Se Perdre

We were warned about the difficulty of locating the greatest beer in the world before we went on our quest, and yet we didn’t fully realize the legitimacy of such claims.

It wasn’t until after we crossed the Belgian border (granted that only took about twenty minutes) that we realized we had forgotten to look up the actual address of the monastery.

No matter, we thought, we knew which city it was in. We put “Westvelteren” into the GPS, and found a street with the same name of the Abbey, “St. Sixtus.”

The GPS lead us to a residential street. Knowing that the abbey is located in the middle of fields, we decided to follow a sign indicating “Westvelteren” as well as fields.

We quickly found ourselves driving along a dirt pathway in the middle of nowhere, with no street signs, and no abbey in sight, very lost.

Luckily, a friend was supposed to meet us at the monestary. We gave him a call to ask him for the address, but as a regular he didn't know. Deciding to wait for him to look it up, we drove to the nearest town, Poperinge, which ended up being very charming with Flandres style architecture.


Poperinge, Belgium town center.
Originally we had planned on having a late-ish lunch comprised of the bread and cheese also made by the monks, but as it was fast approaching 15h and not knowing if we'd ever make it to the beer holy land, we decided to find a snack.

What better to tide us over than some fresh Belgian fries? Unfortunately, all the restaurants and fry stands were closed except one, however they only spoke flamand(Belgian Dutch). After asking them if they served fries, they replied in a broken English that nobody served fries at this hour.

It wasn't a complete waste of time, however. Thanks to a display, we learned that 80% of Belgian hops are grown in Poperinge. An appropriate stop indeed.

Not to worry, we ended up getting the address, tasting delicious cheese, and enjoying the best beer in the world. And yes, it lived up to it’s name.


Westvleteren Bruin 12 and abbey-made cheese.
But if you ever visit it, make sure to have the address.

Check it out:
"In de Vrede"
Donkerstraat 13
8640 WESTVLETEREN
Tel. 057/40.03.77

Best Beer in the World : A Visit to Saint Sixtus

50 minutes by car away from Lille, in the middle of nowhere Belgium, surrounded by flat fields as far as the eye can see, lies a hard to find monastery, the Abbey of Saint Sixtus.

While there are eight beer-brewing monasteries, collectively known as Trappists, the Abbey of Saint Sixtus remains much in the shadows when compared to its monastic brethren.

This is because their beer, unlike its better-known counterparts such as Chimay and Orval, is not sold commercially. In order to buy it, according to their website, one must call in advance, hope to have a little luck as their phone line is often busy, and give them your license plate number. Each car is allowed one crate.

In order to taste it, however, there is a lovely little visitor’s center just across the way from the Abbey. This is the only place in the world where the beer is available.

Why would one go to so much trouble just to drink beer you might ask? Easy, it is widely considered the best beer in the world.

And boy oh boy, I dare say I do agree.

The Westvleteren 12 is a strong, dark beer, coming in at 10.2%, and it is to this beer the Abbey owes all its fame.


The Westveletern 12 in all its glory.
I don’t usually enjoy dark beers, but this one was delightful with a caramel finish. I spent a lovely afternoon there with friends, drinking incredible beer and eating delicious cheese.

While we had a great time, we were definitely of the wrong age. We were the only young people in the room. And to make matters even more complicated, the menu is entirely in Flemmish, the servers only speak Flemmish, and all the other people in the establishment were speaking in Flemmish.

Not to worry, all one really needs to do is drink one Westveletern 12, and that 10.2% ABV makes everyone fast friends.

Check it out:
"In de Vrede"
Donkerstraat 13
8640 WESTVLETEREN
Tel. 057/40.03.77

Wine More Time

While in Bordeaux, I wanted to drink lots of Bordeaux wine. So while at the office du tourisme, I asked for a list of wine bars. FBF and I decided to try one called Wine More Time because it had an awesome name and a view of the grosse cloche (fat clock).


The bar au vin (wine bar).


The view.

We sat down, selected a wine from the list of vin au verre (wines by the glass) and also got the cheese plate.


The menu.

