Belgium
The Motherland in a whirlwind
We had arranged to meet Jouri and his girlfriend Wendy at the North Station in Brussels in early evening. We boarded the bus in Paris, mad cowherding that it was, and departed the city that was just a day away from electing its new president. We know how the French react to change, so we figured it would be good to be out of there.
As we crossed the border into Belgium, we realised that all this European Union business meant that we wouldn't be getting stamps in our passport with each country that we enter. This is a bit disappointing, but in any case, the EU has made the stamps boring anyway. They're all the same size and shape with the country's abbreviation in the EU circle of stars.
When we arrived in Brussels, Jouri was there looking for us, but since we didn't really know what each other looked like, we didn't know he was the one. A few minutes later we headed to the spot where we had agreed to meet, and within a short time, Jouri and Wendy approached from the distance. As we officially met, their friendliness was immediately present. They were dressed for a wedding they were attending later. All we knew at this point was that we were staying at his parents' house and heading to Wallonie (the French part of Belgium) the following day, in search of our ancestral home.
The drive to Aalst, where the Bauche families live took about a half hour. When we arrived we were greeted by another Mr. Bauche, Pierre, who spoke very little English, Jouri's mom Lieve, who spoke a fair bit of English, Jouri's brother Jürgen and his girlfriend Maja, both of whom spoke fluent English, much like Jouri and Wendy. All were gathered to welcome us Canadian Bauches, which was to be the fourth such visit for them.
We began with the usual get-to-know-you small talk while sipping an apperatif and snacking on cheese, meats, and peanuts. Pierre showed some paintings he had done on their very recent trip to Tuscany. There are paintings hung all around the house, all by Pierre, and all in different styles. Before long we were seated around the table and then the food began to arrive. At first a lovely fish course, a salmon and asparagus pastry. That was followed by the main course, a meat stew, salad, and Belgian fries, which were very much like Mom's homemade fries.
We ended off with a nice ginger pudding with strawberries. And then came the beer course. Belgians are famous for their beer, and it is very much part of their daily life. Where in Canada one might be offered the choice of a Canadian or a Lab Lite, the Belgians have fridgefuls of different kinds of beer, each of which has a corresponding glass. They stressed how important it is to have the right beer in the right glass. After making our choices, Pierre poured our beers and we enjoyed some of the best beer in the world.
Jouri and Wendy headed off to the wedding and Jürgen and Maja stayed for a bit. Most of the talk was in English, but the family would break into Flemish (the regional Dutch of Flanders), and a little bit of Walloon French. Pierre decided he'd like to take us into Brussels to see it at night. We agreed and after bidding adieu to Jürgen and Maja, we hopped in the car and made the half-hour drive back into the city. Both Pierre and Lieve were eager to show us around, despite the fact that it was approaching midnight.
Our first stop was the Atomium, a structure built for the World Fair in 1957. It was nicely speckled with blue lights, though it wasn't as spectacular as it was apparently supposed to be. We were told the lights usually move. From there we drove into the Centrum and parked. We got out at the cathedral and walked into the bustling Saturday night streets, where cafes and bars spilled out into the cobbled lanes. We walked to the Grand Place, the large market square, where a stage was set up and cans of every Belgian beer imaginable littered the space. Evidently we had missed the show. Pierre and Lieve took us to see the little known Janneken-Pis and then eventually her famous male counterpart, Manneken-Pis. Both statues depict urinating figures, and the latter is one of the most recognisable and certainly the most photographed piece in Brussels, and perhaps all of Belgium.
We attempted to stop in at a favourite spot of theirs for that particular place's special beer, but the lady said "Fermée" when we entered, so with that we turned around and headed back to Aalst. Once back at the house we were offered a goodnight drink, and it was of course, beer. The idea with the beer-drinking is to start with a lighter beer and work your way into the heavier beers as time goes by. So before bed, a 10% beer is not uncommon. I had the pink elephant-clad white bottle called Delirium. I didn't end up seeing any pink elephants though.
