on his lap, transmitting the motif of memento mori — the thought of death. All medieval classes are present in the sculptures, since everyone is equal for death. The angles weigh the human soul with scales, while the final judge, namely Christ, sits on top of his bench.
The finite space inside merges with the infinite light filtered through the colorful stained glass windows. The filtered daylight reflects on the polished marbles or metal candlestands, softly createing a spiritual atmosphere. More than any other church we’ve visited in this trip, it permeated me with the sense of infinity and transcendence. It was impossible for me to capture the scene with camera.
One of the things that impressed me the most is the naturalistic Baroque-style pulpit. It is supported by sculptures of the female personifications of the four continents that were know then: Europe with the scepter in the center; Asia with exotic clothes and veil to the left; to the right, America as a half-naked native Indian with a headdress and a skirt of large feathers; and Africa, a girl with frizzy hair and thick lips. The four continents stand hand in hand, united by the same faith in Christianity. It symbolizes the dissemination of faith in God across the whole world.
In the cathedral, there are four masterpieces by Peter Paul Rubens. The triptych The Descent from the Cross is one of them, a splendid masterpiece of the Flemish Baroque school. The central panel shows the tragic moment when Jesus is taken down from a high cross. His lifeless and colorless body sinks down into the carriers, constituting a diagonal composition line that brings action to the painting.
Besides the dramatic compositions of strong emotions, Rubens naturalistically portrays tranquil sentiments through the blond and sensual hairs, the bright and soft clothes, as well as the marble temple on the side panel.
As a nonreligious observant, I perceived how art glorifies God and the faith of people. It is a complicated feeling, conflicted between the transitorily imposed sense of faith and the inability to eradicate inner doubt toward such spiritual existence.
Later, we visited the Rubens House. As the superstar of his era, he lived in lavish surroundings. He decorated his home with a large number of works either by himself and his peers or by contemporaries. The collection of paintings and all decorations reflect his high social status and aesthetic taste. At the end of our visit, I sat in a corner of the garden and enjoyed a moment of peace and quietness that almost connected me with the 17th century.
At night, we did more shopping and went to eat Belgium waffles at VAN HECKE— they are undisputedly the best waffles I’ve ever eaten. The thin and crispy waffle, named YING YANG, is topped by vanilla-flavored ice cream and sliced strawberries. Next to it are pure white cream and warm melted chocolate.
It was almost 9 when we went back to the hostel. Outside of the hostel, there is always a group of local kids playing, running around, chasing each other, clasping hands, screaming and laughing. The big kids sometimes play football. Girls and boys sometimes fool around and pull each other’s hair. The younger ones ride pink minibikes or play with a naked baby doll in a stroller.
I sat on the bench by myself and watched them. I was very tired. But I also felt so good to be surrounded by this nondepletable energy of simple happiness. When was the last time I could run around and scream in public without any back thought of my work, my relationship problems or the strangers’ looks? People of my age can only act freely like this when drunk or in clubs, for we need pretexts to not be judged. That’s why people who always go to clubs seem a little pathetic to me. How great it is to be able to fool around and act as crazily as you want when you’re completely sober!
2018.7.18
Day 18: European Union, Museum Plantin-Moretus, MAS museum, Panorama view of the city
During the two-hour morning lecture, we learned about the history of European Union and the European Institutions (most headquarters are located in Brussels). It is my first time learning about such confederacy of 28 independent nations, which cooperate in an environment of linguistic and cultural diversity. Despite of the violent conquest by Charlemagne in Europe at the very beginning, it is the idea of “a peaceful unification” of Europe that brings these country together. From the Pan-Europe Movement after WWI, to the NATO after WWII, to the European Coal and Steel Community in 1951, to what is finally the European Union now, the history of such unification is a long and meaningful one.
Looking at the Euro crisis in Greece, the Brexit, or the migration crisis right now, maybe it is time to draw a question mark after the idea of European unification. But I didn’t realize until this morning that EU is such a unique existence in the world. Its history and consequences really deserve a lot of careful inspections and reflections. Since we’re going to visit the EU parliament a few days later, I’ll leave the details to then.
In the afternoon, we first visited Museum Plantin-Moretus. It is the original residence and workshop of the Plantin and Moretus printing company. The museum possess an eye-opening collection of old-day typographical materials, including countless lead letters in type cases and the oldest surviving printing presses in the world.
It also has an extensive library, an exquisitely decorated interior and the entire archives of the Plantin business, including a Bible in five languages — Biblia Polyglotta (1568-1573).
