Paris to Brussels

The day of the conference is very long and boring, not helped by the fact that there is a star wars exhibition on(But closed on a monday), which tempts me with childhood enthusiasm to go up and sit in an X-wing:










It's away from the centre of paris, so gives me the opportunity to see another area, but generally it is a long day of meetings. We're even too tired to find a decent restaurant at night and eat somewhere near our hotel...... It's an early night before we get up early to drive to Brussels for a lunch meeting... It seems like less than a fortnight since I was last here.. Luckily we are soon out of Brussels and heading back to Amsterdam with Camp Freddy radio entertaining us..

We are almost across the border when we make a piss stop at what appears to be the most inbred service station:



My boss become obsessed with driving deeper into the surrounding villages in order to see either bestiality or incest..... but really just to have a break from the monotony of the motorway.....

Eventually we give up and get a map out to work out where we are, and how we get back to the motorway...


We are in Oostmalle. Now to someone who knows his belgian beers, a little dutch and rudimentary physics, its not to far a jump to guess that Westmallle is probably to the west of Oostmalle(Oost is dutch for east). Westmalle is a beer...... We are now driving west in search of a Brewery:



On our way to the brewery, we head into a supermarket. We now have a new hobby when heading home from Brussels; heading into flemish supermarkets to buy cheap belgian beer. After purchasing some beers and some glasses, it's off along the road to find the brewery:



Unfortunately, maybe due to the time of year, there is no obvious visitor centre. What I do notice is a sign for trappist abbey cycling routes......

We head back to the Motorway, and travel back to Amsterdam as my brain fires off on possible plans for adventure and mayhem on a Belgian beer cycling tour......
Hmmmm beer:

LongDrive

......I wake up late and get the best part of the clearing up done.

I have a conference in Paris tomorrow, and a meeting early on Tuesday morning in Brussels. We felt the easiest way to make the best use of the time was to drive to Paris on the sunday and then head to brussels early on the tuesday.

One Colleague(My Boss), has already headed down on friday for the weekend in Paris and I'm taking another colleague down today.

It will be the furthest I've ever driven on the right hand side of the road, and I'm quite looking forward to the adventure. Maybe having such a busy day wasn't the best preparation for the drive, but I get in the car and head along the sunday roads towards Brussels. I've driven to brussels so many times, that this part of the journey isn't a problem. It's almost effortless. I manage to get a little lost on the Brussels ring.... but apart from that, it's a straight stretch along some very straight, flat and well tarmaced roads to paris. About 20 Km out of paris the queues start..... once I finally make it to the centre, the beauutiful sunsets over sleepy northern France become a distant memory as I come out of a tunnel to the free-for-all that is the centre of Paris. I make it to our hotel with little adventure other than a crazy navigation across 6 lanes of traffic on Rue De Rivoli:

I'm knackered and Tapas followed by a few very expensive pints of guinness is all I manage before heading off to bed....... It feels nice to be back in Paris, even if it is Tres baltique.....

Burns Supper

Burns Supper....

Thank god for Belgian beer, I get up late but with no hangover... So much to do. The flat hasn't been tidied in about 2 months, so everything needs to be done before I can peel potatoes and turnips. I crank up my playlist and get mopping.

Eventually The Kiwi surfaces and I head off for the Tatties while he mops. I head off to Albert Heijn with a big rucksack and get the Tatties and various other bits and pieces I forgot Yesterday. The Bulgarian Bride is coming over early to help peel and cook, so I bought a bottle of white wine to drink while cooking.... while packing the bag it smashes near the bottom. There's little else I can do but strap it onto my back and walk the half mile home with white wine dripping down my leg.

Uggggg.....

I get back, and the flat is the cleanest it's ever been. The Kiwi heads off to pump some iron, and I get stuck in to whipping cream for the Cranachan.

Before long, everything is in hand and Family Bulgaria arrives. Obi Wan Kenobov is in fine form and sporting a newly shorn head... We set in about the tatties and I start boiling the turnips which I've already peeled and sliced. This is really tough for some reason, Neeps, which I never liked anyway seem to be tougher, more tasteless and take longer to boil in this country. Coupled with the fact that they are hard to find in the supermarket, they are my least favourite vegetables, so I have dealt with them before Obi Wan is around to hear my swearing and cursing.

