Castle Hill, topped with the old Texas Military Institute (TMI) “castle” has been around since 1870. “Grafitti Park” below it, though, is a 2011 South By Southwest (SXSW) art exhibit that has obviously been wildly popular. Visitors are invited to bring their own spray paint and paint away. Even though David and I both went to law school in Austin, we were surprised and intrigued to stumble across the graffiti-covered park while looking for a parking spot the past Friday near favorite restaurant Wink. With the sun sinking low, lots of people clambered over the brightly painted walls.
Always curious, I had to look up this strange and popular park–otherwise I’d have had no idea about its SXSW origins. The park is officially known as HOPE Outdoor Gallery. For those few unfamiliar with the ever-growing event, SXSW is a huge annual festival that started back in the 80’s as a music/conference event and has expanded over the decades to include interactive media and film. In looking into Graffiti Park, I also learned that it’s been slated for destruction, a victim to Austin’s rampant (and city-ruining, IMHO) growth.
If Austin’s in your plans and grafitti in a funky Austin setting is your thing, head to 1008 Baylor St. in Austin before the end of June when it will be bulldozed. The good news is the park will be reopened in East Austin. Six acres of Carson Ranch have already been bought for a new Graffiti Park near Austin-Bergstrom International Airport. Plans are for 48,470 square feet of graffiti-able wall space. The new space looks to be sleek, new and still fun, but unavoidably lacking in castle and that charming old Austin weirdness.
I just had to share a quick post on this bit of Texas quirkiness. It’s got its issues, but I love my home state! David and I have been enjoying some downtime before our upcoming 3-month around-the-world extravaganza (leaving next week!). I haven’t been posting on Wanderwiles lately, but plan to get back to it on this trip. Our plans include 21+ hours of first class Korean Air flights, Singapore, Indonesia (Bali and Java for a few weeks), a month on a ship from Singapore to Italy (including Thailand, Sri Lanka, India, Oman, UAE, Jordan, a Suez Canal passage & Greece). After a Perugia farm, small-town Tuscany and Florence, we’ll wind up with a few-weeks return to our beloved Antwerp, Belgium. As always, comments, suggestions and questions are more than welcome! – Tamara
I visited my first hammam years ago in the Marais during my second stint living in Paris. I’d been super intrigued and curious about the hammam experience, but with my then-fairly-limited French, cultural uncertainties, and doubts about dress and modesty and expectations and such, I hesitated to go. When a friend who’d been living in Paris many more years than I had and who swore by semiannual “gommage” (exfoliation) treatments at a favorite hammam invited me to go with her, I jumped on the chance. It was a fun–and kind of crazy–experience, lounging around with lots of other naked and semi-naked women in clouds of steam, then being roughly scrubbed by a burly Tunisian woman (who nearly smothered me with her ample bosom as she leaned over me to work) before sending me off to recover with hot mint tea. I felt like a prize heifer ready for the show. The hammam was a far cry from the gentle, pampering spas favored back home in the States, but boy, was I scrubbed pink and seriously exfoliated!
On our current stay in Paris, I’d put another round of gommage high on my to-do list. Older and more confident, less modest, with my one hammam experience under my belt, and with much-improved (if still sadly lacking) French, I was ready to give it another go. The old hammam in the Marais is now closed, but I’d always wanted to try the hammam at the Grand Mosque of Paris so figured now was the perfect time.
A quick check online showed that reservations aren’t required and that the hammam at the Grand Mosque is open every day but Tuesday. I settled on Wednesday, reasonably early (around 11am), hoping for a less-busy time, and that’s what I found. So, for those intrigued by a visit to the Grand Mosque’s hammam but maybe feeling a little intimidated, here’s a step-by-step walk-through of my experience and what to expect:
Start by entering at the corner of rue Geoffroy-St-Hilaire and rue Daubenton (across from the southernmost corner of the Jardin des Plantes). The door is literally set into the corner. [The entrance to the mosque itself is a block away, on the far side of the building from the Jardins des Plantes on rue Georges Desplas, although the mosque gives its official address as 2bis Place du Puits de l’Ermite, 75005 Paris, which is a small square off rue Georges Desplas.]
You walk through a pretty little courtyard and enter as if you were going to the mosque’s café.
There’s a counter with pastries on display; the cafe is to the right, the double doors to the hammam are tucked inconspicuously in the corner, just to the left of the pastry counter as you face it. No need to talk to anyone at this point, just push the door and go on in.
You’ll find yourself in a colorfully painted waiting room/seating area with another set of double doors on the far wall. Go through those doors to find the welcome counter/front desk of the hammam where you choose and pay for the services and any items you’d like to purchase or rent for the day (exfoliating glove, soap, towel, bathing suit, etc.)
Options ranged from a simple entry to visit the hammam and enjoy its sauna and bathing facilities (18 €) to various “forfaits” or package deals, the most expensive of which includes lunch. I chose the “Forfait 53 €” which included:
1 Entrée Simple (unlimited time to use the hammam’s facilities for the day)
1 Massage 20 (a 20 minute massage with orange blossom-scented oil)
1 Gommage (exfoliation)
1 Savon Noir (a packet of special black soap of a soft-wax consistency)
1 Thé à la menthe (a hot, sweetened mint tea to finish off my visit)
I also paid €6 for an exfoliating glove (“gant”). The hammam accepts cash or credit cards.
The lady at the counter gave me three plastic disks on stretchy wristbands to act as tickets. These were engraved with “GOMMAGE,” “MASSAGE 20M,” AND “THÉ.”
The lady indicated two boxes of plastic shower slippers behind me opposite the desk and told me to take off my shoes and choose a pair of slippers. I wore these for the rest of the day until ready to leave.
Adorned with my “bracelet” tickets and carrying my glove and packet of soap as well as the bag containing the towel, a hair clip, dry underwear and a few toiletries I’d brought, I headed across the massage area and through a door to the right that leads to the long, narrow locker and changing area. Only one other woman, a Frenchwoman of about my age, was in the changing area when I arrived. We exchanged a few words as we disrobed and tried to figure out the system; it was both of our first visit.
