A podcast about books, art & life — not necessarily in that order
When I visited Brussels a few years ago, I geeked out and rode the metro out to a terminal that featured a 150′ mural by Herge.
I’ve got a Toronto trip coming up this summer, so maybe I’ll stop by some of the transformer houses. Because I’m that much of a geek.
At the conference on Wednesday, I passed by a small group of attendees from the Ukraine. We all have our nationalities listed on our name badges. Even if they don’t get our names right (my press badge read “Mrs G Roth”), they always get our countries right.
There were two men and one woman. The men wore orange handkerchiefs in the breast pockets of their jackets. The woman wore an orange scarf. My publisher didn’t notice, since a lot of our concentration at trade shows is devoted to identifying which celebrities the various attendees look like. (I pointed out an Indian version of Uncle Junior today, to much praise.)
But I noticed, and I thought about the protests in the Ukraine, the loss of face Putin’s suffering, the desperation of the Kremlin to resort to such heavy-handedness as poisoning the opposition candidate. This morning (Thursday) at our booth, I noticed a length of orange ribbon that was used to tie a bow on the complimentary box of Leonidas chocolates that all the exhibitors received.
I went to our next-booth neighbors to borrow scissors (can’t really take those on a plane), and cut a shorter length. Using a safety pin from a badge-holder, I fashioned an orange ribbon for my lapel.
My publishers and my fellow editor goofed on me for it. Which is fine. They have families and more imminent concerns than I do.
* * *
I took some pictures on Thursday, my last night in Brussels.
These first two are of the massive main hall of the conference. The interesting thing about this big-ass building is that the fog here is SO thick that I couldn’t see this place from 30 feet away. No shit. Every day here has been cold and misty, but on two of the mornings, the fog went to insane proportions.
There’s also this giant molecule-edifice nearby, a remnant of the 1958 World’s Fair. But I couldn’t see that either, due to this ridiculous fog. I was surprised on Tuesday evening, when we left the show, to see both the molecule and the huge art-deco building in front of me.
Rumor has it that there was actually sunlight for a few minutes yesterday, but I don’t believe it.
Like I said, Thursday was my last night in Brussels. So, in my secret identity as Captain Excitement, I visited the Tintin store to get a couple of presents for friends, then hopped a subway line to get to this distant station in which, according to my guidebook, Tintin cartoonist Hergé painted long murals along the subway walls.
So, yes, I took a trip to a subway terminal and took some pictures. Here are the results, because you’re special.
My photos were only part of one wall. The whole motif is a parade of Tintin scenes. Picture 1 is the front of the parade. The other wall was obscured by my subway, so you’ll have to come out here yourself and take it in sometime.
That’s enough of Brussels, cold and damp as it is. I’m headed out to Amsterdam, where I hope to provide more entertaining pictures (but not get stabbed to death in the attempt).
That cathedral I mentioned a few days ago? It really does look better at night.
I took a couple more pictures of the Christmas setup at Grand’ Place on Wednesday. My publisher, associate publisher and I took our European sales rep out for dinner near there, and meandered around in the cold after (whence the following pictures). The rep, from Switzerland, had no idea how to deal with the dynamic that’s developed among the three of us in the past five years.
Of course, there are times when we don’t know how to deal with that dynamic, either. Which is what makes it dynamic, I guess.
On our way out of the restaurant (Aux Armes des Bruxelles) that evening, the rep, who’s from Switzerland, pulled me aside and quietly asked, “So, were the three of you for push or carry?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know: push or carry?”
I pondered the metaphorical implications of that question, thinking it was some sort of referendum on welfare reform, before it hit me: “You mean Bush or Kerry?”
Sigh.
In the past few days, as I’ve witnessed the decimating effects of the weak dollar on my travel budget, I’ve developed a theory: Pres. Bush doesn’t want a weak dollar because it spurs U.S. exports. He wants a weak dollar because it makes it tougher for Americans to visit Europe. It all makes sense now (unless he actually wants a weak dollar so as to get more Europeans to visit the U.S., in which case my wacky psychologizing is out the window).