Once everything is done, we relax with a bowl of Scotch Broth:

As we do this, the other guests arrive in dribs and drabs. We have an Englishman, The Kiwi, a Kiwi girl who is the significant other of the Englishman and another bulgarian couple. He is a regular at the Gollem and appreciates most forms of alcohol to a connoisseur level, and she is an intellectual who appreciates most types of prose to a connoisseur level. She has brought me a book of Burns in Bulgarian. She has been doing some background reading, and it turns out that the Bulgarian's all know more Burns than they first suspected. I even get a book of Burns in Bulgarian as a gift:


Everyone settles with a drink. It turns out that The Kiwi girl was a regular in the bar that I met the Bulgarian bride. We both drank there in 2002, but neither of use remember each other - I blame it on the Jaegermeister.

With the Bulgarian book, and me prompted with the correct guitar chords and rhythm we perform a Bulgarian rendition of a Burns song while dancing and drinking...

Rabbie would have been proud.

Once everyone has had a little bit of food and a few drink, I rattle off Tam O'Shanter; a poem by Burns:

"When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet;

It's a long poem but has so much rhythm and pace that I think most folk manage to enjoy it. It tells the story of a drunken scottish blellum, who despite his wife's best advice, stays for one too many in the pub and ends up having to ride home through a storm. When he passes a ruined church which is holding a party for witches and warlocks he gets himself into more trouble than he bargained for.

The poem rings home for we drougthy cronies who prop up the bar at the gollem before cycling home well mounted on the modern version of our grey mair meg through Amsterdam's mosses, waters, slaps and stiles that lie between us and our hame whiles crooning o'er some auld seattle grunge sonnet:





After this, I give the poetry a break and serve up some Haggis. Almost everyone enjoys it.

By this point everyone is fou and unco happy.. everyone has broken off into little groups... We have people discussing Burns Poetry in Bulgarian, others discussing burns poetry in lallans scots, people appreciating a good whisky(laphroig), pickers finding new combinations of cheese and mustard to put on oatcakes, a Spike Milligan poetry book churning out such hilarity as:

Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
I'll draw a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use?
2B or not 2B?




It's generally a very good Burns night/Scottish Night/ General get-to-gether.....

Obi wan is setting up Star Wars Monopoly:



This provides a good end to the night, all the boys are enjoying living out the fantasy of being Han Solo and all the women are living out the fantasy of being with him...

Once the Bulgarians have headed off home, we pull out some good Scottish Comedy DVD's before heading off to bed:







Paris Tomorrow.......Good Night.......

Friday night preperation

After work I head off to the gym. I have to prepare the scotch broth for the burns supper tomorrow, then it will be a friday night in the gollem.

I'm having a selection of mates round tomorrow to celebrate the scottish tradition of burns suppers.

Wikipedia has this to say:

A Burns Supper is a celebration of the life and poetry of the poet Robert Burns, author of the version of the Scots song Auld Lang Syne, which is generally sung at Hogmanay and other New Year celebrations around the English-speaking world. The suppers are normally held on or near the poet's birthday, January 25, sometimes known as Burns Night, although they may in principle be held at any time of the year.
Burns suppers are most common in Scotland (and also in Russia, where nationally televised Burns nights are held in the Kremlin) but they occur wherever there are Burns clubs, expatriate Scots, or indeed lovers of Burns' poetry.
The first suppers were held in Ayrshire at the end of the 18th century by his friends on the anniversary of his death, July 21, In Memoriam and, although the date has changed to the 25th of January since then, they have been a regular occurrence ever since.
They may be formal or informal but they should always be entertaining. The only items which the informal suppers have in common are haggis, whisky and perhaps a poem or two. However the formal suppers, which are often held by Burns clubs follow a standard format which is as follows.



My dad is an avid burnsian, and I have kept the tradition alive over in Amsterdam with a burns supper last year.

Earlier today I went to the library and selected some tracks for the music. I was trying to keep it scottish without relying on bagpipes, scottish country dancing or teh flower of scotland. The assorted playlist will involve the following albums on shuffle:

wet wet wet:



Proclaimers



Del amitri



Deacon Blue



Mogwai



Jesus and mary chain



Primal scream



The beta band


Franz Ferdinand


Idlewild



The waterboys



After the gym, I get all the shopping done, the menu will be as follows:

Oatcakes and cheese:






Scotch Broth:



Haggis Neeps and Tatties:



Cranachan:



Whisky:



After a few trips to the local Albert Hijn and some industrial vegetable cutting, I can head off to the gollem to join The Kiwi and the boys:



I am pretty chilled due to my two favourite chilling activities; Cooking and exercise. I have a few La Chouffe's:



After what seems like not long, we're heading off to a club called bitterzoet:



I have always hated clubs, the music, the lack of conversation and the focus on looks and clothing just isn't my scene. Luckily the Kiwi isn't in the mood either. We head off together to tackle some KFC before heading home....