Unlike the previous hammam I’d visited, signs state that the hammam of the Grand Mosque requires a “bathing suit” in the interests of hygene; total nudity is not allowed. The term “bathing suit” is very loosely interpreted, though. Panties/underwear or bikini bottoms are fine. Tops are optional and quite a few women, myself included, opted for topless.
Be sure to bring a 1€ coin to operate the lockers. You can’t lock or remove the key (also on a stretchy wristband) without the coin. It will be returned to you when you return the key.
Leaving the dressing area, the showers and toilet areas are through a door to your right (directly across the vaulted massage area from the front desk). Toilets and sinks are to the right through that door. Showers and hard plastic gommage tables are to the left. Showers are mandatory before using the hammam, but I wasn’t exactly sure how that would work, so I originally brought my towel with me to the showers. Mistake. Leave your towel in the locker until the end of the day, or at least until just before your massage. There’s nowhere to set down a towel that isn’t wet and you’ll be soaking wet (and plenty warm) from the steam anyway.
[Photos aren’t allowed in the hammam and I was able to take these after I’d re-dressed only because it was a slow day and no women were in the rooms at the time. From here on out, I can’t offer any more photos from inside the hammam.]
Communal, two-headed showers are on either side of the gommage space with a stone ledge along one wall between the showers. When I arrived, a gommage was in progress and two ladies were lounging on the ledge. One, an older, solid-built woman was topless and had her underwear pulled aside while she did a bit of exfoliating on her own with one of the rough green gloves sold at the hammam and a bucket of water. So much for American modesty! The other, smaller woman appeared to be in a bra and panties. Above them on a high ledge, stacks of plastic buckets were available for visitors. On a central table, a hammam employee scrubbed away at a guest on one of the hard plastic gommage tables. (There is a small private room with tables just outside the shower and toilet area that I gather can be booked for those uncomfortable with the communal atmosphere of the hammam.)
The showers were so hot as to be nearly scalding. Attempting to moderate the heat simply turned off the flow. Hmm. I made quick work of the shower, using a bit of the oily black soap from the packet I’d bought with my package.
Finding the shower/gommage area to be small and not particularly attractive, I moved on to the next room which was mildly heated with a ledge and garden hose with sprayer on the far wall. A couple of women were sitting there, but I moved on to the next room, the main steam room, a lovely and large, multi-vaulted space.
Two long marble ledges run down the long sides of the room, divided into six separate seating/lounging areas (three on each side), each with an alcove on the back wall with hot and cold water faucets and a little basin. These long ledges flank a large round central platform (10′ or so across), also of marble and sporting a large 8-sided star motif in red, yellow and black. A central dome rose above, collecting a cloud of steam. A couple of women sat on one of the side ledges, splashing water from a plastic bucket onto themselves as they leisurely washed and visited. I chose the central space on the opposite side and stretched out on the warm, wet marble. I closed my eyes or gazed up at the mottled blue of the painted vault above me, occasional drops raining down. This room has the look of a classic old hammam: off-white marble covers the floor and ledges; red granite lower walls give way to blue mosaic tiles on columns which in turn support the mottled blue upper columns and vaults. Small colored windows high on the walls let in a soft light and a little occasional sound from the street, but offer complete privacy.
When I felt ready for a little more heat, I moved into the farthest room of the hammam. This smaller space offers a low marble ledge to the left, a faucet straight ahead with delightfully cool water, and a raised, red granite hot-tub-sized dipping pool to the right, all under a high vaulted ceiling. Today, the pool was unfortunately empty–but pristine–for some sort of maintenance. The heat is such in the room that there is a huge difference depending on where you sit. On the lower ledge to the left, it wasn’t so bad. If I moved to sit by the little pool, up higher, the moist heat was so intense it burned my lips. I could only take short stays in this room, but enjoyed moving back and forth between this space and the large vaulted steam room. I soon claimed a plastic bucket and would fill it up with the relatively cooler water to splash on myself from time to time as I lounged in the large vaulted room and daydreamed. It was a pattern the other women followed as well.
I exchanged a few words with the other visitors, but mostly people kept to themselves or visited with the friends they’d come with. The older lady from the gommage/shower area asked me to hand her down a stool from a high ledge. People commented on the heat or shared info about the hammam, but mostly we just lounged about. At most, there were maybe only a dozen women, of various ages and body types. I felt like I’d entered a scene from some long-ago-far-away place, relaxed and dreamy in the clouds of steam, unselfconscious in the all-female atmosphere.
Periodically, one of the gommage or massage ladies would walk through the steam rooms, eye the tickets on our wrists and beckon to one of the guests. Eventually, it was my turn to follow one of these women back to the gommage area. I laid down on the hard white plastic table and handed her the gommage glove I had purchased. She put it on and went to work. Wow. At one point, I wondered if she might scrape me down to raw meat. (I think I should have re-slicked myself with the weird black soap beforehand, although when I asked her about that, she told me it wasn’t necessary. She may have been more worried about her schedule than my skin, though.) She scrubbed me pink, lifting my arms, pulling aside my bikini bottoms to get at my haunches, the dead skin sloughing off onto the table. (Sorry! But, that’s how gommage works.) When she was done, she hosed off the table and floor while I hit the showers again before heading back to the steam rooms.
I visited with two English-speaking ladies in traditional bathing suits in the smaller, least-heated room until I was called for my 20-minute massage in the beautiful main massage area by the front desk (see top photo above). I went to my locker to deposit my glove and soap packet and dry off beforehand.
The massage began face-up on a padded, towel-covered table. The masseuse used copious amounts of orange blossom-scented oil, covering me from head to toe, even oiling my chin and the sides of my nose, massaging my temples and scalp. If your complexion can’t handle oil, just let them know not to do your face. It was delightfully relaxing, though, albeit leaving my hair a total oil slick. Oh well, I’d known a shampooing was in my future after the hammam anyway.
Once again, modesty is at a different level than in the States or many anglophone countries: Another masseuse worked on another guest at a table maybe six feet away. Oh well, I closed my eyes and totally forgot about them. “My” masseuse rubbed chest and belly as well as back, neck legs and arms. The hammam massage is more a firm rubbing and kneading than some sports massages I’ve had where elbows and knuckles are used to break the grip of painful knots. It’s relaxing and luxurious and a delightful way to end the day (and recover from the more business-like work of the gommage).