Anyway, happy Chanukkah to the Jews in the audience. I’m headed to Amsterdam tomorrow morning (Friday), but I have some neat pix from Thursday to process and post. You’ll be sorry . . .
I’m starting to think I’ve seen too many European cities lately. I realized today that I may’ve reached a point where I’ve gotta cut back on the Euro-travel, and find other places to go. I’m giving myself the benefit of the doubt, assuming that it’s more a function of work-stress, travel-aggravation, the cold, overcast weather, and general exhaustion, that’s left me walking around this city like a shadow. Or like it’s the shadow.
I try to find little differences in the cities, how this place differs from Stockholm and Copenhagen, Paris and Milan. Unfortunately, the weather’s a big factor in how I perceive this place. Everyone’s bundled, hustling. I can’t tell if that’s just a function of weather, or if there tends to be a lot of hurrying in this city because of its business-status.
I’ve seen more bookstores for children than bookstores for adults, and it makes me wonder if there’s a “child-friendliness” to this city.
Just a word of advice: Never go to an Internet cafe in an Arab quarter, because you don’t want to look over at someone else’s screen and notice that he’s Google-up images of suicide-bomb attacks. I’m just sayin’, is all.
They sell Cherry Coke in these thin, tall cans, like Red Bull. They’re so cute.
There may be an inferiority complex among the bandes desinees sellers, as regards Parisian BD stores.
I’ve been pretty enervated this whole trip, but I had some wonderful moments in the evening. Here are some pix from the day, with a little commentary.
My conference starts tomorrow, so I probably won’t get to write more for a little while.
I’m a Jew, and the holidays don’t mean all that much to me, but I was affected by the sight of the trees, the lights, the soundtrack of gently laughing children, and all the people milling around. It was otherworldly to me.
It made me happy that I came here, despite this burned-out state of mine.
The Gil Roth World Tour keeps on rolling! I landed in Brussels this morning for the CPhI/ICSE conference, discovered that my hotel (Residence Florence) isn’t a full-service establishment, and had no way to check in. Since the conference is pretty big, almost all the hotels are booked up starting tomorrow, so I couldn’t make any alternative arrangements. Fortunately, there was a room available at the NH City Center, where I’m staying tonight. And my original hotel, after a couple of curt phone calls, will have someone on hand tomorrow to check me in.
Getting to the hotel, groggy from another trans-Atlantic trip (fourth in 5 months), and finding that I was locked out, was a downer, esp. as it was 9am on a Sunday morning, cold and damp. And I was still a little rubbery from the vicodin I took to mellow out on the flight.
On the plus side, I went to a little hotel down the street from my original one (the Agenda Louise), and explained my plight to the girl at the front desk. I walked in bedraggled, unshaven, etc., and said, “This is going to start with a story. There’s always a story.” I told it.
She followed it pretty well, and helped make a few phone calls to the Residence for me, in hopes of getting me into my original destination. That was fruitless, but she was willing to let me stow my luggage for a few hours, while I looked for a place to stay (her hotel was booked).
She also offered me some coffee in the breakfast room, which I took her up on. Then, while I sat with my coffee and formulated how I’d find another place in the general area, she walked up to my table and whispered, “You can use a room here till noon. I’ll give you a key.” And so she did.
I was immensely gratified by her kindness. I only needed the room for a few minutes, to shower, shave, and change, but I was amazed at how forthcoming she was with help for a pretty natty-looking stranger with a dodgy story about not having a hotel. I’d have been happy enough if they just held onto my luggage while I scouted out other hotels.
There’s not much point or punchline to this story. It was just awfully nice of someone to help me out like that.
It looks like the weather’s going to be pretty blah while I’m here, but I’ll try to take and post some good pix.
Also, I’ll be spending next weekend in Amsterdam, where I’m really hoping that people are just as kind as the girl at the Agenda Louise.