Antwerpen truly taught the Calliope of the Future that our visage upon Bicycles of High Stature rather draws the eyes of local populace. We ate cheese upon baguettes in a playground, surrounded by mostly arab children and one Belgian girl with a cat on a leash. The cat was named LaLa and was in a constant state of slinky escape, only to be pulled back by that cruel pink cord. OH LALA, how I wished to free you from your cruel bonds, so that you might run free in fields of sardines under carpeted clouds raining sweet milk from the Heavens! Alas, no, Lala, forever must you endure the touches of children in parks...
We rode on into the Centrum of the city to a Bibliotek and passed in proximity of a vagabond soup line. We inquired of their nature, be they food-not-bombs or elsewise. They were a christian coalition bent on feeding the poor and offering options for self betterment, and the meal was delightful curried rice and pork, and We Didst Eat, dear reader!
I talked ecumenical and spiritual meanderings with the Christians, and they offered us their hospitality and a place to sleep be we in need. A Rwandan man swooped in and offered the house of his Rasta traveller brother...
Again we found ourselves in the park where we met the jugglers who wouldst leave me with a sleeping bag and some cds of their band Kuskessarm before departing. We didst drink beers on that grass and were surrounded by Serbian Roma children who claimed they were in a circus. I fixed a bicycle wheel of theirs and they ran around sticking their fingers out of their pant zippers and thrusting their hips at each other. Oh the raucous!
At the eve's end we met our host, Dominique, a delightful and wonderful creature hell bent on being a gracious host. He has many cats, two who allow themselves to be touched in some way, and a large stone buddha burns a candle in the room where we slept, content with his hospitality, conversation, and vermuth.
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