Our last hilarity of the night comes when we meet some essex girls in KFC. They do wonders for their regional stereotype by telling me they have scottish friends who are from Cardiff and repeatedly asking The Kiwi to put more shrimps on the barbi....



I'd better get some sleep before the burns supper...

Brussels

Another Sunday working...... We're on our way to Brussels....

I've spoken about Brussels before. It's a lovely city etc.etc. but all I ever do here is go to boring meetings in boring buildings and stay in boring hotels. That is if I have the time to stay instead of driving there and back in a day. Luckily this time it's a 9-5 meeting, so it's pretty important I'm awake.

I've decided that rather than hang about hotels bored watching my laptop and considering going and sitting in bars alone in strange cities trying to get a finger on a non existent pulse, I'm going to try to book into hotels which have a gym where possible.

Brussels is the first opportunity of this so far this year. I find a good deal at the Bristol Stephanie on Ave. Louise:



It's a lovely hotel - very plush, and it has a fitness room, a sauna, a Jacuzzi, a sun bed, a masseuse and a swimming pool - I think I may have finally found a Hotel in Brussels that can make me look forward to meetings in this concrete village.....

So Sunday night, after driving down, I go an chill out for an hour in the fitness room.. It's a far cry from Squash City, but it serves its purpose of giving me a work out while listening to badmotorfinger:



I'm alone, so I decide to give thee running machine a whirl. They always scare me and I would hate to skite off one of them while it's running. After a 10 minute jog, I realise that its a good hard work out and I may start using the running machines at Squash city.

After the Gym, we head off to find some food. Ве еат at what I would have to describe as the worst restaurant I've ever eaten in. I don't rememember the name, but I remember where it is and won't be back. The 12 euro starter of spicy gambas consisted of 4 frozen prawns with a tin of tomatoe soup poured over them and a sprinkling of chili powder. The only redeeming factor was getting to wash the bland mediocre food down with a Chimay Blue:



With this, it's off for an early night before the usual day of boring meetings followed by a drive back....

On the drive back, I introduce my boss to Camp Freddy radio:



He like's Dave Navarro's dark and sarcastic humour as much as I do which should make commuting to Brussels more fun.

By the time we make it back to Amsterdam, we have time for a few beers before bed and work in the morning......

Star Wars Monopoly or The Blues Brothers

After another quieter than hoped for friday night(This is becoming habit!!), I'm fresh in the morning and head to the gym. I'm actually looking forward to seeing how different classic albums work as exercise soundtracks. During the week, I nearly broke a stepping machine while listening to mother's milk:



After a Billy Morrison suggestion... I pulled out an old classic I've not heard in a while, which gets you rowing:



Along with Dookie, this would get a corpse moving on a rowing machine.

I've yet to attempt Nine Inch nails, but today I have lots of time, so I'm going to go for the whole MellonCollie and the Infinite sadness exercise:



I won't say too much about this, cos I have a full review drafted that I want to put up here, but it's an album which keeps on kicking me with adrenaline and keeps me moving. At one point on the rowing machine, the music takes me and I go into a sprint till a guitar solo finishes. I'm puggled when I leave the gym.

After the gym, I have a slow cycle to Diemen for an appointment with the Bulgarians. I got Star Wars Monopoly for Christmas, and I;ve been promising to bring it over for a game all year:



It takes us a while, but after what seems like an endless stream of visitors, we settle down to a game of Monopoly. Obi Wan is ecstatic, as are the males in the room who all go like big kids as soon as we say statements like:

"Do you want to buy an X-Wing for 200"

We stick on the Blues Brothers in the background:



It turns out that one of number hasn't seen it. It''s one of my favourite films, so I'm really enjoying watching someone experience all the great moments for the first time. Obi wan is none too pleased. It's clear that less and less attention is being paid to the Monopoly. He gives us an ultimatum; Are we watching the Blues Brothers or are we playing Monopoly???