When the man came back with our wine and cheese, he asked us where we were from (no doubt hearing my accent).

When we told him where we were from, it was surprisingly not the girl from California but the boy from le Nord who was the topic of conversation.

“Moi, je suis de Toulouse, qui est aussi plus nord d’ici, mais pas assez au nord que vous!” (I’m from Toulouse, which is north of here, but nowhere near as far north as you!) he told FBF.

“Vous ne buvez pas du vin là bas, non?” (You don’t drink wine up there, do you?) he continued.

FBF confirmed that in le Nord people are more partial to beer than wine.

I then learned a little bit about the opinion the rest of France has towards Lillois.

“Ça c’est parce que vous n’êtes pas les vrais français!” (That’s because you aren’t actually French!) he exclaimed, brimming with pride to be from le Sud (the South).

FBF had the good nature to laugh, but I was taken aback. It's one thing for Americans and other foreigners to view the French as nothing but red wine drinking baguette lovers, but actual French people thinking the same thing? I was astounded.

Then I realized that half the time I tell people about Lille, I talk about how we're more Belgian than French anyway. Maybe all of France knows this, too.

And really, what's so wrong with a having a preference for beer?

La Braderie de Lille

My fellow Lillois told me that La Braderie de Lille is a giant flee market taking over the entire city. The first weekend in September people come from all over Europe to buy other people’s junk at really reasonable prices, and to sell their own unwanted items.


La Braderie as seen from my window.

Thinking that this would be a great opportunity to buy some small stuff that I didn’t really need but had been wanting for a while, I made a list and was looking forward to getting some really great deals.

I was disappointed. I wanted a cool, old book to turn into a jewelry box, but all the tables with old books were selling them for 15euros or more. I was also hoping to find somebody’s old regular mirror for cheap, but again there were only fancy antique mirrors being sold expensively.

The streets were not filled with other Lillois’ junk as promised.


Les Bradeurs (people who shop at La Braderie) on rue Nationale, with La Grand Place in the background.


Les Bradeurs and the Palais des Beaux Arts.

After extensive searching, I did manage to find booths set up by real Lillois selling things for next to nothing.

I bought a beautiful old book for 1.50euro. At another stand there were old books for .30 centimes, so I bought four. I also managed to buy a really cool German beer glass for 1.50euro. Despite not finding a mirror to my liking (read: inexpensive), I am quite happy with my purchases.

The good news is that there is more to the Braderie than other people’s junk so having the place over run with pricey, albeit cool, things didn’t destroy the spirit of it all.


I saw at least 6 different stands with this set of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.

Beer is cheap and readily available from street venders and I might have drunk over 2 liters of beer throughout the day.

And while it wasn’t in Bergues when FBF and I paid the city made famous by Bienvenue Chez Les Ch’tis a visit, I have now enjoyed frites (fries) from Friterie Momo. The baraque à frites was at La Braderie in all its movie glory. I enjoyed a small frites, and FBF got a fricadelle. Both surpassed expectations.


Chez Momo!

During the Braderie most of the restaurants serve a regional specialty, moules-frites (muscles and fries). They participate in a concours (competition) to see who serves the most moules. While I don’t eat seafood, it was quite enjoyable to walk down the streets and see giant piles of mussels out on display. The restaurant with the biggest pile of moules wins.


A giant pile of moules.

There are also lots of different spectacles put on for free during La Braderie. While it was beautiful and sunny during the day, come night rain started falling like buckets and the events got cancelled.

It wasn’t a total waste, however, as when I was lurking inside the entryway to my apartment building waiting for the rain to stop, the parents of one of my fellow tenants invited me and all my friends into their daughter's place. We had a great time mingling and meeting the neighbors.

While La Braderie has lost some of it's authenticity as a place of one-man's-trash-is-another-man's-teasure, I enjoyed spending the day drinking beer and oogling some of the weirder things people were selling (like, would anyone pay good money for a glass coffee table with a stuffed crocodile as it's base?).

Le Chopp’ing

When one thinks of France and alcoholic beverages, usually the first drink to come to mind is wine, followed closely by champagne. But here in the North we think beer.

