Belgium

Spring break usually means escaping the cold and finding a warm beach somewhere at any costs even if you live near the beach you seek a warmer one. I suppose we all need to thaw out after a cold winter. In our case we did the opposite, we went searching for cold and found it. The warmness we sought was the company of old and newly made friends.

True, we spent most of our time in Flanders, but did venture to the French side for a couple of days to cautiously explore Belgium's other half. Maybe the former industrial town of Charleroi wasn't the best example, but it was an adventure and that is we seek out here at Camels and Tacos.

Need a quick fix of frites (fries) or fried shaped processed meats? There are plenty of establishments that will cater to your appetite.

How to clog the arteries 101.

James and Harry enjoying a pinch (normal beer).

Harry surprised us with this breakfast item. I didn't think I'd ever eat head cheese. Let this be a lesson in the never say never category.

Is it a bar or an antique shop? Enjoy your favorite beer and buy an old tube radio for 40 euros.

Another Bar/Antique shop that serves soup and quiche.

Museum of Industrial Archeology and Textile in Gent is a great way to spend a couple of hours. We weren't allowed to take photos of the exhibits, so a view of the city is all you get.

Canal shot.

Curtis (Joy Division tribute band) drummer Stephane finds the love of his life in a painting at Chantal's.

Hatched egg Easter cake (say that 5 times fast-bet you can't.)

Each bakery we passed sold their own handmade Chocolate bunnies.

Bunny patrol on the herb garden.

Why stop at head cheese...quail eggs and goose liver pâté was also on our menu...

...as was a sorbet made from cava.

Jab forks in a grilled mackerel and garnish with a side of baked tomatoes-let your dinner guests dig in.

End dinner with cheese, dates, nuts, chocolate eggs, or whatever you want.

Els aka 100% was responsible for our 8-hour Easter feast.

The funeral

Goedroen and Els making a mess.

I learned something new about digestives. After a heavy meal, an after meal sip of a little somethin'-somethin' will put your intestines back in order. Els dad makes a pear liqueur.

A wood stove in action.

House of  the artist.

A night stroll through Gent

Belgium's Angry Birds.

The 5 Euro Turkish pizza is always hearty.

James is a painter

He was commissioned to make a Botero-esque painting. A nod to Goya and Velázquez in the background.

Els textile interpretations of paintings by James. 

Then there was Charleroi, more importantly Shanty. We found Shanty on airbnb and by his photos we knew we had to stay at his place.

Shanty acquired his decor on his travels to India and the far east.

His office/kitchen

You're thinking restaurant, we were thinking restaurant. More importantly we were thinking Belgium-French nachos. Nope. Dance club. Charleroi has a lot of them.

Instead of nachos we tried something new. It was a cold day, so why not have a cold mystery meal for lunch. Unlike the Dutch side where some English is understood, an hour away no English is understood. We concluded the cold meal ended up being some sort of fish. Later we found out it was eel. Glad eel is off the bucket list.

Ana was more cautious and ordered les boulettes (meatballs in tomato sauce).

Around town

Exactly.

We did find our Mexican restaurant in Charleroi, it might have been called Chi Chi's. We also found a very wasted Mexican lady from Acapulco wanting to be Ana's best friend. She had the attention of the whole establishment. We did sit next to a nice lady and her kids...she asked why in the world would we came to Charleroi. The other table next to us had birthday party and the restaurant busted out the champagne and sombreros.

Shanty decided we should have a wig party at 10 in the morning. He brought out his box of wigs and fun was had by all.

I see a new hair style in the future.

Ana as a blonde.

Algarve, Portugal

We thought we should give Portugal one last run before moving deeper into Africa this summer. Sadly, we didn't make it past the Algarve this time-the sun and warmth were highly sought after our visit to Belgium.

Our friends Hugo and Miguel at the Good Feeling Hostel had us stay with their neighbor and her lively guard dog who did a lot of spinning tricks and barked at invisible objects.

Not much surf in the southern shores, but a beach is a beach.

