Jesus the Christ
(As an aside, I do apologize for the lateness of this post. It would have been up earlier, had it not been for a certain individual, who knows that the blame is entirely hers).
Whirlwind Weekend Number Three: Leuven, Antwerp, and Ghent.
Its cold and dark and I want to go to sleep. After three full length day trips to three different cities, anything besides long awaited rest is beyond the limits of my mental capacity. Fortunately this is Belgium, so an artificially induced sugar high from my respectable collection of rich chocolate confectionaries is in store.
The past 72 hours have been filled with touring the beautiful cities/towns around Brussels. Last Friday, after finishing our first exam for European Union Seminar I, we traveled to Leuven, a town of some 80,000 inhabitants, around half of who are students at the university. Because of the high percentage of students, local residents often joke that instead of a town with a university, Leuven is in fact more of a university with a town. Were it not for the fact that I hail from the Great Midwestern Region of the United States of America, in which nearly every public post secondary institution has overrun and annexed their nearest communities I may have found this noteworthy, but in the heartland of the United States such is the reality. You'll have to do better than that, Leuven.
And do better it did. Though only a brief train ride away from Brussels, Leuven is nowhere near as popular a destination for tourists. After the walking tour, we took full advantage of being the only large group of mostly American tourists and quickly conquered a local brewery. Leuven is home to a delicious local brew that cannot be found anywhere else. The beer is called Domus, and were it not for the sad constraints of a student budget many a pint would have been happily consumed.
The other highlight of the tour was a visit to a local church dedicated to Father Damien, who lived during a time of lesser medical knowledge. He was sent to Hawai'i, where the local population was facing a serious health crisis due to the large number of foreign sailors who passed through their ports. Among the diseases that were imported was leprosy. The solution during that era was to quarantine lepers on the island of Molokai, leaving them to a bleak and joyless existence. Father Damien was appalled by such practices, and volunteered himself to care for the leper community in 1873. At that time, as no cure existed, individuals who had been sent to Molokai were not allowed to leave. Essentially, Father Damien was consciously devoting the rest of his life to caring for a community that had been rejected from the rest of society. He thusly served for 16 years, caring for the lepers and eventually contracting it himself and passing in 1889. In a letter to his brother, Father Damien had written: "I make myself a leper with the lepers to gain all to Jesus Christ."
The next day we spent in Antwerp, a charming city best known for its diamond trade. The diamond trade is to this day largely controlled by the Hasidic Jewish community, the members of which will trade millions of dollars worth of diamonds on the basis of a single handshake. Antwerp is also home to the second largest seaport in Europe (behind Rotterdam), and as such was and continues to be an important commercial city. During the Second World War, the German Luftwaffe bombed Antwerp heavily, as it was a strategic point for the Allied Powers. After it was captured by the Germans, it was then bombed by the Allied Air Forces, who saw it as a strategic point for Hitler's army. When it was once again retaken by the Allies, the United States Military created Antwerp X Command, a group of anti air defensive battalions charged with defending the port from aerial bombardments. Amazingly, the Antwerp X Command, composed of American, British, and Polish troops were expected to accomplish this task by using antiaircraft guns to shoot German V1 and V2 rockets out of the sky. More amazingly, they succeeded.
While in Antwerp we also visited the Cathedral of Antwerp and the house of Peter Paul Rubens, the great Flemish painter. I had seen some of Rubens paintings in the Prado in Madrid, but the collection at his house featured a much greater collection. The Cathedral of Antwerp was as majestic as all Cathedrals are, and was unique in that it included two prominently featured displays done by Rubens. One such painting that I recall was on the external side of the case, visible only from a certain angle to the left of where the display hung. Painted on the outside was a giant man with an infant on his shoulders. The giant had a pained expression on his face, which contrasted sharply with the serene expression of the infant. The panel was a reference to the story of Saint Christopher, who was reputed to be a giant among men. Christopher was not always a Saint; prior to his Sainthood he was more of a greedy opportunist. Christopher lived along a river, and made his livelihood charging passers-by exorbitant sums of money in exchange for his assistance in crossing the river. One day, an infant came to the shore of the river. Challenging Christopher, the infant declared that Christopher would not be able to carry him across the river. Christopher, who had pulled countless travelers and their possessions across the river, accepted the challenge. The terms of the bet were simple: if Christopher could carry the infant across the river, the infant would pay Christopher double the typical rate. If he failed, Christopher would have to do whatever the infant instructed.
