Parsnips, bicycles and knitting: Antwerp

Fully laden with our gear we sheltered from the rain, hunched under a sagging tarpaulin as a group of large, heavy-set Belgium stevedores puffed up the ladder.

It was time to leave the Rickmers Singapore and step on our first European soil for nine months.


The weather was foul but the stevedores didn’t seem to notice as they boarded the ship. Sporting dirty old orange boiler suits and grimy helmets, each had a pudgy, weatherbeaten face, a smoldering dog-end poking out from it, clamped between yellowing teeth.

They looked like miners setting off to face down the Maggie Thatcher in the 1980s, and we let them pass before it was our turn to totter down the slippery ladder to the waiting taxi below.

The cab was soon speeding us away from the quay, weaving between piles of split timbers, rotting ropes and all the other detritus of the dockside.

A large crane swung low, its cargo swooping in front of us causing the cabbie to swerve. Health and safety didn’t seem to be of great importance around here.

Neither did security, as we zipped about the enormous port apparently at will before finally exiting onto a highway, no barrier, no officials, no anything.

I looked back at the forest of cranes receding into the distance, the mountains of heavy containers, the little trucks with their flashing lights and the little workers in their dayglo jackets scuttling about under the heavy sky.

Perhaps China didn’t have it all – this port was just as big as those we’d seen back in Yantian and Hong Kong.

It's vital to Belgium – the country wouldn’t exist without Antwerp we were told by a local – and to Europe as a whole.

Along with Rotterdam, just over the Dutch border, and Hamburg, this port is one of Europes’s arteries, a lifeline between the continent and the rest of the planet.

Heading into town, soaking in new sights and sounds, we started to adjust once more to new surroundings.

There were red car number plates, imposing and timeworn buildings, strange and unpronounceable Flemish words.

The grid-patterned streets on the map have been replaced by a mess of wonky angles and confusing dead-ends; the broad, confident American voices have been usurped by a odd combination of European tongues.

There’s Flemish, heavy, awkward-sounding and, well phlegmy; Dutch, similarly impenetrable and unwelcoming; French, language of their Walloon compatriots and even English, a reminder that England lies just over the water.

Even people’s faces seem to be different, and far more interesting too. There’s not so many flat round faces here, instead there’s more angles, more dark shapes under the eyes.

Faces look more lived-in, as if they have been outdoors more, weathering the elements on their bicycles rather than opting for the air-conditioned comfort of a large SUV.

Perhaps the greatest difference though only became apparent when we spoke to people. I was amazed by the difference in attitudes and the general outlook which people seemed to hold.

We were back amongst ancient European enmities, built upon centuries of fractious relationships between tribes, kingdoms and nation states.

It didn’t take long to hear what Belgiums thought of the Dutch (and vice versa), nor did it take much persuasion to learn what the average Flemish Belgian made of their Walloon neighbours.

After two months in the US, that great melting pot of cultures where everyone pulls together under one flag it seemed very strange, almost petty.

There was little of that hearty American welcome here either, the smiley, friendly can-I-help-you American service was replaced by haughtiness, in some places almost barely disguised dislike.

Perhaps it was our dishevelled appearances after ten days at sea and ten months on the road, but I’ve never visited a town where more waiters turned their noses up at us.

At least we found a warm welcome with our couchsurfing hosts, Walter and Vera, an entertaining Belgium couple who are keen on cycling and absolutely obsessed with knitting.

Whilst the former hobby was no great surprise in a country such as this the latter was more curious.

Wool lay around the place in great heaps, there were huge scarfs galore and we couldn’t leave without stuffing several of their products into our backpacks.

What is it about wool? Surely it can’t be very practical in all this rain.

I wondered about this as Walter lent me a bike and peddled to their nearby allotment in search of dinner.

Their plot was muddy, given a good soaking in a recent downpour, and I enthusiastically joined him in harvesting parsnips.

Walter told me Belgians consider parsnips to be rather old-fashioned. I was shocked – surely not, how could they attach such an appellation to the mighty, immortal parsnip, the King of the vegetable world?

Parsnips, bicycles, allotments: It all felt strangely like home.

The next morning we found that the miserable drizzle had given way to beautiful sunny weather.

