On the annual lad’s trip in 2014 we decided to visit a new European country; hence I made my debut foray to Belgium and the city of Brussels. For time saving purposes based on an overall 48-hour jaunt, we took the flight and discounted the Eurostar option.
Brussels is the capital of Belgium and has grown exponentially since the Second World War and has become a major centre for international politics and the unofficial capital of the European Union. The Grand-Place in the centre is a UNESCO World heritage site, and it is a very impressive sight when lit up in the evening and we frequented a couple of bars surrounding there. Jez Catlow and I, who is a fellow connoisseur of foreign dramas kept referencing Salamander, a fine drama about a bank heist based in Brussels that we had both recently watched.
On our meanderings, we passed the same shop window a few times, where they had on display gold waving maneki-neko fortune cats, which we obviously had to wave at on each passing, the last time when returning rather late at night! Around teatime we found a restaurant where I had possibly the biggest bowl of spaghetti sauce ever, it was rather delicious.
Maneki-neko cat. Image Credit pinterest.com.mx
In the afternoon, one of the chaps had noticed a sign outside a club advertising English psych rock that very evening, so we stored that away for future reference. With me as a cheer leader we returned later to investigate and identified that the club in question was Brussels Madame Moustache.
Madame Moustache is a neo-cabaret venue located on Place Sainte Catherine in the Ste-Catherine area. There is a sun terrace bar outside where you can sit on beach chairs by the canal during the day, and have a cold beer served through a hatch.
At night, it transforms into a club open until 4am, with the musical slant being in the hip hop and funk and soul domain and they hold occasional gigs. I read on recent reviews that they have bizarrely begun to charge punters for the sheer temerity of wanting to visit the lavatory. I also gleaned that the venue is currently shut due to a recent fire.
Brussels Madame Moustache. Image Credit flickr.com
I am assuming the club is named after Eleanor Dumont (born Simone Jules) in 1829, who was a legendary gambler on the American Frontier, especially during the Gold Rush. Perhaps it is a surprise that Neil Young didn’t pen a tune about her! She was known as Madame Moustache due to the appearance of a line of dark hair on her upper lip and she owned a gambling parlour in Nevada, California and became known as ‘the woman dealer’.
We decided to take a punt to enter the establishment and I am so glad we did as the band playing was the Cult of Dom Keller from Nottingham. We caught about three quarters of their barnstorming set and had a brief chat with them afterwards. They were lovely lads and informed us that this was their final date on their first ever European tour.
Cult of Dom Keller. Image Credit ents24.com
On Day 2, we escorted one of the crew Tony Dewhurst on the train down to the port destination of Ostend, as he was off to see Killing Joke in a leisure centre near the town. Ostend had a beach and a seaside faded grandeur vibe about it and there are still ferries available to the town from Ramsgate, Hull and Dover.
We located a bookies, which is unusual for a European city which enabled us to have a bet on the Scottish Grand National taking place that day. We watched it in a nearby bar and got chatting to a group of football fans whose team was playing Ostend. They were fascinated by our reaction to our local rivals Blackpool being hammered and we ended up teaching them some radio ‘unfriendly’ anti-Blackpool chants.
At a later point, returning from the afore mentioned bookmakers I heard these lads unprompted singing one of the newly learnt ditties whilst heading down the street, thus let it never be said that I am not a fierce advocate of fostering good relations and shared interests with our European counterparts!
Tony headed off to his gig and we jumped back onto the train and grabbed the opportunity of one more stop on the line to take in the sights of the pretty town of Bruges. It was a proper chocolate-box place, and I would like to return at some stage for a more extended visit.
We did however struggle a tad navigating a route from the train station as there didn’t appear to be a natural path through to the town unless we completely missed it! On our return journey we followed a chap with an old-fashioned beat box who led us like a pied piper back to the station and then onto the ongoing train returning to Brussels.