So if you want to be a good Lillois, you better get yourself to a beer bar ASAP, and I know of just the one.

A great beer bar can be found in Vieux Lille, called Le Chopp’ing.


The beer bar.

It has 18 different beers on tap, most of which come from Belgium (and are, therefore, delicious). Not only are they on tap, but they are also reasonably priced. It’s only 5euros for a pinte (pint or 50 cl) or 3.50euros for 25cl.

When I say pinte, I mean it for the size alone. The beer wont be coming in a generic pint glass like they have in the States. These beers come in their own special glasses, as is required by all great Belgian beers.

While I often vary my drink choice in order to experience as many Belgian beers as possible, I highly recommend trying the Rince Cochon for two reasons. First, and most important, it tastes good. Second, there is a tiny cute glass pig on the stem of the glass.

The bar has two big flat screen TVs for watching football (soccer) and rugby games, lots of high, round tables with bar stools, as well as some sidewalk tables for when it isn’t raining. If going on the night of a big game, be sure to get there early, as the place is small and fills up fast.

Check it out:
Le Chopp’ing
16 bis, rue Royale
59800 Lille

La Belle Ville de Bergues

FBF and I took a surprisingly long drive over to Bergues (it’s about an hour from Lille) in order to explore the town that has become famous due to Dany Boon’s hit movie about Le Nord, Bienvenue Chez Les Ch’tis.
(trailer with English subtitles).

I wanted to see the places where they filmed the movie, drink me some Ch’ti beer, and eat at the baraque à frites (French fry stand – specifically Friterie Momo from the film). But what we discovered was much more than just a film set.

We got there around lunchtime and hit up the Office du Tourisme. They have a Bienvenue Chez Les Ch’tis tour in the afternoons at 15h and 15h30 that costs only 4euros!


Free map and my ticket to the Ch'tis tour.

After being thoroughly excited about the fact that there is an actual tour that takes you to all the places they filmed the movie, we decided to have lunch while waiting for the ticket office to open. As with almost all public services in France, the Office du Tourisme was closed for lunch, and wouldn’t be opening again until 14h (because everybody needs a 2 hour lunch break, amIright?).

This is when we experienced my first and only disappointment with Bergues. Not only is Chez Momo not permanently in Bergues, there wasn’t a single baraque à frites in sight.

"C'était une caravane, maintenant c'est une baraque à frites. Ils ne dorment plus dedans, ils font des frites."

(It was a caravan, and now it's a baraque à frites. They no longer sleep in it; they make French fries.)

-Yann, Bienvenue Chez Les Ch'tis

Dismayed, but determined, we ate at the French fry stand that was in a building instead of a caravan, and I proceeded to have the best French fries of my life.

They were the perfect amount of a crispy exterior yet fondant interior. I ate all of mine, and some of FBF’s.

To compliment those lovely frites we chose none other than Ch’ti beer.


My lunch of beer and fries. I might have had two ch'ti blonde beers instead of just one...

Having an hour to kill after eating, we decided to wonder aimlessly around the city.

We discovered the remains of an ancient monastery from the 1100s that was mostly destroyed during the French Revolution.


Really old monastery, complete with gardens.

We also learned that Bergues is a walled in city, and still has all its ramparts.


The ramparts made it seem like a fairy tale city.

Before getting to walk around all the ramparts, however, it was time to go on the Bienvenue Chez Les Ch’tis 1.5 hour walking tour. It was definitely worth the 4 euros. The woman who took us on the tour was very knowledgeable, shared fun facts about the shooting, and had a binder full of pictures of the movie making process.

Here are a few photos of the various places we saw:


The real Bergues Post Office. Dany Boon was unable to get permission from the French government to use the real building, so they used La Poste's logo on another building, creating their own post office.


The post office from the movie (there was a truck blocking it so I couldn't get a straight on view).


The bridge where Dany Boon and Kad Merad relieved themselves during the film!


The top of la beffroi (belltower) where Dany Boon's character is the carillonneur (person who plays the bells).


The bottom of la beffroi, as well as the office du tourisme.



