Antwerp by day, Antwerp by night

Marlon and I recently had a weekend visit from his cousin Yeho, who lives in Heidelberg, Germany. At her behest (and with her car), we drove down to Antwerp for the day. I've always wanted to go, and the car was the catalyst for me to finally overcome my inertia. Clocking in at just 2.5 hours, it's a really easy drive. Yes, Belgium is the new Batangas.

We left at around noon and arrived in the center of town in time for a late lunch, and started the drive back a little after dinnertime. Having two meals in Antwerp was of paramount importance, since Belgium smacks the Netherlands to the ground in terms of cuisine.



For me, a visit to Belgium is not complete without a large pot of mussels, a Belgian beer, and a fantastic dessert—usually a dame blanche ("white lady"), a childhood favorite of mine and the Belgian equivalent of a hot fudge sundae. Some say it's a Catholic vs Protestant thing, while others ascribe it to proximity to France, but whatever the reason is, I am gobsmacked by how meals can be so radically different just across the border!

In between meals, we strolled, shopped and saw a few sights. With only a few hours at our disposal, we barely scratched the surface. Luckily, we were parked right in the center of town, so leaving the car in the afternoon and returning to it at in the evening gave us the opportunity to see some of Antwerp's iconic buildings in two distinct lights.

The Cathedral of Our Lady was closed, so we missed out on some of Peter Paul Rubens' most famous works housed within. We did get nice day vs night views of this impressive Gothic structure...

... as well Grote Markt, or Old Market Square. It was a smaller-scale version of Brussels' Grand Place, with similar gabled guild houses. A big difference is in what it's called; I didn't see any signs pointing to a Grand Place here. Being so close to the Netherlands, Dutch is more widely spoken in Antwerp than French; our smattering of Nederlands actually helped us get around and read menus. Here's the Grote Markt by day... 

... and by night. If the perpetual rain is good for anything, it's for making cobblestones gleam. 

On one side of the Grote Markt is the Stadhuis, or City Hall. Again, by day... 

... and by night. 

Driving into the city, our curiosities were piqued by this stunning building. It turned out to be the Museum aan de Stroom, or MAS, a museum about the city of Antwerp "and its relationship with the world."  (Iiiiiinteresting.) Built by famous Belgian architects Neutelings Riedijk, Antwerp's history as an important port city inspired this design of shipping containers stacked in a spiral. We returned in the evening, but the museum was already closed; this definitely warrants a return trip! 

Fortunately, the surrounding quayside, Het Eilandje ("The Islet"), was also a good area to end up in, being a former port area with interesting bars and restaurants. It was hard to get into a restaurant without a reservation, but we managed to find a table at a great bar called Het Duvels Genot (literally, "The Duvel Enjoyment"... kind of like the Heineken Experience, I guess). 

I've learned to expect crappy food when I walk into a bar in Amsterdam, but Belgium thoroughly has a leg up in this area. We had an awesome meal cooked with a variety of beers from the Duvel brewery, with hearty portions and reasonable prices. It was another one of those times where I was so involved with my food, I totally forgot to take pictures. Definitely a good reason (of many!) to make a return trip.

Schaatsen op de grachten

... or in English, skating on the canals. Yay!

Just as winter doesn't automatically translate to snow, it also doesn't necessarily mean ice. In Amsterdam, where winters are relatively milder, ice is a rare thing. There's too much moisture in the air here (I know, humid pa pala sa lagay na 'to) and the city is warmer than the countryside. Smaller canals and ponds outside the city freeze faster, but the canals in Amsterdam are a different animal altogether. 

So when the mercury (and the snow) began to fall, you could feel excitement rising in the air, prickling and spiking with every degree that dropped below zero. The city was literally abuzz with one question: "Are the canals going to freeze?" 

Freeze they did. This has led to my discovery of the one other thing, apart from summer, that creates happiness for the Dutch on a national level. And that is... the ice.  

Heading out to the canals was like seeing a Dutch painting come to life. I was particularly reminded of the Hendrick Avercamp winterscape displayed in the Rijksmuseum. 

Winter Landscape with Ice Skaters, image via Wikipedia

I've also discovered why ice drives the Dutch bonkers. Simply put, ice = skating. In Amsterdam, it means skating with a UNESCO World Heritage Site as your backdrop. The last time the canals were any good for ice skating was 15 years ago; some parts haven't been skated on since the 1970s. This winter, the city closed some of the locks, or gates, to help the canals freeze over faster. 

