Antwerp: A Revival

Back in Belgium (Again)

I must be a morning person, considering this was the second week in a row I woke up for an early trip. 6:30 a.m. flight to Belgium. By 8:35 a.m., I’m in Brussels, and by 10, I’m on the train halfway to Antwerp. You might be thinking, Why are you in Belgium AGAIN? Girl, stand up!

Well, we got back together. After a short break and a romantic plea over Valentine's Day weekend, it turns out some problems can be solved by flowers, Belgian chocolate, and a gold necklace.

Arriving at the beautiful Antwerpen Central Station, its glass and iron ceiling illuminated the gothic façade with hints of gold. I was on my way to see my recent ex-boyfriend turned boyfriend again.

We met for lunch at Café Lucien, a simple terrace spot for a casual lunch in the sun on an uncharacteristically warm Belgian day. A cappuccino to supplement my sleep since I wanted to seize the day ahead.

As you recall, the last time I was in this city it was gray and depressing—both due to the weather and my heartbreak—so the sun was an ominously positive synchronicity. I decided to live the next two days pretending I was a local, so I brought my laptop to Caffenation, where I actually finished writing my Copenhagen story. This was a great feat because, in the midst of it, I believe I was accidentally poisoned with soy milk in my coconut vanilla iced latte. I have a slight soy allergy, as I noticed my throat itching and my tongue swelling. I persisted, writing for you, dear reader. The baristas were too friendly, and I was too back and forth between questioning if I was suddenly allergic to coconut now or if they had mistakenly used soy, that I just shut up. Stopped drinking my coffee and wrote amongst the comic book interior decor.

On my way back to his apartment, I stopped for a gluten-free treat at Eugene Bakery, but sadly it’s not worth discussing how disappointing my pain au chocolat was. My host came home and made me steak and potatoes and salad for dinner.

Museum Day & Accidental Jazz

Awoken bright and early at 8 a.m. next to the blaring alarms of a finance bro, I also started my day determined to get some work done. I began at the KMSKA Museum for a little inspiration first. I was thoroughly impressed and left feeling like this could be one of the most underrated museums in Europe.

The outside is a masterpiece on its own—rectangular with grand columns and bronze-turned-green statues above and below, it gives you the impression you’re walking into a castle. The dazzling pond is also an art installation, filling and retracting with water at various points throughout the day to reveal a turquoise, leaf-patterned floor.

Inside, the museum’s collections begin with a dark and moody entryway. If you enter on the second floor, taking the dark brown marble stairs while craning your neck to see the Renaissance-style ceiling painting lined with gold frames, you walk right into the old world.

If you skip the stairs and enter at the bottom through two white marble statues of Greek women, the vibe completely shifts—stark white modern marble and 40-foot-high ceilings that command silence. There, your eye meets Oyster Eater, my personal favorite. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a woman seated at a table, eating oysters. James Ensor’s painting is believed to be the first-ever Belgian impressionist work. A bit scandalous at the time, since the still life style was usually reserved for “serious” subjects. But why can’t a woman eating oysters be important too? I find, as a woman, when I eat oysters, it is indeed a very important matter.

On this day, I was lucky enough to stumble upon a Friday afternoon children’s music activity hosted by the museum. I was admiring some abstract pieces when a violinist, saxophonist, and percussionist, along with two interpretive dancers, made their way into the room—followed by a crowd of children and parents. I was mesmerized by the jazz orchestra echoing through the grand halls and paintings, following me through the rest of the modern collection.

I then ventured to the old world upstairs and found myself in grand red rooms with a more traditional feel. One of my favorite aspects of this museum is the way they incorporate sculpture. A giant red hand, the same shade as the wall, cups toward the skylight above as if ready to catch something falling. So high up and so seamlessly blended into its surroundings, you could miss it if you moved too fast. These subtle moments are what kept me there for nearly three hours that passed in no time at all.

Throughout the upstairs section were large, deep velvet red benches. One in particular looked like upholstered camels—shaggy white and red hair, lumpy and humped for kids (or inner children) to sit on. My favorite part of the piece? A tiny pair of children’s Vans with red flames left on the floor. I debated for the longest time whether they were part of the art or just forgotten. My curiosity was answered when I saw a shoeless child being carried off by their parent. I knew exactly where those shoes were. I was eager to help the dad and pointed them out. In broken English, he held them up in thanks—and I realized they were part of the installation, intentionally placed to give the piece that lived-in feel.

Inspired, I crossed the street to Le Pain Quotidien (basically the Panera of Belgium, but better) and wrote on their terrace, overlooking the museum steps.

There, I finished writing my Sevilla story and enjoyed a hot ginger lemon tea as the sun went down.

Day Three: A Redo

Day three started at my favorite brunch spot—Charlie’s.
A cozy gem in the south of the city, probably with the best gluten-free options where you can still blend in with the crowd. Their sweet potato waffle is naturally gluten-free and comes with feta, salmon, guacamole, and pomegranate seeds. The food is delicious, and the service is admirable—my sweet server even brought me a gluten-free treat with my cappuccino.

