Life with “The Others”

Yesterday Del and I did something I’ve meant to do for the past two winters: we went to the Ice Sculpture Festival in Bruges. And we were not disappointed. Except for the fact that we couldn’t stay in there long because, well, it was frickin freezing in there!

That sounds silly to say. Of course it was cold. It says so right on the sign. But I mean, it. Was. Cold. As soon as we entered the doors we laughed with surprise at the crackling dry air that clutched our lungs. I tried to take my time viewing the sculptures out of pure stubbornness, but Del was urging me to get the heck outta Dodge. By the time we left – after only about 20 minutes – it is no exaggeration to say that my fingers and toes were number than they’ve ever been. It was actually painful to the point that I had a little trouble walking for a while after we left. My balance felt wonky because of the extent to which I couldn’t feel my toes.

There was even an ice bar (a la the Ice Hotel in Sweden), but we were too cold to indulge, even if drinking hot chocolate. We just had to get out of there. But it sure was enthralling. So much so that I didn’t mind spending $15 (plus train fare) for the short wander. Every single thing in there was made of snow and ice. Couldy ice. Crystal clear ice. Ice with streaks and perfectly placed air buddles. There was even a covered ice slide! (Which, again, we were too cold to partake in.)

I can’t help it. Things like this make me feel 5 years old. I prance around ooh and aah-ing at everything. I wished I were small enough to crawl through some of the little ice-tunnel shortcuts through the exhibition (ice) rooms. I will definiately go back next year – I’ll just dress (even) more snugly so we can ooh and ahh for a little longer.

(Hint for any locals considering the trip: ask for a B-excursion ticket at the train station. You get a combined train fare and entry, which comes out to be cheaper than purchasing just a train ticket!)

Outside was a clever little temporary cafe, themed as if you were sitting inside of a carousel. And there actually was a small carousel in there too! We sat in a huge red Santa-sleigh right in the middle of the place and giggled like soon-to-be newlyweds until the feeling came back to our extremities.

Here are a couple more photos of our frigid adventure. (Full set on Flickr today or tomorrow.) Did I already say I love Christmas?!

The bank here is s frustrating place, but until yesterday I imagined that I was the only one who found it so. Anytime I have to go to the counter there’s a 30 minute wait. There are always 10 people in line and only one person at the customer desks.

Generally I am frustrated because I find such consistently bad service ridiculously unacceptable. That’s not even to mention the fact that last time I wanted to withdraw from a particular account I was told “no” on four separate visits in a row, for various idiotic reasons. (Eventually I had to refuse to leave until I got my money.) But anyway, today for some reason I was laid back. The people in front of me were in no good mood, already quarreling about who was first. This happens often because people wait for so long, some inevitably give up and leave. Everybody else scatters into the few chairs to get comfortable, and everyone forgets the order of who came in when.

Today it so happens that the only desk person was brand new and had no idea how to do anything (poor guy). Every time someone new approached the desk he had to say, “one moment” and go ask for the help of one of the many other bank employees who sit at desks lining the edge of the room just staring at us doing god-knows-what. They inevitably go over and help him, then return to their desks. Then the next customer walks up and the poor guy has to go ask for help all over again. Every. Single. Time.

After 10 minutes of no progress in the line one guy approached a manager and said, “Isn’t there anybody else who can wait on us?” and she said brusquely, “No, there’s no one else.” Over the next 10 minutes of waiting he was getting more and more anxious. He began to pace a little – nothing unusual there. When his turn finally came, he approached the desk, asked a question and was promptly given some sort of negative response. He began to yell and curse. He walked to the door, turned back and grabbed one of the heavy, waist-high tables full of brochures in the middle of the room. One big whup! and bang! it was upside-down on the floor. Stacks and stacks of informational leaflets fluttered down on the room.

Boy, I thought I got mad! The bank managers all scurried out, chasing the guy (sort of) and straightening up the mess. The table was damaged. The employees seemed to be rather embarrassed. Obviously, this guy was completely inappropriate. But then again, for all I know he just asked to have some of his money and they told him no because, I dunno, he didn’t have a black ink pen and the bank doesn’t like blue. Although I severely tutted the man in my head, I also secretly suppressed a smile as he acted out my secret fantasy.

I can’t help it. Regardless of all the things that may disappoint or irk me throughout the year, there’s no place better to be than Brussels come December. Well, I love Europe in general at the holidays. I love the Christmas markets, particularly the necessary trip to Germany to visit Cologne’s six famous markets, sipping hot chocolate to stay warm, considering a Starbucks sighting a rare treat. I love the Eiffer Tower sparkling at the top of every hour (yes that’s all year round, but it’s Christmas-y nonetheless.) I love the lights lining Amsterdam’s canals. But whereas Brussels might not be as breathtaking as some of these cities most of the year, it takes the cake at Christmas time.

It really uses its architecture as decoration itself. I am tickled when skyscrapers have colored lights built into their exterior. Call me tacky, but I could watch Hong Kong’s skyline all night. When the normally buttoned-up, stoic forms of these beasts come alive with moving lights I think of a puppy wagging its tail for playtime. There’s one here that is quiet most of the year – then at Christmas the shiney box becomes an ever-changing show of colors and patterns. This year two office buildings near the airport have joined in, with purple, green and blue lights playing tag around their frames.

In the Grand Place the gorgeous old Lowland architecture is made a character in the decorative light show. Each year is different. (Last year’s can be found here.) I always look forward to what they will come up with each winter, and I have yet to be disappointed. It is never just an arrangement of lights; it actually tells a story.

