The Belgium Story: Part 3

The man who sat next to me at the game offered me his cigarettes and half of the pear he was eating. I was sitting under the incessant drizzle at the historic centre of Ghent, my eyes glued upon the big screen, and hopes still clenched on a Latin American victory.With each German goal, the man would jump up in delight. Then he would turn around to commiserate with me drowning me in a cloud of cigarette smoke. This was a strange world cup! I watched it in five towns, under scorching sun or downpour, sometimes over a chilled beer and sometimes craning my neck over the shoulders and heads on the street-side. But no matter what i did, each team I had my bet on would leave the ground their heads hung low.

I left my dead drunk, cigarette smelling and now happy companion, to resume my walk around Ghent.I have been walking the whole day- a city map open in my hands. I must have been quite a sight!-- turning the map in all directions, bumping into something every ten feet and almost standing on top of map to decide where I am.But, Ghent is worth losing your way in.

The city of Ghent is located at the confluence of two rivers Scheldt and Lys.Like many riverside towns, it flourished upon trade, especially that of wool and cloth. Around the 13th and 14th centuries Ghent was the largest city in Europe after Paris. The trading history of the city had its highs and lows- punctuated by many wars and rebellions.Today's Ghent is a rather busy city and the capital of East Flanders province of Belgium. While its canal cruises and walking tours are as magical as those of Brugge, Ghent is real city. Her busy streets, university, markets and the cosmopolitan crowd, spill into the guide book tourism walks.

The night I reached Belgium, when Reuben took me for a stroll around Ghent, we walked through the city's red light district.It is located on the "Glazen straatje" or the small street of glass. The street was literally flooded in red light. As in Amsterdam, the sex workers of Ghent are registered professionals with access to many health programs run by the state. Unlike in Amsterdam, pimping is made illegal in Ghent, with the idea that the earnings are not filtered through the hands of the middlemen and drug peddlers.It was the first red light I ever saw. Behind each shop display window a woman stood combing her hair or watching passers by awaiting her customers.I must say I felt rather strange and it was more due to the oddity of seeing live human beings in a space where you are used to mannequins.

The skyline of Ghent is dominated by three towers- those of the St. Bavo's cathedral, the Belfry and the St. Nicholas church. The cathedrals of Belgium present themselves elegantly. They are in sharp contrast with the Manueline 'monstrosities' of Portugal. Forgive my prejudice!The heavily ornate windows and stone ropes and grapevines of Manueline architecture are delightful enough. But once inside these churches the skillful architecture is drowned in a loud display of Brazilian gold- and all the intricacies of design are lost in a sickly yellow glow.

Well, The cathedrals of Belgium, that i saw are from before the time when the loot from Congo started flowing in. The St. Bavo's is a mixture of Romanesque, Gothic and Baroque styles marked by different construction phases that spread over six centuries. The last phase of construction was completed in the second half of 16th century.The cathedral is noted for its high stained-glass windows.The black marble is used to great effect in presenting the delicate oak-wood and stone decorations. Paintings of van Eyck and Rubens adorn its altars.

As I wandered inside the cathedral, chords of music struck my ears. There in a side-room behind the main altar sat a man with white beard, with a harp in his hands and eyes closed in concentration. He played oblivious to the throngs of visitors who would come to a standstill at the door, too captivated to move on.

Fine music was encountered at the most unexpected places in Belgium.Once it was a street guitarist in-front of the Basilica of the Holy Blood in Brugge. And another time ,a lone saxophonist standing amidst a crowded street in Antwerp, playing 'Lara's theme' as the busy Sunday shoppers went about their way.

(cont...)