PopZilla Goes to Antwerp!
Thursday morning dawns, and for once I'm there to greet it...well, almost, I'm up at 7am and on the train by quarter to 8 to the airport. No doubt you'll want to know why. Well, it's Antwerp Pride weekend, and the next four days are going to turn the city from somewhere I've vaguely heard of into a place I'd want to go back to.
But I don't have time for this and I'm soon showered, changed and on the streets, in search of some good old fashioned retail therapy. A five minute walk later and I turn the corner into the Meir and what's the first shop I see...is it Cartier? Calvin Klein? No, it's Greggs, the baker's, so after I've sent the picture to all I know, I end up in C&A, where apparently I'm a size 60 waist...I have the shorts to prove it.
After an hour or two, it's back to the hotel to change for the reception being held at the town hall to open the festivities, but I never make it because I fall asleep and wake up too late. So I get dressed and pop myself along to the launch party at D-Club. Apparently, I'm the only one who knew about the launch party, well, me and fifteen locals. Luckily they spoke fluent English (like the majority of people in the city) and I end up having a right old laugh - for twenty minutes - before heading home and buying a tub of Ben and Jerry's on the way.
Friday morning and it's two earlies in a row, as I'm going on a guided tour of Antwerp today. I can barely contain my excitement.
Our guide shows up promptly and as we wait for a couple of stragglers, he explains just what we'll be looking at on the three hour walk (I know, I almost fainted as well).
Three hours later, after having learned that 70% of the worlds diamonds pass through the city and over 300 million tons of cargo are deposited at the 35 kilometres of docklands each year to be distributed around Europe and beyond, I'm ready to drop and don't really care if I ever see another gay underwear shop in my life.
We stop for lunch at a bar/restaurant, Sjalot & Schanul, which is tucked away behind the Grote Markt and simply decorated. The food was plentiful and good, being a mix of traditional food (erm...endives) and more popular choices, such as veal, and filet mignon.
A leisurely stroll takes me back to the hotel via the Meir again, which is Antwerp's main shopping street and where I can't resist snapping up a few bargains and a Big Mac (my dinner had gone down by this point, no, really). There's no rest for the wicked though, and after a quick change it's back on the streets.
Strangely enough, even though it's Pride weekend, there is nothing to advertise this, or suggest that it's even going on apart from eager assurances from Ellen at Touresme Antwerpen that Antwerp is now looking forward and is committed to not only welcoming diversity, but encouraging it to flourish. A local tells me a different and rather more jaded story about the bar owners who have clubbed together every year for five years to stage the Navigaytion event and fleece the locals. I prefer Ellen's version of events.
It's Saturday morning, the morning I learn that there has been no Pride March arranged, no fun fair in a car park and certainly no cordoning off of streets to cope with the huge influx of visitors. Rather than wait around for the evening's festivities to begin, I jump on a train to Brussels, 45 minutes south of the city, and spend rather an enjoyable day wandering up and down the Atomium and gawping in midday surprise at the Amsterdam-a-like shop windows displaying nothing but female flesh and surrounded by the faint tang of bitterness...
Then, it's back on the train to Antwerp, where there is still precious little advertising the big gay weekend in progress. Saying that, it is only the first Pride, and I'm reminded of last night's local cynicism as I arrive at the Navigaytion site to the sounds of Europop and dance, the smell of burgers and hot dogs and the sight of many gays in not many clothes, gyrating like mad on a number of club boats that cruise (fnarr!) up and down the river Schelde, only ever stopping to disgorge one load of sweaty bettys and picking up a fresh crowd, before groaning off again.
It's all too much for me, and I make my way, hot dog in hand, to watch a giant game of gay human foosball. Hilarity abounds as the not very soft ball bounces off heads and torsos, flying through the air and never once reaching the goal area. I wander through a dark underpass, where there seems to be a full club night in swing (even if they are playing Haddaway!) to emerge in front of a bungee jump crane and a lonely dj, prevented from seeing his own loneliness by a pair of huge sunglasses.
A couple more hours is all my weary form can take as I slump into a taxi to take me back to my hotel, via an hour in the Stadpark (interesting to say the least, it's the first time I've been accosted by an Arab man asking for 20 Euros for a '...leedle beed of zex?'- I declined, naturally). I drift off to sleep that night, dreaming of boats and foosball and hot dog induced indigestion...
Sunday, and all good things come to an end. I pack my bags, say goodbye to my new friends and jump into the taxi waiting to take me back to the airport.
As we take off, I look down at this little city, so full of sparkle and life and vow to return next year, to see how much better they've done.
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Popzilla was very kindly flown to Antwerp by top notch European airline, VLM and accommodated at the 4* Carlton Hotel courtesy of Touresme Antwerpen.