Dany Boon wanted to create a movie about his region and challenge some preconceived notions about life up here in le ch’nord. This is why the film does not show case Bergue’s monastery, ramparts, or old churches, and instead focuses on things common throughout the region, such as the beffroi, or the nonexistent baraque à frites.

Traverser La Rue

This weekend I took full advantage of my three-day weekends for the first time and went to Amsterdam to meet up with a friend of mine from California. It was my third time in Amsterdam, and we did typical Amsterdam-y activities.

Since I hadn’t seen this friend since she came and visited me last year, I decided that we should go to a restaurant for a nice-ish dinner on our second and final night in the city together. She (and her two friends) agreed.

We found a rather charming sit down restaurant + bar. While perusing the menu, I decided to try some Dutch beer. Everybody ordered a drink, and after discussing with the blonde Dutch bar tender slash waitress, I chose a blonde beer.

Without much delay the Dutch returned with three beverages: a water, a coke, and a beer that was not mine. She turned to me after distributing the drinks and said, “I’ll be back with your beer. It’s on the otherside.”

A little bit confused by her Dutch English, I watched her go back behind the bar. This was a normal bar, with the liquor on one side, and seats for people to sit in while drinking the liquor on the other. As I couldn’t really imagine why they would have stored the beer on the side with the seats, I thought I misunderstood her.


The restaurant.
Being curious as to where my beer would be coming from, I followed her with my eyes as she got out from behind the bar. She followed the length of the bar, heading towards the front of the building, but instead of turning towards the rest of the restaurant, she walked right out the front door.

She walked across the street and entered the building directly en face (in front) of the restaurant, disappearing within. Three minutes later, out she came, with a beer in hand.

I thanked her, and went to grab my first sip of Dutch beer. It was delicious. The only down side was after putting my beer back on the table, I realized my hand was definitely wet from the beer that had spilled on its long journey from across the street.


My beer!
Although I felt guilty at first making her go out (unknowingly)
in the freezing cold, it was delicious enough to merit such drastic measures.

Mon Chien à Brugges

After enjoying delicious and strong Belgian beer at ‘T Brugs Beertje, FBF and I went out to do some more exploring. Since he was driving us home that night, we decided to have mid-afternoon beer so he’d be completely sober by the time we went home. There is something about day drinking that I think makes one more drunk without the ability to realize just how much effect the alcohol has had. I was in such a case.

My Barbar, while delicious and honey filled, was not only strong in flavor, but also alcohol content. My 33cl bottle contained 8% alcohol per volume. I was not alone in my enjoyment of a rather potent Belgian beer. FBF ordered a Malheur, which contains 10% alcohol per volume. Needless to say, we were feeling the effects of the alcohol, even if we thought we weren’t.


FBF's Malheur.

We were walking the streets enjoying the general splendor of ancient Belgian buildings, when I saw a man walking a dog. It wasn’t just any dog, however. It was a pug dog. My family has a pug, named Buster, and one of the things I missed from home was my dog. Naturally, I got excited to see another one of his kind walking about in Brugge.

Before I knew it, I had gotten out my camera and had started talking to the man.

“Excusez-moi monsieur? Est-ce que je peux prendre une photo de votre chien?” (Excuse me sir? Can I take a picture of your dog?) I asked.

“Oui! Biensûr,” (Yes! Of course) he replied.

“Oh merci! J’ai un chien comme ça aussi chez moi, et il me manqué trop! Ils sont trop mimis les chiens comme ça!” (Oh thank you! I have a dog like this one at my house and I miss him! Dogs like them are really adorable!)

Like all good pugs, this one was a poser as well, and looked at me ready for his picture to be taken. I took the picture, thanked the man again, and was suddenly surprised at the ease of which French had fallen out of my mouth to grant me permission to take a picture of a French Belgian pug dog.

Les Deux Chiens: Buster and his Belgian cousin!

My new Belgian friend.


Buster!! The cutest pug in the world!! (Apparently the first picture wasn't cute enough)


I’d like to thank liquid courage, as well as Buster, for giving me the opportunity to speak French to strangers and making me feel French, even if I happened to be in Belgium at the time.

