A gateway to Belgian beer

While I liberally sampled many beers to kick off my European trip last year in Amsterdam, it was in Antwerp that the real beer tastings started. As a beer nerd, I had long wanted to do a deep dive sort of trip in Belgium to learn about and appreciate one of the best and richest beer culture countries. Antwerp was a literal and metaphorical gateway. Arriving there from Amsterdam on a Thursday afternoon there was only one thing on my mind… a visit to maybe the most unique beer bar I have experienced…. and visiting it wasn’t a guarantee.

Kulminator in the centre of Antwerp is a quirky place. I was met at an obscure door that doesn’t reveal what is inside by an older gentleman who asks what your purpose is. If he doesn’t like the look of you or you answer incorrectly, he’ll simply shut the door in your face. I arrived, and in my best French said I was from Canada and I wanted to (and this is *very* important) “taste” some exceptional beer. In this bar, you don’t drink beer, you “taste” it. The gentleman nodded and motioned for me to come inside and that started a beautiful, sensual beer tasting experience. I looked over a large binder of all of their cellared beers and made my selection. The gentleman’s wife poured me a gorgeous Rocherfort 8 from 2014. It tasted of chocolate, candied fruit, spice and everything nice. I was in heaven.

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Birds in train stations

Maybe it is because I’m heading to a Hawksley Workman concert tonight and that his song “Birds in Train Stations” became a soundtrack for my wife and me during our recent visit to Italy. It seems a reasonable way to title this quick reflection of a trip that had us spending a bit of time navigating Italy’s notoriously not on schedule trains as we crossed from Milan to Turin to Asti and eventually on to small towns on the east coast of Lake Como. I mean, if you’ve ever traveled in Italy, take a listen to this song and grin at this line:

“birds in train stations
hear the same announcements everyday
except the ones in italy because there’s always some delay
and they move at a different pace”

Pretty much spot-on. At the end of the day, a national day-long train strike and a host of other trains that had a loose association with any concept of time became laughter and opportunity inducing more than anything (Strike? Let’s spend an unexpected night in Bellano!). Italy might be the only place on earth that can attempt to simultaneously frustrate you, then ask for forgiveness with offers of 5pm spritzes, plates of heavenly agnolotti in broth, stunning natural beauty, and impossibly amazing coffee in the most unlikely of places.

The two weeks were perfect. I cried at the beauty of a ballet at La Scala. My wife and I drank Barolo and Barbaresco that completely changed my view of what those wines can be. I lounged hours away looking out over the snow-capped Alps from the absurdly-sized deck of our Turin apartment. We wandered. We ate (oh my god, we ate). We were gifted homemade limoncello from a favourite restaurant in Milan that we used to toast good-night to each day along the way. I drove a tiny Fiat 500 with the roof down along twisty mountain roads. And maybe the best part of the entire trip…. was just being in the moment and letting all of the beauty around me wash over me for two weeks.

Thanks Italy. You were pretty great. Even with your annoying trains.

Wandering in Rotterdam

I have a strong bias for planning deeply wired into my DNA. Over years of traveling, I have slowly learned to lean a touch opposite my natural inclination and just to let things be when it comes to experiencing places away from home. I still research an enormous list of possibilities of what I might like to do, but I think I have settled into a good place in terms of having some good ideas, then approaching each day with a “what feels good today” mentality.

In the Netherlands last fall, I knew I would like to do a few days trips from my home base in Amsterdam, and I knew that Rotterdam was a place I did not want to miss. I knew there would be an interesting mix of old and new, of art, and of food and drink and that was enough to propel me onto an early morning train with a bag slung over my shoulder. Exiting the main train station, a modern looking marvel, I kicked off a day of wandering that fairly naturally and organically led me to Oudehaven, the historical part of the harbour in Rotterdam. Not really due to my planning DNA, but I think this occurred due to the salt water craving that still clings to me after so many years living next to the harbour in Halifax.

