Whoever said 'life is what happens to you while you're busy making
other plans' was a wise man - or more likely woman. There we were,
happily going about our day last Sunday: a drizzly day in Utrecht, but
warm and in the warm company of one of my old students, Esther, and her
mama, who had travelled over an hour on the train just to see us - and
to kindly buy us poor weary travellers some lunch. As they left, Loca
Lulu (who I'd met for just two days in Argentina two years ago) took
their place and joined us for a glass of wine, inspiring us with her
own special brand of enthusiasm and energy. That night, chilling out
near the border, busy making our plans to travel swiftly through
Belgium and into France, life happened.
Our connection with them was instant: Dovile, a feline Lithuanian
princess with velveteen voice who seemed to glide through life on a
cloud much as I do, and her man Ravid - more down to earth, realistic,
cynical, sardonic, charming beyond belief. Basically Huwbut Israeli.
Just over the border for the night, they actually lived in Antwerp where they ran a restaurant/bar together, the Art Lounge.
We were heading that way anyway the next day, and popped in for a
drink. And that's when the doors of the Hotel California were opened.
On
the first day, the others were all busy so I took Ravid's Yorkshire
Terrier Bobby for a two hour walk, getting to know the city in the best
possible way - by getting completely lost. Bobby was no help.
Rarely venturing that far, his homing instincts were useless.
Eventually we found ourselves on Cogels Osylei,
a street recognisable from its stunning architecture. In 1904 the local
well-to-do had a competition to design and build the best house along
this street. Each employed the best architect they could afford, and
the result is this stunning stretch of houses, each more beautiful than
the last, with turrets, climbing ivy and stained glass. In the 1970s
they fell in popularity and housed hippies, and no doubt insanely cool
parties. Their 'des res' status has now returned, so any stoner who
hung onto his lot will find his investment multiplied nearly ten fold.
You'll find number 88, the Art Lounge, at the end on the corner.
I
spent my 29th birthday, feverish but co-codamolled-up (thanks Sar) and
very very happy, working the bar, taking orders to Dovile and Huw in
the kitchen, hearing the life tales of the steady stream of customers
who wandered, strolled or staggered in to prop up the bar.
It
seemed Antwerp's most colourful characters were drawn in by the red-lit
hearts in the windows, the velvet seats, Ravid's chilled music mixes. A man in his 60s,
elated that he was finally divorcing his wife after 40 years. Another
man, on his 6th wife, this time Brazilian: "I'm not a playboy, it's
just bad luck." A slurry ex-rock chick in leather jacket. Rudy the teacher who, protesting that he never smokes or drinks, smoked a whole packet of fags and sunk half a bottle of whisky one sunny afternoon. Lenny, the
once famous saxophonist from New Jersey (who made my night when leaving
at 1am by saying, as I locked the door behind him, "It makes me happy
just to look at you." Woweee.) The student, eyes barely open, scraping
together his cents for a beer and who in answer to my question "So
where else did you go in London besides Carnaby Street?" replied "I
think she was Catholic. Or some other Christian denomination. Or
perhaps an emancipated Moslem." What?!
Thursday was a big day for Dovile and Ravid and we offered our
sevices again: the least we could do for our free board and lodging. 25
came for lunch (Huw and Dovile cooked what Bernie the godlike chef had
prepared the night before and Ravid and I served with a smile and
cheeky chatter) and 100 suits arrived in the evening for a corporate
networking session in the upstairs bar. Sexy, restless soul Gianni was
brought in to help, and my night ran like a dream with him by my side
at the bar.
Each
day we said "tomorrow we'll leave" but each day the charm of the place
and its people held us there. Brighton people - sound familiar?!
Eventually,
having arrived on the Monday morning, we left on Saturday afternoon,
all four with a tear in our eye but two new friends, heading south
towards Ieper and a more sombre but important part of our trip.
For our photos in Belgium, click
here.
