I am addicted to climbing tall things. It has been my favorite part of every city I've visited. Belfries, church towers, rocks, the Eiffel Tower, hills and fortresses... I love getting above the crazy angling streets, the buildings and alleys that close in above me. I feel like I can breathe a little easier when I'm above it all. Go ahead. I dare you to psychoanalyze me.

I think it started in Nice, when I climbed to the top of Parc de Chateau, when the cerulian Mediterranean took my breath away. (I showed you pictures of that already.)

Then it happened again in Avignon, when I took my leisurely tour of the Palais des Papes:



And the next day climbed the Rocher des Doms:




Again, in Lyon, I climbed the Fourvière hill and then the Basilique de Fourvière. I watched a storm cloud moving across the city of Lyon towards me as I stood at the top of the basilica tower. That was cool.

Geneva was a great place for climbing. St. Paul's Church, the church of John Calvin, had these amazing towers with phenomenal views of the lake:



But the crowning glory of Geneva was climbing Mt. Salève, which is actually just across the French border, a few short kilometres beyond the edge of the city. Dominique, my host in Geneva, owner of the nine dogs, and I took two of her puppies along for a hike to the top of the mountain.



The day was slightly overcast, so we could only see glimpses of the Alps. We walked through a handful of farms and pastures on our way to the top, and I was simply astounded that real people actually live in the middle of this beauty. I couldn't imagine anything better, really, than living on a small farm on top of a French mountain with the Alps and a view of Mont Blanc on one side, and the valley of Geneva and the lake below... not to mention ready access to all the culinary benefits of both France and Switzerland: wine from the Rhône-Alpes region, chèvre cheese from the dozens of small farms, chocolate as smooth as silk.... But I digress.

Feeding my addiction, the Bs and I climbed the Belfort in Bruges. Then, in Paris, Corine and I climbed to the top of Notre Dame...

                                    

...and to the second level of the Eiffer Tower (we were too cheap and too proud to pay to take the lift to the very very top)...



And then, after oohing and aahing at Chartres Cathedrals' famous stained glass windows, we of course had to then climb that tower.




No one does clouds like the French...



In Ghent, there was another Belfort.



Linda says there are fourteen (or thirteen?) belfries in Belgium. We saw a fascinating video on the third level of this belfry on the process of making bells. First there's a whole gang of people involved in the molding process, to shape and pour bronze into this mold, break it out of the mold, then engrave it, tune it, put it into a set, make a drum to play a melody, test it, then transport and hoist it up into the tower where it will ring in every fifteen minutes as well as play special songs on feast days and holidays. Really, bells have a whole new meaning after living in Belgium.

They LOOK like they're having fun, despite whatever noises they may have made to the contrary on the way up.



In Ghent we also visited the Castle of the Counts, where there was an impressive collection of medieval torture devices, weapons, and information about the prison system which actually took place in Ghent. Some of it was gross, especially the real guillotine. I must admit, it was hard not to retch at the thought of that blade actually chopping people's heads off. Normally (I think) I have more control over my gag reflex than Pete and Corine, but at this, I was equally disgusted.



What do YOU think they were doing. Honestly, control your imagination.

On the top of the fortress we were able to get some fresh air. I'm always amazed at how many churches there are in these smaller European towns. At some point in this town's history, there were enough people to pay for, build, and attend services in all of these churches! Today, it's impressive if a congregation of more than 50 gathers for a Sunday mass.



And every city seems to have canals of some sort. Bruges felt like a smaller and less fashionable version of Venice, and in Ghent, this castle was built right on the canal, presumably for the protection it offered instead of a moat.

                                 

But Pete found another explanation for the proximity of the castle to the canal:



Yes, that really IS what you think it is.

And this draws my time in Belgium to a close. On Friday I will board a plane to Barcelona, where Jordan will meet me. From there, we will spend three weeks on both the southern and northern coast of Spain, and finish off the trip with a few days in the Douro region of Portugal. I'll continue to upload photos and write about our experiences. But mind you, be prepared for a lot of beach days accompanied by ice cold sangria. It will be a welcome relief after the inconsistently sunny days here in Belgium. Apparently July is both the wettest and hottest month of the year in Belgium. Funny how Hans failed to mention that before I arrived. At the very least, though, the weather has been somewhat comforting in reminding me of beautiful, wet Vancouver, although I'll be ready for some proper summer.