When Megamall opened its ice skating rink in the 90s, I was there on the very first day. So how could I possibly miss out on this?

Photo courtesy of Michelle

Join me on the ice, after the cut!

Up, up and away

I knew Marlon and I were going to arrive in Goreme past midnight. I also knew that we would have to be picked up at the hotel before dawn. So I knew there was more than a slight chance that I would look back at my 30th birthday pictures and think that I looked like the biggest living eyebag that ever walked this earth. But I knew, more than anything, that I wanted this to be the first thing I did upon turning 30.

So I went for it. My first hot-air balloon flight! And because there are times when even pictures are not enough, I made a video so you could all come along for the ride.

I was stumped for a soundtrack until my wonderful friend Jeline sent me a link to "One Day Like This" by Elbow. It's awesome to have friends who have great taste in music. Thanks Jeliney!

Oh, and I think it's so cool that the date of my 30th birthday is printed right on my flight certificate.

Some notes on the flight after the jump:

Getting the boot

Have you ever realized you had a completely blank schedule on a beautiful, sunny Saturday and thought to yourself: "Omigod! It's absolutely perfect! Today is the day! We can finally get the boot!" 

Probably not. But that's because you didn't know that boot is the Dutch word for boat!

In this city of canals, one of the most popular weekend pastimes is boating. With large cushions and blankets lining the deck, wine glasses in hand, in their preppy-chic Ralph Lauren/Tommy Hilfiger-type sailing getups (on cloudy days) or shirtless (on sunny days), a fluffy dog or two peeking out from the prow, the Dutch are experts in taking cozy chic to the canals. And yes, many of them actually own their own boats. I've seen so many happy Dutchies on boats since spring that I've developed an entirely new form of envy... boat envy. 

I've actually had a standing reservation at Mokumboot, a boat rental company two blocks from my house, since April. Weather had been so uncooperative, especially through our crappy rainy summer, that I feared I would never get to use it. Whenever I had the odd sunny day in my sights, boats would get fully booked up a week in advance.

But September gave us a stunning gift: a rare, two-week stretch of blissful sunshine and good vibes. So on one glorious Sunday morning, the planets aligned. And we could finally, finally get the damn boot.

Marlon and I showed up at the Mokumboot dock at 11 in the morning to pick up our boat. I actually got us out of the driveway, so to speak before handing the wheel to my college friend Jec. She moved here with her boyfriend KD for work, and I'm lucky to have a Pinay friend I already know pretty well!

Steering is not as easy as the Dutchies make it look. You need to keep the steering wheel going pretty much continuously, constantly going back and forth between left and right, to keep the boat going in a straight line. Also, being an electric boat as opposed to a gas-fueled boat, our top speed was pretty pathetic. But it was all good. We were all just ridiculously excited to finally be on a boat!



Jec's boyfriend KD took over as captain of the ship for the first half of our four-hour boat ride. Marlon got started chilling the wine...



... while I unpacked our picnic basket, filled with snacks for grazing: chips, cheese, olives, bread and a highly addictive truffle tapenade from the Albert Cuypmarkt.

I also served up a vegetarian lunch of fusilli with roasted broccoli and walnuts.

We set off from the Olympic quarter, which is our neighborhood, in the direction of Amsterdam's famous canal belt. Along the way, autumn waved its cheery greeting from the apartments of the Old South.

Passing the Rijksmuseum, or the national museum, was a signpost telling us to expect very busy waters up ahead. 

 

As soon as we hit the busy Leidseplein area, huge tourist boats started coming at us from every direction. Boat police patrol these busier waterways in the center of town.

It's not unlike being a student driver and finding yourself on the South Super Highway-Sucat interchange for the first time. Except everything moves much more slowly, you have no idea how people will signal for turns, and collisions with large vessels will be documented by the sound of fifty cameras clicking. Chalk that last bit up to experience.

Having run the stressful gauntlet that was Leidseplein, our entry into the famous Grachtengordel, or canal belt, was rewarded with some postcard views... like this one along Prinsengracht. The Anne Frank House lies just behind Westerkerk, on the right.

Sailing along all four major canals that encircle Amsterdam's old center—Singel, Herengracht, Keizersgracht, and Prinsengracht—is something that pretty much all tourist boats do on the standard canal tour. But many of them won't bother into the smaller canals intersecting these major waterways—which, shaded with trees and lined with cafes, have a quiet charm that made all of us breathe more deeply and contentedly.

