Belgium: who knew? (and also, birthday food.)

I'm going to take this moment to announce that I am fairly certain I did NOT fail my German test this afternoon. Wooohoooo!

And now, as promised, a review of the restaurant where we ate for Mike's birthday: Marcellino (approximately a 5-minute walk from our apartment). In a word, YUM. In another, EXPENSIVE. Welcome to Zürich, suckers. Mike opted for the a la carte menu, and I went for the tasting menu, which was delicious, but LARGE. Soooo much food. He started with burrata; I started with a sampler plate of beef carpaccio with olive oil and parmesan, some sort of avocado relish ("guacamole", to the lay person), and cold octopus salad with minced pickled vegetables and some sort of extra fishy flavor...and, oddly enough, my least favorite thing on the plate was the avocado. Who knew octopus was so yummy?

We then proceeded to the pasta course. Mike: spinach-and-ricotta ravioli; me: ravioli sampler, but I can't for the life of me remember what was in all of them (there were 4 different types). Suffice it to say that they were all drowning in butter, and really, what's more worth remembering than THAT?

Next, the meat courses. Mike had the cordon bleu (which is REALLY popular here, and not terribly Italian, but whatever...) with creamy risotto, and I had some gigantic slab of some sort of delicious fish. And creamy risotto. REALLY good fish. REALLY hot risotto, but also good...although neither of us could finish it by this point.

Finally, desserts. Mike had crema catalan, which is kinda like orange creme brulee, but better, and I had a teensy panna cotta with some variety of berry topping. I will say here that while the desserts were tasty, they weren't anything terribly special: I think the best parts of the meal were the appetizers and the ravioli. (And my fish certainly wasn't too shabby.)

As aforementioned, a GIGANTIC and EXPENSIVE meal, but really tasty. And we got to eat outside on their little patio, which was adorable and filled with plants and white twinkle lights and tables with umbrellas...just a really lovely evening. Maybe really only a special-occasion-type meal, but good.  :)

And now, onto Belgium! Which is, by the way, a FAR more beautiful and interesting and tasty country than I'd imagined. I guess it's nice to go into things with ZERO preconceptions sometimes, so that you can be extremely pleasantly surprised. This was one instance, I suppose, where actually turned out to be a benefit being an ignorant American. (How many people do YOU know that would know what to expect from Belgium...?)

Anyway. We were there for 3 days...spent the first night in Brussels, the second in Bruges, and the third back in Brussels. And I have the photos to prove it.

Notre-Dame du Sablon. Near the restaurant where we had dinner.

And here: a quick review of the dinner we had our first night in Belgium, at Lola. Really small, hipster-y restaurant, with FANTASTIC, and mostly affordable--at least, compared to Zurich--food! Between Jen, Dave, Mike, and myself, we had three starters: buffala mozzarella with prosciutto (yum!), foie gras with toast (meh...I don't see what the fuss is all about), and Flemish-style white asparagus. (Asparagus is EVERYWHERE right now, since it's in season, and I couldn't really care less, 'cause I DON'T LIKE IT. But this stuff was boiled fairly well and served with diced, salted, boiled eggs and olive oil: not horrible!) Appetizers: sehr gut. Then Jen had shrimp pasta, Dave had steak tartare, Mike had an Irish filet, and I had lentils with pumpkin puree and tomatoes. ALL DELICIOUS. If you go to Brussels, EAT AT LOLA. Entirely delicious, entirely worth the (not-too-expensive) prices. But back to the city.

Just FYI: the seemingly main-est tourist attraction in Brussels is this teensy statue--like, a foot high--of this little boy peeing. His likeness is everywhere, in every shop, even on their Coke advertisements (this is hilarious). Consider yourselves forewarned.

Yup. He's peeing chocolate. No one said anything about Brussels being a CLASSY town.

Here he is again, in every color of the rainbow, and then some.

Oh yeah. And did we mention that it was gay pride weekend there? Lots of rainbow flags and dance music and animal prints. We had no idea. Thus commenced our second inadvertent Big Gay Weekend. (The first was our anniversary in San Francisco in 2006.)