And so it was that Christopher took up the infant and began what he believed would be a very easy and lucrative procedure. As he made his way across the river, however, he could feel the infant becoming heavier on his shoulders. Christopher continued onward, but the weight of the infant, initially very little, had become inconceivably heavy. It is at this point that the painting was created, with the serene infant atop the disbelieving, struggling giant. Eventually, Christopher succumbed to the pressure, and feel beneath the surface. The infant took him in his own arms and pulled him back to the river banks. As it may have been guessed, the infant was Jesus Christ. When Christopher took him up, he did so ignorant of that fact that he was taking on the weight of the world on his shoulders. Christopher, amazed, asked of Jesus: "What must I do?" Jesus replied: "Follow me."
On Sunday, we traveled to the town of Ghent, in Northern Belgium. Ghent was another hidden gem of a town, with some 250,000 inhabitants. The highlight of the day was undoubtedly the castle, which happened to be the venue of choice for an aerobic, spin class that blasted retro 80's songs to heavy thumping beats. Though I have traveled to a fair number of castles, never before have I done so with an inescapable mental image of Richard Simmons and what sounded like his iTunes top 25 corresponding soundtrack ringing in my ears. By the time we made it to the torture chambers, I was seriously contemplating which was worse, being physically tortured with harsh iron instruments, or being psychologically ruined by self-induced visions of Simmons in red spandex.
(As an aside, I do apologize for the lateness of this post. It would have been up earlier, had it not been for a certain individual, who knows that the blame is entirely hers).
Whirlwind Weekend Number Three: Leuven, Antwerp, and Ghent.
Its cold and dark and I want to go to sleep. After three full length day trips to three different cities, anything besides long awaited rest is beyond the limits of my mental capacity. Fortunately this is Belgium, so an artificially induced sugar high from my respectable collection of rich chocolate confectionaries is in store.
The past 72 hours have been filled with touring the beautiful cities/towns around Brussels. Last Friday, after finishing our first exam for European Union Seminar I, we traveled to Leuven, a town of some 80,000 inhabitants, around half of who are students at the university. Because of the high percentage of students, local residents often joke that instead of a town with a university, Leuven is in fact more of a university with a town. Were it not for the fact that I hail from the Great Midwestern Region of the United States of America, in which nearly every public post secondary institution has overrun and annexed their nearest communities I may have found this noteworthy, but in the heartland of the United States such is the reality. You'll have to do better than that, Leuven.
And do better it did. Though only a brief train ride away from Brussels, Leuven is nowhere near as popular a destination for tourists. After the walking tour, we took full advantage of being the only large group of mostly American tourists and quickly conquered a local brewery. Leuven is home to a delicious local brew that cannot be found anywhere else. The beer is called Domus, and were it not for the sad constraints of a student budget many a pint would have been happily consumed.
The other highlight of the tour was a visit to a local church dedicated to Father Damien, who lived during a time of lesser medical knowledge. He was sent to Hawai'i, where the local population was facing a serious health crisis due to the large number of foreign sailors who passed through their ports. Among the diseases that were imported was leprosy. The solution during that era was to quarantine lepers on the island of Molokai, leaving them to a bleak and joyless existence. Father Damien was appalled by such practices, and volunteered himself to care for the leper community in 1873. At that time, as no cure existed, individuals who had been sent to Molokai were not allowed to leave. Essentially, Father Damien was consciously devoting the rest of his life to caring for a community that had been rejected from the rest of society. He thusly served for 16 years, caring for the lepers and eventually contracting it himself and passing in 1889. In a letter to his brother, Father Damien had written: "I make myself a leper with the lepers to gain all to Jesus Christ."
