Gent BELGIUM
August 26
As we strolled through the beautifully preserved cobblestone streets of Gent, Mario turned to me with a smile and said, “This is the city where my two daughters went to school.” I could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke of Sofia, now a teacher, and Lisa, a corporate manager, both of whom had completed their schooling in this enchanting place.
Gent, with its blend of old-world charm and modern vibrancy, felt like a city where time had graciously decided to stand still. The historic buildings and charming boutiques whispered stories of a bygone era, making me feel like I had stepped into a hidden gem – Belgium’s best-kept secret.
As we settled into a café in the university district, I reminisced about my college years. Sipping on a steaming cup of coffee, I watched the lively groups of students treading down the streets. At a nearby table, a trio caught my eye: a father, mother, and their kid, all sipping drinks and sharing quiet laughter. Mario guessed they were probably visiting their kid’s school, exploring the familiar hangouts.
The sight of them sparked a memory of my kids when they were still in school, years ago – an era that seemed both distant and yet, at moments like this, strikingly close.
Blankenberge
August 27
“Today, we go to the sea,” Mario announced with a twinkle in his eye. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea, considering our home in the Philippines is just a stone’s throw from the beach – a view that I wake up to every day. Yet, as we arrived in Blankenberge, I realized this wasn’t just any ordinary seaside.
Blankenberge sparkled like a jewel along Belgium’s coast, its sun-drenched sands and lively promenade offering a fresh perspective on a beachside escape. The colorful beach huts, the elegant pier extending into the sea, and the energetic ambiance created a vibrant tableau that was more than just picturesque – it was invigorating. We strolled along the famous beach promenade, taking in the sights and sounds of this lively town, where history and modernity blend seamlessly along the breathtaking North Sea.
By lunchtime, our senses were ready to explore the local culinary scene. Mario, ever the thoughtful host, took charge of ordering and soon enough, our table was laden with 80-euro plates of Videe vol-au-vent, a delightful Belgian specialty featuring a puff pastry filled with tender chicken, meatballs, mushrooms in a creamy hollandaise sauce, accompanied by French fries and fresh vegetables. And of course, there was Belgian beer for me.
Rewinding a few hours, Mario had prepared a hearty Belgian breakfast at home that left me feeling satisfyingly full. Now, faced with this generous lunch, I found myself in a unique predicament – a feasting dilemma in a foreign land. (Social situations like this, I would always recall Mario's whimsical guilt-ridden prompting: "Remember the poor in the Philippines, Raymond." Ouch.)
How could I convey my appreciation for this delicious spread without offending our hosts by leaving too much on my plate?
The solution, I decided, lay in strategy. First, I ate all the vegetables, then half the French fries, followed by a careful portion of the Videe vol-au-vent. Finally, I polished off the beer, figuring that it would be wiser to disappoint the Indian restaurateur than to offend any Belgian beer enthusiast.
Merlita, Cher, and I all ended up with similarly half-eaten plates. I noticed the Indian waiters casting curious glances our way, and before long, they discreetly whisked away our dishes, perhaps to spare us from the perceived embarrassment of unfinished meals.
In the end, it felt like a win-win situation. We had savored the best of Belgian cuisine without overstaying our welcome at the table. A small victory, perhaps, but one that added another layer to our rich tapestry of experience in this beautiful country.
August 28
Flashback: The Saved Church
“As we drove home, wandering through the picturesque towns of Belgium, we caught sight of a striking scene – a dilapidated Catholic church. Its once-majestic walls stood bare, stripped of their roof, open to the sky like a hollow shell of its former self. Weeds crept through the cracks in the stone, and the wind whispered through the broken windows, carrying with it an eerie silence that spoke volumes.
This scene, both sad and haunting, felt like more than just the inevitable decay of an old building; it felt like a powerful symbol, a poignant reflection of the broader secularization sweeping across not only Belgium but much of the western world.” (Excerpted from ATABAY’s A Tale Of Two Images: The Atomium & The Ruined Church)
“[M]ario shared an extraordinary tale about a local Catholic Church slated for demolition. ‘My wealthy friend Phillip bought the church because his devout Catholic mother wanted to preserve it,’ Mario explained.
“Now privately owned, the church has become an adoration sanctuary without a Mass or priest, open to visitors from nine in the morning until six in the evening, maintained weekly by hired caretakers.” (Excerpted from ATABAY’s Exploring Faith In Belgium: A Farmhouse Story)
This afternoon, we had the rare privilege of meeting Phillip, the man who purchased the dilapidated, empty church and spared it from demolition. We owe this remarkable opportunity to Mario, whose earnest efforts made this meeting possible and who also captured our photos with Phillip in front of the beautifully restored Catholic Church.
It’s an intriguing reversal of roles: rather than the church saving a man, in this instance, it was a man who saved the church – at a cost of 1.2 million euros (77.2 million pesos).
Content and editing put together in collaboration with ChatGPT
Head collage photos courtesy of iStock and Wikipedia
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