He was unhappy with the answer, so the Monopoly gets cleared up and he heads off to play in his room in the huff...... I feel bad, but c'mon.... It's the Blues Brothers!!!

......before long, he is bored so comes down and asks us what the film is anyway. He sits on the edge of the couch with his arms folded. It's clear we are meant to know he's in a bad mood. It's the scene where Carrie FIsher has shot at the blues brothers with an assault rifle and jake has crawled towards her to sweet talk them into letting her escape. Carrie Fisher says "Oh jake I love you". At this Obi Wan huffily says:

"No you don't. You love Han Solo!!!"

He's even in the huff with Carrie Fisher.

After the film we cure any huff with a little boogie to Ray Charles "Shake your tailfeather"

Th clear solution would be to have played Blues Brother's Monopoly...

I head off to catch up with some other bulgarians at a Jazz but by the time I make it back to the centre, they are heading home... SO I join them there for a few Bacardi and cokes and a DVD....

I cycle home very tired through the cold breeze of early morning Amsterdam.....

Casa di David

Two of my colleagues are leaving my department at work, so, because Bistro Bonjour is closed on Tuesdays, we all head out for a nice meal at a restaurant called "Casa di David"



After a few aperitifs in The Gollem, we all head along to take our table.

It's a well known italian restaurant on the Singel. On entering, you instantly see how classy it is, its dimly lit, and has a nice classy atmosphere. We settle down with a good red and read the menu. One things clear... It's pretty expensive. I'm told by one of my colleagues that it used to be a lot cheaper. It's good job I'm not paying, cos I know several restaurants that are cheaper and guarantee an exquisite feed.

We start with some very nice anti-pasti platters as everyone gets merry and the conversation starts to flow.....

For the main course I have very nice Venison steak in a raspberry sauce, it's exquisite, but for 25 euros with no side veg, I wouldn't expect any less. I have a nibble at some pastas and pizzas. They are very tasty and at aroun 10 euros would make a very good cheaper option.

After stealing some michaelangelo styled napkins for some friends.... We have a few digestifs in yet another bar, it;s off to bed ready for work in the morning.....

Gym and Shopping

I wake up fresh on a Saturday morning - its a new experience, and feels a little strange..

I'm going to go to the Gym with The Kiwi.... It's my second time in the Gym and I'm really looking forward to it:



I manage to add rowing to my routine and generally, I'm feeling fitter and sweating less - or little enough to not be extremely embarrassed that there's a stream running off the bottom of your running machine. I'm still surprised by how easy it is:

Step 1: Play upbeat classic album on iPod
Step:2: Perform repetitive action and get fit.

The Kiwi jokingly points me towards the basketball courts. Maybe holey Chuck Taylor's aren't suitable gym footwear:



I decide to reward my fitness with a trip to Kalverstraat to stock up on more suitable Gym attire...



Normally I would avoid going to Kalverstraat at all costs on a saturday - it is full of a very slow stream of very stupid shoppers and I instantly become a supporter of american gun laws when I step foot on it. Today, I'm so chilled from working out that I can slowly donner along the street without a care in the world.

I may be going for some sports clothes, which are traditionally associatted with the common or Garden Ned in Scotland:



A ned is a scottish youth who dresses in a tracksuit and hangs around street corners... Their intelligence is directly proportionate to the whiteness of their sportswear. The DO NOT perform sport..... For this reason, long haired hippies like myself don't have much call for sports wear and find shopping for it a little hard. I have decided to grunge up my Gym experience.

Without paying over the odds for a simple pair of good running shoes, it's pretty tough to grunge up my shoes, but I'll look out for something which is both functional and alternative. The real trick is in the T-Shirt... I head into the closest CD shop and look through their T-Shirt collection for something a bit different..... I fail. I'll have to make do with my trusty Subpop T-Shirt:



and the Kurt Cobain "Grunge is dead" T-Shirt I've ordered on the internet:



Okay it's obscure, and no one is ever likely to acknowledge it's origin, but it makes me feel less self concious about looking like a ned, and once I find an Ed Vedder "I love Grunge" T-shirt I can start alternating them:

I feel very chilled after the gym and I'm ready for a wild and wonderful night out. It doesn't happen, no one seems to be in the same mood, so The Kiwi and I find ourselves wandering aimlessly around a few bars and drinking with various people who seem to have forgotten their red tin of "Ronseal Town painter"(Does exactly what it says on the tin........