We rode the tram into town and made for the huge cathedral, standing proud in the centre. It’s a massive edifice, which took two hundred year to build, funded entirely by voluntary donation, I was told.

Inside the vast vaulted interior rang with sombre organ music; visitors and the faithful spoke in low voices and admired the Rubens hanging above the altar.

A local lad, Peter Paul, along with other Flemish masters (surely this is the name of a darts tournament?) cropped up several times in our visits to various churches and cathedrals.

I tried my best but found them all a bit grim. Give me one of the many fine Belgium comics or graphic novels anyday.

A couple of hours later we found ourselves at the Groot Markt, an impressive square surrounded by fine mercantile buildings all squashed together.

I craned my neck up at their crow-stepped steps, topped off with golden statues denoting their specific trade.

They couldn’t speak louder about how vital the port is to Antwerp, a city built on trade. “Without the port”, Walter told us, “Antwerp would not exist.’

And it would be considerably duller as well. The port has given the city, alongside many other things, a very interesting ethnic mix.

Besides the Flems and the Walloons, there’s a Chinatown (like in many ports), plus a sizeable community of Orthodox Jews (many here for the diamond business) and more recent immigrants, such as Moroccans and Congolese (a former colony).

All this sightseeing had given us a thirst and it seemed a fine time to sample the local fare.

This being Belgium we were keen to try their famous beers and soon we were supping on bollekes (those wide-bottom Belgian beer glasses) of De Koninck, one of the many local ales.

A large stag party of Dutch fellows larked about in the square, apparently touring the hostelries on scooters – it all seemed very European.

Suitably oiled up we stopped by a chip stand for another Belgium speciality – pommes frites, deep-fried twice (to give them an added crispiness) and drowned in mayonnaise.

I don’t know who thought of this idea but it works a treat. Can’t see it catching on back home though.

Maybe we should try it with parsnips…







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How to…travel around China

With an area of nearly 10 million square kilometres and a population of over a billion, a good public transport system is essential to China. We have been surprised and relieved at how easy it has been to get around.

Trains
Travelling by train in China is the best way to see the bits in between; the real life away from the sights and cities. However, catching a train is manic and buying a ticket a trial. It’s a very Chinese experience.

You can only buy tickets from the city you are departing from. In Shanghai main station this is at window 43 and in Beijing main station it’s at the window labelled ’foreigners’. You can also buy tickets at ticket booking offices in town or from your hostel, for a small commission. Staff at train stations rarely speak English so get a local (such as hostel staff) to write down your destination and desired class of travel in Chinese before you go. You can find train routes and timetables at http://www.chinatripadvisor.com/ or http://www.china-train-ticket.com/.

There are five classes of train travel: soft sleeper, hard sleeper, soft seat, hard seat, standing. The quality of each depends on the age of the train. The Z trains are the best, with T and D being the next best. We went for soft sleeper on a Z train, or should I say hotel on tracks, from Shanghai to Beijing. We were sharing with Mr Chair and a woman who’s husband lived in Shanghai (she lived in Beijing), in an air conditioned berth with clean, crisp sheets, duvets, towels and two pillows each. You are given complimentary slippers (useful in the rather sloppy toilet) and a flask of boiling water to make tea and pot noodles [475yuan, 12 hours]. From Beijing to Xi’an we took another Z but this time an older model and only managed to get beds in a hard sleeper carriage. It’s not called hard because the beds are hard (they’re not) but because it is hard to sleep. You are squeezed in with five others in a cabin that doesn’t have a door. Not great for security or slumber. Only one pillow this time and no slippers, but the flask of boiling water remains. Our third and final train was a K from Xi‘an to Kunming. Steam engines may have gone out in 2000, but the rest of this train was pure 80’s. We were in soft sleeper with one pillow, no towel or slippers and a lot of Trans-Siberian Railway style chintz. The problem wasn’t so much the cabin as the brakes. This wasn’t a hotel but more of a chicken shed on wheels. To slow down or stop the brakes would be suddenly clamped on lurching everyone forward. In my disturbed sleep I imagined us dropping off a cliff. That said, this was the best journey of them all. Forty two hours watching China change as we headed north to south. We passed people ploughing paddy fields with water buffalo, men smoking skinny pipes on the stoop, tiny coal mines, smoky factories and deep limestone ravines eaten away by jade rivers. Further south women were carrying pails of water on yoke sticks, farmers harvested corn in the fields and set the chaff ablaze into the night sky. There are so many people here to watch and as Paul Theroux noted ‘a hill is not a hill in China, it is a vertical way of growing rice.’