Rotterdam
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Overseas again

When I hopped on a plane to Amsterdam last fall, it had been four years since my last major trip across an ocean. While my main motivation for the trip was a revisiting of Belgium to dig deeper into its beer culture, I arranged my travel into Amsterdam for a four day start to this trip in what is really a favourite city. When my wife and I had visited on our first trip to Europe together, we both quickly fell in love with the canals and the parks and the laid back approach to life. The return visit, this time as a solo traveler, had me head over heels back in love as soon as my feet touched the ground. Jet lag never felt so good.

In Amsterdam
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A 50th reimagined

My wife and I have had a string of bad luck with our plans for recent anniversaries and our respective 50th birthdays. Ever the optimist, when a week’s trip to the Okanagan to celebrate her 50th fell through on account of the health of a close friend, we put together a quick three day visit to Calgary because even in tough times you have to find a way to celebrate.

Calgary has quickly become a favourite city for the two of us since moving to Saskatoon. It’s a reasonable 6+ hour drive, we’ve found a favourite hotel, and over a number of visits we’ve found a collection of favourite restaurants and bars to fill a weekend. On top of that list is Native Tongues, where an early meal during their happy hour lets you order the delightfully named “snackarita” that saves you money to buy even more of their amazing tacos. Hands down so far, this is our favourite restaurant in the city.

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Cleveland really does rock!

In my pursuit of seeing a baseball game in every major league stadium, I had paired Cleveland with Detroit on the same trip last summer. A couple of hours after picking up a rental car on the outskirts of Detroit I was in Cleveland, a city I’d otherwise never get to visit. It is a really great city with a picturesque downtown and beautiful architecture. I very quickly got a warm feeling about Cleveland and enjoyed the couple of days I spent there. Some of that had to do with Progressive Field, their beautiful ballpark. On my journeys so far, this stadium is up there with those in San Francisco, San Diego, Minneapolis and Baltimore as one of my favourites.

Cleveland Guardians game
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Finding the charm in Detroit

Somewhere along the way of being a baseball fan and someone who loves to travel I had visited enough ballparks that it seemed like an interesting quest to watch a game in each major league city’s stadium. While I’ve knocked off most of the sexy places (Seattle, Chicago, San Francisco, New York….) I’m left with some locations that I otherwise may not actively choose to visit. Last summer, the intersection of my work schedule, the ballparks remaining and the baseball schedule pushed me toward a trip to Detroit and then onto Cleveland.

Detroit Tigers game
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Time for a rest

It has been a year since my wife and I had traveled to Antigua to celebrate our 10th anniversary. Lots has changed in that year in our lives. After Antigua we’ve been dealing with twelve months of life’s challenges and turmoils including the recent deaths of both of my parents. As I’m writing this, my mind has been turning to the time we spent in Antigua as I think about the need to get away for some time to let my mind heal. I think the time we spent in Antigua is what I need most from a vacation now – peace, quiet, relaxation and my wife at my side.

View of Falmouth Harbour, Antigua
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Childhood to today

Much like what I just wrote about Quebec City, Montreal holds a very special place in my heart. In the early 1980s, childhood trips to the city with my dad were the first experiences I had visiting a big city. Those trips by train to Montreal to take in a few Expos games make me smile to this day and every time I get back to the city it feels like some happy ghosts from those days follow me on my current day explorations.

Montreal trips as an adult usually have a series of touchstones for me that have connections to the memories from my childhood trips. Having amazing meals in the city these days makes me think of getting to eat all kinds of food with dad that I didn’t normally get to have as a child. Touring craft breweries makes me think of dad letting me have a sip of his Budweiser as a kid while we got ready to head to Olympic Stadium. Wandering aimlessly around the old town takes me back to chasing pigeons with dad looking on and laughing at my childhood exploits. And exploring the city in search of public art takes me back to seeing Alexander Calder’s “Trois Disques” and having my mind blown as a seven year old as dad toured me around Île Sainte-Hélène.

Public art along Saint Laurent Boulevard
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