With the massage done, I tried rinsing some of the thick oil off in the shower, but found it pointless. So, I just wiped off as much as I could with my towel and got dressed save for my shoes and coat. (The plastic grocery bag I’d brought for wet things was put to good use.) My hair was so oily that I just slicked it back and re-clipped it for the ride home on the Métro. Not exactly glamorous. Again, oh well.
I exchanged my one remaining plastic ticket at the front desk for a small tray with paper napkin and a steaming glass of sweetened mint tea. I carried these to one of the padded ledges around the massage area where I kicked off my slippers and stretched out my legs to enjoy my drink. I’m generally not a fan of sweetened tea, but this was delicious! As I sipped, the older full-figured lady I’d first seen topless in the shower/gommage area added her last layer of black, traditional Muslim clothing before heading out. I bid her “au revoir” and a “bonne journée” which she returned. It’s good to be reminded how we’re all just people under our clothes.
Practical info: I spent about 2 hours total at the hammam, feeling that I’d done things at a comfortable, leisurely pace. With company, it wouldn’t have been hard to stay longer. The hammam at the Grand Mosque of Paris is open every day but Tuesday from 10am to 7pm. Details about the hammam are online here. Note: the hammam is cleaned with chlorine for anyone having a sensitivity.
The nearest Métro stops are Jussieu (lines 7 and 10), Place Monge (line 7) and Censier-Daubenton (line 7).
Things to bring: a towel, a euro coin for the lockers, a credit card or money, a clip or tie to get hair off your neck, dry undergarments, basic toiletries (shampoo, if you want it; cosmetics, etc.), a brush or comb, a plastic bag for your wet towel and bathing suit.
Don’t wear much or any make-up to the hammam, especially mascara; it will be steamed off you or smeared down your face in no time. Don’t expect to get out of the hammam with presentable hair.
David and I visited the adjacent mosque before I sent him away to enjoy my time at the hammam. Entrance to the mosque and its gardens is €3 per person. Head coverings are not required for women, although I did wear a scarf out of respect. Prayer rooms are off-limits to tourists. Open 7 days/week, find more about the Mosque here.
Yesterday was the first Sunday of the month (December), which means Free First Sunday of the Month at the Louvre and many other Paris museums. (The Louvre and the Rodin Museum are free on first Sundays between Oct. 1 and March 31. Other museums offer Free First Sundays all year. See the bottom of this article for more info.) I’ve heard and read the horror stories about Free First Sunday hordes, so wanted to check it out myself so I could report what I found on Wanderwiles. I’ve been to the Louvre more times than I can remember and am a past member of Amis du Louvre, so I’ve always avoided these Sundays. Since we’re just in Paris for a month this time, David and I decided we’d give the Louvre a miss on this visit unless First Sunday surprised us…and it did!
First off, we decided NOT to be waiting when the museum first opens at 9am. Although I’ve seen recommendations to do that, I’ve also heard that there are huge lines waiting at the opening which thin over time. Also, we wanted to go to the first Sunday of Advent at the American Cathedral at 11am. So, we went to church, walked the pedestrian-only Champs-Elysées (another first Sunday of the month thing), then rode line 1 of the Métro to the Palais Royal-Musée du Louvre stop so we could enter the museum by the underground Carousel du Louvre entrance (thereby hopefully avoiding any line at the above-ground pyramid…and the cold drizzle of the day).
Walking past the shops (put l’Occitane on your left) towards the upside down pyramid suspended from an atrium, our first glimpse of a huge line of people was disheartening.
We slipped around them to the upside down pyramid where we could see that things were backed up and crowded in the hall beyond (which leads to the main atrium of the Louvre below the courtyard glass pyramid). It seemed the horror stories were confirmed.
But, I wanted to give it a little time to be sure the crowd we were seeing wasn’t just a backlog of groups. (That seemed to be a possibility.) So, we browsed the shops for maybe 15-20 minutes. Stepping back into the hall, we saw that the line had completely disappeared. We walked back to the upside down pyramid atrium and crossed right into the hall beyond which leads to the main atrium/ ticketing and information center of the Louvre.
Once in the main Louvre atrium, you are presented with three escalators going up to the three main wings: Richelieu, Sully and Denon. I figured most people would be going to Denon to see the Mona Lisa and other Renaissance paintings, Winged Vicory, etc. Although the Denon hall of paintings (“La Grande Galerie”) is one of my favorite places on earth and I like the museum “stars” as well, we’ve seen those many, many times, so I opted for Richelieu. I love the French sculpture rooms of the Richelieu wing and thought they might be less crowded, too. Sure enough, they were delightfully uncrowded.
We found much of the Egyptian exhibit and earlier Mesopotamian exhibits to be equally horde-free. As were the Louis XIV rooms and objets d’art exhibits in the Sully wing. Sure, there were other people, but there really wasn’t a problem or anything remarkable about the numbers. This was great!
We ended up spending four great hours wandering our favorite museum. We saved the Denon wing for last (5-5:30pm) and were able to visit a popular, but easy-to-view Winged Victory.
I got to say hello to my favorite Botticelli “frescoes” just beyond Winged Victory (look for the lady with the giant scorpion), and the Grand Galerie, that wonderful long hall of Renaissance masterpieces. There were a lot of people, but not much if any more than I’ve seen on other busy days at the Louvre. I had no trouble viewing my favorite Raphael works in peace.
We even stepped into the Mona Lisa room, mostly to marvel at the throng straining to get close and taking selfies with the famous painting. It was crazy, but then again, not really out of the ordinary.
Free First Sunday hours are 9am-6pm. Entrance is via the main glass pyramid or the Carousel du Louvre. Sadly, my favorite little-known entrance from the past, the Porte des Lions, is now open only for booked groups. On Free First Sunday, the Porte des Lions was completely closed and we could not even exit there, so had to retrace our steps down the hall.
Exiting via the same Métro entrance we came in at below the Carousel du Louvre proved to be problematic: A huge crowd filled the area in front of the stiles. So, we exited onto the street instead and walked the short distance to the above-ground entrance to the Métro. There we could access the stile immediately and found no crowds on the quai. Just be sure you descend into the Métro so that you’re going in your preferred direction (toward La Défense or Chateau de Vinennes).