Soft seats are normally recliners, hard seats are wooden benches and if you can’t get anything else you can buy a ticket to stand in the hard seat carriage. Upgrading looked to be an easy process. On our journey from Xi’an to Kunming most of the train disembarked at Chongching giving us the cabin to ourselves. A stroll down the train to an empty bed you fancy and a chat with the carriage attendant should enable you to upgrade.

There is reams of information on how to prepare for the Trans Siberian Railway but very little on the Chinese Railways. So, bring toilet paper, soap, food and drink. Hot water is available for tea and noodles and a food cart is wheeled up the corridors regularly selling meals and snacks. The meals are good. In hard sleeper cabins there is only one light so take a torch to read and ear plugs and an eye mask to block out the light and piped music, which starts early.

When catching your train leave plenty of time get to the station (city transport and roads are unpredictable) and to go through the departure procedure. Allow 30 minutes to an hour before boarding time to put your bags through security scanners and to work out where to go in the gargantuan train stations. The neon board will give the departure lounge number for your train. From here you will be told thirty minutes before departure which platform you need and then the scrum beings. This is a remarkable and unforgettably Chinese experience. A trainfull of passengers all pushing, shoving and elbowing their way to their carriage so that they can be the first on the train. The scrum is all over in ten minutes and then you can leisurely stroll on and find your berth. I don’t understand the rush, all tickets are numbered. Once the train has departed the carriage attendant will swap your ticket for a plastic card. She will then wake you up an hour before arrival to swap it back again. Another unfathomable feature of train travel in China.

Buses
Where there are no trains there are buses. Big ones, small ones, express ones and sleeper ones. During our limited travels in Yunnan province, the roads were pretty good and the buses frequent and adequate. Turn up at the station on the day of travel to buy your ticket. The sleeper bus is a new phenomenon to me - beds instead of seats on a bus. It’s not as bad as I thought although I offer the following tips:
*Board at the point of origin and arrive early to get seats at the front of the bus (minimises the impact of bumps) by a window (for views and to control air flow);
*Take a pillowcase or T-shirt to put over the pillow. The mattress and bedding are filthy;
*Use the seatbelt. It’s the only way to stop yourself being propelled into the air over every bump (we were at the back). I fastened it tight around my waist and arms and slept on my back;
*Use the duvet as a pillow/padding to prevent your head being bashed against the sides when cornering; and
*Don’t drink very much. The bus has no toilet but does make occasional stops.
As a bonus on the bigger buses and journeys over 3 hours you will normally be treated to a film that features at least three kung-fu sequences.

Around town
Beijing and Shanghai have excellent, if not heaving, underground networks. City buses are slow but to the point and can be packed to a rib crushing density. Taxis are affordable, but of course, bike is best.

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How to…travel around Japan

Japan is easy to travel around, thanks to its excellent public transport networks.

Many signs are in English, as well as one of the three Japanese scripts, and staff usually speak some English once they’ve got over their initial shyness.

Still, we found it helpful to get hints and tips from fellow travellers, both before we left and when we were travelling around, which helped us to make the most of it.

The following are a few tips we thought you might find of use. Do let us know if you think we should add any more.

JR Pass

William Morris would approve of the Japan Railways (JR) pass: it is both aesthetically pleasing, with a nice shiny rendition of Hokusai's famous The Great Wave off Kanagawa on the front, and remarkably useful, giving you the freedom to travel Japan’s extensive, efficient rail network at your leisure.

Only available to purchase outside of Japan, the pass is regarded with considerable envy by some Japanese, for the fantastic rail services they enjoy come at quite a high financial cost.

So if you plan to travel around Japan do yourself and your wallet a favour and buy a JR Pass before you leave home. Although it costs a weighty 350 Euros or so the pass is more than likely to pay for itself in just a few journeys.

