Like the undead, I amble half-awake to Saint Pancras, after a sleepless night in the hottest hostel room in the history of the world. This is how I begin my trip to Belgium and, due to the relentless heatwave, it is a state I will get used to throughout the week.
To accompany me on my trip this time around, I bring Bill Bryson’s famous 1991 novel Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe. I have never read any Bill Bryson, despite his extensive bibliography, but a book about travelling Europe seems fitting, especially since there is a chapter titled ‘Belgium’ and a chapter titled ‘Brussels’ when I am planning to visit Antwerp, Gent, Bruges, and finally finish up in Brussels over the course of the week.
I dive into the book on the Eurostar, as we head towards Brussels-Midi. I have plenty of time to read on trains today (in between several naps I will take throughout the journey), since I will be taking another train to Antwerp as soon as I arrive in Belgium.
I enjoy the opening, set in Norway, as Bryson’s adventures begin in chaos. Everything goes wrong: he oversleeps, misses breakfast, can’t find a taxi. The book’s characteristic tone of self-deprecation and humour is genuinely funny here and is a refreshing insight into travel, compared to the enviable curated fantasy influencers on social media inundate our screens with every day. Being written in the early 90s, it is also a nice change to see Bill travel without the aid of Google and brings a sense of nostalgia to the novel.
After a few hours of travelling, I arrive in Antwerp and am struck by how modern the city is. This is something Bryson touches upon in the book, noting how developers took away much of the history and identity of Antwerp and Brussels. I have been to Belgium twice before, but only to visit Bruges as “research” for my film degree dissertation on Martin McDonagh’s In Bruges. And Antwerp is not Bruges.
For one thing, this doesn’t feel like a tourist city – it feels like people live here. And they’re some of the most beautiful looking people in the world; it feels like everyone here is a model, with fashionable, cat-walk ready outfits on a random Tuesday afternoon. I wouldn’t want to live here for the sake of my own ego.
There’s some beautiful, ornate architecture in the mix but most buildings feel modernist, with perhaps the most explicit example of this being the Museum aan de Stroom, which is a contemporary block of brown stone, with unusual, warped glass enveloping the museum. I go to the top of this structure to get a view of the whole of Antwerp. I’ve never seen such a flat country. From here, you get an even clearer sense of the industrialism which has taken over most of the city. This said, there are still some medieval gems like Het Steen, a fort which now has a bar inside, which is where I get my first of many delectable Belgian beers.
Onto Gent next. It is the bridge between Antwerp and Bruges in aesthetics. There are far more ancient buildings kept intact here than Antwerp, though the city is certainly more modern than Bruges. Here, I explore formidable medieval forts, see the city’s oldest building whilst on a boat through the canals, and drink some more good beer in a troll-themed bar.
It is an enchanting place to experience, made even better by the eclipse which seems to cast some communal magic. Golden light seeps through the cobbled streets, Sint-Niklaaskerk and the Stadshal framing this picturesque vision, with people crowding together to see this lunar spectacle. I see the eclipse darken the city, with the kindness of Belgian strangers who lend their eclipse glasses to me. At the same time, Belgian football fans chant their songs outside nearby bars whilst a traditional dance group does the Zwierig Dansje under the shade of the Stadshal. At one point, the football fans run over to the dancers to join in, though they don’t quite know the steps. It’s rather heartwarming. For the last dance of the evening, everyone is invited to join in and so I do and I realise it is harder than it looks!
Unfortunately, Bryson isn’t casting the same magic for me and, the further I get through the book, the more he starts to grate on me. I have to give some lenience here and recognise that the book is from 1991. That said, I start to become weary of the way he talks about women. Every other sentence is a crude reference to the way a woman looks in different parts of Europe. I find that I just want to get to the parts where he’s actually talking about the places he has visited but, as soon as it starts to get good, he goes off on yet another tangent about somebody’s breasts.
Anyway, onto Bruges, and I have to agree with the description Bryson paints of this city, as he notes it is ‘so beautiful, so deeply, endlessly gorgeous […] it was hard to accept that it was real.’ It reminds me of a quote from the film In Bruges: ‘It’s a fairytale town, isn’t it? How’s a fairytale town not somebody’s f****** thing?’.
I also appreciate that in this section of the book, Bryson gives Bruges the reverence it deserves without deteriorating into descriptions of women’s arses or something.
Due to the small size and having been here twice before, I find I remember my way around pretty well and even remember some key facts.
‘I think that’s the old hospital building,’ I comment during our walk from the station into the centre. Moments later, a tour boat floats by, the guide announcing much the same thing.
I revisit the city as though it is an old friend, pointing out the film locations where In Bruges was shot as we go. The view from the Historium’s bar is as splendid as I remember and the Belfry as impressive – if anything, it’s even taller than I thought. A cafe I thought had shut down, The Blackbird Cafe, is still open in Jan Van Eyck Square. Some things have changed though, even in a perfectly preserved pocket such as this. The Belfry plays some pop song I vaguely recognise every hour instead of the haunting tune from ten years ago, which makes me a little mournful. It’s also busier (and way, way hotter), perhaps down to the time of year, and that makes the general air of several waiters and tourists more irritable than I recall it being last time.
Still, to quote In Bruges once more: ‘I know I’m awake but it feels like I’m in a dream.’
With only Brussels left to go on my itinerary, I am a little tired of Bryson’s travels by the time he gets to Copenhagen, some 130 pages into the book, but I persevere. There’s enough here to keep me reading – I just wish this was the book it could have been, the book I see in my mind. Sure, many of the descriptions are interesting, characterising each individual location as it seemed to him back in the 80s, with several aspects remaining true today. When I get to Brussels, for example, I can see what he means by the contrasting descriptions of the astounding Grand-Place versus dingier urban areas. I also find several oddball experiences amusing and his tone of voice is often enough to make me breathe out my nose (though I won’t say I ever it is ‘great-big-belly-laugh-till-you-cry-funny’ like The Telegraph quote on the book cover suggests). Overall, I think the book is just fine but I expected much better.
My final stint in Brussels is fun. I leave with a bundle of French comics from the Comic Art Museum. I watch a French-language parody of Faust in the only remaining traditional puppet theatre in Brussels, the Theatre Royal de Toone. I see the insane interior of the Delirium Village, a massive 8 bars in 1, serving 2000 beers. I even manage to catch an evening light show at Grand-Place. Then, before I know it, it’s time to head back on the train to London.
So, whilst I recommend a trip to Belgium (especially to Gent!), I am not sure I’d recommend Neither Here Nor There. Like the title suggests, it’s a bit wishy-washy and – for the love of Belgium, Bill – please stop with all the creepy tangents.
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