In the morning we sat down to a full Belgian breakfast of cold cuts, breads and pastries with Pierre, Lieve, Jouri and Wendy. No beer for breakfast though. We gathered up our stuff, gave a very heartfelt thank you to our gracious hosts and headed over to Jouri and Wendy's to drop off Wendy (being eight months pregnant isn't conducive to long drives in the country) and to use their internet to catch up on our blogging and video posting. From there we headed off southward from Flanders to Wallonie, where Bauche came from.
Our first stop was Redu, the small village where our great great grandparents lived and farmed. Redu is known as the book village and on a sunny Sunday such as it was, there were many little bookshops with Flemish tourists, cafe patios full of sunseekers, and a large group of Harley enthusiasts parked on the main street. At Redu we found a war memorial with just four names on it, one being a Gendarme Alphonse Bauche, who died in 1918. We asked some directions to Lesse, where the old family house is, and got back in the car to drive a few kilometres down the road.
We had all seen pictures of the house but we weren't exactly sure of the address. Even Jouri had not visited the house, so it was fresh ground for the three of us. Of course Jouri, being the one who can speak French, Flemish and English was doing most of the work. We knew we were looking for a Mr. Bonamy, who now lives in the house. Asking a few locals got us there eventually and we knocked on the door in hopes he was home. A very small man came to the door, and Jouri began to speak and introduce all of us in French. He decided that we should offer Mr. Bonamy a gift for the privelege of entering the house, so he asked if he could give him the chocolates that his mother had sent with us. We agreed and with that, we entered the house that our great great grandparents Emile and Felicie left more than a century ago for the promise of fresh, cheap land in Canada.
Mr. Bonamy offered us... beer of course, and some biscuits. Jouri engaged in conversation with him in French and then translated to us. We then took the
tour through the house, to the newly added back patio, looking out onto a beautiful piece of nature, with the River Lesse flowing and the trees climbing the hill behind. On the walls were paintings of the house from varying eras and all the while Mr. Bonamy explained what we were seeing. We then took the turn up the stairs to see the door now famous in our family. Upon leaving the house in 1899 Emile Bauche signed the door with a message saying he would not return.
Since then many other Bauches have signed the door, including our great grandfather Louis, and our great uncles and aunts, and distant cousins. Darryl, Jouri and I all signed in turn. Just simply our names, the year and where we come from. With that our brief glimpse at the past came to a close and we bid Mr. Bonamy a fond farewell. We then headed up the road toward another stopover on the ultimate Bauche tour. But first a stop in the charming town of Dinant, which sits along the River Meuse (Maas in Flemish). There we ate some lunch and enjoyed another Belgian beer, while basking in the sunshine beneath the high cliffs topped with fortress walls, the Belgian stripes flying high above. We treated Jouri, as we felt we had been getting a lot and not giving nearly enough back for the treatment we were getting.
Up the road, past Yvoir, we came upon the village of Bauche. This was the site of the Bauche reunion two summers ago, which was attended by a handful of Canadian Bauches from our branch of the tree. The village is very small, consisting only of a few houses, a restaurant and the hotel, which has now been converted to apartments. We walked around there, joking around about how everything had Bauche written on it. Jouri took our picture in front of the sign. From there it was another visit to another Bauche family, Jouri's uncle Gérard, his wife Rita and their daughter Marie-Christine. We stopped just long enough for a coffee and a tour around their massive yard, before hitting the road again to return to Aalst.
Our plan was to head to Ghent from there, just up the road from Aalst, and Jouri offered to drive us there. Wendy even checked out hostels for us, and soon everything was set. We bid our farewells to Wendy and got back in the car for the half-hour drive to Ghent. Jouri walked us to the hostel, helping us with our bags, and then we bid farewell to him as well. It was a very brief acquaintance, just over twenty four hours, but we felt like we've made some life-long friends.
The hostel at Ghent was an HI hostel, so for a few euros more, we had our own room, with wi-fi internet, breakfast in the morning, and a bar in the common room, though I must admit we were a little beered out at that point. We took a few moments to settle in, and then headed out into the drizzly Ghent night to see what this small city had to offer.