Bear in mind that French school holidays and those in other countries may well effect the crowds on Free First Sundays. Yesterday wasn’t a school holiday in France. The next Free First Sunday in January may well be more crowded as it will be a school holiday in France and elsewhere.
The Louvre and the Rodin Museum are free on first Sundays between Oct. 1 and March 31. Other museums offer Free First Sundays all year. Find many other Paris museums that are free on the first Sunday of the month on the official Paris tourism web site page entitled Free Museums and Monuments in Paris.
While I drop in Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris any time I walk by and there’s not a line, it’s always extra special to visit during a service. One particularly special ceremony to look out for is the Vénération de la Couronne d’épines (Veneration of the Crown of Thorns).
Everything about the veneration contributes to the beauty and religious aura of the famous cathedral: The clouds of incense, the music, the cloaked men and women, the ritual kissing of the gold and glass reliquary which houses a woven crown of reeds, now minus its thorns. The thorns were dispersed over the centuries, some 70 of which have been affirmed as original by the Catholic Church.
The Veneration of the Crown of Thorns takes place on the first Friday of every month and every Friday of Lent at 3pm. On Good Friday, the veneration lasts from 10am to 5pm. Dressed in white cloaks, the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem (“les chevaliers du Saint-Sépulcre de Jérusalem”) assist the church canons with the service and help maintain order and a prayerful attitude. (They keep a watchful eye for the over-zealous. Apparently, one or two fervent worshippers have “rushed” the crown in the past.)
Like most things at Notre Dame, the Veneration of the Crown of Thorns is free and open to the public. You can participate in the service (including kissing the relic) or simply view the proceedings while standing on the sides, just beyond the roped off area (from where I took these photos). Just remember to be quiet and respect the dignity of the ceremony and the sanctity of the moment for participants.
Visiting the Fondation Louis Vuitton (“FLV”) was high on our list of things to do during our current month in Paris. Under construction for twelve years and costing nearly $135 million dollars, the privately-owned contemporary art “museum”/exhibition hall is a one-of-a-kind work of art itself. The building was still under construction on our last visit to the surrounding park, so we were really looking forward to seeing the finished structure. All I can say is “Wow!” Talk about exceeding expectations. An immense assymetrical collection of gleaming white structures clad in glass “sails” on steel and wood supports, FLV joins the panoply of great Parisian landmarks. It’s an architectural and engineering feat not to be missed.
Through March 7, 2018, FLV is hosting Being Modern: MoMA in Paris. It’s an impressive exhibit of some iconic works of modern art from the famous New York museum and we thoroughly enjoyed it: Picasso, Litchenstein, Rothko, Pollack, Warhol, Kahlo and many, many more. There’s sculpture and film, a wonderful 40-speaker audio of the Salisbury choir, whimsical found objects, industrial “art”, architectural maquettes and actual pieces of dissembled buildings.
It’s all big fun and I highly recommend “Being Modern: MoMA in Paris” for modern art fans, but the real show for us was the FLV building itself. We spent over four hours wandering the wild, sweeping expanses of the FLV, enjoying the art as well as the rooftop terraces, sky-lit rooms and exposed stairways.
The rooftop terraces offer intriguing insights into the building as well as sweeping views over the adjacent Jardin d’Acclimitation (a charming old children’s amusement park, petting zoo and equestrian center) and La Defense, Paris’ skyscraper dotted western business district.
We bought amazing rich, dark hot chocolate by renowned Belgian chocolatier, Pierre Marcolini, from a cart on one terrace. On another terrace, Alto Café provided refreshments.
FLV has no standing art exhibit; it’s really just an enormous exhibition hall(s) and auditorium. The only standing display is a multi-story offering on the design and construction of the building contained in small spaces on each floor. One staircase was deliberately left “unfinished” as well so visitors can view the exposed structural elements.
For an added bonus, we exited through the back of FLV for a better view of the waterfall we’d see on our approach and free access to the Jardin d’Acclimatation. Trees in blazing fall finery made the pretty park even more spectacular than usual.
Practical info: Buy tickets for specific times online (every half hour from around 9am-7pm, with some variation). Tickets for the MoMA exhibit are €16 for adults, €10 for 18-26, €5 for under-18’s. There are reductions for teachers, artists, unemployed-seeking-work, etc. Check the web site to see if any of that applies.
FLV is about a 10-minute walk from Les Sablons Métro stop on Line 1, west of the Arc de Triomphe/Étoile. There’s also a FLV shuttle that runs from near the Arc de Tiomphe directly to FLV for €2 per person.
Find lots of useful info here, including a handy calendar that shows peak and lull times so you can try to avoid crowds. The building is so large, though, that we never really felt crowded.
There is a gift shop with items related to FLV and the current exhibition. There’s also a pricey restaurant, Le Frank:
How could I pass up the chance to see the inside of a private mansion (“hôtel particulier”) on swanky Avenue Foch and a reputedly extensive oriental art collection for free? Obviously, I couldn’t!
The Musée d’Ennery is the former home of Clémence d’Ennery, a well-known actress of her day and an avid collector of oriental objets d’art. She deeded her collection to the Musée Guimet with the proviso that the collection be kept intact in her home. After some legal wrangling with her older playwright husband, who unexpectedly outlived her, her wish has been fulfilled (save for one lacquered trunk on display at the Guimet as an enticement to visit the Musée d’Ennery).
The Musee d’Ennery is only available by pre-booked 1-hour guided tour, in French only. (Details are at the bottom of this post.) That said, it’s easy to book online by email and, even if you don’t speak French, it’s a real treat for the eyes. (My husband’s French was not fluent enough for him to keep up with the rapid-fire French of our knowledgeable guide, but he was not at all bored and glad we took the tour.)
Our guide did not neglect the basics of her subject. For example, she explained the difference between the little netsuke figurines and the smaller ojime “beads” used to fasten clothing cords in place of/in addition to knots. She also explained the lack of pockets in Japanese clothing that led to the use of these objects. When an item held particular interest, was unusual or unusually valuable, she paused to elaborate.