Heading even further away from tourist territory, we took our little boat into the tiny canals of the Jordaan. Formerly home to Amsterdam's working-class immigrants, this neighborhood is now one of the hippest (and most expensive) places to live in the city. Its narrow canals are off-limits to the big tourist boats.

And as we came up to this alarmingly low bridge, we all realized why.

Marlon turned off the engine. Drifting ever so slowly toward the bridge gave the four of us time to ponder a short list of possible fates, which consisted of a) getting stuck, and b) sailing clean through.

"We're going to get stuck!" cried Jec. "No, I think we'll make it," I objected, discreetly grabbing my phone and tapping out the first few digits of the Mokumboot helpline... just in case I was wrong.

Drawn to our obvious (and by now, rather loud) distress, an old man in a battered coat tottered up to the bridge. "Geen problem," he said with an amused grin and a vaguely encouraging wave of his hand. "No problem!"

"O, no problem daw sabi ni lolo! He must know what he's talking about, right? He's Dutch!" I said.

Asserting the ultimate faith in the innate goodness of humankind, Marlon switched the engine back on to its lowest setting. Which left nothing else for us to do but plaster ourselves to the floor of the boat and laugh like hyenas on crack.

It was the longest minute of my Amsterdam life.

As we emerged, laughing hysterically, nerves shredded but boat and bumbunans intact, lolo waving cheerfully from the bridge, I knew we had just made another awesome Amsterdam memory.

We sure could have used one of these, though!

Apart from our hilarious/harrowing encounter with the bridge, plus an unexpected stretch of large choppy waves on the Overtoomse Sluis, it was smooth sailing all the way home. 

Water seems to be the Dutch element. They seem happier, warmer, more relaxed and more gracious in their boats. People in passing boats will joke with each other, like this dad who played at throwing his squealing toddler over to us. Naturally, we pretended to prepare to catch the little boy. Everyone smiles and waves at each other, sharing good vibes in passing. 

We might not share the confidence or adeptness with which this boat-loving culture navigates the waters. That can only come from a relationship with the water that begins from childhood, and is woven into the very history of a people.



But the sunshine sparkling on the water, the sound of the water lapping gently against the boat, the calming stillness in in its movement—these are available to all.

So though we are not adept in the intricacies of boat and water, we can partake in their pleasures... even just for a little while. 

Maximum occupancy

Palazzo Plazo reached maximum occupancy this summer with the arrival of not one, not two, nope not even three, but five guests!

My friends' post-wedding visit to Amsterdam was a huge deal to me and something I'd been looking forward to for months. It just so happened that during the week they were slated to visit, my sister ended her year-long assignment in Oslo and needed a place to rest and regroup before embarking on a new adventure in Portugal. 

Marlon and I had never hosted such a big number, and I'll admit I freaked out a bit at the beginning. Did we have enough bedsheets, towels, blankets, pillows, cutlery, plates and glasses for everyone? (Yes to everything except the glasses, a shortage solved by a quick trip to the nearest Blokker.) What would we cook and how could we make all the meals affordable? I was squeamish about asking everyone to contribute towards the grocery expenses; eventually I got over the discomfort of "charging" my friends by just having to accept that Marlon and I couldn't afford to feed everyone gratis.

We arrived from Mimi's wedding and went straight into a frenzy of cleaning and organizing—moving boxes upstairs, bringing down the spare mattresses from the attic, even fixing up the mess that is our hallway coat closet so it could accommodate the shoes we used to keep in the guest room. When we were done, I was pretty pleased with the way our house looked. We took a few minutes to just sit in the living room and enjoy it. 

This deluge of guests made me really appreciate all the hosts we had on our various Glee Club tours. It is not easy, and to think I was already hosting people who are quite close to me. To take on hosting duties for total strangers, while juggling kids and work, is nothing short of heroic.

It also made me realize how much extra space our home has. Space over location was a conscious decision we made when me chose the apartment and now I feel that our choice has been justified. We're lucky to have it! #blessed

The calm before the storm.

By the way, that's our new Nest beanbag from Sukha. I was terrified that Rogue was going to scratch it into oblivion, but she actually seemed scared of it. I suspect it's because the wool of the yarn may smell strongly of animal to her. It's taken her almost a month to even just sit on it, so I'm happy with its chances of survival.