Ghent is built on a few canals. It has a great character to it. It's just beginning to become a bit touristy, but seems as yet, to be a bit of an undiscovered gem to most tourists. There is an old Medieval castle there, portions of which have been rebuilt. There is also a quaint little waterfront, a tram system, and wonderful cobbled streets. Ghent is famous for its three towers, two of which are church belltowers, the third being the belfry tower. We got our little nighttime overview of the place, grabbed a bite to eat and then headed back to the hostel.
In the morning we booked ourselves in at a hostel in Bruges, just up the road, and then went out to discover as much as we could in Ghent before leaving it behind. We checked out of the hostel and dumped our bags at the train station, a great and reasonably affordable way (since we can get all of our bags into one locker) to unload the baggage and make walking around more comfortable. When we returned to catch the train, our bags were already there waiting for us.
The train ride to Bruges is only about twenty minutes. We then hopped on bus 6 to be let off at the St. Christopher's Hostel at the Bauhaus. The only problem is, we didn't know where we were to get off, and the driver didn't call it out as I had expected. So we got to see some of the residential areas of Bruges, especially Sint Kruise. After changing buses and coming back around to the hostel we headed in to check in. The place was a bit confusing, as the bar also acts as the office. This was one of its downfalls, but other than that the place was quite cosy. This was to be our first dorm room. We opted for the cheaper way. There were four of us in the room, and we really didn't meet our roommates other than saying 'hi.'
We walked around Bruges. Much like Ghent, it is built on canals, but Bruges has a lot of Medieval character to it. The buildings are old and typically Flemish. Where new buldings have sprung up, much effort has been made to match the existing context. The city was beginning to be invaded by tourists, as it seemed hard to find anyone speaking Flemish anymore. At the hostel we relaxed at the bar and discussed the next steps in the journey. A local man, who had been drinking at the bar came over to us and taught us some of the local dialect. "Oh-ess," he said, which he tells us means "how are you?" I hope he wasn't just having us on.
The next day we explored more of Bruges, taking the rather affordable canal tour, seeking out waffles and chocolate, and popping into local shops and galleries. We decided to depart from Bruges in the later afternoon. With the rain coming and going we were ready to settle in at our next long stopover, Amsterdam via Antwerp.
Be sure to check out Darryl's blog for the video series, London to London.
Cheers.
We had arranged to meet Jouri and his girlfriend Wendy at the North Station in Brussels in early evening. We boarded the bus in Paris, mad cowherding that it was, and departed the city that was just a day away from electing its new president. We know how the French react to change, so we figured it would be good to be out of there.As we crossed the border into Belgium, we realised that all this European Union business meant that we wouldn't be getting stamps in our passport with each country that we enter. This is a bit disappointing, but in any case, the EU has made the stamps boring anyway. They're all the same size and shape with the country's abbreviation in the EU circle of stars.
When we arrived in Brussels, Jouri was there looking for us, but since we didn't really know what each other looked like, we didn't know he was the one. A few minutes later we headed to the spot where we had agreed to meet, and within a short time, Jouri and Wendy approached from the distance. As we officially met, their friendliness was immediately present. They were dressed for a wedding they were attending later. All we knew at this point was that we were staying at his parents' house and heading to Wallonie (the French part of Belgium) the following day, in search of our ancestral home.
The drive to Aalst, where the Bauche families live took about a half hour. When we arrived we were greeted by another Mr. Bauche, Pierre, who spoke very little English, Jouri's mom Lieve, who spoke a fair bit of English, Jouri's brother Jürgen and his girlfriend Maja, both of whom spoke fluent English, much like Jouri and Wendy. All were gathered to welcome us Canadian Bauches, which was to be the fourth such visit for them.
We began with the usual get-to-know-you small talk while sipping an apperatif and snacking on cheese, meats, and peanuts. Pierre showed some paintings he had done on their very recent trip to Tuscany. There are paintings hung all around the house, all by Pierre, and all in different styles. Before long we were seated around the table and then the food began to arrive. At first a lovely fish course, a salmon and asparagus pastry. That was followed by the main course, a meat stew, salad, and Belgian fries, which were very much like Mom's homemade fries.
We ended off with a nice ginger pudding with strawberries. And then came the beer course. Belgians are famous for their beer, and it is very much part of their daily life. Where in Canada one might be offered the choice of a Canadian or a Lab Lite, the Belgians have fridgefuls of different kinds of beer, each of which has a corresponding glass. They stressed how important it is to have the right beer in the right glass. After making our choices, Pierre poured our beers and we enjoyed some of the best beer in the world.