While I enjoy oriental art, I am no connoisseur and was primarily interested in getting inside a new-to-me Parisian mansion. I wasn’t disappointed. The mansion is gorgeous, the architectural details fabulous. Our guide offered insights into the collection and the former owner. Apparently, Clémence d’Ennery didn’t actually know a lot about oriental art; she simply bought what she liked. She did develop relationships with knowledgeable dealers, though, and her taste matured. The result is that there are cheap pieces among her collection along with priceless items. I thought her simple desire for beauty, as she saw it, it added to the charm.
I love the Parisian museums located in former homes, giving a glimpse into another lifestyle. (The Nissim de Comondo is one of my favorites of the type, preserving living quarters, kitchen, bathrooms as well as living and entertaining rooms. More often, personal rooms have been converted into typical museum-type spaces or closed to the public; a little disappointing, but still worthwhile.) Visitors to the Musée d’Ennery are only allowed into the common areas/salon and entertaining rooms, which are all overflowing with the sheer volume of Clémence d’Ennery’s amazing collection. Bedrooms, the kitchen, etc. are not open to the public.
The lighting is unfortunately poor in the many display cabinets, but the guides had no problem with people using their phones to occasionally shine lights on the curios. They also did not stop anyone from taking non-flash photographs (which people were openly doing) although the confirmation email said they were forbidden. There were 12 people in our group, so maybe it is more a matter of photo-taking causing logistical problems with larger groups.
The Musée d’Ennery is only open to individuals on Saturdays (except holidays) at 11:30am by pre-booked guided tour in French only. To book the tour, email the Guimet at firstname.lastname@example.org. I emailed on a mid-November Friday and asked to be included either the next day or the following Saturday and received a prompt reply saying we were in the following Saturday’s tour and asking us to arrive 10 minutes early. Names were checked off when we arrived. There are free, keyed lockers on the ground floor to leave coats, bags, etc. before beginning the tour.
See details and possibilities for pre-booked group tours online here. (Scroll to the bottom for specifics on the Musée d’Ennery. If you do not read French and are using the Chrome browser, just right click anywhere on the page and ask Google to translate to English.)
Find more on the history of the Musée d’Ennery here.
I had to do a quick restaurant review on a little place in Antwerp we finally had a chance to try called À l’Infintiste. It can take months to get a reservation for this tiny restaurant that has only one 16-person sitting for dinner. The set-up is unique: for €46 you get a creative 5-course dinner served by the chef (who also buses tables and cleans dishes); for everything else you serve yourself. Want bread? Fetch it yourself. There’s a basket, butter, olive oil for the taking, too. Same goes for an aperitif; there are two types of gin on offer. Bottles of red and white wine are in two separate refrigerators, along with still and sparkling water, champagne and other beverages. The price list is taped to the side of one fridge. Corkscrews are in a drawer by the bread. If you prefer wine by the glass, that’s available, too. There’s a fill-in-the-blank receipt on the table, along with a pen and a calculator. When you finish dinner, just fill in what you’ve consumed, total it up and leave cash. (No credit cards accepted.) While it’s not cheap, the low-service business model lets the chef keep prices reasonable for what turned out to be a really special meal.
Our first “apéro” was hands-down the most whimsical (and fun!) and a signature starter at À l’Infintiste: A wooden cigar box, modified so that the label read “Foiehiba,” a play on the famous Cuban cigar brand “Cohiba.” Inside were two “cigars,” “hand rolled” crispy outsides filled with luscious foie gras. The foie gras cigars were served with a cognac snifter of bouillon de veau and an ashtray filled with faux ashes made from roasted pepper and powdered milk. The effect was charming and the foie gras some of the best I’ve had. I’d have loved a box full of those fake cigars!
The second amuse bouche was a pork quenelle topped with a piccalilly foam with a crunchy topping. Although good, this was probably my least favorite course, mostly because the flavor combination reminded me of deviled ham with Miracle Whip. For David and me, the taste was a blast from our American childhoods and seemed to call out for Wonder Bread and a glass of milk.
The appetizer course put the big smiles back on our faces: A gorgeous confection of a shrimp cocktail made with melon, radishes, leeks, avocado, black sesame seeds and a crispy lotus root disc, served with a side dish of piping hot fried shrimp with a wasabi dip.
The chef, a charming, friendly host, gave us the option of fish or meat for our main course. (He speaks functional English and made us feel very welcome despite our language deficiencies.) David and I both opted for the venison. (At the chef’s suggestion, we’d chosen a 2016 The Chocolate Block red wine from South Africa. Big and bold, this wine is a blend of 79% Syrah, 11% Grenache, 6% Cabernet Sauvignon, 3% Cinsault and 1% Viognier. It turned out to be a great match for the venison.)
The venison arrived on a bed of roasted parsnips and chestnut purée and topped with crispy root vegetable chips and beet leaves. We both marveled at how perfectly tender and moist the venison steak was, although David thought it was a touch too well-done. The meat had a color that suggested sous vide pre-prep.
Dessert was Poire William, this take on the classic dessert made with a dark chocolate tarte topped with housemade ice cream, a pear half poached in pear eau de vie, pear purée and the surprise hit: a pear foam of startling intensity.
Full and tired, we skipped coffee, tallied our bill, and laid down our cash. (It was a pleasant change to do things at our own pace and not have to flag down a waiter for the bill and go through the usual payment routine.) The chef bid us a friendly farewell and advised us to book three months in advance of our return to Antwerp next May. I can’t wait to see what À l’Ifintiste has on offer in the spring!
Our total bill was €158 for two 5-course dinners (€46 each), a bottle of wine (€52; the cheapest wine on offer was around €35), 2 .5l bottles of sparkling water (€5 each).
Note: There are two different phone numbers on the À l’Infintiste web site to make reservations, depending on the night you want to reserve: For Mon., Th., Fri. and Sat., call: 03.237.43.37 For Sun., Tues. and Wed., call: 0476.390.297 Two different men answered these numbers and clearly there are different chefs cooking these nights. Since we were flexible with our timing, I just inquired as to any available night, and was able to get a reservation for two about 2-3 weeks out. We went on a Sunday and did not have the original founder, Marc van Uffelen. We did, however, have a wonderful chef; I’m just sorry I didn’t get his name.
