Brussels

Brussels. Well, the main reason I wanted to go to Brussels was because of its association with Herge. Who is Herge, you ask? Good Grief!! Go look it up on Wikipedia. Now. That Saturday chanced to be my birthday. A word about birthdays. For starters, I'm not a birthday person. I get depressed on my birthday. I know, I know, I'm weird, freaky, blah, blah..But the truth is, birthdays remind me of how much time I've spent on the planet and how old I've become and how little time I have to do the things that I've always wanted to do. Last year was different, though. I was in Delft. I mean, I was in Europe. That was quite something. At least I wasn't griping. But that old feeling of uselessness and un-accomplishment was still present somewhere at the back of my head. So this year, I resolved, it was going to be different. And what better way to celebrate than in Brussels, comic city. Around twenty years ago (I'm old, lads, I'm old), I started my journey into the world of comics. Haven't looked back since and its been a blast thus far. The reason I bring this up is because my first Tintin comic (twenty years ago) was Explorers on the Moon. (I know, I know, I should have read Destination Moon first and then read Explorers on the Moon. But I was a kid and the cover of Explorers on the Moon was ..well, you remember, those cheesy Orange spacesuits and the even cheesier red and white checkered moon rocket in the background...How could I resist? For that matter, how could you?). And now here I was..in Herge's town.

Well, anyway, we started from Leuven, the school chum and me. Leuven was where he stayed and that was the base of operations, so to speak. We breakfasted at small joint. Chocolate soaked pancakes and good coffee. I ask you, how can a day go bad when you start off like that? Eh?
A twenty minute train ride and we were there. A short walk and we were at the city center. The tourist office is situated at the city center and we needed to pick up the 'Comic Strip Trail'. The center itself is quite quaint.The Comic Strip Trail leads you through Brussels showing you all the murals painted by famous Belgian cartoonists. There are about thirty murals in all, but I didn't need to see them all, just the ones belonging to the cartoonists whose comics I'd read. There was a beer festival at the center. "Best to try the exotic stuff", the school chum told me. Seemed like a good idea indeed, but unfortunately, we didn't try anything because by the time we got back it was too late. Drink the stuff in the morning? Then, lads, we would have been staggering through the Comic Strip Trail, and that, wouldn't have been very nice.We did the Trail, and a darn good trail it was. The best murals were the Herge murals. Brought all those pleasant memories of bright colors and New-Comic-Book smell flooding back. That's right, I'm a book-sniffer. And a proud one too. Of the Herge murals the best one is in Brussels Zuid Station. You can't miss it. Its enormous.
We visited other spots as well. The flea market which featured in Secret of the Unicorn was exactly like I remembered from the comic, right down to the models of ships. Or, maybe these flea market chaps were keeping it that way.
We missed Herge's inspiration for the house in The Seven Crystal Balls and we also couldn't dine at the Tintin themed restuarant. Also missed the Herge mural at the underground station. Ah well, another time.
Another thing which you can give a miss in Brussels is the Mannekin Pis. But you'll feel compelled to see it anyway, because of all the legend surrounding it and because of everyone telling you that it represents the spirit of Belgium. Big hype, if you ask me.
The best stop was the Belgium Comic strip museum. I took a gazillion photographs. I also forced the hapless School Chum to take a bunch of pictures with me in them. Very uncharacteristic of me, but heck, I needed this. I posed with Herge's bust, with Herge's potrait, with the cheesy orange spacesuits, with the Moon Rocket, with my favourite characters, the whole works basically. There were replica's from some Tintin books. King Ottokars scepter was there, so was the fetish with the Broken Ear, and The Cigars of the Pharoah. Didn't find the Castafiore Emerald though. Heh heh heh.....
The souvenir shop attached to the museum had some delightful stuff as well. But expensive, lads, very expensive.We spent the rest of the day finding and admiring the other murals. The Bob and Bobette mural was good. Very typical of Willy Vandersteen and the comic, of course. Just flip to the first page of any Bob and Bobette comic. You'll know what I mean. The Lucky Luke mural was colossal. So was the Asterix mural, but the cruddy part of the Asterix mural was that it was inside a locked courtyard. I mean, why?? Jeez.....After the trail was done, we headed back to the centre and picked up some Belgium chocolates. Belgium chocolates are exquisite. Absolutely fabulous stuff. Put 'em on your must-taste-before-I die list. And when the lass at the counter asks you what kind of chocolates you want, say you want pralines. Ok, ok, say what you want, but make sure you try a praline or two. At least. So t'was a memorable end to a memorable day. The tickets to the Belgium Comic Strip Museum make nice souvenirs. They're pinned up over my desk right next to the unused Italian stamps.

Leuven

The fourth of September, 2009. I found myself on the train to Leuven , Belgium to visit a friend from the old days. Its been a year since I first arrived in the Netherlands and I should have made the trip sooner. But things like assignments and examinations kept popping up. Ah, better late then never.

