The Brussels Flower Carpet

Oriental carpets, wall-to-wall plush pile, even that favorite tacky remnant of the 1970s, shag. These are all types of carpets with which you are doubtless familiar. But a carpet made of flowers? Well, this is yet another of the quirky things about Belgium...quirky, but beautiful.

As evidenced from our many flower-related blog posts, all things floral are big here in Belgium. Added to that, this is also home of the world-renowned Flemish weaving trade, resulting in history's most beautiful and valuable tapestries. So apparently in the early 1950s someone decided to combine the two, using flowers to create a large "carpet" or tapestry. The idea caught on, and in 1971 Brussels hosted its first flower carpet in the beautiful Grand Place. Now this event happens every two years and incorporates a mind-boggling ±540,000 begonias (300 flowers per square meter, "woven" over the Grand Place's 1800 square meter "floor") in a unique, themed-design. Past themes have included 'Brussels Coats of Arms & Guilds', 'Art Nouveau', and 'Brussels Lace'. This year's theme was the sort-of-boring-but-appropriately-long-titled "Belgian Presidency of the Council of the European Union'. Now, what could that look like? You'll see shortly.

Since the event only happens one weekend every-other-year, you have to get your timing right to attend. We were out of town in 2008, but somewhat unexpectedly found ourselves in Brussels this year, so we seized the opportunity to check out the spectacle!



A nice, sunny shot of us at one end of the flower carpet. These next several photos are taken at ground level, going in a kind of circle.

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This is the amazing Gothic Maison de Ville/Stadhuis (Town Hall). Normally closed off to the average visitor, they open up its balconies to the public to view the flower carpet from above.



That's the also-intricately-Gothically-amazing Musée de la Ville/Museum van de Stad (City Museum of Brussels) that among other things houses the crazy collection of Manneken Pis Costumes. You could view the carpet from its balconies too.



This end of the Grand Place has a gorgeous assembly of recently-restored guild houses. Once they get all four sides of the Grand Place restored, it really will be the prettiest square in the world.



Time to go up! As you can see, this is a popular thing and there was quite the queue, but it was totally worth it. Plus, the time spent in line was interesting because the town hall is such a cool building. Unfortunately, they wouldn't allow photographs on the interior.



There were flowers everywhere, like these at the entrance.



Now, we're on the balcony looking up at the building wall behind us. This is a detail shot, but the ENTIRE exterior is covered in intricately carved statuary.





Ok, now for the flowers. Panning from the left...



Middle...



And right.



An artistic macro shot.



The carpet really was beautiful, unique, intricate, and fascinating. And yet, I must confess that I found the theme to be a bit, well, lame. And not a little bit ironic. Rah rah EU when Belgium, yet again, doesn't have a functioning government? Plus, to me the fountain area looked like it said "EW" (tee hee). But, really, who cares? Belgian politics is a confounding tangled mess that confuses minds far more astute than mine. And we were discussing flowers -- it's a carpet made of Half a Million flowers, and that's cool.



Can't get enough? Here's a video Troy took of the whole display:

La Côte Normande

Surprise...it's a long, and long-overdue, post about a trip we took months ago! To be precise, it's the second post about our first trip to Normandy. Troy did a great job describing our big WWII tour -- there's actually more to tell if he gets around to it -- so it falls to me to write about some of the other things we saw during our visit along the La Côte Normande (the Norman Coast).

It is about 5± hours from Brussels to Courseulles-sur-Mer, the tiny coastal town where we stayed, so we stopped off on the way for lunch and a stroll through the cliffside village of Étretat. It was a super cute little town, albeit very quiet in that funny hollow way that seaside places get during the off-season.



Troy outside the cute restaurant where we lunched, a meal that included a really fabulous local, warm, herbed camembert demi-lune served over salad. De-li-ci-ous!



A bol de cidre ("bowl" of cider) -- apples and apple products are a Norman specialty.



The cliffs were especially dramatic (and quite bright and breezy as you can see from the funny expression on my face).

From Étretat, we made the quick hop over to Courseulles-sur-Mer to our lovely 18th century farmhouse bed and breakfast.



View over the Norman countryside. The geography was crazy -- these lovely green fields are literally only ±1/2 mile away from the ocean!



The entrance path to our B&B.

Although the primary draw, for us, was to visit the many heritage sites related to the Normandy Campaign and the D-Day Invasion, there were several other interesting things to do in the region. One such place is Bayeux, a pretty little town with cute shops, a gorgeous cathedral, and also the home of the 70 meter long, 11th century embroidery known as the Tapisserie de Bayeux/Bayeux Tapestry. This 'tapestry' is an incredible pictorial accounting of the Norman Conquest -- incredible in its fabrication and in the fact that such a fragile textile has survived for nearly a thousand years! For those of you who slept through your history courses in college (as opposed to eating them up the way I did! Nerd, I know), this was that whole event in 1066 with the Battle of Hastings and the Normans beating up on the English and where Guillaume de Normandie became William the Conqueror.