Jouri and Wendy headed off to the wedding and Jürgen and Maja stayed for a bit. Most of the talk was in English, but the family would break into Flemish (the regional Dutch of Flanders), and a little bit of Walloon French. Pierre decided he'd like to take us into Brussels to see it at night. We agreed and after bidding adieu to Jürgen and Maja, we hopped in the car and made the half-hour drive back into the city. Both Pierre and Lieve were eager to show us around, despite the fact that it was approaching midnight.
Our first stop was the Atomium, a structure built for the World Fair in 1957. It was nicely speckled with blue lights, though it wasn't as spectacular as it was apparently supposed to be. We were told the lights usually move. From there we drove into the Centrum and parked. We got out at the cathedral and walked into the bustling Saturday night streets, where cafes and bars spilled out into the cobbled lanes. We walked to the Grand Place, the large market square, where a stage was set up and cans of every Belgian beer imaginable littered the space. Evidently we had missed the show. Pierre and Lieve took us to see the little known Janneken-Pis and then eventually her famous male counterpart, Manneken-Pis. Both statues depict urinating figures, and the latter is one of the most recognisable and certainly the most photographed piece in Brussels, and perhaps all of Belgium.
We attempted to stop in at a favourite spot of theirs for that particular place's special beer, but the lady said "Fermée" when we entered, so with that we turned around and headed back to Aalst. Once back at the house we were offered a goodnight drink, and it was of course, beer. The idea with the beer-drinking is to start with a lighter beer and work your way into the heavier beers as time goes by. So before bed, a 10% beer is not uncommon. I had the pink elephant-clad white bottle called Delirium. I didn't end up seeing any pink elephants though.
In the morning we sat down to a full Belgian breakfast of cold cuts, breads and pastries with Pierre, Lieve, Jouri and Wendy. No beer for breakfast though. We gathered up our stuff, gave a very heartfelt thank you to our gracious hosts and headed over to Jouri and Wendy's to drop off Wendy (being eight months pregnant isn't conducive to long drives in the country) and to use their internet to catch up on our blogging and video posting. From there we headed off southward from Flanders to Wallonie, where Bauche came from.
Our first stop was Redu, the small village where our great great grandparents lived and farmed. Redu is known as the book village and on a sunny Sunday such as it was, there were many little bookshops with Flemish tourists, cafe patios full of sunseekers, and a large group of Harley enthusiasts parked on the main street. At Redu we found a war memorial with just four names on it, one being a Gendarme Alphonse Bauche, who died in 1918. We asked some directions to Lesse, where the old family house is, and got back in the car to drive a few kilometres down the road.
We had all seen pictures of the house but we weren't exactly sure of the address. Even Jouri had not visited the house, so it was fresh ground for the three of us. Of course Jouri, being the one who can speak French, Flemish and English was doing most of the work. We knew we were looking for a Mr. Bonamy, who now lives in the house. Asking a few locals got us there eventually and we knocked on the door in hopes he was home. A very small man came to the door, and Jouri began to speak and introduce all of us in French. He decided that we should offer Mr. Bonamy a gift for the privelege of entering the house, so he asked if he could give him the chocolates that his mother had sent with us. We agreed and with that, we entered the house that our great great grandparents Emile and Felicie left more than a century ago for the promise of fresh, cheap land in Canada.
Mr. Bonamy offered us... beer of course, and some biscuits. Jouri engaged in conversation with him in French and then translated to us. We then took the
tour through the house, to the newly added back patio, looking out onto a beautiful piece of nature, with the River Lesse flowing and the trees climbing the hill behind. On the walls were paintings of the house from varying eras and all the while Mr. Bonamy explained what we were seeing. We then took the turn up the stairs to see the door now famous in our family. Upon leaving the house in 1899 Emile Bauche signed the door with a message saying he would not return.