But what impressed me the most is this man’s distinct character. Indeed, Plantin’s success did not arrive by itself. About his life as a printer he writes: “The printer’s trade is a real abyss, a deep pit. You have no other option than to work very hard and steadfastly. You must constantly throw everything which the abyss demands into the gaping hole, or else it will swallow and destroy its master and all his acquaintances.” Isn’t this what every sustaining success in any field requires: always keeping up to date with the new changes and persevere with an unexhaustible energy?
One of his friends writes about him: “Never before in my life have I met a man who combines so many talents and goodness in one person, or who better knows and applies virtuousness… I am particularly touched by his great modesty and his patience towards his colleague printers…He does not contemplate eating, drinking or resting. He lives for his job.”
If such a man did not succeed in his business, then I wonder who else can.
After that, we visited the MAS, the largest museum in Antwerp located along the river Scheldt. The 10-story tall building stands out on the flat and mostly medieval-style cityscape. The façade is made of Indian red sandstone and curved glass panel construction, an example of postmodern Art Deco architecture.
Due to time constraint, I only got to visit the first three floors of the museum. The exhibition on every floor features a specific theme. Each one of them presents a novel and often controversial topic.
For example, the second floor shows the work of Michaelina Wautier, an important female artist in the 17th century Brussels. Her work is exceptional and multifaceted, including portraits, still lifes, narrative works, tableaux from daily life…
Some of her greatest work include Portrait of Two Girls as the Saints Agnes and Dorothy and Two bubble-blowing boys. She also dedicated herself to large historical paintings — a challenge that even many male painters resisted. For instance, in the monumental canvas of the Triumph of Bacchus, she revealed her wonderful knowledge of the male anatomy. In this work, she disguised herself as a half-naked woman, walking in the colorful parade of drunk accomplices and looking at the spectators right in the eye.
On the third floor is an exhibition with the theme of Celebration.
For instance, Antwerp’s parade of giants or Ommegang has a long tradition dating back to medieval catholic processions. It was held for the last time in 1958. Yet over the past years, there are often new giants springing to life in the districts of Antwerp as club mascots.
Moreover, the annual Antwerp Pride has recently become a whirling spectacle that blurs the distinction between participants and spectators. It is a celebration of emancipation, diversity, and also a very important political message: equal rights for LGBT community.
On top of the building is a panorama of the entire city. However, I used the last few minutes left to spring up to the rooftop and take pictures, without actually looking at the view and enjoying a moment of peace by myself. This is the give and take in travelling with a group: there is rarely enough time for capturing views with both the heart and the camera.
I was so tired and dizzy after all these activities. By the time we finished dinner (mussels!) and returned to the hostel, I fell right onto my bed. There were a lot of noises going on outside, but I put in earplugs and managed to sink into a dead sleep for almost an hour. I started writing this journal entry after I woke up.
In the courtyard of the hostel, where our big glass window is facing, a group of people has been singing to a violin for hours. Two young boys of age no more than ten sit on reclining chairs. Next to them sit two man, one of them being a silver-haired old man with a dark coat over his shoulder. In the middle stands the violin player, surrounded on the other side by more people, whom I can only see the feet of from my angle. Each of them is holding a white A4-sized pamphlet and staring at it. I closed all windows, but to no avail. I feel like their monotonous voices are about to drive me nuts.
When I looked down at them from our third-floor window a moment ago, the young boy sitting on the right corner looked up at me with his month half-open. I wonder whether he is just as annoyed as I am to the activity that he is involved in. The whole scene seems to me like an unfinished dream sprawling into my so-called reality. My senses are bewildered. I’m too tired to even feel angry about this sudden, interruptive nonsense in my perceptive world.
My roommates just came back now. I complained to them about the haunting voices — and right after my complaint, they stopped! The two girls smiled at me politely and awkwardly, having no idea why I was complaining! How can I not believe that it is a prank from life to me!
2018.7.19
Day 19: Mechelen, Museum Hof van Busleyden, St. John’s Church, St. Rumbold’s Church—climbing 514 steps to the top of the tower
A sudden occurrence of serendipity: my story of sleeping through our train stop and ending up in the middle of nowhere
You have no idea how tired I am right now! By the end of every day, my body feels betrayed by my curiosity and thirst for new knowledge. It becomes as heavy as lead and only wants to sink down and melt onto the floor. But by the end of every day, I have to write my journal for the course, my personal diary, upload pictures and edit our group vlog.
Today I am more tired than ever due to the little accident this afternoon, which I will talk about later. Right now I’ll just briefly write about what we did today in Mechelen.
After arriving in Mechelen, which is just half an hour away by train, we walked to Museum of Hof van Busleyden. It is one of the buildings in Mechelen that dates back to the early 16th century. It was commissioned by Hieronymus van Busleyden, member of the Great Council, humanist, and a good friend of Erasmus. Along the way, the streets and medieval buildings looked empty and forlorn. It was so quiet that one seemed to hear the vibration of sunlight in the air.