I reached Leuven in the evening and the School Chum met me at the station. Leuven is a pretty small town. "The railway station is on one end of the town and my place is at the other end. It's just a twenty minute walk", the School Chum informs me. And indeed that's how small it is. Leuven is quaint, calm almost rustic. But no countryside. At least none that I saw. Unfortunately at that time, the student population were just returning to the university, so it was quiet. Not that it was a damper or anything. The evening was spent in Metafoor, one of Leuven's many pubs. Probably the roomiest pub I've been to in Europe. This time I don't worry myself with all those difficult beer-related questions. ("Hmm...I had a dark beer last time, maybe I'll have a blond one this time. Hmm...Do I have a triple or a dubbel? Hmm...a fruit based beer?") I let the School Chum and his friends do the ordering. The beers didn't disappoint. Pretty good stuff. Let me reiterate what I read somewhere. Belgium is to beer, what France is to wine. Quite true, that statement. But you needn't take my word for it. Best if you visit and find out for yourself. The company at the table included an Indian who had studied a bunch of languages. It was his actual study, not a hobby or something. Quite refreshing, eh? I mean, nice to see that not all Indians fall into the doctor/engineer stereotype. But this chap was brought up in Leuven. That probably helped. Also, at the table was a Greek girl, although I scarcely could believe it, for she was the quietest Greek that I had come across. So very different from the Greeks in Delft. But, she did roll a nifty cigarette...and at light speed. That was enough to convince me. Its in their genes, I tell you, its in their genes.

Another mighty fine pub to visit in Leuven is the Blauwe Kater. It translates to Blue Cat. They serve a fabulous house beer called (what else?) the Blauwe Kater. But the atmosphere is the best. A place very similar to Pecos (except for the Beer Menu, of course). A dimly lit place where ancient posters adorn the walls. (Its more like the posters are holding up the wall.) The place is packed with patrons. A yellowed A-2 sized sheet of paper (read: makeshift poster) announces a Jazz concert. August, 1997, the date on the poster announces. The patrons chatter away like the world's going to end tomorrow. Getting to the bar to order a drink is an exercise in itself. Stepping on empty chairs and squeezing between tightly packed tables is perfectly acceptable. Heh heh heh....totally loved this place. The School Chum and me did a bit of catching up. It had been a while, after all and my whetted curiosity in regards to various other old school chums was satisfied. I returned the courtesy and we get back to quaffing our beers.

As for Leuven itself, well, its really nice. The city hall in the center is quite majestic and the flower carpet in front of it was elaborate.

I don't know how often they do this flower carpet thing. Guess, I was lucky it was there when I was there. The School Chum also took me through the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, by Castle Arenberg (which is on the university grounds), to University Library, to Begijnhof (Leuven), which is like a monastery for women whose husbands were claimed by war in the old days, and to the site of the Giant Upside-Down Impaled Beetle, which apparently is the symbol of knowledge in Leuven. I was also privy to a cycle race. Pretty good that was, unfortunately my camera didn't do such a good job capturing the moment. (Or perhaps it was me. Hmmm...).
Food in Leuven is pretty impressive, I must say. A tad injurious to the ol' wallet though. I didn't try out any of the typical Leuvenese fare simply because I couldn't. Most establishments are closed during the summer months because there are no students in town. Did I mention that Leuven is entirely a student town? Well, there are some other 'normal' people as well, but really, Leuven is probably the best embodiment of a student town. The best one that I've come across, anyway. I'm sure the good folk from Leuven will agree with me.
As for drink, O yeah......I've already covered that. Belgium=Beer Capital of the world. (I don't care what anyone else says.)
A damn good weekend if I say so myself. Also, the eve of my birthday , (the day I arrived) was spent in Metafoor with good company and my birthday itself was spent in Brussels. So, being an anti-birthday person and all that, really, I couldn't have asked for more. But tales of Brussels will follow in another post.
Take care.

