Get Low

The Low Countries (Belgium, Luxembourg and Holland) are Venga Boys Country. As soon as we got off the train in Brugge (in Flemish which is basically Dutch, Bruges in French), I heard “We Like to Party”. There was some sort of club or bar attached to the station and it was playing this song. I made the trip to Belgium with co-workers, Chris and Zheni, Chris’ roommate, Jon and Jon’s girlfriend, Serena. We checked into our hostel and set about finding a place to have a legendary Belgian beer and something to eat, hopefully chocolate covered waffles. It was difficult to find anything that looked like our kind of atmosphere at a decent price so we had some frites (fries) with mayo (try it). There are frites stands all over the Low Countries. They sell little fried treats of various sorts, frites, fried sausage, etc. The guy working the stand was a talker. He asked where we were from. He possessed an extensive knowledge of American culture. All Texans wear boots and Florida is exclusively populated with hot girls.

We walked the city for a while marveling at its beauty. Finally, Jon spotted a place called, “The Pub”, down an alley just past the main square. The Pub, that’s us right? We walked in and immediately noticed a strange vibe. Something just wasn’t right. I even said that, “Something doesn’t feel right.” We all scanned the room while the bartender just looked at us with a deer in the headlights stare. Then it hit me, and I think everyone else at the same time- we had stumbled upon a gay bar. That would explain why the bar is spotless, completely populated with men, and everyone is staring at us. We ordered a beer and sat outside. Once the bartender warmed up to us, it ended up being a really nice place. They brought us cheese and peanuts and kept our glasses full. One of the best things about traveling is getting to know your fellow travelers. I look forward to traveling with these folks again. Jon and Chris are going to join me and Travis on our road trip to Oktoberfest. A guy from California, not gay, joined us at our outside table. The weather was ideal. It was cool and dry. It had rained when we first got there but now the sky was clear and the city is nothing short of enchanting. Craig, from California, talked about his travels and smoked Cuban cigars.

We stayed at the gay bar for a couple of hours before deciding on a change of scenery. I asked the bartender where we should try next. He said, “well, I think you should stay here ALL night”, and everyone laughed extremely gay laughs. He tried to explain where this bar was located but he knew we would get lost on the winding medieval streets of Brugge. I asked the group to wait a second while I used the toilet (that’s what you say over here). Zheni asked for the same courtesy. I was later informed that as soon as I was out of earshot homeboy said, “I don’t know about her but I will wait for HIIIM.” When told about this, I explained how I was kind of flattered in a weird way by that comment. I don’t think of myself as someone that gay men would find attractive. Jon thinks I have some rare condition where I crave attention from gay men even though I do not find them attractive in return. He speculated there may be thousands of “us” around the world, straight men that enjoy attention from gay men. Anyway, bartender walked us to the bar. He grabbed his manbag and marched us down some dark alley. At the time this did not seem strange. Maybe it was the Belgian beer or the wonder of the city or my alleged disorder. Looking back on it, being led down a back alley, in a European city, by a gay man who has been openly flirting with you all night is pretty unconventional. This was my first time. The bar he thought we would enjoy was closed but there was a crazy discotheque at the end of the alley. Homeboy from the frites stand was working the bar at this establishment. His buddy’s dad owns the place. We were the only people over twenty in the whole bar. Everyone was Spanish and sweaty. It was awesome. Zheni requested the Venga Boys and the place went off the hook. For the first time since beginning yoga, I felt my blood pressure rise to near anger levels. By the end of the song I was singing along and wishing I was eating cotton candy. The energy in the place was infectious. EVERYONE danced to EVERY song and made noises that imitated the beat.

Saturday was supposed to be sight seeing day. I even drafted a very flexible itinerary. We got a late start but didn’t get too far behind. The first thing on the list was to climb the Bell tower for a view of the city. The results are posted below. It was incredible. We got to the top just before noon so we were in the tower during the carillon. Time is kept by this crazy five hundred year old machine.

We stopped at the frites stand, which homeboy was again working. A group of guys struck up conversation with us. Turns out they are from Jacksonville, pretty wild. The Asian American (preferred nomenclature) gentleman pictured below is a representative from their group. I don’t know whether it was too early or what but it took a lot longer than you would expect. We finally found a reasonably priced restaurant and sat down for waffles, sandwiches, and beer. By the time we finished lunch, the Texans were ready to go home so we agreed to meet them at the gay bar for a beer before going to see Michelangelo’s, Madonna and Child. Michelangelo supposedly worked on it while taking a break from his masterpiece, the David.

I’m not really sure what happened but our friends were not at the gay bar when we got there and the bartender had not seen them. Zheni and I decided to stay there for a little while to see if they came along. After a few minutes, Zheni left to meet her Bulgarian friend at the train station. Vlade is going to school in Brussels, she came to Brugge for the night. A girl walked in alone while Zheni was gone. She was speaking English to the bartender, sitting by herself, so I invited her to join us. Her name is Sarah, she’s a Kiwi and works on a boat of some sort traveling around the world. Sarah knew of a free jazz festival so we went. The festival was nice. The jazz wasn’t bad and we met some interesting locals. I was into the jazz and the girls were talking about girl stuff so I didn’t realize that they had met some local guys. The guys told us about a bar we should try. I was pretty exhausted and ready to go home but I reluctantly agreed to go. The bar wasn’t really a bar at all. It is a mansion that the owner opens up for guests on Saturday nights. You have to know the password or secret knock or something to get through the door. Willy, the owner, takes you into the house, through the kitchen, and to your seat. We had to sit in the balcony because there were too many people downstairs. The balcony walls are covered with paintings of people engaged in coitus. There was a three piece band that walked around serenading women for a small fee. I had a coffee and water since the beers are very strong and it was late. The last thing I wanted at that point was another 9% alcohol beer and this place made me think I was already a little too tight (intoxicated) for my own good. I'm pretty sure they put PCP in the beers.

The next day we checked out of the hostel and amended the original plan. I really wanted to see Madonna and Child. We agreed to take it easy and stroll around the town. Zheni chatted up a Canadian named, Sean, while I was in the shower. He was traveling alone so we invited him to join us. The weather was perfect. We saw Madonna and Child, ate chocolate, and sat in the square. There was a marching band concert on the square followed by said band actually marching through the streets. I ate frites and talked to homeboy again. He was still talkin’.