Since then many other Bauches have signed the door, including our great grandfather Louis, and our great uncles and aunts, and distant cousins. Darryl, Jouri and I all signed in turn. Just simply our names, the year and where we come from. With that our brief glimpse at the past came to a close and we bid Mr. Bonamy a fond farewell. We then headed up the road toward another stopover on the ultimate Bauche tour. But first a stop in the charming town of Dinant, which sits along the River Meuse (Maas in Flemish). There we ate some lunch and enjoyed another Belgian beer, while basking in the sunshine beneath the high cliffs topped with fortress walls, the Belgian stripes flying high above. We treated Jouri, as we felt we had been getting a lot and not giving nearly enough back for the treatment we were getting.
Up the road, past Yvoir, we came upon the village of Bauche. This was the site of the Bauche reunion two summers ago, which was attended by a handful of Canadian Bauches from our branch of the tree. The village is very small, consisting only of a few houses, a restaurant and the hotel, which has now been converted to apartments. We walked around there, joking around about how everything had Bauche written on it. Jouri took our picture in front of the sign. From there it was another visit to another Bauche family, Jouri's uncle Gérard, his wife Rita and their daughter Marie-Christine. We stopped just long enough for a coffee and a tour around their massive yard, before hitting the road again to return to Aalst.
Our plan was to head to Ghent from there, just up the road from Aalst, and Jouri offered to drive us there. Wendy even checked out hostels for us, and soon everything was set. We bid our farewells to Wendy and got back in the car for the half-hour drive to Ghent. Jouri walked us to the hostel, helping us with our bags, and then we bid farewell to him as well. It was a very brief acquaintance, just over twenty four hours, but we felt like we've made some life-long friends.
The hostel at Ghent was an HI hostel, so for a few euros more, we had our own room, with wi-fi internet, breakfast in the morning, and a bar in the common room, though I must admit we were a little beered out at that point. We took a few moments to settle in, and then headed out into the drizzly Ghent night to see what this small city had to offer.
Ghent is built on a few canals. It has a great character to it. It's just beginning to become a bit touristy, but seems as yet, to be a bit of an undiscovered gem to most tourists. There is an old Medieval castle there, portions of which have been rebuilt. There is also a quaint little waterfront, a tram system, and wonderful cobbled streets. Ghent is famous for its three towers, two of which are church belltowers, the third being the belfry tower. We got our little nighttime overview of the place, grabbed a bite to eat and then headed back to the hostel.
In the morning we booked ourselves in at a hostel in Bruges, just up the road, and then went out to discover as much as we could in Ghent before leaving it behind. We checked out of the hostel and dumped our bags at the train station, a great and reasonably affordable way (since we can get all of our bags into one locker) to unload the baggage and make walking around more comfortable. When we returned to catch the train, our bags were already there waiting for us.
The train ride to Bruges is only about twenty minutes. We then hopped on bus 6 to be let off at the St. Christopher's Hostel at the Bauhaus. The only problem is, we didn't know where we were to get off, and the driver didn't call it out as I had expected. So we got to see some of the residential areas of Bruges, especially Sint Kruise. After changing buses and coming back around to the hostel we headed in to check in. The place was a bit confusing, as the bar also acts as the office. This was one of its downfalls, but other than that the place was quite cosy. This was to be our first dorm room. We opted for the cheaper way. There were four of us in the room, and we really didn't meet our roommates other than saying 'hi.'
We walked around Bruges. Much like Ghent, it is built on canals, but Bruges has a lot of Medieval character to it. The buildings are old and typically Flemish. Where new buldings have sprung up, much effort has been made to match the existing context. The city was beginning to be invaded by tourists, as it seemed hard to find anyone speaking Flemish anymore. At the hostel we relaxed at the bar and discussed the next steps in the journey. A local man, who had been drinking at the bar came over to us and taught us some of the local dialect. "Oh-ess," he said, which he tells us means "how are you?" I hope he wasn't just having us on.
The next day we explored more of Bruges, taking the rather affordable canal tour, seeking out waffles and chocolate, and popping into local shops and galleries. We decided to depart from Bruges in the later afternoon. With the rain coming and going we were ready to settle in at our next long stopover, Amsterdam via Antwerp.
Be sure to check out Darryl's blog for the video series, London to London.
Cheers.
posted by Mark Bauche at 6:22 PM
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