Seeing my house: a wasteland Of things I am unable to use On a daily basis. I live beyond my means. Am I rich or am I Irresponsible? Rich enough to own trinkets. Irresponsible enough to be in subtle debt.
It’s a cycle of consumerism. Impulse ate My virtues. Any concern of wastefulness Or nature, from which this all came from, Thrown out the window. It is then shut To prevent carbon monoxide from entering. Of which I have contributed a great percentage By existing. Regret comes in a blind box. Which one Is it today: a glorious high or buyer’s remorse? ‘Oh’, just a sigh powered by capitalism.
‘I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, “Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.” So finally I would write one true sentence, and then go on from there.’
After admiring the medieval architecture in Brugge and strolling along Minnewater, we stumbled upon Bieratelier on the way back to our hotel. We ordered the 12-beer tasting experience, which they claimed were the 12 flavors that defined the city.
Gulden Draak – Dark tripel ale: sour cherries – brown sugar – somewhat bitter
This might sound a little sacrilegious but that morning we visited the Basilica of the Holy Blood. It housed the relic of the Holy Blood collected by Joseph of Arimathea and brought from the Holy Land by Thierry of Alsace, Count of Flanders. The color reminded me of the experience. A narrow stairwell led to the main room of the Basilica on the 2nd floor (Or first floor because you know, we’re in Europe, heh). I have very limited knowledge of religion but I always believe in sacred spaces and what’s enclosed in them. The queue started a few steps from the main entrance, although it was also cold outside, the temperature upon entering was eerie. The footsteps from the people ascending and descending had different hushed tones – as if lighter by prayer or limbs weak from the ascending queue. How many of these people are believers and how many are onlookers. I’ll never attempt to judge.
Blanche de Namur – Wheat Beer: notes of malt – lemon and wheat
I liked this one the best. Lemon in beer is not a foreign concept for me because of our local San Miguel Lemon Beers. But like everything Filipino, ours was a lot sweeter. It reminded me of a bag I bought when I went on my own and explored. By exploring, I typically mean shopping without being judged. I saw this store Cabaia – La Paillote des légendes, a French brand. I admit, I only entered because they were playing a BTS song in their shop which I heard from the sidewalk. Bangtan led me to bags. I bought a nano bag which could only fit my phone, passport, power bank, and 2 credit cards. Fun? Yes. Functional? Not so much. When accessorized with the equally small Uniqlo dumpling bag, it can fit more things. Yes, the bag needs a bag to be a fully functioning bag. Normalize abandoning logic and go for cute, that’s how I decide.
Super 8 IPA – Indian Pale Ale: hoppy aromas – strong citrus – grapefruit
Our next stop after Bruges was Amsterdam and the Heineken Experience Museum. There was this graphic about how beer is brewed. Timing has an effect in characteristics of hops. Adding it early makes the brew more bitter while late addition meant less. But when added cold, the hoppy aroma is preserved as accentuates the citrus of the grapefruit. I remember this one the most. Grapefruit is known to interfere with psychiatric medications. As a person who has been taking anti-depressants for decades, I took every sip seriously as it had implications for my mental health. Actually, now that I think about it, alcohol in general also has serious implications. But let’s not go deep into that discussion.
Cider Ruwet – Apple Cider: made from real Jonagold juice – dry – fruity
I have fond memories of drinking fruity beer at our local brewery near Tomas Morato – check out Pierre’s! It has the same vibe – sans the bra hanging in the ceiling. I don’t think we have Jonagold apple variety in the Philippines or am I not that well-versed in apple varieties enough that this was the first time I’ve heard of it. It has a sweet and slightly tart balanced flavor.
Viven Champagne – Weisner: champagne yeast – floral notes – creamy and Pater Lieven Tripel – Tripel: floral – herbal – fruity – intense bitterness
A walk through Minnewater made me appreciate solitude. The fullness of being alone but not lonely. I met up with my sister and Caye somewhere between the park entrance and the bar. The lakeside felt like a fairytale. I even asked my friend to sing Taylor Swift’s ‘Today Was a Fairytale’ for a full-on cliché. The day was a fairytale. Imagine sitting on a bench with a loved one, drinking beer that reminds you of champagne on a lovely spring day. Watching swans gracefully paddling, breaking the reflection of the lake house. An ideal ending scene of a chaotic romcom that all problems were solved once the credits rolled. But does it really? Swans are exhausted and overwhelmed underneath all the paddling. Also, that chick flick probably had a problematic ending. We can even add the history of the Minnewater where the namesake of the lake died of exhaustion there. Okay, we’re back to solitude.