Musee de la Ville -- northeast side of the Grand Place. I have NEVER seen a more ornate collection of buildings in one place. It was pretty surprising. Belgium: who knew??

Northwest side of the Grand Place.

City hall in the Grand Place (southwest side).

Southeast end of the Grand Place.

Chocolates at Pierre Marcolini. Tasty, but not my favorites...I'm sticking with good ol' Neuhaus, for now!

Near the Grand Place. I seriously love the buildings in this city, although this part at night was extremely reminiscent of Bourbon Street.

 Fancy covered shopping arcade similar to those in Milan or Torino...very pretty. 

Bruges! The main square.

Market along one side of the square.

Bruges: small city, giant towers. The belfry in the main square.

Basilica of the Holy Blood. Allegedly has a vial of Holy Blood collected by Joseph.

The Venice of Belgium....?

Now you see why this place was PACKED with tourists.

Oh yeah. Casa Patata. Word on the street is that those crazy Belgians fry their french fries TWICE. Yesssss.

And then...another fantastic meal. Dave, whenever we travel with him, will forever be in charge of the meals, 'cause Den Dyver was ALSO fantastic. (Dave picked it 'cause the food was supposed to be good, but also 'cause they did beer pairings with the tasting menu, rather than the usual wine pairings.) Ok, so definitely not as affordable as Lola, but a REALLY nice meal. We started with a "salsa" tray of tiny whole shrimps, fish salsa, and crunchy bread sticks, followed by a three-part fish-themed amuse bouche. ALL YUMMY. Mike, Dave, and I got the tasting menu, but with different options...so I only have photos of my (and one of Mike's) plates. The menfolk went with the all-meat options (duck breast and gizzard, grilled dune asparagus, skelp mustard, artichoke, red perilla for an app; baked veal fantasy, roast potatoes on sea salt, aubergine, lavas, beetroot). I went all fish (listed below). Let's face it: I don't know what about half of these food terms mean, but I was darn happy to eat it all, nonetheless. Mmmmmmm, snooty food.

Our table...REALLY good bread and herbed butter.

My appetizer course: mackerel with razor shell clams, apples and onions, pickled cucumber, carrot, cumin, and fennel. My first--and only--dish served with some variety of flavored foam. It was tasty foam, whatever it was.

My fish. (Gilt head bream, goat’s milk "smeus", garden pea puree, purslane, enoki, green sauce, red onion. I'm not quite sure what all of that is, except that it's DELICIOUS.)

Mike's meat course.

Dessert: black rice pudding, orange mousse, elderberry sorbet. (With a candied orange slice and elderberry flowers. Mmmmmm, elderberry anything.)

And after dinner: naturally, they were having a giant American-style carnival in Bruges, and Dave talked us all into going through the fun house. This is it. Soooo silly. But more fun that I cared to admit at the time.

This is NOT a good picture. But it fits the theme...Bruges: little city, giant towers. This is St. Saviour's at night.

Littlecitygianttowers. Church of Our Lady - contains (supposedly) the only Michelangelo sculpture to have left Italy during his lifetime. (My photo of the statue came out terribly. Sorry.)

Church of Our Lady.

Super fancy carved pulpit! Dad, you should maybe look into getting one of these. It was pretty impressive.

Yesssssssssssss.

I couldn't figure out whether it would be a total cliche to insist on eating a waffle before leaving Belgium, or whether it's just what you have to do while you're there. So I gave into the ever persuasive, country-wide waffle lobby, and BOY, was it worthwhile! Super delicious vanilla waffles topped in a layer of crunchy sugar, served with no fewer than two inches of whipped cream on top. Belgium would be worth a return visit just for THESE bad boys.

And there you have it, friends: my Belgium, in a nutshell. There were, of course, additional gorgeous vistas, interesting architectures, and tasty treats, but I don't want to go on and on and on and on, although it might be a bit late for that. Let's just sum it up by saying, Belgium: truly delightful. We will be going back. 

Next up: various miscellanea pertaining to my apartment and the botanic gardens. And after that, Lake Como, which is where we're going this weekend. Or the other way 'round. Either way, Europe rocks. Come visit.  :) 

apologies.