The exhibition of the museum includes not only masterpieces by Flemish and other masters, but also heritage of famous people, such as Charles the Bold, Margaret of Austria (who raised Charles V) and Rembert Dodoens. Through examining the collection of these historical objects, one can follow the traces of Burgundian influences in today’s European culture.
One of the highlights for me was the exhibition of the Enclosed Gardens (Dutch: Besloten Hofjes). The collection dates back to the 16th century and belonged to the former convent of Mechelen’s Hospital Sisters. They are testimonials of the artistic exquisiteness achieved through and for religious devotion and spirituality. They not only contain silk flowers, mental and glass decorations, painted panels, altarpieces with small polychrome figures, but also relics. It is a living object that is constantly changed and reinterpreted by the Hospital Sisters through the passing of time. Staring at these exquisite art pieces, I felt like I was invited into the world of a cloistered community hundreds of years ago.
After lunch, we went to a city tour guided by the curator of the Museum of Hof van Busleyden. We went to St. John’s Church, which is currently under restoration. However, we were luckily invited to go up to the first floor of the tower, where in 2008 some 14th century wall paintings were discovered. These are two large artworks depicting St.Christopher and St. George.
Next, we went to St. Rumbold’s Church. The tower of the church is almost 100 meters tall. We climbed the 514 steps of continuous spiral stairs, following the footsteps of Louis XV and Napoleon. I climbed fast by myself and soon was able to enjoy the tranquility surrounding me, in the narrow and dim staircases. After 300 steps or so, I came across the carillon playing a piece of music. The huge ancient-looking bells vibrated and occasionally struck itself as if with the power of an ancient spirit. With every sound, the bells seemed to move to speak an ancient language in a voice that has traversed hundreds of years. I stood there spellbound and did not continue climbing until the vibration came to a full end.
On top of the tower one can see a panoramic view of the city of Mechelen. If one looks toward the horizon, there are also shades and reflections of Brussels and Antwerp under the gold sunlight. Other people soon came up too. And I was involuntarily assimilated back into part of the crowd of foreign visitors.
If you read my journal entries for the past weeks, I talked about how I love serendipities: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable things not sought for, or encountering surprising discoveries by chance. In my mind, the extraordinary things are always the unexpected and unpredictable ones.
It was on our way back from Mechelen to Antwerp that the first occurrence of serendipities took place. Because the train was sort of crowded, I didn’t get to sit in the same area with everybody else, but instead sat downstairs with another girl from my group.
I was so tired from walking around for days, waking up at 5:30am this morning, and climbing the tower in the afternoon, that I fell back to sleep with my earphones on right after I sat down.
I didn’t wake up until my earphones blasted out the iPhone ringtone. I hung up the phone immediately and looked around in a daze. The girl in my group was also napping. I received more texts, asking me where I was.
I woke the girl up and we got out of train at the next stop. It was just a platform in the middle of nowhere. There was no station, no information desk, no staff, nothing. The only human being present was a man in ragged clothes staring at us from the opposite platform. We waited for the train going back. It came after about ten minutes. But it didn’t stop. It mercilessly flew by us in its full speed.
We were supposed to get out at the Antwerp Centraal stop, but we got out of the train at the next stop. The hostel was 2.2 miles away. We had no choice but to walk back to the hostel.
At that time I was only half-awake. Despite all the confusion going on in my body and brain, I tried to keep up my spirits. After all, I wasn’t by myself, and 2.2 miles didn’t seem too bad for me. Plus we had Google map. I hummed tunes and chatted with the girl. She was actually a 30-year-old woman that just graduated from UC Berkeley. She was very nice and mature and chatted with me with a smile too.
We walked past by a suburban district and a big DHL warehouse, passed through some construction sites, and walked on a highway bridge to get to the other side of the river. Then we walked into an area called Park Spoor Noord — the name appeared on my phone later with the video I took. It looked like an abandoned railway land. There were big skate bowls strewn with graffiti. A group of kids were playing there. The big kids were skateboarding, while the younger ones were showing off their skills with scooters or big bikes.
On the other side was a group of adult acrobats practicing under a bridge. The pillars supporting the bridge were completely covered with spray-painted graffiti of vibrant colors. Most of the graffiti were big and scratchy letters highlighted in bright, unmixed colors, with one spray painted on top of another. The acrobats, on the other hand, were all in black tops and jean shorts. They slowly practiced tricks with sticks in their hand and occasionally casted a few looks at us. Further on, there were a group of black people having a barbecue gathering on the grass. Smoke rose slowly, revolved around them, encircling the whole scene into an intangible dream.
