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Oct. 2nd, 2008 08:05 pmOver the weekend I went to Liege (just across the border in Belgium) twice. The old trains have a first class that is dilapidated swank--pale brownish-red corduroy seats...but we were just across the glass door in second class...with the hard blue plastic seats. On Saturday we went to procure a bicycle for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
theophile. As soon as we got off the train, I said "ahh" because all around me was gorgeous sunset-drenched urban grit--just around the corner from the station rose two monoliths of Art Deco green granite and gold glass, abandoned, and glowing in the last rays of the day's sun. In the streets ahead and in the hills above our head cheerful white Normandy-style buildings were mixed with old brown brick and rust, empty windows, soot, graffiti. This town is so clean so it was good to move through urban space that was a bit seedy.
The following morning I went back with Sandra, to the open-air market--it is a huge market, stretching over several kilometers, with everything--from pulpy tomatoes to freshly-baked bread to racks of ugly (but cheap and functional) clothes to chickens on a grill to cages with live chickens, ducks, and other feathered creatures presumably also destined for the grill. We saw a family of mother duck with six tiny ducklings, sad in a cage, so we bought them with the plan to liberate them in Borgharen. The ducks were moved to a cardboard box where they churped and bounced. We had a very chaotic walk to the car, weaving through the now oversaturated with people market--at one point we tried to shortcut through a little alley, but the loading dock workers hanging out in the front said something to Sandra in French, and she said we would take the next street--turned out this alley was prostitutes' turf, and they are not fond of women walking through their street, and will throw food at them.
When we got back to Sandra's house we let the ducks out, and with the three dogs and a cat that live there, not to mention her two babies and Fionn, chaos ensued. We quickly packed the ducks back up and headed to the corn fields--stopping on the way to investigate the offerings of a tiny little wooden shack that functions as an "honor system" store at the edge of the corn field. On Sunday all they basically had was yellow cherry tomatoes, some peppers, and a book Uri Geller. Past the shed we went, to a little stream that is completely hypnotic, because the bottom of it is lined with green water-weeds that undulate like mermaid hair--past the corn fields--and there the ducks were liberated. They kind of freaked out at first, but quickly got situation, swam around for a bit, then disappeared below the little stone bridge, and reappeared on the other side, heading down the stream. I think they will probably stick around in the area...we can visit.
And here are some duck photos for pnts!
theophile. As soon as we got off the train, I said "ahh" because all around me was gorgeous sunset-drenched urban grit--just around the corner from the station rose two monoliths of Art Deco green granite and gold glass, abandoned, and glowing in the last rays of the day's sun. In the streets ahead and in the hills above our head cheerful white Normandy-style buildings were mixed with old brown brick and rust, empty windows, soot, graffiti. This town is so clean so it was good to move through urban space that was a bit seedy.The following morning I went back with Sandra, to the open-air market--it is a huge market, stretching over several kilometers, with everything--from pulpy tomatoes to freshly-baked bread to racks of ugly (but cheap and functional) clothes to chickens on a grill to cages with live chickens, ducks, and other feathered creatures presumably also destined for the grill. We saw a family of mother duck with six tiny ducklings, sad in a cage, so we bought them with the plan to liberate them in Borgharen. The ducks were moved to a cardboard box where they churped and bounced. We had a very chaotic walk to the car, weaving through the now oversaturated with people market--at one point we tried to shortcut through a little alley, but the loading dock workers hanging out in the front said something to Sandra in French, and she said we would take the next street--turned out this alley was prostitutes' turf, and they are not fond of women walking through their street, and will throw food at them.
When we got back to Sandra's house we let the ducks out, and with the three dogs and a cat that live there, not to mention her two babies and Fionn, chaos ensued. We quickly packed the ducks back up and headed to the corn fields--stopping on the way to investigate the offerings of a tiny little wooden shack that functions as an "honor system" store at the edge of the corn field. On Sunday all they basically had was yellow cherry tomatoes, some peppers, and a book Uri Geller. Past the shed we went, to a little stream that is completely hypnotic, because the bottom of it is lined with green water-weeds that undulate like mermaid hair--past the corn fields--and there the ducks were liberated. They kind of freaked out at first, but quickly got situation, swam around for a bit, then disappeared below the little stone bridge, and reappeared on the other side, heading down the stream. I think they will probably stick around in the area...we can visit.
And here are some duck photos for pnts!