In Bruges

Despite being told repeatedly by Colin Farrell that Bruges is a shitty place to be while watching In Bruges, I felt like I should pay the Belgian town a visit. Since I arrived in the Nord, everyone here has told me that Bruges is the Venice of the North. Because Belgium is a hop, skip, and a jump away, FBF and I decided to take the 45 minute drive and enjoy one of Europe's best preserved medieval towns.

Yet again I enjoyed better weather while traveling to somewhere further north than I usually experience in Lille. Why is it always so grey and rainy in the Nord-Pas-De-Calais?


Interesting medieval Belgian architecture and blue sky!

Upon arrival, we found the tourist information center and picked ourselves up a map. The use-it.be free map had this to say in it's 5 minutes of history section,
"2009: The movie 'In Bruges' wins an award for best scenario. Quote: 'If I grew up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me. But I didn't, so it doesn't.' So just like in 1892, somebody calls Bruges a shithole, which attracts only more tourists."


The bell tower from the movie.

Not only were we in a beautiful city, but we were in Belgium! This quickly translated into the fact that delicious, cheap Belgian beer needed to be drunk stat! We found a bar with practically every single Belgian beer immaginable, called 'T Brugs Beertje.

We walked in and I was immediately intimidated. There was the barkeep, an old couple, and a middle-aged man in the bar.

They were all speaking Flemish.

Half of Belgium speaks Flemish, and the other half speaks French. On the drive up to Bruges, FBF scared me out of speaking French, as the Flemish speaking part of Belgium apparently hates the French speaking side. I said,"hello," and quickly retreated to the second room in the bar.

Both rooms were covered from head to toe in beer advertisements, and the bar had a million different types of glasses on display to go with its million different beers. Before sitting down, I decided to be courageous, and we took a seat at a table in the room with all the Flemish speakers.

When the bartender came over to take our order, I stuck with English, but FBF ordered in French. I think we confused the man a little bit, but luckily he got our orders right. I ordered a Barbar, which was delicious. It had a touch of honey in it.


Such Belgian-y goodness!

According to our handydandy use-it.be map/travel guide, I knew that in Bruges one days not say "santé!" for cheers like the rest of Belgium, but instead "up je mulle!" This translates into "on your face!"

Not having any clue how to pronounce "up je mulle" in Flemish, I asked the bartender if he could pronounce it for us. He read the word I was pointing at, laughed, and said it out loud. He then said, "Don't go around saying that, though! It's what you say between good friends, but if you say it to a stranger it's really offensive. I said it to a guy once in a bar, and he punched me in the face."

Bière

You’d think after four years of college and drinking whatever low quality beer was available at a party, I’d be only overjoyed to be in the north of France surrounded by delicious Belgian beer.

However, there seems to be a difference in opinion when it comes to the temperature beverages should be between the French and me.

The first time I drank warm Belgian beer, it was one of those times where we had run out of other options, and someone just happened to have some beer in their car.

It was horrible. I made FBF finish mine.

Leaving beer in the trunk of one’s car is not a rare phenomenon here. In the winter, while there was snow on the ground, I thought it was rather clever of them to leave cases of beer in their trunks. “What an easy way to keep your beer cold!” I thought.

Now that it’s spring, I’m a little less impressed. They still leave beer in their trunks. And because the weather changes with the seasons, this means I am presented with warm beer a lot of the time.

When I asked FBF how he could drink warm beer, he said, “it’s still good! It tastes like beer.”

I interpreted that as while, of course beer is better cold, warm beer is better than no beer at all.

The other night, I had FBF over and we were sharing a bottle of Chimay that had been in my fridge. After saying “santé!” (cheers!), and taking a sip, FBF exclaimed, “Elle est trop froide! On doit attendre!” (It’s too cold!! We have to wait).

To me, the beer was just the temperature a beer should be: cold. I did not wait.

After finishing the Chimay, I offered FBF a nice, cold Leffe from my fridge. He preferred to take one out of the box that had been sitting on my floor.


Just a handfull of the Belgium beers I prefer cold.