Dinner starts at 7pm. We were asked to be prompt, but not early. Dress was smart casual. Two men wore jackets, but the rest did not. Collared shirts and pullover sweaters were popular with most men on a chilly November night. Women wore slacks, skirts or dresses.
We just made our now semi-annual pilgrimage to Westvleteren to pick up more of the “best beer in the world.” We admit it; we’re hooked…and are possibly beer hoarders as well. But, this post isn’t about beer, it’s about our latest exploration of West Flanders which took us this time through picturesque countryside and villages to the restored WWI Dodengang or “Trench of Death” and the Museum aan den IJzer (Yser Tower Museum) housed in the 22-story tall iron cross tower that’s both a memorial to Flemish soldiers who died in WWI and a sometimes-controversial rallying point for Flemish Belgians.
Leaving the Sint-Sixtus Abbey (where Westvleteren beer is brewed), we drove rural back roads past fields of brussel sprouts and farm animals. It always pains me to think of the absolute destruction wrought by WWI on this peaceful countryside. And, of course, WWII was no kinder to Belgium.
We stopped in the pretty little village of Lo-Reninge, lured by the medieval West Gate beside which stands a tree to which, legend claims, Julius Caesar tied his horse. We admired the UNESCO-designated town hall and belfort, and a lovely old Sint-Pieterskerk (St. Peter’s Church) before continuing on to The Royal Museum of the Army’s venue at the Trench of Death outside of the town of Diksmuide.
Diksmuide is strategically important in WWI history as the site of a line held by defenders after the Belgians flooded large portions of their country to stop the German advance.
The Trench of Death museum was refurbished in August 2014 as part of the WWI centenary and includes videos, photographs and memorabilia from the Royal Army Museum’s collection.
Modest-sized, but effective, exhibits on the second floor (1st floor, european) attempt to tell the story of the Trench of Death from both Belgian and German perspectives. A rooftop viewing deck lets visitors get an overview of the trenches and the adjacent Izjer River before descending to walk the extensive rebuilt trenches.
The museum’s website tells the story of the Trench of Death in 100 words as follows: “In 1915 the Belgian army tries to dislodge the Germans from the petrol tanks north of the city of Dixmude (Diksmuide). After two failed attempts the Belgians decide to dig a trench towards the drums. The Germans however manage to capture part of it. In order to suppress the German threat, Belgian military engineering creates, by the end of 1915, a breach in the Yser dike. The two camps are now only separated by a mere ditch. The trench is then transformed into an impregnable position, called Trench of Death because of the victims buried there after the German attack.”
The museum is well-done and the trenches, like those at the Passchendaele Museum, give a sobering glimpse of trench warfare.
Germans attacked the Belgians on three sides. German trenches lay less than 50m from the Belgians. Belgian soldiers lived under the constant threat of both conventional and gas attack, and kept gas masks with them at all times.
A mere 1.5 km away and visible from the Trench of Death Museum stands the 22-story tall Museum aan den IJzer tower and museum (also “Yser” in English), a giant iron cross in the shape of Flemish headstones used to mark the graves of Flemish soldiers.
A large stone “peace arch” with the inscription “PAX” stands at the entrance to the museum grounds. It incorporates the rubble of the original Ijzer tower which was dynamited following WWII in protest of Flemish Nazi collaborators. (Apparently, the Nazis often exploited separatist sentiments to try to drive wedges between social groups in the countries they sought to invade and conquer.) The remains of the original memorial tower are surrounded by its crypt and a circle of Flemish headstones.
Later, as we toured the museum, we learned that after the war, the Belgian government decided to install uniform headstones for Belgian soldiers killed during WWI; the headstones were inscribed “Mort pour la patrie” (died for the homeland), in French, with no Dutch (the Flemish language). Existing Flemish headstones were removed and, in at least once case, broken up and used to make a road. Flemish outrage led to the construction of the first memorial Ijzer Tower, constructed as is the present tower in the form of Flemish gravestones with the letters AVV-VVK, representing “Alles Voor Vlaanderen, Vlaanderen voor Kristus” or “All for Flanders-Flanders for Christ.” Given how much time we’ve spent in Belgium in recent years, we’re always trying to understand the complicated history of Belgian society and the rifts between French and Flemish Belgians. Here was a new and fascinating learning opportunity.
Proceeding past the crypt to the tower, we immediately took an elevator to the 22nd floor, the topmost enclosed floor of the tower. There we found 360 windows surmounted by a painted panorama showing the surrounding countryside as it looked during WWI. Labels with directional lines indicated the names of villages, cemeteries and other sites.
Climbing a few more flights of stairs, we came to the open-air rooftop offering an even more dramatic view. The afternoon sun cast the shadow of the tower well beyond the crypt and peace arch below and into the town.
After taking in the views, we began the floor-by-floor descent through the museum. With so many levels to work with, some of the floors were almost throw-aways, one offering only wall-sized black-and-white drawings and another displaying shelf-upon-shelf of ordinance. But, there were fascinating floors as well. One had us wandering a wooden maze of recreated trenches while speakers played the labored breathing of gas attack victims. Around some corners, a large photograph of victims would suddenly light up. A particularly poignant floor offered a display of clothing along with photographs of Belgians fleeing the war. It posited the question, “What would you take if you had only moments to choose before fleeing your home?” It reminds people that their grandparents were the ones fleeing war with the clothes on their back just as today other peoples are fleeing wars in distant lands. The museum is dedicated to peace. “No more war” is printed in Dutch, French, English and German on the four sides of its base.
Leaving the museum, we walked back past the crypt with a new understanding of what we were seeing. Looking back at the enormous tower with its “AVV-VVK” we now knew that it, and its predecessor, had become a rallying point for Flemish Belgians and has been the site of annual gatherings. After WWI, the Flemish Movement organized pilgrimages to the graves of fallen Flemish soldiers and the first Yser Tower was built in 1930. After the first tower was destroyed in 1946 and the new tower was built, “Flemish minded people” continued to hold large gatherings at the site that attracted a radical, separatist element as well that was sometimes invited, sometimes not. In the 90’s, the organizing committee distanced itself from this radical element. The current museum focuses on promoting peace and tolerance. While the red poppy is the symbol of WWI remembrance for soldiers, the Museum aan den IJzer chose a white poppy with the word “peace” at its center to commemorate all victims of war, both civilian and military. The Museum asks the question, “What remains of life?” addressing the ongoing loss after war, including the mental suffering and difficulties adjusting to civilian life of returning veterans.