We also walked through a relatively poor and sketchy neighborhood. Paper trash and empty bottles scattered on the ground. There the blond and white Europeans were finally the minority. Most of the residents looked like Mexicans, Muslims or African immigrants. Some old big-belly men sitting outside stared at us with a curious look.
We talked about our experience of encountering mishaps during trips, of being catcalled with different names in different places, of walking through the Red Light District in Amsterdam… We got back to the main square after walking for about one and a half hour. She was going to stay in the square for dinner, while I was heading to the supermarket, Proxy. We hugged and went on our own ways.
The serendipity is all about seeing the city on a deeper, more realistic and multifaceted level, rid of the tourists’ lens that filters through everything with a pink and dreamy halo.
2018.7.20
Day 20: Bruges, Church of Our Lady (Michelangelo’s statue), Chapel of the Holy Blood, Groeninge Museum(Jan van Eyck / Bosch)
Bruges is laced with cobbled lanes and canals. The fairy-tale like medieval town is full of step-gabled houses, soaring towers and historic churches— both authentic ones and artificial ones that were built to exaggerate and impress the tourists. However, it felt more like a theme park than a historically important city for me. It was overrun by crowds of loud tourists and horse-drawn carriages. Countless cheap and gaudy souvenir stores lined the streets, making the exquisite boutiques and handmade chocolate stores the hidden gems among a sea of flawed pearls.
If we say the Dutch Golden Age is the 17th century, and the golden age of Antwerp in Belgium is the 16th century, then Bruges’ zenith came in the 14th century. It was a key member of the Hanseatic League and a semi-autonomous city with “Liberty.” International trading houses set up shop here, while ships laden with exotic goods from all over Europe and beyond docked at the port here. Under the dukes of Burgundy, Bruges continued to grow. Flemish art blossomed, giving rise to the Flemish Primitives’ artists that was known for the detailed realism achieved through a refined oil painting technique.
However, the relationship between the guildsmen in Bruges and their distant overlords was tense. At one point, the presumptuous Bruges townsmen even imprisoned the Hapsburg heir, Maximilian of Austria, for months. The Hapsburgs took furious revenges, which eventually caused Bruges to lose all access to the sea and became a town full of abandoned houses, deserted streets and empty canals. The city then slept for four centuries.
In the early 19th century, the city woke up to curious and wealthy tourists. The medieval forlorn air was replaced with smoke rising from modern visitors’ cigarettes. Ever since the town dedicated itself into self-exaggerations and -embellishments to maintain its reputation of one of the most well-preserved medieval town.
We first visited the Church of Our Lady, where Michelangelo’s statue of the Madonna of Bruges was consecrated in the altar. She looks thoughtful and sad, with one hand holding the right arm of her child. She looks down at him as if with the fear that her naked child will soon run away from her and be lost. In the altar, there are two other statues of female figures, above which two angels hold the shields with ‘fides’ (Latin for faith) and ‘spes’ (Latin for hope) written on them. The statue of “Madonna and Child” itself expresses love. It is the only work of Michelangelo that has not remained in Italy during his life.
We also went briefly into the Chapel of the Holy Blood. There was a line inside for visitors who want to see the Holy Blood of Jesus Christ. Everyone has to pay 50-cent euros. My friends and I went in the line for curiosity. People went up one by one, and I was a little nervous for not knowing how to do the cross with fingers like my American friends in the group. Soon it was my turn to go up. I took a look at the tube containing a cloth with blood, and then quickly smiled to the old man sitting behind the glass showcase. He handed me a small pamphlet containing words from God in multiple languages.
We’ve visited a dozen of churches in these three weeks and, as a nonreligious person, I’ve involuntarily grown a little bit numb toward the religious air inside. However, I have not, and will never, become numb toward the moving power of art. I’m not a person of religion, and I don’t have the intention to be one either. But I will always be striving for the understanding of art in my life. This is why I felt nothing when I saw the Holy blood, but was moved greatly by Michelangelo’s statue.
In the afternoon, we visited the Groeninge Museum. There I saw the work of Jan van Eyck and Bosch, two greatest Flemish art masters. I encountered Bosch’s depiction of the Last Judgement once before without knowing who he was. I was amazed by his imaginative portrayal of Hell, which is filled with modern-looking queer machines, vicious-looking birdmen or devils, giant knifes cutting people, or a sorrowful creature with fish tail and human head.
My legs were so sore from walking more than twenty thousand steps per day. I had to sit down and take a break every time before going into the next exhibition room. But I still managed to finish visiting the whole exhibition.
After the visit, I had some spare time to walk around in the town. But I found nothing particularly moving or surprising. Most of the buildings were renovated or built in the 19th century. The local people in restaurants or chocolate shops were very rude to foreign tourists. And I am never too fond of touristy cities. We returned to Antwerp at 5:30.
