Last Orders? You're having a laugh!

Belgium, well certainly the fair city of Antwerp which I now call my home, is a wondrous place with many delights, the wonderful architecture, the grand history, the beautiful museums, are all reason enough to come for a visit.

But I'm not here to tell you about any of that - there are plenty of websites out there to cater for that kind of insight into Antwerp and beyond. Instead, I would like to concentrate on that most wondrous of Belgian innovations.
24 hour drinking.

For yes, while the UK procrastinates (there's that word again) on the evil that would be unleashed if 24 hour drinking was to become a possibility, Belgium just merely gives a continental shrug of the shoulders and gets on with the matter in hand.

And here's the thing - you very rarely see drunk people, fights, or any of the other sins that would surely be unleashed in the UK an dIreland if the folks back home where to embrace such a thing.

And this is one of the reasons why I love this place.

Not merely the fact that I can get absolutely shitfaced all night long and carry it on into the next day if I so wished (and on occasion have been known to do so) but it is the nonchalant manner in which the Belgians accept this as a way of life. The average Belgian does not go out on their night out until after 11pm. 11pm!! In so many pubs up and down the land in the UK and Ireland, this is when that wonderful tradition of being “asked” to leave the premises by a couple of Neanderthals kicks off.

Premises that had once seemed so welcoming just a few rounds ago are now more like rugby scrums.

Compare this with the Belgian attitude of "drink less volume, drink stronger, drink longer, go home when you feel like it" and you soon see that the two attitudes are worlds apart. Don't get me wrong - it must be a real bitch if you work in the horeca (hotel restaurant cafe) trade, the hours must be horrendous, but it's great if you're on the other side of the bar and in no rush to go home.

However, the average night out in Belgium is fraught with danger and this is the main reason for this "bloglet". So if you're thinking about coming over from the UK and Ireland or further afield were drinking is regulated with some form of closing, please read this little print off and keep guide to having a night out Belgian style.

1. The most important rule - if you remember one thing, remember this - "It's a marathon - not a sprint!" Like I said, 24 hour drinking ensures that there is more than enough time.
2. There are several hundred different Belgian beers, most of them are over 5% alcoholic strength. Some even go as high as 12%
3. A standard beer or pils, such as Stella or Juplier, weighs in at 5.5%. They are called "pintjes" (pronounced "pinch-yas"). And are only 250 ml, less than half the volume of a normal pint back from home. It is not a dent to your macho but oh so fragile male pride to drink these small glasses. It's a marathon - not a sprint!
4. Once the beer gets to be too much, you can go onto spirits, but it should be worth noting that these are bloody expensive as I've found out all too late after a session on the Irish whiskeys. But hey - the lure of a Black Bush proves too great for your humble scribe.
5. Jenvers are another drink to be found in abundance in Belgium. It is a juniper berry based liquor and there are several hundreds of these to be sampled as well. Most notably at de Vagant, very close to the impressive cathedral in Antwerp's old town. (http://www.worldsbestbars.com/city/antwerp/de-vagant-antwerp.htm) My own particular weapon of choice being a Cristal pintje with a Vieux D'Anvers jenever. Many a trip into oblivion taken with this lethal combination
6. And remember, no last orders - so no panic buying, no speed drinking, no.....ah fuck it - why do I bother?... if you see me on a night out, don’t but me drink – I’ll have had enough already – just put me back upright on my barstool!

Procrastination - the curse of the blogger

OK Folks,

It's taken me quite some time to add to this blog and for that I can only apologise.

The problem is that once it was all set up, I got quite intimidated at the prospect of trying to create something that people would find (a) interesting and (b) encourage them to take part and add to this fledgling part of cyberspace.

But I have seen the light and the light was shining at the bottom of a bottle of a fine Chilean red wine and I am now at ease with myself and my blog, which through time, I would hope will become our blog.

So armed with a bit of Dutch courage, all be it of a South American origin, I shall endeavour to pick up the pieces of a broken blog and bring it kicking and screaming back from the brink, phoenix style.

Instead of trying to dispense great pearls of wisdom, I shall write whatever comes into my mind. Yes it may be trivial, indeed it may also be boring although heaven forbid that that should happen - my website becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy of itself. I'm sure there's a moral in there somewhere.

You may have noticed by the date and time stamp on this post that, it has been written on a Friday evening. “Dear God!” I hear you all scream - Belgium really must be boring if the poor guy is sat in his compact but bijou apartment all on his own writing this crap. But au contraire, Dear Reader, far from it and this is what this little bit of cyberspace will hopefully help dispel.

I am of course just about to head out into the Antwerp night with beautiful chick in tow.
Honest.

This blog was brought to you in association with Pink Floyd - "Wish you were here"

Getting back to the topic in hand

OK – in the last couple of blogs I have strayed slightly from the original topic. I felt the need to do that in order to share with you the stage I am at in my life. A brief recap for those at the back:

I am from Ireland

I am 32 years young

I am living in Belgium

I am obviously trying my best to come to terms with the fact that I am in my early thirties and am still single. God I feel like the male equivalent to a character from Sex and The City…you know the one – the one that wears the weird clothes and one that writes even weirder articles



So having laid these foundations I feel that is more than time to get back to the matter in hand:



Belgium Is Boring



Let’s debate this matter further…..or rather let me write what I think on the matter and you out there, the Discerning Surfer, can respond with your own thoughts.