My sister got first dibs on the daybed! We were able to borrow an extra air mattress from a colleague of Marlon's to complete the girls' "dormitory." All the suitcases were stored outside in the hallway.

On the day of their arrival, I was lucky to have an able assistant (a.k.a. sister) to pop lunch into the oven (and turn it over!) while I went to collect Pia, Jonel, Trina and Cathy at Schiphol. At the airport, we met up with Charlie, a Glee Club alum who's lived in The Hague for 13 (!!!) years and is now working as a chef. He lent them his spare OV-chipkaartjes, the reloadable passes that are used on buses, trains and trams.

Palazzo Plazo's welcome lunch consisted of chicken marinated in milk, lemon zest and herbs, with a Parmesan herb breading.

After lunch, we gathered in the living room to plan the next few days. At this point in their travels, my friends were tired from a rather punishing determined sightseeing schedule. While we tossed around quite a few ideas for outings and even out-of-the-country day trips, a lot more time was spent at home just chilling and taking it slow. This seems to happen to all my guests. It's the Amsterdam effect!



A stay at Palazzo Plazo is not complete without a meal by its resident chef.

For our one big sit-down dinner together at home, Marlon made a crackin' chili con carne, which we served with sangria, salsa (both homemade) and tortilla chips. It was the first time we had seven people seated at the dining table! Thankfully, there was enough food (and chairs) for everyone.

After getting used to living, shopping and cooking for two, it was a definite eye-opener to have lots of people at home. I told Marlon that my epiphany for the week was that I would be perfectly happy with a very small family, thank you very much! Haha.

But with lots of people comes lots of fun and laughter, and that's what made everything worth it. Not a single day passed without peals of loud, you-know-it's-Filipino laughter ringing out into our quiet street. Thankfully all my guests are considerate, responsible grown-ups trained over many Glee Club tours in the art of being gracious guests. And that gets a thumbs up from Palazzo Plazo!

It was wonderful having you guys over. Sa uulitin!

Ancient stone, flowing water

With temperatures soaring to 32℃ and our friends flying off to Rome, Marlon and I knew exactly what we wanted to do the day after Mimi and Pete's wedding: take it slow and go swimming. We had the option of driving an hour from Caissargues to the nearest beach, or to drive 20 minutes to see the Pont du Gard, a UNESCO World Heritage site. 

All it took was for me to see "swimming" among the list of activities allowed at this ancient Roman aqueduct, to decide. Pont du Gard it was!

Aside from being an incredibly picturesque sight, Pont du Gard is an architectural marvel. (Wondering what an aqueduct is? Read here). Built between 40 and 60 AD, this aqueduct was as a pathway down which 40 million liters of water a day flowed from a water source in Uzes to the Roman town of Nimes, 50 kilometers away. 

Thanks to the simple physics of gravity, homes, public baths and fountains in Nimes were assured a steady, efficient supply of water—something which the Romans enjoyed in 60 AD, but citizens of Paranaque did not until the 21st century. 

Today, the Pont du Gard is a major tourist attraction as well as a public recreation area used for kayaking and (most importantly for Marlon and myself) swimming.

There is a small sandy area by the riverbank, as well as a few roofed sunbeds where we saw families  picnicking.



This was when I started feeling that I was really on vacation. Things began to slow down and take on a dreamy haze. To have this time to just lay in the sun, watch the sunshine turn the ripples of the river into so much gold and soak up the atmosphere felt like the ultimate luxury. Time is indeed gold.

Venturing into the river was like getting foot reflexology, which my mom was nuts about for a time (remember those painful, fugly slippers that were big in the 90s?) and which I absolutely abhor. In one word: pebbles. It got to a point where I felt like I couldn't move another step, and regretted leaving my faithful tsinelas at home. 

But once we got in deep enough to float... yahoo!

Yes, the water was cold. And no, river swimming has never really appealed to me. But how many times in my life can I swim in the shadow of a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and let my body drift lazily under 20,000 years of history?

Not many, I would think. And that's what made this Sunday afternoon swim so unforgettable.

Once the sun started to set and the families around us began packing up, Marlon and I were left by ourselves, not wanting this day to end, waiting for the last rays of the sun to dry us off. It was suddenly so easy to picture a battalion of Roman soldiers clad in armor, stopping to let their horses drink from this cool river on a hot summer's day. I swear, I got goosebumps. And I know it wasn't the water.

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Check out more lovely photos of Pont du Gard at Apol's blog!