Zwemmen

Today was the day I was supposed to beat all odds at the swimming pool. Today was the day I was supposed to complete one entire length of the pool without pausing or floundering. Today was the day I was supposed to shift from the slow lane to the fast lane. But, today was also the day I saw the still body of a swimmer by the side of the pool. Dang!
Before your heart rate crawls to a dull pace, let me assure you that they got the chap out breathing and moving and all that. All thanks to well trained emergency personnel.
I remember entering the pool complex, with my heart thumping with gusto and adrenaline pumping through my veins. All pumped up, is the feeling I am trying to convey. But, one look at that near lifeless body lying there, curled up in a fetal position, with uniformed folk peering at it, and that was enough to knock the wind out of me. My thoughts at this point were "Anish, ol' boy. No laps today. No frontier conquering bravado. Stick to the usual swim-to-the-start-of-the-deep-side-and-come-back." Geez, I was so sick of that. Anyway, it was a man. I couldn't make out at first, because he was all wrapped up in silver foil. Yeah, you read it right. Silver foil. It's the first time I've seen that been used. I suppose its better than blankets, though I'm really not sure. He stirred about while the emergency personnel hoisted him onto the stretcher and wheeled him away. The good Dutch folk in the pool waved and said their good-bye's. Something that I found weird but familiar at the same time. Dutch folk always make it a point to say 'Hello' and 'Goodbye'. No matter what. The poor chappie blinked twice, looked around hazily and tried to return the greeting as the stretcher rolled out of sight. Needless to say, swimming was forgotten and everyone in the pool was engaged in curious chatter. The dutch friend I was with picked up some of the conversation and he informed me later that it seemed like the poor guy had a brain hemorrhage.
But we did swim that day. I, to the slow lane with my cautious swimming style and he to the fast lane with his own brand of swimming. I still remember coming here the first time. It was a tad weird being the only brown skinned chap in a pool with all the white folk. But I wasn't hassled or anything. Being dutch, all the folk in the pool decided to adopt their typical NIMBY attitude. Don't know what NIMBY is? Well, it stands for Not In My Back Yard. Thus far it seems to have served the Dutch people well and I think (personally) this is what has led to general tolerance in the Netherlands (tolerance for soft drugs, the innumerable foreigners, that sort of thing). I mean, its nice and all that, but after a while you begin to wonder if that's the way things should be done. But that's a discussion for another time. In this case of the pool, Back Yard would mean "small space where I(=dutch person) can perform my swimming moves" By the way, Back Yard is kind of a metaphor. What's that? You've figured that part out yourself? Ok, smarty-pants.
My reputation quickly dropped from foreigner-in-the-pool to floundering-foreigner-in-the-shallow-end-of-the-pool. Kinda humiliating. Indeed, I've had people come to me and ask gentle questions such as "What are you doing?", "Do you know how to float?" and other such queries. But apart from that there was no typical Anish-esq incident designed to bring the house down with laughter. I generally stayed out of people's way and they in turn appreciated it. It was, of course, the right thing to do. I mean, you wouldn't like it if some noob swimmer started splashing around while you were doing some serious laps now, would you? This brings to mind a typical stunt a good friend of mine from Bangalore used to pull when he was surrounded by noobs in the pool. He'd switch to the breast stroke while passing the noob he'd decided to punish and then use the frog kick to inflict maximum damage to the hapless victim. Obviously, the whole thing is meant to look like an accident.

Noob Swimmer: Owww!Hey, that hurt!
Evil Friend: Eh? How do you mean? I'm just swimming here.
Noob Swimmer: Oh, ah. Carry on then.
Evil Friend: (Swims away, chuckling evilly underwater.)

Of course, a frog kick to the crotch would mean manslaughter/attempted murder charges. Ghastly we Indians are, eh? Well, nothing like this happens here but still, I'm wary of these frog kicker swimmers.
But there was actually one time when I did the entire pool length. It was the second time I visited the pool, I think. I bucked myself up no end and took off like a shark. The thing with these shark-like starts are that their pace generally slows down to that of a middle aged crayfish. So I floundered on bravely...until I decided to grab some air. Now, I'm one of these heavy chaps, whose floating equilibrium in water is incredibly delicate. You know the - head comes up, feet go down - type. So my head went up and..... Gosh, the sheer panic that rippled through me was one for the memoirs. And the crappy part was, all my floundering wasn't helping in any way. I was stuck, my head bobbing just below the water's surface. I couldn't go up to grab some much needed air, nor could I go down to the bottom and do the Superman lift off trick. Just frigging stuck. It would have been a lousy way to go. But I did make it to the side of the pool and did pull myself up just in time to grab some sweet, sweet Oxygen.
Well, I guess, the only thing to do is wait for the next time. And the next time I'm gonna touch the opposite wall of the pool.

Ctrl+Alt+Delete

Thus begins a new academic year. Mixed feelings, lads, mixed feelings.
On one hand, sweet summer is all but over. Occasionally, the sun peeps in between gray clouds, but really, there's no hope. The sky is overcast most of the time and the rains threaten to fall. In fact, it should be starting anytime now. I see quite a number of dead leaves in the parking lot. Autumn heralds her arrival.("One more month, one more month",I yell."Autumn starts in October". But no one seems to be listening).The cold wind has already started to pick up and pretty soon we'll be shifting to the winter hours. That means shorter days and longer nights. Ah, well. I guess there's nothing to do but bite the bullet and plunge on till June next year. Good Grief!!! That is a long time indeed. Why June? Well, that's when the weather becomes nicer and everything is bright and sunny again, with longer days and shorter nights, and fun times and less stress and....siiiiiiiigh. You get the picture.
On the other hand, academics should bring some order and discipline into my life. My brains have pretty much turned into tapioca. I remember my examination for a Aerodynamics related course last month. It was a one-on-one with the professor. I knew I was in for it. I just didn't know how bad. I spent forty five minutes in there with the good professor, the gears in my head spinning weakly as he fired away with his questions. It was obvious to him as well that I hadn't prepared. But he was a really nice guy. He gave me some easy ones, shook his head sadly, gave me the passing grade and said that he hoped that I would try again. (Oh yeah, I definitely am.)
Apart from this, its the standard fare in Delft at this time of the year. New folk moving in , old folk moving out. Departments getting spruced up and the campus teeming with students. Good ol' Delft is back to normal.
Just thought I'd sneak a quick post in here, before I scoot back to the books.