The Life and Times of Being a Minger Magnet

It is my intention that this little corner of cyberspace that I reside in will evolve and grow as we get more familiar with each other. I am quite alien to the concept of keeping a journal for myself, never mind for the more discerning internet surfer out there.



The fact that you are here reading these words, is already a comfort to me. It is reassuring to know that in this crazy place we call planet earth there are other people who share my interests



Today’s topic – Mingers. Or more importantly, my ability to attract them. Don’t get me wrong. Ugly people could (and should) find love as well but at the risk of sounding facetious and arrogant - I’m not really in the market for an ugly person just yet.



Sure of course this may change as loneliness and desperation set in but in the meantime, I’m just happy being my own person again and doing what I want and when I want. OK - granted that’s not much different compared with when I was in a relationship. “Ahhaaaaa!!!” I hear you crying out loud at your monitors, “that’s your problem BIBMaster – that’s why you find yourself emotionally scarred as you so obviously are, stumbling through the scattered landscape of broken hearts and shattered dreams!”.



But why say that? Why shouldn’t I be able to do what I want? (within reason of course). I am quite happy with my Mrs. Right doing what she wants just so long as our paths cross every now and then and we acknowledge each other’s existence from time to time and we’re not hurting each other, I see no harm in it.



I feel the need to back up this with an example. For instance – if I would like to go to the pub and watch some football with my mates on a Wet Wednesday in November – is that really such a crime? If Mrs. Right would want to go out with her mates to, let’s say for argument’s sake to shop I certainly wouldn’t stand in the way. I’m a man of the 21st century. I believe that Mrs. Right should be entitled to enjoy and pursue her interests without fear of recrimination from me, the loving Mr. Right.



Surely this is how it should be? Am I really that wrong?



But getting back to the original topic – Mingers need not apply.

Unlucky in love

OK Folks, I realise that we are only at the formative stages of our friendship. The “getting to know you” stage so to speak, but of course with all good friendships, we need to open ourselves up just a little in order to find out a bit about each other. What makes us tick.



I understand your reticence at doing such a thing – I mean, after all, who in their right mind would open up to a guy (or is it girl?) that hides behind the moniker of “BIBMaster”? Apart from the fact that it sounds like some sort of weird BDSM title, you also have to wonder at the motives behind an individual who hides behind such a nickname.



No offence taken – as I said I understand completely; so I’ll get the ball rolling by letting you into my world. A glimpse of what it’s like to be a young(ish) ex-pat living in Belgium, unlucky in love and on the search for his “Mrs. Right.” OK – so I’ve let the cat out of the bag now – I’m male – but see? – this is the sort of thing that I’m talking about. The getting to know you phase is already in full effect!



First of all, I’ve met many Mrs. Rights along the way. In fact they are everywhere. The problem is that it just seems that I’m their Mr. Wrong.



Of course this rather important fact is not always obvious at the start and it is only after going through the trials and tribulations of a relationship before we (read she) decides that the novelty of having an Irish boyfriend starts to wear off.



The hectic social calendar, the large circle of friends, the love of sports, partying and in general just having fun seemingly proving to be too much for my Mrs. Right and off she runs to the safe haven of a “normal boyfriend” (whatever that is) or at the very least one of those rabbit vibrators that I’ve heard so much about, come to think of it, usually from ex-girlfriends.



But hey, I’m not bitter and it would be churlish of me to rake up the twisted car wrecks of previously failed relationships.



I mean – I don’t want to scare you all off just yet, do I?

A Lesson in irony

As I have already said, this whole BelgiumIsBoring is supposed to be IRONIC. Do you get it? Probably not - but that is OK. It is not your fault 'Mijnheer / Mevrouw Irate Belgian'; it’s just one of the cards that fate has dealt you when you were born under that Black, Yellow and Red flag.



Let me explain.



When God made us all in His own image, everything was good.



But then we had those nutcases throw a spanner in the whole works by building their bloody great big tower in Babylon trying to get to heaven and before we know it, we’re all speaking in languages other than English.

(Of course everyone was speaking English beforehand!)



Some of us started wearing clogs and drinking milk, others thinking that eating onions, wearing berets and developing a lack of spine is suddenly en vogue; whilst even more others begin dumbing down with each generation born, talking loudly about things they don’t understand whilst mis-pronouncing words like aluminium (It’s AL-YOO-MIN-EEE-UMM for those in any doubt)



The Irish were 'blessed' with a frankly frightening capacity for alcohol consumption with an even more capacity for talking crap, largely with these two traits existing as all too comfortable bedfellows.



Our near neighbours, the English, were of course blessed with an endearing sense of travelling the seven seas, claiming anything they saw or came into contact with as their own. Not an entirely original idea, but for a while there, they became pretty damn good at it.