Practical info: The Royal Army Museum’s center at the Trench of Death is located at: IJzerdijk 62, 8600 Diksmuide 051 50 53 44 Open daily from 10am-6pm, April 1- Nov. 15, Tues. & Thurs. only the rest of the year. (Check online for details and holiday changes.); admission €4 for adults, children under 8 are free.
The Museum aan den IJzer (Yser Tower Museum) is located at: DE IJZERTOREN – IJzerdijk 49 – 8600 Diksmuide – T 051.50.02.86 – email@example.com Open daily, check online for seasonal variation in times. Entrance is €8/adult, €2.5 for children 7-17, and free for children under 7.
Friends from the U.S. coming to visit us in Antwerp finally motivated us to try The Jane, one of Antwerp’s two 2-Michelin starred restaurants and Diner’s Club pick for one of the top 50 restaurants in the world. Occupying the converted chapel of a former military hospital, The Jane is a mere 10-minute walk from our Antwerp home-away-from-home. We’d walked by many times, even eyed their menu online, but the astronomical price and difficulty in getting reservations dissuaded us on previous stays. We had a 4-day window when our friends would be here and, sure enough, there were no reservations available at The Jane during this period. We put our name on the dinner wait list and were able to get a reservation after about 2 weeks. 8pm was the only dining time available, a little late for us given the length of the expected meal and our friends’ early departure the next day, but we jumped on the opportunity nevertheless.
We were greeted warmly at the hostess desk which faces the front door backed by a wall that closes off the main dining room from view. This provides diners with a theatrical first glimpse of the vaulted dining room dominated by a massive modern “chandelier,” a many branched glass-and-steel structure that spans most of the large space. Opposite the entrance, a wall of glass frames the bustling kitchen high above which a whimsical neon sign reads “CAN I STAY A LITTLE LONGER, I’M SO HAPPY HERE.”
The massive light fixture and avant garde decor really work with the backdrop of peeling, unpainted ceiling of the old church and quirky stained glass windows. [See lead photo above.] In keeping with The Jane’s reverential attitude towards fine cuisine, the kitchen occupies the former altar space.
A printed copy of the 14-course menu was on the table when we sat. Our first waiter arrived to ask for our aperitif choices, giving us 4 options (champagne and 3 signature cocktails), to go with the first amuse bouche courses. (We lost count of how many people waited on us over the course of the meal; I think it was a cast of 8 to 10 people.)
There was no printed description or price list for the drinks. Our preference for wine (a 2010 San Leonardo from Italy; cabernet sauvignon, carmenere, merlot; 95 points on Robert Parker) over aperitifs slowed things down a little, but the first 4 amuse bouches arrived relatively promptly.
Oddly, it was not until after a few of the amuse bouche courses that we were handed a menu with prices and options for the 13-course menu and wine pairings. This left us feeling a little off-balance and unsure of what to expect throughout the first portion of the meal, but was not a huge issue. We opted for the full 14 courses since choosing the 13-course menu (€20 cheaper) would have deprived us of the langoustine and cep course which really was a highlight. Good choice on our part. We declined the wine pairing options and one of our friends chose several bottles of wine.
The menu gives only a bare description of what to expect. There were many more ingredients and even extra little plates and bowls (and one drink) that appeared with each course. Each course was a treat for the eyes as well as the palate with a mind- and palate-boggling array of little flourishes and dollops and leaves and flowers and frozen pellets and gilded bits. Flavors were generally exquisite with my only quibble being that several were a touch too salty for me, which is unusual since I like salty foods. All in all, it was fun to explore our way through each dish although I readily admit to being unable to identify some of the tastes and ingredients on display. I’m not a professional food critic, so you get what you get with this post.
The prix fixe menus are in effect for 11 weeks with minor changes due to availability of ingredients. (The current menu only recently went into effect.) After an 11-week run, the staff takes a 2-week break and returns to a new seasonal menu that is in place for the next 11 weeks.
The current menu is very heavily weighted toward seafood proteins, which we loved, but which might be to everyone’s taste: ceviche, eel, mackerel, scallops, langoustine, shrimp, John Dory.
Only the poulet de Bresse (chicken) course, served with sweetbreads and a liver spread on chicken skin crisps, bucked this trend. Items are chef’s choice, although there are options offered to allow for allergies and dietary restrictions.
The only flaws: While service started out well and was always friendly and not at all stuffy, something went off-track later in the meal and we started experiencing long waits between courses. A couple of times, wine glasses were left empty for stretches as well. By 11pm, 3 hours into our meal, we still had many courses to go. We were in no hurry and fully expected and looked forward to an extended dining experience, but the lapses became too much. Eventually, we asked a waiter if we could get our three dessert courses at once since our friends had an early train to Amsterdam to catch a plane the next morning.
To The Jane staff’s credit, they did speed things up after we asked, even bringing the chocolate course ahead of the last dessert. The chocolate was a house-made La Esmeralda 74% dark chocolate bar with dried fruit and salt that came on a marble block with a special weighted tool for breaking the bar, tongs and a bag for taking home any extra pieces.
We finished dinner sometime after midnight and got the check around 12:30am. The slowed service at the end of the meal wasn’t enough to ruin our meal, but it was a surprising lapse in service by a restaurant of this caliber. It was a particular disappointment since, prior to things going awry, one of our foodie friends had just pronounced every course to that point flawless and the meal as one of the top ten of his life.
Another minor point: After 4+ hours of dining, the repetitive beat of the looping low-key techno-pop music starts to grate.
Practical info: Our total bill for four persons was €904: €600 for four 14-course fixed price menus, €34 for still and sparkling water throughout the meal, and €270 for 3 bottles of wine. Not something we’d do on a regular basis, but a night at The Jane is an experience as much as a meal.