Typical village in the region.

The chef's special. Pizza can be had anywhere, but Pizza Pazza in Pedralva, (the middle of nowhere in the vicinity of Vila do Bispo) is worth seeking out when in the neighborhood. 

Ponta da Piedade and the surrounding cliffs in Lagos have stunning views.  

It might be worth investing in a boat trip to have a contrasting view.

Tourist shot.

What are you waiting for, book your ticket.

Another tourist shot.

A little bit of rock

 The pride of Silves is the still intact Moorish Castle. Not quite sure the Moors had it landscaped back in the day, my guess would be they had other pressing issues. 

When we paid our entrance fee we were asked if we wanted to buy a ticket to the museum. Ana politely declined, The ticket lady's response was "ah, you don't like history!"

Ana the history hater.

Another pizza, another location.

If you go to the Algarve, rent a car and take unmarked dirt roads-you won't regret it.

We did hiking to places you can't get to with a car.

Pigs.

Condos coming soon.

Not that you can see, but this area was heavily infested with people who looked liked they split the program, as in they dropped out of society and live in converted moving trucks. Ana called them hippies, but they are slightly more serious than that. Moving from beach to beach isn't a bad existence.

While driving though a village a teen mother with a handmade sign jumped out on front of our car to sell us her homemade baked goods. Ana was adventurous while I remained curious about the bottle of her father's moonshine. Cake and booze are always nice roadside treats.  

Trees and bees. We parked and hiked, it is just a little eerie hiking and hearing hives of bees echoing. I've encountered swarms of bees twice, once while driving-a couple come through the vent.

A pastime with some of the locals is collecting snails. 
From livecooler.com:
"In Algarve tradition tells that snails should be placed in a vessel eight days before being cooked. There, they are fed with wheat flour or bran. Only then should they be cooked, and seasoned with oregano stick."

Poperinge, Belgium

Tourism...there is gambling tourism, hunting tourism, surfing tourism, shopping tourism, sex tourism...but you might often find us riding bikes and sipping some of Belgium's local hop and barley water. Poperinge is Belgium's main hop region with some notable breweries tucked away in this corner of the country. More Belgium postings coming soon...

Often noted as the holy gail of beer; the Westvleteren 12 (dark one) is one of the most sought after beers in the world. It is made by the monks of The abbey of Saint Sixtus of Westvleteren. Until recently (due to the financial needs of the abbey, there was a limited release in the states) it has been only available one place. It was a 10 km round-trip ride into the wind in 5 degree (celsius) weather. Another item off the bucket list.  

The brew at the abbey was tasty but the salad, cheese, and ham was a hand-to-hand combat fight.  Ana noted that eating had never been so difficult. Go there and try to manage the foods and you'll know what we mean. 

For monks only!

This was the path/road there. 

Ever been stared down by an owl. Another item off my bucket list. 

Hop farm. 

A nice little touch on the sidewalks of Poperinge.

Town center-the very cool and helpful people at the tourist information place helped us with storing our luggage and told us how to bike to beer and WWI firing squad areas. All quiet on the western front. 

Riding backwards!

Tomorrow's breakfast!

Hopelandia...Poperinge boasts a hop museum. Rub hops all over you and have the town drunk follow you home. 

The museum was located in the former hop municipal scales building where hops were weighed, inspected, and stacked (aka city scale).

Scissors and knives, my kind of ride.

Former manure laying cart. I can imagine how the driver must have smelled after work. Most likely single. 

At the end of the hop harvest, the hop man was built and burned. The farmer pored drinks, provided the music and I bet even the manure driver got action that evening!

I dared myself to try the HOPsaKEI, couldn't do it. One sip and I passed it over to the lady at the next table who must have thought she won the lottery. 

Close to where we are staying.

The nun beer...wished I had none. 

Where we are staying. The St Bernardus in Watou brewery/hop field has a guest house, they gave us bike to explore...26 plus km today not too bad. 

At the guest house...in the fridge. 

Stop and make a prayer for a good hop season...I did.