The next day we spent in Antwerp, a charming city best known for its diamond trade. The diamond trade is to this day largely controlled by the Hasidic Jewish community, the members of which will trade millions of dollars worth of diamonds on the basis of a single handshake. Antwerp is also home to the second largest seaport in Europe (behind Rotterdam), and as such was and continues to be an important commercial city. During the Second World War, the German Luftwaffe bombed Antwerp heavily, as it was a strategic point for the Allied Powers. After it was captured by the Germans, it was then bombed by the Allied Air Forces, who saw it as a strategic point for Hitler's army. When it was once again retaken by the Allies, the United States Military created Antwerp X Command, a group of anti air defensive battalions charged with defending the port from aerial bombardments. Amazingly, the Antwerp X Command, composed of American, British, and Polish troops were expected to accomplish this task by using antiaircraft guns to shoot German V1 and V2 rockets out of the sky. More amazingly, they succeeded.
While in Antwerp we also visited the Cathedral of Antwerp and the house of Peter Paul Rubens, the great Flemish painter. I had seen some of Rubens paintings in the Prado in Madrid, but the collection at his house featured a much greater collection. The Cathedral of Antwerp was as majestic as all Cathedrals are, and was unique in that it included two prominently featured displays done by Rubens. One such painting that I recall was on the external side of the case, visible only from a certain angle to the left of where the display hung. Painted on the outside was a giant man with an infant on his shoulders. The giant had a pained expression on his face, which contrasted sharply with the serene expression of the infant. The panel was a reference to the story of Saint Christopher, who was reputed to be a giant among men. Christopher was not always a Saint; prior to his Sainthood he was more of a greedy opportunist. Christopher lived along a river, and made his livelihood charging passers-by exorbitant sums of money in exchange for his assistance in crossing the river. One day, an infant came to the shore of the river. Challenging Christopher, the infant declared that Christopher would not be able to carry him across the river. Christopher, who had pulled countless travelers and their possessions across the river, accepted the challenge. The terms of the bet were simple: if Christopher could carry the infant across the river, the infant would pay Christopher double the typical rate. If he failed, Christopher would have to do whatever the infant instructed.
And so it was that Christopher took up the infant and began what he believed would be a very easy and lucrative procedure. As he made his way across the river, however, he could feel the infant becoming heavier on his shoulders. Christopher continued onward, but the weight of the infant, initially very little, had become inconceivably heavy. It is at this point that the painting was created, with the serene infant atop the disbelieving, struggling giant. Eventually, Christopher succumbed to the pressure, and feel beneath the surface. The infant took him in his own arms and pulled him back to the river banks. As it may have been guessed, the infant was Jesus Christ. When Christopher took him up, he did so ignorant of that fact that he was taking on the weight of the world on his shoulders. Christopher, amazed, asked of Jesus: "What must I do?" Jesus replied: "Follow me."
On Sunday, we traveled to the town of Ghent, in Northern Belgium. Ghent was another hidden gem of a town, with some 250,000 inhabitants. The highlight of the day was undoubtedly the castle, which happened to be the venue of choice for an aerobic, spin class that blasted retro 80's songs to heavy thumping beats. Though I have traveled to a fair number of castles, never before have I done so with an inescapable mental image of Richard Simmons and what sounded like his iTunes top 25 corresponding soundtrack ringing in my ears. By the time we made it to the torture chambers, I was seriously contemplating which was worse, being physically tortured with harsh iron instruments, or being psychologically ruined by self-induced visions of Simmons in red spandex.
At the time of this writing, it is now quarter to one in the morning here in the fair city of Brussels. As I am to intern tomorrow, I think it best that I retire for the evening. Good night to you all.
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