Bourgogne De Flandres – Flanders red ale: caramel – brown sugar – hop and roasted malt
We took a boat trip through the veins of Bruges. They had an English tour guide who cracked witty jokes at specific areas. I overheard a nearby boat and their guide said that same joke. I laughed twice, the joke deserved a second reaction. I salute whoever wrote the script and its dry, clever delivery. There was a particular bridge where we were warned that we had to lower our head as we traversed it. My head almost touched the floor of the boat but my intrusive thoughts told me to sit up straight again, just to check if it’s actually dangerous. My messy hair didn’t even touch the tip of the bridge. I missed the height requirement for these warnings. People shouted every time we went under a bridge. The echo we made was oddly satisfying as our voices bounced off the concrete walls of the bridge. I’m trying to replicate that sound in my head and the taste of caramel and brown sugar as I write this.
Liefmans Kriek Brut – Belgian Cherry Beer: rich cherry bouquet – hints of wood and almond – sweet and sour
We dined at Manhattn’s Burgers the previous day for an early dinner. A monument of Simon Stevin overlooked as we stuffed ourselves with New York cuisine in Belgium, judging us for not sticking to his Flemish roots. Gemini said that he’s the inventor of the decimal notation for fractions. He’s been there since 1846, I wonder what he’s seen throughout all his bronze immortalized years. Also most likely dismayed as we struggled to distinguished one coin from another.
Atelier 6 – Blond house beer: full bodied – mild – malt and hop notes – vanilla and Brugse Zot Blond – Pale Beer: sweetness on the palette – light finish and Chimay – Dark Ale: fruity peppery character – light creamy head
I am running out of stories but I’ll try to update this blog if I remember anything else. And… I forgot what was at the middle since they said it was for palette cleansing. But I’m not entirely sure, I was too enamored by the sight of the 12 glass tray that was in front of me.
On the way home, we took some pictures of tulips inside a plant box – with the backdrop of buildings and behind it was the remnant of a sunset – which we said we wanted to find a nice viewing spot but missed because we were too busy drinking.
Water ran out. The pipes were dry. There was no telling whether The faucet was close or open. Just tightly turned clockwise or counter- Clockwise. I still live there, waiting For random rations or rain. Fooling myself Of this impermanence. The plumbing Brittle: from moss to dust to decay. I stay And rot as the dirt engulf me. On lucky days, I bathe. At my luckiest, I am clean, And at my lowest, I write.
I wrote a poem inspired by an artwork at Singapore’s ArtScience Museum.
If Hokusai Depicted the Shore
I found that things do not stagnate Always inching towards flourishing Or decaying. Maybe enchanted By the ocean or engulfed by the flood. It is water in essence yet functionally Different. I’ll fixate on this: Could they carry A drowning man’s struggle for the surface To the nearest shore? Please send Help – someone help him float – hope That it gets to the one gasping for air.
Give it a century, the man is absent The shore is no more. The water’s Approach to tranquility til there’s no more surface to cover. It would be difficult To hope otherwise.
He was fast, smart and tried To scribble through the great war Scrambled through numbers In desperation or drought he fought For his wife or for science – I can’t Tell the difference. How could he live Her last few months speaking In coded letters that required someone Else’s eyes. And then whatever was to him are numbers was someone else incinerated on the other side.
No one there put a bullet through someone’s brain, at least a helmet could Catch it. Eureka! meant death, instant, Unknowing, or unfollowed by pain. No one dares to light the third match.
I have two memories of loss: The monumental less scarring Than the mundane: mourning the shadows Of missed chances than an urn’s silhouette. Some chances are abruptly cut. Rejected Before the brain could process the loss. I cry over small things and win Over trauma. This equation does Not need structure. Adrenaline works – like Climbing a treehouse fueled by the fear Of heights or gracefully free diving without Learning how to swim. It might be the breeze From above or the stillness of the water. I do not falter when loss is apparent. I could only tremble at the imagined.