Here's another view of Antwerp's city cathedral - Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekathedraal.
I discovered it reflected in a puddle out on Groenplaats one day. And loved it. And quite possibly looked insane as I stalked the puddle edges, searching for the best angle to capture the reflection at ... but I was compelled to.
Antwerp city... otherwise known as 't Stad, is a city with staying power. Quietly determined, she has stood here, growing, since Gallo Roman times, fighting off every kind of invader. A steenezel perhaps but so solid. Always solid, despite the Spanish, the Dutch, the Austrians, the Nazis and all kinds of other folk too, attempting to rule her.
The story goes that the city got its name via a legend that involved a mythical giant called Antigoon. He lived near the Scheldt River and demanded a toll from those using the river. If people refused, he cut off their hand and threw it into that river. The giant was eventually killed by a hero called Brabo who, in the way of mythical stories, cut off that giant's hand and threw it into the river.
Antwerpen or hand werpen, as in the Old English hand and wearpan (to throw), became the name of this city way back in those days when mythical giants existed ... somehow.
There are all kinds of other, more practical, stories regarding the name but this is my favourite.
Below is a glimpse of the famous river, giant-free, at sunset. You can see the exquisite Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekathedraal, (aka Cathedral of Our Lady) in the background. Construction finished way back in 1521. The one finished spire stands at 123 metres (404 ft) high, and is the highest church tower in the Benelux. The largest bell in the tower requires 16 bell ringers.
It's a city where I've been lucky to find all the pretty ways home because there are pretty ways. And I do love the ancient heart of the city, its perfectly walkable, cobblestoned and full of all kinds of surprises. It's as quirky as you can imagine. Let me show you.
My favourite shop in Genova is closing and they are selling these beautiful pieces of furniture.
Anyone interested in having them in their home or workspace, or who knows people who could use them in their cafe or shop, please don't hesitate to contact the lovely Francesca and Norma. Details are there on the advert.
I believe that half the trouble in the world comes from people asking 'What have I achieved?' rather than 'What have I enjoyed?'
Walter Farley
A wholehearted yes to this quote, found over on Terri Windling's beautiful blog, Myth & Moor.
I have decided that to die rich is stories is another way to measure a life. I have never 'achieved' in the normal sense of the word but I like the way my life has played out so far. I've lost everything twice but not in a traumatic way ... it's more that I simply stepped away from 'stuff'.
I read of people desiring, quite desperately it seems, to declutter their lives and I think, 'move countries' and take only the 23kg limit allowed by most carriers out of New Zealand. It was the same when I moved from Istanbul. What you can't leave behind becomes clear ...
I discovered a graffiti park, here in the city, once upon a time ...
Of course developers took it over, 'fixed' it, and these days it's a shadow of its former luscious self. But here's a photograph I made before it was fixed.
When I went home, back in 2012, one of the places I had to revisit was the river in the photograph below.
It was the scene of much childhood joy. It was my river. I loved the smell of it as it flowed out of the valley and onto the plains. I loved the scent the stones would throw up from under our wet and wriggly bodies as we baked ourselves on top of them, teeth chattering, after being ordered out of the river to warm ourselves a while. I loved picnics there ... warm Greggs cordial in big glass beer bottles, and egg sandwiches and cakes Mum had baked. And I loved the way my hair would smell, full of river water, on the way home.
Later, when body consciousness forced me out of the river and those idyllic childhood days, I returned with my dog. She seemed to share my passion for the river. I would skim stones for her from the shore.
Fast-forward decades and everyone warned me, when I went home ... things will have changed. You will have idealised it. So I was cautious with my expectations, knowing that the landscapes I had loved might seem different, now I was older, more traveled.
But no ... those old landscapes, they rose up in front of me and kissed me full on the mouth. A bear hug, or more, and this deep feeling of joy over simple things like bird song and the scent of bush in the rain at Tautuku.
Nothing had changed. All of the big passionate love I had felt was still there. Those 'scapes allowed me to slip back in and love them like always. No recriminations about leaving.
Well, maybe .... just a few sly questions like, have you found anywhere better? Name one place where the air smells like this ...
Did you miss us?