Seriously. I have been so delinquent with this blog lately, and when I actually have interesting things to say, no less! (Or at least, interesting experiences to report on. My ability to report on them, however, remains debatable.)

So. Until I get my act together and post some more recent info and photos, back to Colmar, France. (My first trip back to France since an absolutely miserable long weekend during my brief tenure in London!) Let me just say that: A) Colmar is a lovely, interesting, compact, old city, staffed by (mostly) pleasant local people; and, that having been said... B) for its reputation as a culinary destination, I was rather disappointed, but that's what I get for letting my husband talk me into eating our two main meals in the city inside our hotel, which was lovely, but the food just was just not up to my (apparently very specific) gastronomic standards (i.e., TOO MANY RAW TOMATOES and a decent-but-not-special breakfast); and C) the city was packed with tourists, which was also not my favorite, but was ultimately predictable, as we went over a holiday weekend, during which they were hosting some sort of super-cute and city-wide Easter market. Oh well. I can't really see making a specific trip back there just for ourselves, but at least the place was crazy picturesque, even with the galloping hordes.

Our first view of the city...and this is just their train station. Ridiculous.

Mike, trying unsuccessfully to find us a taxi. It was warm outside. We ended up walking, but at least it was pretty!

Court of Appeals. Fancy appeals.

And then this. Our first view of the "old town."

Yeah...stuff there is old.

I love this middle building: look at the wonky roof! And the crescent moon shutters! And the timbers on either side! 

The canal. Mike and I love how any town with a "canal" is called "The Venice of [insert region here]." In Colmar, they just call it "Little Venice." Our hotel was the minty-green building on the right, where it says "HOTEL." Our room faced the canal.  =)

LOOK AT THESE BUILDINGS. It was almost too much for an architecture enthusiast such as myself.

Pastries at the Easter market. We had one of the giant sugar donuts.

Naturally, they have an amazing cathedral.

Who doesn't love a good flying buttress? Certainly not me. I think they're highly underrated and underemployed in modern architecture.

Yeah...it's old, too. (And also, yaaaay, French! My next project after a thorough mastery of German...)

More timbers, and pretty painted shutters.

Seriously, could this place be any more medieval-y?

Love this building. Complete with tower, cupola...

...and guy on the corner. Also old.

Here it is, in (mostly) its full glory. Note hordes of tourists.

One of the few things I love about overly touristed places: just a street or two away from the main drag, peace. And always better food. But not here. 'Cause we ate at the hotel.) 

Stay tuned: a shabbily-rendered review of the restaurant we went to for Mike's birthday, and his festivities, plus Belgium. Their country slogan should be "Belgium: Who knew?"

disclaimer. or exposition. (disposition? exclaimer??)

I knew when I was composing last night's post that there was no possible way to make it sound as though we were anything other than irreverent towards Sunday's rioting, and in fact, we absolutely were irreverent about the whole thing. I would venture to say that most, if not all, of us in our little party fell far more towards the Yuppie side of the scale--if only our friends across the street with the banner had known...! I would further venture to say, as well, that we are all truly sympathetic towards the cause(s) for which everyone was demonstrating, but that our sympathies ended there. I believe the true labor heroes of the day were the people who marched for their ideals earlier in the day, peacefully, and then went home to feed their families and to enjoy the rest of what was quite a lovely day.

Hooligans, ruffians, punkers, etc.: listen up. It's hard for me to lend my support to your cause when it seems that you're just out to express--via destruction of people's property and causing scenes that necessitate the spending of vast amounts of taxpayer dollars--your rage at the fact that there are no free handouts in life, that The Man is keeping you down, that everything's all [insert bank name here]'s fault, etc., etc. And in fact, I'm sure that you don't care at ALL whether you have my support. Which is fine, because I don't care what YOU think, either. But yup, life is unfair. Some people make more money than others. White-collar criminals go unpunished. Capitalism and democracy are not, by any stretch of the imagination, perfect. The solutions to these issues, however, do not involve rock throwing or dumpster burning or giving the police the middle finger.