Saturday night found me downtown in the Grand Place. To my pleasure, it was also the official opening of the holiday lighting. Always the same is the huge Christmas tree right in the middle (They actually dig up the very cobblestones and plunk it right in the earth below!), and the manger scene complete with real thatched roof and incongruously tacky yellow neon star. But this year’s musical theme was after my heart: opera, which I just discovered this year.

Each Saturday of the month highlights different music. This night’s theme was “The Best of German Opera”, which contained several of my very favorite pieces, to which the City Hall’s lights danced along with each, perfectly timed. I could have stood and watched/listened to that tune from The Magic Flute over and over. (Apologies for the voices talking – seemingly – right into the microphone and the awful sidways video! (I’ve tried for hours now to fix it and it Just. Isn’t. Working.) You get the video’s point though.)

Then, at 20:00 they actually had a live opera preformance from the balconies of the City Hall! (a snippet below.)

It was breath-taking. Below, a few more still photos of the changing Grand Place.

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Viewing them from here I can see that it might appear a bit tacky actually. But it’s not. It beautiful! I hope this post finds you discovering lots of little Christmas touches where you live!

That’s the slogan on the nice bag the gemology institute gave us to hold all our junk. It made it pretty obvious what we were doing there. Why, we were shopping for diamonds!

What better place to be to find an engagement ring than Antwerp, Belgium? 70% of the world’s diamonds are traded in Antwerp. Eight out of 10 rough diamonds and 1 out of 2 polished diamonds are handled here. Whew! So, off to Antwerp we went.

Only 40 minutes away on the train we began the hunt. How to shop for a diamond in Antwerp? No idea. So we started at HRD (the official representation of the diamond sector, which would give us lists of reputable dealers, etc). The diamond center covers 1 square mile and houses 1500 dealers, so we wanted to be sure and steer clear of the questionable element that is sure to be found among them.

The idea of getting ripped off aside (which is no small matter itself of course), I had to consider the whole “blood diamond” thing. (If you haven’t seen the movie Blood Diamond I cannot recommend it enough. It by far deserved the Oscar for Best Picture.) I have great guilt over the idea I could be complicit in conflict diamond trade. One the one hand I was completely enthusiastic about the idea of choosing a different stone. (I don’t mind bucking tradition.) On the other hand, is there any point in going to the diamond capitol of the world to buy….something else? (Besides, most other stones are at best set with at least small diamonds. So, is that any better?) I can only say that this was one reason we stuck to the most established and reputable dealers, all members of the organizations fighting against conflict diamonds. Is there not something to be said for supporting such organizations as well? I hope so.

We had long sit-down conversations at four different stores, learning lots and seeing what each had to offer. If you’re going to buy a diamond in Antwerp, it’s best to plan for two days. The first day they will show you what they have on-hand, but the next day they will show you what they were able to request specifically from their dealers for you.

It’s strange how two of them gave us the impression that our budget wouldn’t buy dirt (That being said, they were always respectful and never made us feel badly in any way. I’m just cutting to the chase of it.), whereas two of them were like “sure, we can work out something in whatever style you want with that.” The first place was very personable, yet never managed to come close to what I was asking for, not even in basic stone shape. He went to his stone dealer for us, but came back with round 400 Euro stones (not diamonds), saying that anything else became “way up there” in price. Really? I appreciate that he was trying to remain within the budget, but I find it impossible to believe that in a semi-precious variety there’s nothing between 400 and x000 Euros! But it’s not like the guy didn’t want to sell us something, so I’m a little perplexed on how far off the mark he remained. Strange, oh well.

The second guy was great. An older man in a lovely store that felt like a grand old French apartment, he sent a messenger out for sapphires right away. While we chatted we discussed the fact that Belgium was now on day 172 without a government, yet one would never know it from day-to-day life. (Another article on that here.) He said the local joke was that, “in France, they have a government and nothing works. In Belgium, we have no government and everything works.” I liked this Jo Katz a lot and he offered us lots of choices.

I liked the third guy too, at the Joaillerie du Centre. He didn’t have any of the exact cuts that I had my heart set on, but he went to the diamond market the next morning and brought back over 10 to show us. The first time we went back he was still closed for lunch; I feel guilty that before we tried again we had made another choice. But I think he must’ve had some good things to show us and I appreciate his work.

We settled on Philippe Harold. The neat thing about Antwerp ring shopping is that most of the time, you’re buying a loose diamond and then choosing how to set it. So basically we really fell for the stone that Harold showed us the first day. The second day we looked at others. Some bigger but lower quality, which doesn’t bother me as a rule. But when you go back to looking at the nicer stone, you can see the difference. And this one just winked at us. (It had us at “hello”.)

Shopping by stone first was initially a little intimidating. It requires you to know a lot more about diamonds and to make a lot more choices, whereas for a pre-made ring I would have chosen first on setting and not given much thought to the technicalities. I still think the most important thing is simply if it looks nice to you, but I do love the fact that we found the stone first. I have genuine affection for it, seperate and apart from the ring, which is not a perspective I’ve had on jewellery before.

So, do you really get a better deal in Antwerp? I’m no expert but my impression is this: you’re not likely to spend less on a ring, but you are likely to get much higher quality. Most of the places we went to did not even entertain the idea of showing us larger stones of slightly lower quality. (The latter being within the range of what I always considered “normal” to own, mind you.) At the suggestion some of them would sort of wrinkle their noses or shake their heads slowly. This sounds snooty but it was actually quite endearing in the end. These people really care about selling quality, and I appreciate that.

As one dealer explained, “We’re simply spoiled here in Antwerp. We have the first and best pick of stones, so [*shrugs*]…what can I say?”

So if you want to be spoiled, and Antwerp is on the way, get thee to its jewellers today.

Update for those considering Antwerp diamonds: If I go back and type the characteristics into an online diamond price calculator, our price comes out consistantly below.