The Carpet of Flowers, an event that occurs every other year in the main square and consists of lots of begonias placed in a pattern on the ground, opened this past Saturday. This is a big-time tourist event, with busloads of flower lovers coming from all over. Since Saturday was cool and drizzly, we figured it would be a good time to check it out as most people would opt for a day of better weather. As per usual we went by a back way, visiting a huge 4-storey flea market with hugely inflated prices, among other things. Eventually we ended up at the square and, by this time, it had grown sunny and pleasant. Naturally the crowds accompanied the better weather. I was somewhat disappointed because it was less a carpet of flowers and more a carpet of grass, woodchips and flowers. There were also dahlias in addition to the much-ballyhooed begonias. Sure, the latter flower's color palette is somewhat limited, but I say work within the confines of your chosen medium. We decided to save the 3 euro trip up the town hall's tower for another day when the crowds had thinned and the carpet was gone.

Nominally in search of someplace to get refreshment, we ended up going to Place St. Gery and resting a bit there. This Place, rather than being an open-air plaza, contained an enclosed market building, complete with historical exhibits, pamphlets about optimizing energy conservation in the home, and a large obelisk rescued from a church being torn down. After chilling for a while, we looked at one of the exhibits that described the area's history. The one thing that particularly caught our eye in the scale models from modern day was a section of the Senne River, heretofore believed by us to be completely paved over as it passed through the city, that was open to the air. And it was right around the corner!

After ascertaining its location with some certainty, we lit out for the spot. It was in a courtyard of some buildings, for once easily accessible from the street. We got there and...discovered it was fake. It was in the spot where the Senne used to flow, but it was a shallow pond in the shape of a channelized river, capped at each end. There were a couple of large koi floating languidly around along with a brood of their young-uns. Argh! I just don't get it. I honestly don't. Sure, they enclosed them back when flooding and the threat of disease were problematic, but don't they have a handle on that now?

So, we headed back out towards the bar, which I knew was right around there somewhere. We ended up at a carnival midway. It was very exciting to be in the midst of what I am probably incorrectly assuming is an American tradition: the overwhelming smells of fried food, carneys trying to get your money (although no calling to the crowd--they're so demure here), and various rides featuring characters ripped off from your favorite animated films. There was a great one for little kids on a track that went around in an oval, illustrated with the entire cast of every Disney movie, that had rubber balls suspended from the ceiling at eye level. The very young children had to watch out for them as they came around the track, as the big bully-ish kid who really shouldn't have been on the ride had bashed them to swing as far out as possible. Their non-litigiousness makes this possible. God bless 'em. The also had a "ride" in which real ponies were lashed to a central hub and trotted around in a tight circle, their noses forced into the behinds of the horses in front of them. It was pretty horrifying.

We managed to resist the terrible allure of the fried treats (no funnel cake, but they did have donuts and candied grapes on a stick) and continue our meandering way. We eventually found ourselves at a spot by the elevator that takes you from one section of town to another that had a good amount of outdoor seating, so we landed there. Every five minutes or so another tour group would arrive, either coming from or going to either the elevator or the Carpet of Flowers, and would pause for a minute in the square. I think I ended up in a few photos of the elevator. Given our successful overcoming of the midway food, I decided to try the sweet crepe. Many restaurants carry them but I had never had a strong desire for them, not being much in the way of a dessert eater. But it was midafternoon and a long way till dinner, and I got the one with the apples, so it wasn't all bad. Although the crepe was pretty good, I was disturbed by the amount of oil between the crepe and the plate, which was a bit of a turnoff. The thing almost slid off onto the pavement when the waitress put the plate down, and would have if weren't for some World Cup-class goal save action by the three of us; it was a wonder we didn't end up butting heads. I wouldn't mind trying them elsewhere at some distant future point.

That night we heaved ourselves out of our evening stupor to go to Flagey for a movie. Flagey is an art-deco building that once housed a radio station which has been converted into an arts center. We had actually been inside once before, to see what I had translated as an exhibit of outsider art but in reality was just one guy's stuff, homemade guns made out of reclaimed materials. The small display was pretty disappointing compared to Baltimore's AVAM. (We've got a line on an outsider museum up in Antwerp or Gent that is in an old sanitarium, so we'll see some good crazy stuff yet.) But they have musical events and a movie theater where they show films organized around some theme that I can never discern. Most of the current ones were Italian classics (with subtitles in French and Dutch, naturally), but they had one film called "The Traveler Girl" in English. The synopsis said that the film was about an Irish Traveler family. Not knowing much about the Traveler population residing in the UK, my only real concern was that they would all talk like Brad Pitt did when he was playing one of them in the movie "Snatch", in which his dialogue was largely incomprehensible. It turns out only one person spoke in a thick accent, and it sounded like Pitt did a pretty good job of replicating it. The movie was an extremely bleak portrait of a family living on the margins of society and the 10 year old daughter's attempts to cope. Depressing, but good. Amazingly, all the lead roles of the cast are played by non-actors from the Traveler community, and further research indicates the family with 10 kids that the star comes from really does live on the verge of a road in a trailer, and has to go across the street buzzing with semis to get water from a tap.

Sunday, after breakfasting on my failed yet still tasty attempt at an omelet, we went to the English-language Sunday-open bookstore in the center of town. Our goal was to get stuff related to our vigorous travel agenda consisting of a trip to Rome and the Amalfi coast, perhaps with a quick jaunt down to Paris beforehand. Having procured an embarrassing amount of books and other resources, we left to see what other kind of nonsense we could find ourselves in.

Our first stop was the Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula. This is the church where the royals all get married, and it was appropriately large and gothic. My favorite part is that they were having choir practice up on the altar, and the sound was what you want from a church choir: clear, pure voices, singing in a different language, resonating spectacularly throughout the building. If I ever go to church, I'm going there.

Exiting the church we discovered that the National Bank of Belgium had free entry to their money museum for July and August. Good thing, too, because I don't think they would have been able to attract any of the eight people who were in there otherwise. Perhaps it's popular with school groups. At any rate, we didn't get much out of it (partially because of the language barrier and partially because of the boring nature of the exhibits) except the price of coal was higher in the 1860s than in the 1890s. Go figure. Jack said the bathroom was primo, though.

As per usual we had to stop for refreshment, this time happening across A La Mort Subite, a small cafe with beers of the same name. We sat outside, had our beers and croque madames, and enjoyed watching a nice cross-section of Brussels life pass by us.

Shout-out to C for the package and photos of baby A!