If you think of it, please pray that we'll find plenty of couchsurfing hosts in Spain. August is the month when all Spaniards take their vacations, so we've been getting a lot of negative responses from people on vacation in cool places like Serbia, Latvia, and the Pyrenees. After surfing couches in France, I would be disappointed to spend too much of our time in hostels. There's something amazing about staying with someone for three days in a city and leaving it feeling like you've made a new friend.

On another note: Please DO keep writing to me, because I can assure you that after all this traveling, I will be eager to come home and see your bright shiny faces. Love to all of you!

...and I think I used to be a workaholic. Or at least an active-aholic. Or something very unhealthy that made me crash and burn every six months.

Now, I am finding myself enjoying the Belgian lifestyle more and more. It is in large part because of the lifestyle in Leuven, which is a much slower pace than I ever had in Vancouver. Work takes up its appropriate time during the day, and in the evenings, there is plenty to be enjoyed in the town center. If there isn't a book to read (as if!), there's a concert to sit and watch, a beer to sip, and ice cream cone to lick. And we can do all this at the Oude Markt, which has quickly turned into my favorite place in town.



It is guaranteed nearly every evening to be filled with people, brightly lit up, and often with concerts going on or wandering musicians. Would you believe this dude on the left is actually playing a violin's strings connected to a trumpet's horn? It was the oddest sound I've ever heard. Mostly just strange and new to my ears.



I have spent a handful of evenings with Hans and Linda or the kids (or all of them!) just going out to watch the people go by.



As Linda has remarked to me a couple times, and I have heartily agreed, that it's quite unbelievable that we're actually living here for six weeks, surrounded by amazing buildings like these (which are just a few of the façades in the Oude Markt).....

 

But back to the lifestyle. This time in Europe is quite possibly one of the best things that could have happened to my understanding of a "healthy" lifestyle. I think I'm finally learning to slow down. Right now it might be enforced because I've been removed from a place of numerous committments and an ever-increasing circle of new people at school and been put into a place where I have one job and one family to concentrate on. But it's quite inspiring, really, to take a whole evening to go for a drink and sit and listen to music, or spend an evening just reading, for leisure. Maybe it's because the Belgian beers are all at least 6% (one we found, Kasteel, is 11%!!!), so you NEED the whole evening to finish it. I've never before been able to do that without feelings of guilt that I'm not doing the work I should be, or that I'm not in three other places I should be. Maybe I'm finally growing up, or stopping my own convoluted version of workaholism, or finally learning that I can't do everything and really shouldn't make myself feel guilty for that fact. We'll see, I guess, how much of this translates back to life in Vancouver in the fall. That is the challenge of returning from travel, just as the challenge of going traveling is seeing what of your life goes with you and what stays behind.

I have been in Leuven, Belgium for two weeks now, and I can hardly believe how the time has flown! I am depressingly behind on my blogging, so I will take it upon myself to make some sense of my travels, but I cannot guarantee that I will succeed in distilling it into crystalline form for you!

Let’s start with Leuven. I arrived on the plane from Geneva to Brussels last Sunday evening. I was happy to see the Bs’ familiar faces on the other side of customs, and even happier to drop my backpack in one spot for more than a few days. Withing the first week, I decided against living in a single guestroom at a school called ETF (located a lovely 15 minute bike ride outside of Leuven itself) in favor of living in one of the two spare rooms in the Bs’ house. Those of you who have been trying to convince me that I really am an extrovert will gloat at me, but my little company-deprived heart is still happy to be here. We are all (I mean, the five Bs and I) living in an old beguinage in the heart of Leuven, and we’re only a 10 minute walk from everything we need: the grocery store (Delhaize), the library (Maurits Sabbebibliothek), town square (Grote Markt), the arboretum criss-crossed with bike trails (Heverlee-bos), and the ice cream shop (Billy’s). Perhaps I should have mentioned the ice cream shop first. 1 Euro per scoop (bollen).
   