So yes, I will attend a Yuppie-sympathizer barbecue to watch you make jerks of yourselves in public, and no, I will not treat you as though your actions merit reflection and sympathy. As with fanatics of any type, you bring only negative attention to your "cause." No matter how destructive you get, you will not bring down the capitalist pigs by being a public nuisance. I am, in all honesty, quite relieved that the riots were so small-scale this year, because I absolutely loathe the thought that a bunch of immature, angry reprobates, who think think that the rules which apply to the rest of us upstanding citizens (e.g., don't throw rocks at people's stuff) do not apply to themselves, believe they're making some sort of salient point by through destructive rebellion. Get some perspective, would you? This isn't Compton, it isn't wartime Beiruit, it isn't Taliban Afghanistan. You live in Switzerland, for crying out loud.

And now, off of my soapbox, and on to my German class. Thank you for your time.

weg mit dem speck!

Loosely translated: down with the fat cats.

Let me just start by saying that A), I'm about to wax extremely verbose, but the uniqueness of this this experience MUST be preserved; and B) my mother will hate this post. Sorry, Mom, but it's something I had to do just this once! And it wasn't that dangerous...

So this past Sunday was May Day, obviously. Apparently, if it falls on a weekday, then that weekday is an actual holiday, with people staying home from work; if it falls on a weekend, however, then TOUGH LUCK to all the working stiffs. I hear that that's how ALL holidays here, excepting Easter and Christmas, but even then, they can't be bothered to give days off next to the weekend...it just falls where it falls, and people can just deal with it. Not so sure I like THAT particular aspect of this city.

But I digress. For May Day in Zurich, there are usually two demonstrations held to protest against The Man, fat-cat bankers and politicians, the lack of an established minimum wage, capitalism AND socialism, and other labor-y issues. The first "demonstration"--the sanctioned, legal one--involves children and balloons and happy, silent marching, or so I'm told. The second--illegal, and, in past years, highly destructive--is the one that I attended. At least, from a distance. My friend Nanda lives in a third-story apartment on the street where some of the illegal protesting occurs, and since this was her first year in the city during the holiday (she usually goes on holiday), she decided to throw a riot barbecue. Of course I'm going to that! And of course, I arrived plenty early, so as to avoid all protesters and policemen on the street, and stayed late enough that it looked as though the whole thing never happened. While all of us BBQ-ers fully realize the danger, cost, and sometimes tragedy, involved in such events, I am happy to report that this year's riot was extremely small and relatively un-violent, comparatively speaking. The police clearly had this one firmly in hand, so...we went ahead and had ourselves a good time.

In past years, the May Day riots have included much bottle- and rock-throwing, breaking of snooty shop windows, Molotov cocktails (only a few, though...), and car burning. If you do an image search online, you can find LOTS of photos of this year's hoodlums being arrested and/or lobbing various items at giant lines of policemen, but where we were, there were just lots of policemen and very little lobbing. There were, however, homemade protest banners and tear gas (and guys kicking the tear gas cannisters BACK towards the police!) and rubber bullets and large, ominous crowds and heaps of crazy people down on the streets with cameras and giant canisters of pepper spray and TRUCKS WITH WATER CANNONS. Which were parked there primarily to look menacing, we have to assume, 'cause the only thing we saw them used for was putting out a rolling dumpster that someone set on fire. (Several of the news outlets say that they water cannons were used on the crowd; that must have been elsewhere, as I can tell you that the one parked near our building just sat there for several hours.) I realize that all of this sounds a bit dangerous, but there were actually cyclists, elderly people, and people pushing strollers, all still walking down the streets while this was going on. Combine that with the delicious barbecued meats that we had, the music we were blaring (Fight the Power!), and the one guy who came to the party with a top hat and a mask so that he and another reveler could dress as oppressor and oppressed, and you have one truly surreal and relatively unscary riot. (Turned out, Thomas, the guy who ended up with the top hat, is one hilarious dude, and kept [quietly] saying things like "Get back to work!" and "A champagne toast to your irrelevant riots." He was a natural.)

