Tell it to the Hand

by Danielle

Last weekend I took a weekend trip to Antwerp, Belgium to meet up with my dear friend Leslie and her boyfriend Menno, who were there for a concert. Leslie and I have been friends since college days, and this was pre-internet, where we would hand write each other five page (front and back! college ruled!) letters, because we were too broke to make long distance phone calls. She has been living in Holland for many years, most recently working as a translator.  

After two hours on the Thalys train, we met in Centraal Station, dropped off our bags (at a beautiful guesthouse on the water) we were off exploring. First stop: frites! I chose to have them the true Belgian style, with mayonaise, which I normally detest. You know what? It wasn’t bad. Kind of gross to look at, yes, but yummy.

For the entire visit we were on foot and burned major calories. The city is manageable in scale, not too crowded (around 500,000) and it’s so CLEAN. It puts Paris to shame. It has a great energy, a combination of relaxed urban vibe (but not many tall buildings) with history and charm (old churches, beautiful architecture, many secret little passageways and nooks) with a strong arts influence. 

There are excellent museums, we saw the Goya/Redon/Ensor exhibit at the Fine Arts museum which I found disturbing (Leslie loved it   But we missed what appeared to be a more lighthearted show of paper clothing at the Fashion Museum. The city is known for fashion, due to the top rated design school and famous Belgian designers like Ann Demeulemeester.

Public art is everywhere, even in very unexpected places, like poetry written into street crossings, or sculptures in ‘transitional’ spaces (like an abandoned lot). Add to this many nice, casual restaurants, friendly multilingual locals, great shopping and amazing friends, you can pretty much conclude that this was a heavenly getaway.

Fun side note: Antwerp got its name from a legend about a mythical giant that guarded the river, demanding toll from those who wished to pass. If they refused he would cut off one of their hands and throw it into the Scheldt. Eventually he was killed, and the name “Antwerpen” comes from the Dutch “hand werpen.”