Armed with one of these beauties you can use local trains, Shinkansen bullet trains (only the super, super fast Nozomi service is out of bounds) and even some ferries.

In addition, with a JR Pass you can cunningly negotiate your way around cities by using their local train services - given the size of a city such as Tokyo this helps you save a tidy sum.

Try and purchase your JR pass in your home country. If you run out of time before you leave , and you are visiting other countries before you reach Japan, then you should be able to purchase a JR Pass in that country. Certainly this should be possible in Europe (we bought ours in Finland).

Full details about the JR Pass are available on the Japan Rail website here.

Train ticket reservations

Trains are rarely completely full. Outside of the big cities in the rush hour, we never encountered trains that were fit to bursting with hundreds of weary passengers hanging onto the handrails.

Still it pays to get to train stations early and reserve seats. Do it ahead of the day you travel and you won’t to arrive early, plus you’ll be able to pick seats with a good view.

For example, on the Shinkansen heading south out of Tokyo try and get a seat on the right hand side - you should get a view of Mount Fuji (cloud / smog permitting).

If you haven’t reserved a ticket, consumed one too many earthenware bowls of sake the night before and overslept don’t fret. There are several carriages on each train for passengers without reservations.

Simply study the map of the train (found on the platform or the entrance to the platform) for the location of unreserved carriages.

Like the civilised people they are, the Japanese rigorously observe the queuing system. These are denoted by tramlines marked on the platform with people standing between them, whilst the smug passengers with reserved seats lean nonchalantly against the counter of the noodle bar, catching up on last night’s baseball match.

One final thing - when on the train, if people suddenly get up and start swinging their seats around 180 degrees don’t call for the authorities, this isn’t a spontaneous act of mass vandalism.

Rather this is another one of these clever Japanese technical gizmos. The train has come to the end of a single-track line and passengers can swivel their seats on an axis in order to allow them to continue facing in the direction of travel.

Be sure to remove your belongings from the pocket in front of your seat if you don’t wish to see it ending up halfway down the carriage.


Train timetable and prices

It helps to go the train station pre-armed with information about train times and prices. This is easy to do thanks to some new-fangled thing called the internet. The JR website’s ‘Hyperdia’ search engine gives you up-to-date train times and prices.

Bicycles

Don’t forget the jolly old two wheelers! Bikes are often a great way to get around cities such as Kyoto, where the sights are quite spread out.

Japan is a comfortable place for cyclists. You see little road rage and many locals use them for zipping down to the shops or speeding up the commute.

Most train stations have secure bike parking facilities and many locals use them. A day’s parking should set you back 200 yen at the most.

Hotels and hostels often lend them to their guests free or for a small charge. Don’t forget to ask when you book a room.


Buses

Where the train line stops, the bus route starts.

These proved slightly tricky to understand at first so the following should help:

1) Enter at the back of the bus and exit at the front

2) Take a ticket when you board from the funny little machine at the top of the steps. You pay your fare when you get off

3) Fares are shown on the rather whizzy laser display board-type arrangement at the front above the driver. The number printed on your ticket correlates with that you on the board, with your fare displayed beneath it.

Budget on about 200 yen for a journey across town. There is a change machine incorporated into the ticket machine, located by the driver at the front of the bus. This comes in handy when you only have a 1000 yen note rather than the exact fare you need.

Drivers seem to be incredibly docile, slurring their words over the tannoy, leaving you bewildered about quite where you get off for that temple.

Don’t fret: buses seem to be populated entirely by old people, garbed in sun visors, white gloves and sensible shoes. They are invariably kind and helped us out of several pickles when we hadn’t the foggiest where to get off.

Oh and one more thing regarding buses: this is Japan and people are small. It helps to be the size of an oomph-loompa and carry nothing bigger than a pencil case on these buses.

Or you could measure six foot, and sway about with massive bags the size of sumos thwacking all in your path like us. Your choice.

Trams

Some cities, such as Hiroshima have trams or ‘streetcars’. These are a great way of pootling through a city and, from our experience, were easy to use.

Fares are usually clearly displayed and paid on leaving the tram to a nice chap at the door, who has a ticket machine similar to the one on buses.

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