Until of course the natives, rather understandably, started rebelling once they realised their’s was a future that involved standing in orderly queues, suffering crap weather and following a crap football team and decided that this was not for them.



And then we come to the Belgians.



As time rolled on with each passing century the inhabitants of Europe went on a bit of a wander, occupying wherever they saw fit. Whether the locals liked it or not. For a lot of these wanderings, the locals would have been the Belgians (although of course we all know that the whole concept of a Belgian was only introduced to the world just a few short decades ago).



Sited where they are in the centre of Western Europe, the little piece of land that is now known as Belgium, has been a favourite hunting ground for all sorts of warmongers to take out their frustrations and have a bit of a scrap.



So there you have it – the Belgians were blessed with location. I suppose you could go as far as to say they’re the European equivalent of a 'Behind the Bike Sheds' of Europe with a short commute to the city and within driving distance to the airport, the coast and the big multi-cinema and retail village complex just erected on recently reclaimed green belt.



Rather unsurprisingly this has lead to a bit of an inferiority complex amongst your typical Belgian with national pride coming way down on a list of priorities that includes smothering their fries in bucket loads of mayonnaise, followed by indulging in mountains of chocolates and then washing it all down with vast amounts of life-threatening strength beer.



Does the life of a Belgian citizen really toe the stereotypical line?



As an ex-pat, I came to Belgium without knowing much more about Belgium other than the three things I have just outlined, save for perhaps the footballers Jean-Marie Pfaff and Enzo Scifo, and the fact that Anderlecht used to be a good team, Brugge played my beloved Liverpool in a final at Wembley and that Royal Antwerp FC played in a final at Wembley some time later.



We, as ex-pats have this rather arrogant attitude towards Europe and unfortunately many of us are of the opinion that Switzerland is the most boring country in Europe, with Belgium a very close 2nd. Hopefully with this ironically titled corner of cyberspace I will help to dispel these rumours.



Although if anything - I’m more likely to end up having everyone running off to Switzerland for Toblerone and cuckoo clocks. Because that’s all they do there, am I right?

A disclaimer to the country of Belgium

Originally from Ireland, I now find myself living in Antwerp, Belgium after spending a few years working in a few different places – some of them glamorous (Gothenberg, Boston, Frankfurt and Milan), some of them less glamorous (Basingstoke, Welwyn Garden City, Manchester and Slough – no offence David Brent).



After graduating from university back home, I started a job with a company that sent me to Belgium on my first day of employment for what was supposed to be 4 weeks intensive training.

A total of 1 year and 1 day later they moved me on to England, for rasons to this day I’m still not sure of.



Now, ten years later, my life has turned full circle and I now find myself back in Antwerp again where I have donated a further 3 years of my precious life to Belgium and all that it has to offer.



This time however, was different.



This time, it was my choice to come here.



This time, I wasn’t some lazy good-for-nothing student, dreading the prospect of dedicating the next 40 years of his life to hard work and effort to actually BECOMING something but having resigned himself to the fact that it was what was sort of expected of him.



This time, I came to Belgium as a *sort of* well-travelled young man approaching his thirtieth year ready to settle down and build a life in a country where I felt I could be comfortable.



So there you have it – before I get all sorts of comments from irate Belgians (is there really such a thing that exists?) – I actually LIKE Belgium!



The whole “BelgiumIsBoring” thing is actually a wonderful example of that IRONIC humour that we are so famous for. “We” being the native English speaking people that inhabit those islands that look and let’s face it - sometimes behave like - a chip on the shoulder of Mainland Europe.



Ladies and Gentlemen of Belgium and beyond I give you……



THE BELGIUM IS BORING BLOG!

The Belgium is Boring Blog is Born!

Welcome to our Website!!



Belgium Is Boring (BIB) is a collection of endless rants from an obviously frustrated ex-pat, who has spent too many of the best years of his still young life living in that hotbed of bureaucracy - Belgium - or the 'Belly of the Beast' as we here at BIB like to think of it.



This person, who shall be forever known as The BIB-Master, in order to protect the guilty, will inform you - the waifs and strays of Cyberworld that have stumbled across this darkest corner of cyberspace, of the trials and tribulations of living as an ex-pat in the second largest city of Belgium, and diamond capital of the world - Antwerp.



Now whilst there are loads of ex-pat websites out there concerned with Brussels, and all the nonsense that goes on in that 'shitty'; it may come as a surprise to you Dearest Surfer that there is actually more to Belgium than a city full of civil servants doing bugger all to 'earn' their tax-payers provided salaries.



Granted there is not a lot more, but the BIB Masters would like to set the record straight - Just because Brussels is shit, doesn't mean that the rest of the country is as well.



Actually - a lot of it is, but we'll try not to dwell on that too much.



Updated on a totally sporadic nature depending on how pissed off our poor Belgian correspondent is, this website provides a therapeutical soundboard for our hapless reporter. Not to mention avoiding the high cost of psychiatric help that would otherwise be required.



So tune in regularly and please feel free to contact the BIB-Master with your own stories and contributions. He's obviously quite lonely and would love to hear from you...