While I was in Belgium (2006), a friend connected me with her mutual friend via the short lived Myspace. She didn't know him well, but thought he was a cool guy and he was travelling through Europe, so why not hook up. So we exchanged phone numbers, he tells me that he is going to be in Brussels with two friends. I offer that they can stay at mine, though it will be cramped quarters.
The day they are meant to arrive, by the afternoon, I hear nothing, so take a nap. But of course, am woken up by my phone; they're in the Grande Place. I give some vague description of a corner and say I'll meet them in an hour. My only description of them-3 guys, one in a hideously loud orange coat.
Somehow I manage to guide us to Delirium Tremens. We wander through what I called "Restaurant Alley" to get there. Restaurant Alley is a tight alley, lined with restaurants. Men of Arab decent stand outside and attempt to get you to eat at their restaurant. This isn't to say they are all Arab restaurants, there was French and Italian,etc., but I'd bet that most are Arab owned.
After making it through the gauntlet successfully without purchasing clams or cows tongues, we come to an impasse, in the literal French sense, an alley that doesn't go through to the next street; a dead end. Thankfully it was the right dead end. Delirium Tremens is on the left, across from the Janneken Pis, a small statue of a girl peeing, to mimic the Manneken Pis.
We make our way into the DT and find a menu that is no less than 2 inches thick. I knew immediately what I wanted, Westvleteren. The boys were at a loss, and I was too after already making my choice, so we did the stupidest thing possible and ordered based on names. One was called Pee Klak, and when poured in a glass, it did look like a urine sample, though I don't think that was the basis of the name. Another was called Mortal Kool. It tasted like purple drink. We also had a grapefruit beer that wasn't awful.
Then back to LLN for more drinks. We managed to go to a party, held by the crazy Danish girl. She did not care for our company, nor we for hers, so we went to a bar.
Here is where the boys bring up the fact that they are going to Carnival in Cologne (Koln), Germany the next day, and I should go. Oh, come now! I can't just take off to Germany tomorrow! Oh wait, I can. So with minimal resistance, I packed up some things and we planned to head to Germany the next day for Carnival. Sleeping that night was interesting. The cute one shared my bed, the big one the other bed, and the weird one the floor. The concrete floor.
Now the only thing I know about Carnival is what I've heard and seen regarding Carnival in Brazil. Half naked girls and a lot of color. This is not Koln. Koln was cold and wet and snowy. You are meant to wear costumes, we only found some terrible wigs to wear. There are parades for the kids with lots of candy. There are parades for the adults...with lots of candy. The only thing that differentiated the two were the political themes in the the adults parade. These parades were rather dangerous, in that they threw entire bars of chocolate out. Augustus Gloop, eat your heart out! Since it was so cold, it was actually dangerous to try to catch these things, as they were like bricks. One woman got her arm broken. I also ended up with little toys and some hair gel.
We stayed at a nice hotel outside of town. Gorgeous room, excellent spread at breakfast. However, once again, 4 people, one room. Three of us shared the bed, the weird kid got the cot.
It really was a great hotel, and I'm glad we didn't stay in the city proper. There was a tiny bar down the street where locals were celebrating Carnival and we became honorary Germans, dancing and drinking Kolsch. It was a blast.
(a word on Kolsch. this is schwill. i generally don't like german beers. kolsch is the poster child for bland german beer. during carnival, this is the only thing for sale. tall boys of various breweries kolsch everywhere. it's awful. inside the bars, these small glasses that fit into what looks like a poker chip caddy, probably about 8 glasses a caddy. cute presentation, awful beer.)
Here we learned the "Who the Fuck is Alice" song. Which is not in German, nor is it written by Germans, but it was played in every bar and on the street, at lest 12 times a day. And everyone shouts, "Alice! Who the fuck is Alice!?" A good time.
The cute guy was quite the charmer. He managed to snag a snog from more than a few girls including myself. I hate that I fell for it, but a good snog was needed after being locked up in Belgium celibate for 4 months.
When it was time to part ways, we headed to the train station and everyone bought a Becks tall boy in honor of my departure. Halfway back to Belgium, I found out I didn't have the right train pass, and was booted off to buy a new ticket. No worries.
If you find yourself in Koln during Carnival, drink fast, learn the words to "Living Next Door to Alice" and watch for flying chocolate bricks.