This day was for remaking all the memories I had tried so desperately to forget—the memories of breakups past. First stop to make new memories? Oysters and champagne at the local Saturday market, of course! A sea of people fighting for tables in the sun and the attention of adorable oyster shuckers wearing striped shirts and sailor hats. I knew we were in the right spot. We sipped cava and ordered Zeeland oysters from the Netherlands. I consider myself somewhat of an oyster snob, thanks to the summers on Nantucket. But I surprisingly really enjoyed these small, briny European aphrodisiacs.

Feeling a little tipsy, we walked through the botanical gardens. People were picnicking, and flowers were just beginning to bud. You could really tell spring was on her way.

We kept walking until we made our way to St. Anna’s Tunnel, a tunnel under the river that connects the city’s left and right banks. You descend 115 feet into a large tunnel to cross to the other side. Most people are biking. When you reach the other side of the tunnel, you’re greeted with the oldest surviving wooden escalator in the world. It’s a truly strange and underwhelming experience. But the highlight comes when you step outside and are greeted with a beautiful view of Antwerp’s skyline along the river. Cue the Instagrammable moment before you take a ferry back to the other side so you don’t have to go down to the depths again.

The other side is Antwerp’s Het Steen, a medieval fortress in the historic city center. After all this sightseeing, we needed some real nourishment—Belgian fries.

We headed to a local frituur, typically a good experience as long as you order Andalouse and Samurai sauce to dip. We rode there on Lime scooters. A quick 15 minutes on the scooter, which turned into 25 because my scooter set a speed limit since it was my first time driving. 15 km/hr really seemed to hinder my driving abilities as I attempted to keep up and navigate through the crowds of people and construction sites. But it’s all worth it for a salty snack to hold us over until dinner.

Dinner That Deserves It’s Own Paragraph

Dinner was immaculate vibes at Le John—a cozy house converted into intimate dining rooms serving Italian-inspired dishes. For aperitif, we had the Pamplemousse cocktail, which we were obsessed with. It was sour and fruity with just the right amount of gin. As a starter, we had burrata with chicory, porchetta, and caramelized onion. The staff were so friendly and accommodating; this dish is normally served over bread, but they made mine gluten-free so I could enjoy. For the main course, I ordered the sea bass served over steamed tomatoes, chard, and watercress. He ordered the duck served with mashed sweet potato, which was definitely the best thing on the menu. We ordered the matching wine pairing with our dishes, and I had the best Riesling of my life—a perfectly crisp and fruity white wine. His wasn’t so good; it was more of a pink wine rather than a deep red. To stuff our bellies a little further with a sweet treat, we ended with the crème brûlée.

Brussels in a Blur

The next morning, I had a flight out of Brussels in the evening, so we headed there for the day to check another Belgian city off my list. Running and nearly missing our 12:00 train, we arrived in the early afternoon. My expert tour guide gave me a quick one-day tour of the city, our first stop being the Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula, the oldest cathedral in Brussels. It looks like every other cathedral in Europe.

Next, we headed to Grand Place, the main square in Brussels, which was truly stunning. Gothic and gold are the best ways to describe this plaza. All the structures have an intense gothic style, with dark stone and ominous figures contrasted with bright gold detailing. It’s a truly beautiful scene that feels familiar to Parisian-style architecture, thanks to the fact that Belgium was occupied by France during most of the construction of Brussels. (This is also why French is mostly spoken in Brussels.)

My favorite tourist attraction? The Peeing Boy. Yep, it’s exactly what the name insinuates: a statue of a little boy peeing. It’s more of a fountain, really. The legend is that an enemy tried to blow up the city, and the little one had to pee, extinguishing the fuse and saving the city. The original statue was stolen by the French during wartime and was later returned, so now he resides in the Brussels City Museum, while a replica stands outside. Sometimes he even wears different costumes for holidays or events. It’s really adorable.

We continued our walking tour to Mont des Arts, a nice garden square, and had lunch at a terrace nearby. We then walked to Kleine Zavelsquare, a park featuring statues of Dutch heroes who died during Belgium’s period under Spanish rule.These guys have been taken over by just about every historic conqueror. We ended up at the Ferris wheel along the river, where I took in the views of the city’s skyline.

Brussels is known to be quite a dangerous city if you go anywhere outside of the center. Even on a Sunday afternoon in the heart of the city, you never know what you might encounter. We encountered what appeared to be a mentally unstable man throwing glass bottles towards us from accross the straight. We had to start running a bit to avoid being struck by shards of glass. I would advise always being on guard in this city, no matter where you are, and to avoid venturing into Brussels North.

I took that as my sign to leave the city and catch a train to the airport so I could head back to my safe city of Madrid. A tearful goodbye in the train station as I took mine to the airport and he took his back to Antwerp, leaving with happier memories this time around. Even with limited time, the memories seem that much sweeter and all the more cherished through the distance.