My work as a research assistant, for the first week, consisted of building a book castle around Hans’ desk, and then photocopying a large chunk of what I had hauled up the stairs. I get some mighty strange looks clomping up the stairs with my arms filled with old books. The second week I began reading! It is fascinating and challenging material (read: thoroughly dense stuff!!!), but it’s fun to bulk up my mind a little. I now walk through the library, look at hefty books and think to myself, “I eat punks like you for breakfast.” I guess I’m turning into a mental book bully.

Since arriving in Leuven, the Bs and I have taken a couple of day trips.


We went to Brussels on Sunday and Bruges on Wednesday. I must admit, I was a little disappointed that they were so touristy and overcrowded, but I guess it’s not quite fair to think that these places are rustic, undiscovered troves I can claim for myself. In any case, in Brussels we proceeded through all the distinctively Brusselian things to do and see: we had ice cream in Parc de Bruxelles, took pictures in front of the royal palace...



...walked through Kunstburg (Mountain of the Arts), sauntered through a lively market on our way to Grand Place, saw Mannekin Pis, the boy who saved Brussels by dousing a fire with... well, you get the picture. The fountain statue was a rather profound disappointment... look at the scale!!!



...and then we all had very gooey, very sweet waffles piled high with strawberries and whipped cream. It was a delightful mess. We all gave up a little decorum, I think.





         



The plan is to go back to Brussels in the coming weekends, since it’s only a 20 minute train ride from Leuven, to visit the museums and hopefully avoid the crowds of tourists. Tomorrow, on the way to Paris (Corine and I are going to Paris!!!) we’re going to see a concert in the Parc de Bruxelles. The Moscow choir is singing traditional Russian chants.
   
Bruges, despite being jammed with tourists, was a beautiful little town. It was evident from the moment we walked into the vicinity of the town center that tourism is an essential portion of this town’s livelihood. I don’t want to be too hard on this little town, really, but my guide book didn’t set it up very well: “Touristy, overcrowded and a tad fake. Preface any other city with these descriptions and it would be left for dead. Not Bruges.” While I must be honest and say that it did live up to its description, we had a fun time nonetheless. When in Bruges, I guess the rule is, “Do as the tourists do.” So we did. We started at Onze Lieve Vrouwkerk (Our Beloved Lady Church) to see Michelangelo’s sculpture of Madonna and Child, the only sculpture of Michelangelo to have left Italy within his lifetime.



From there the Bs went on a canal boat ride and I went to the Groeningemuseum to see some original paintings by Flemish masters: van Eyck, Prevoost, and Hieronymous Bosch. I was particularly impressed with the Bosch triptych, because his use of grotesque and surreal images was a radical move for the rather staid style of his time, in the late 15th and early 16th centuries. The other painters were impressive as well in their ability to render with stunning precision folds of ornate fabric, as well as depth and perspective in rooms and landscapes.
   
The most enjoyable part of Bruges, for me, was climbing to the top of the Belfort, the imposing tower in the middle of the Markt, all 366 steps up and 366 steps down.

                                           

From there we had pretty good views of the surrounding countryside and the Markt below.





Belfry bells rang the time while we were in the tower, which near deafened us. The mechanism that rang the bells was essentially one monstrous music box, and run completely without electricity. From there, we searched for the HeiligBloedbasiliek, where a reliquary containing drops of Jesus’ blood are made “available for veneration” during certain hours of the day. After wandering through the Burg (another little square in the center of town), the Vismarkt, and a couple of bridges over canals, we finally located this church. Once we got there, none of us went up to venerate the relic. Outside the church again, Hans said, “I realized just how Protestant I am.” Adding disappointment to slight disappointment, we didn’t get to the De Halve Maan brewery tours before closing time, and we decided against visiting an over-priced but seriously tempting Choco-Story museum. What would you expect of Belgium but a chocolate museum? I wonder if they had edible exhibits.
   
Speaking of edible, there is an epic competition lined up for this afternoon between Hans and Pete, with the best possible motivation for one of them to win. It might just be the showdown of the century. The stakes? Ice cream at Billy’s.