Bayeux Cathedral just after sunset.



The interior masonry was amazing and super detailed.



Masonry masks close-up.



Troy outside the Bayeux Tapestry Museum.



This pâtisserie and salon de thé was the cutest thing ever!



All decorated for Easter.

On our way to Bayeux we stopped off at a neat bio cidery, an organic farm and orchard that produces calvados (the famous Norman apple brandy), plus pommeau, cidre, juice, compotes, and other apple products. The owner was a quirky older man who seemed to enjoy the tastings as much as his clients did (tee hee), but he was also very welcoming and even let us peek in the cave. Needless to say, we left with a couple of the local specialties.



Les Vergers de Ducy, organic cidery.



Troy in the cave.



All of this was great, but even so the big regional attraction for me was Mont-St-Michel. With its spectacular setting on a rocky outcropping in the middle of a bay, the architectural drama of this place has called out to me since I was a child. (I was about 12 when I first learned about Mont-St-Michel, and I have wanted to visit it ever since.) So, one day we made the trek practically into Brittany to see the Mont. We climbed the paths to the very top of the rock, toured the abbey, and watched an incredible thunderstorm roll in across the bay.

Visually speaking, this was a highlight of the trip for me. In fact, it is one of the most stunning things that I have ever seen in my whole life. However (SPOILER alert for anyone who, like me, has harbored a lifelong romantic notion of Mont-St-Michel and doesn't want their fantasy shattered) the town that lies at the base of the rock, below the abbey, was one of the chintziest, tackiest, most tourist-riddled, neon-signed, expensive places anywhere. And...the food was terrible. That is like an insult to the entire nation of France! We didn't actually eat on the island -- everything looked so utterly unappetizing or outrageously expensive (I'm talking 90 euro for a lobster omelet expensive) that instead we found a grocery story on the 'mainland' and had a little picnic at a roadside pull-out with a view of the Mont.



This was our first view of Mont-St-Michel, approaching from the south.



As with much of our trip, it rained off and on this day. It kind of sucked, but it was kind of cool because it added that extra bit of drama to an already exceedingly dramatic place.



The whole place is encased in massive stone walls.



The tide was out when we arrived.





Inside the abbey cloisters





What a cool shot, if I do say so myself -- everywhere you looked was beauty and drama.



The storm approaches!



Despite my utter disappointment with the town, Mont-St-Michel was still really, really cool and a must-see for anyone with even a slight interest in architecture. Our Normandy trip was surprising in many ways and so chock-full of interesting sites, tragic and heart-warming stories, and multiple layers of history, that five days felt like weeks. But, you know, in a good way.



La Côte Normande Photo Album - Click Here

Perfect Bacon

We have both been horribly remiss about blogging as of late. Troy has a good excuse: he was recently assigned to a large acquisition/merger/integration project that has brought him nearly weekly to the garden spots of the UK, Chessington and Bracknell (read with heavy sarcasm). In all seriousness, he has been spending the better part of each week for the last two months working in England and, if not there, Germany. I, however, do not really have a good excuse for falling lax on my writing. It's been a funny time of year -- it's the so-called morte saison (dead season) when everyone is away, but somehow there always seems to be something going on. Tant pis for the blog, I guess.

At any rate, Troy rather unexpectedly got a few days off, so of course we had to take advantage of this windfall with a quick trip to the lovely wine region of Bourgogne (Burgundy) in mid-eastern France. This is the time when I normally promise a full post on said trip, which might happen (and well should given that we took about 400 pictures!), but we have gotten so higgledy-piggledy with our posts that who knows what will come next: the finale to our March Normandy trip? A good post about our anniversary getaway to London? A throwback to last summer's lovely aventure provençal?

As the future is uncertain, I'll close this little post with the comforting and quotidien: Breakfast. Many moons ago when Troy and I were newlyweds, I attempted to make that most banal of breakfast staples, bacon. This was quite early in my culinary 'career' and the results were a smoky, blackened mess. Novice husband that he was, Troy responded severely, going on about 'smoke damage to the apartment' and 'ruining all his clothes' etcetera. I in turn responded with dig-in-your-heels-stubborness and declared that if he was so talented in the arts of bacon-cookery then he could darn-well handle those duties from here on out....a declaration that stuck for the last five years running. However, every now and again I get the hankering for a nice, crispy piece of bacon when Troy is not around to whip up a batch for me. So, swallowing my considerable pride, I asked him to instruct me in the ways of bacon-making. I took his tips to heart and while he was out for a run (and getting lost in the Bois de la Cambre/Forêt des Soignes, which is another story for another day) I tried my hand at bacon-makery this morning. The results, as evidenced by these pics, were bliss.