Dress was smart casual with women wearing pants, skirts or dresses and men in slacks and sports coats, with or without ties, occasionally minus a jacket.
Find more info and book reservations or join wait lists on The Jane’s website. The Jane books full far in advance, but an initial back-up wait list lunch reservation came through for us in a matter of days (via an email which requires you to accept or deny a firm reservation). We waited about two weeks for to get a dinner reservation off the wait list. In that case, David called to see where we were on the list and was told they’d just had a cancellation and we were in for the 8pm time slot. (All that was available.) NOTE: The Jane requires a credit card to hold a reservation and there is a €50 per person charge for cancellations within 48 hours.
Allergies or diet restrictions can be accommodated, but there is a €15 charge if no advance notice is given.
There is a cheaper Upper Room Bar at The Jane where a maximum of four persons can make reservations for drinks, etc. two weeks in advance. Again, find more info on that on The Jane’s website. (Click the top center graphic to get the drop down menu.)
Het Anker (“The Anchor”) Brewery in Mechelen, Belgium, makes the highly-rated Gouden Carolus beers along with several other varieties. David and I had been to their café before and knew we liked their beers, but hadn’t had the chance to tour the brewery. So, when we called on a recent Sunday and heard there were two open spots for the 1pm tour–and none others for the rest of the day–, we dropped everything and headed to the train station and the 10-minute ride from Antwerpen-Berchem to Mechelen. A quick walk, and we arrived just in time for the €8pp tour.
The brewery sits on the edge of the historic center of Mechelen and actually occupies part of the red brick complex that formerly housed religious ladies known as beguines or begijns in Dutch. Like other beguinages/begijnhofs in Belgium, the Mechelen beguinage has been designated as a UNESCO world heritage. [Mechelen is a beautiful little town and free of the tourist hordes that plague other popular Belgian cities. You can read my raves about Mechelen here.]
Our tour (in both English and Dutch) took us through the main “tower” building which, although newer than the beguinhof, is a historical site itself. We went straight upstairs to the malt silos where a bar with barley malt, corriander, cumin, licorice and other items were on display and passed around to give an idea of the flavors that go into the various Het Anker beers. Our guide a rather opinionated and no-nonsense man, scolded a woman in the back for talking while he was talking, not realizing, I think, that she was translating. I understand both of their situations, but it made for an uncomfortable moment.
From there, we viewed gorgeous old copper tuns and a display of old bottles under a lineup of past and present Het Anker owners. Our guide was very critical of the previous owner (who wished to promote pils-style beers) and praised the current owner who wrested control of the business away from his relative to focus on craft-type beers of stronger and more unique flavors and character. I have to admit my own beer tastes side with the current owner (who lives in a red brick house in front of the brewery and next door to the café and tasting room).
Our tour took us past an old copper “radiator” for cooling beer, a device no longer permitted under European Union regulations since it exposes the beer to the open air. According to our guide, only the lambic brewers who rely on wild ambient yeast are exempted from this rule.
Bottling methods were also on display via sample machinery and video.
A final stop brought us to a large open-air coolship (unused due to those pesky EU rules) perched on the roof of the tower and offering a view of the town.
Descending back to ground level, our guide led us to the tasting room located upstairs in the café building. There, at a long table, we were given two 15cl beers: the Gouden Carolus Tripel and the Gouden Carolus Classic, a Belgian dark beer. David and I have enjoyed Gouden Carolus beers on many occasions. I’ll quote the brewery on these two beers as I have no disputes with their descriptions.
Het Anker offers the following about its Gouden Carolus Tripel: “Despite the technological advances, this beer is brewed according to ancient tradition and unites, as before, the best raw materials from our soil as ripe barley and fine hops, to preserve a maximum of pure flavor. This beer was originally brewed for the Knights of the Golden Fleece in 1491.
Full graceful tenderness, with a clean and neat taste, this beer will enchant you: matured in the bottle, exclusively obtained from pale malt, highly fermented and 100% natural. With a full-bodied flavor that still works thirst quenching, thanks to a balanced hopping. For ideal savouring, gently pour out in one fluent movement, at a temperature of 5-7° C (41-45°F). This pleasant golden blond beer is preferred by all who loves heavier, somewhat seasoned and refreshing beer.
This tripel is world-class. Already in 2002 this beer won the Gold Award at the biennial World Beer Cup in the category ‘Tripel’. In 2010 this beer won gold at the European Beer Star in the category ‘Belgian Style Tripel’. In 2012, again followed the gold award for best Tripel beer in the world (“World’s Best Belgian-Style Tripel”).”
Het Anker describes the Gouden Carolus Classic as: “Dark, very balanced dosed caramel and aromatic malts provide, in combination with a traditional high fermentation, a unique beer that unites the warmth of wine and the freshness of beer. This makes it very suitable in combination with culinary specialties such as stews, wild, pates and even sabayon.
Following earlier prestigious awards, this beer was selected “Worlds’ Best Dark Ale” (WBA, 2012).”
Our fellow beer fans were from many countries: Turkey, Greece, Italy, the Netherlands, U.S. and many more. We enjoyed chatting over our excellent beers, then David and I walked the few steps to snag a table at the café for a much-needed late lunch. Although we’d enjoyed a previous dinner at the café (of traditional Belgian beef-and-beer stew and a fish plate), I’m sorry to report that we found our lunchtime hamburgers truly awful. The bun was good and the side salad was fine, but the meat was an odd and unidentifiable tan mix fried in oil. Never again. (This wasn’t the first Belgian hamburger we’ve found to be off-putting. Maybe it’s just a case of “different strokes for different folks.”) Oh well, the beers we chose to accompany the food were excellent, so all was not lost.
Practical Stuff: Start to finish, our tour and tasting took about an hour and a half or a little more. Individual tours of the Het Anker Brewery are offered Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday at 11.00 am, and Friday, Saturday and Sunday at 11.00 am and 1.00 pm. The cost is € 8 per person, € 2 for children under 12 years old. Two 15 cl beers or one soft drink are included with the tour price. Advance booking is strongly advised. There’s a form (in Dutch) online to request a reservation. (The brewery will respond to confirm or not.) or call 0032 15 28 71 41. Group tours are available daily with reservation.