So. The "unscheduled" riots usually start when the legal protest finishes in Helvetziaplatz, and other "Black Bloc" protesters (illegally) block the tracks for all public transportation in Helvetziaplatz. The police, in full riot gear, attempt to put this to a stop, while other surly, masked rioters begin throwing bottles, rocks, etc., at the police and their extremely numerous vehicles. This year, the police blocked the platz first, forming a barrier around the entire thing with fenced vehicles and sheer numbers. While the crowds on the street were rather large, it seemed like they consisted mostly of spectators, with a few handfuls masked hoodlums in circulation throughout. (They were NOT terribly subtle, although I have to confess my admiration for this one guy who had an AMAZING arm and was throwing bottles at the armored vehicles from several blocks away...! One wonders how else he might use his talent, rather than chucking rocks.) The police were basically on the move the entire time, transferring riot cops and various vehicles as the riot moved around the neighborhood. At one point, our block was entirely barricaded in by lines of police, with the "safe zone" directly beneath us, and all rioting on the outside of the lines. Craziness. Eventually, it seemed like the police had set up firm perimeters and were just waiting for things to settle down, and then I left to go to the bathroom, and by the time I came out just a couple of minutes later, I kid you not, they were entirely gone and the street sweepers were ALREADY OUT to get rid of all traces of disorder. Pretty amazing stuff. And all the while, we were up on the balcony, playing our riot music, taking photos, and eating sausages. And after just about everyone else left, and Nanda talked me into staying by continuing to bring out delicious food and drink and saying (as I kept checking my phone to make sure I could still catch a bus home) "This isn't the last bus...", our party devolved into a small, old-school hip-hop dance party and cheese tasting. (Cheese provided by a delightful French guy named JB, who kept telling us all that we were insulting his people if we didn't eat the cheese. Turned out it was quite tasty and mellow; thence, no French persons were insulted.)

And now... my photos. (Don't worry, Mom: everything looks close because I zoomed in a lot. And when things WERE close, we all went back inside. We're not that dumb. And most of the real rioting was some distance away from us.)

This was what it looked like inside. Joel and I have the same camera.

Outside. Fenced vehicles and LOTS of riot police.

Hoodies putting up a homemade banner across the street.

"Kreis 4 without fascists, yuppies, police". (Although I did notice that if you ever-so-slightly altered the Y, it would say "puppies." Just pointing that out.)

Water cannon truck!

Did I mention LOTS of police? This is two sides of Helvetiaplatz, where they had the whole thing surrounded.

...and later, the fence trucks were there, too.

Not-so-subtle mischief makers. I like the one who thinks he's in Mortal Kombat.

Yup, that's a rubber bullet gun.

...and there's a guy walking down the street eating pizza. Just another Mai Tage on the Langstrasse.

Could these guys possibly be talking about throwing something? Maybe at some police?

I had no control over it, but THIS is what we were blaring off of our balcony. Amongst many other riot-facilitating songs. (A little Rage Against the Machine, anyone?) 

Inside...Bjorn, Joel, JB, Yvonne, Thomas. (I borrowed the "speck" line from Joel's t-shirt. He's also the one who brought the mask and the top hat.)

...outside. Yup, that is tear gas.

Dumpsters on the move! They were using these as shields, rather unsuccessfully.

Someone lit this one on fire.

And then this block is entirely cut off by riot police. The black uniforms are now at the far end, with more fence trucks. By this time, the trams are back up and running on Helvetziaplatz.

And just so you know, Mom: we weren't the only spectators. The balconies and terraces of the entire STREET were filled with onlookers. (Here, the VIPs in the next balcony over, booing the undercover police.)

And that, folks, was my first first-hand riot experience. I was very happy to be NOT involved, and am happy now to report that this year's riots were relatively tame and un-damage-y, in the grand scope of things. 

Sadly, no photos exist of the after-riot street sweepers or dance party. Suffice it to say that the streets were quite clean, and that we heard some true oldies and had some good laughs and ate some good cheese. 

What.

A.

Weekend.  

And Mike comes home on Thursday! Wooooooooo!