Excuse the previous two blow outs. I got into a bit of a strop there. I've calmed down now. I was in Antwerp talking to the alcoholic manager of the hostel I was staying in and his sidekick an ex-soldier of the PLO apparently. They operated mostly out of the hostel bar which served as reception, office, lounge etc. The manager rarely got more than one-two hours sleep each night. Early in the day he looked like that but by lunchtime and a few drinks under his belt he had woken up, or at least, pushed back the hangover by 24hrs. The hostel itself was barebones, as barebones as you're likely to find. The guys rarely left the bar so there wasn't much to the dorms other than four walls a floor and a ceiling. Ancient creaking bunkbeds with saggy mattresses and a single blanket serve for the bedding. Extra beds could be found by placing spare mattresses tat were piled high in one corner around the floor. That wasn't necessary on this occasion. There were about 7-8 staying when I arrived. One of them was an American guy who had been in the same dorm as me in Ghent and came over on a morning train. There were two Canadian guys who were cycling around Europe and had arrived from Ghent the previous day and a dutch girl working for a Dutch singer helping to promote him at venues where he would perform. The singer wasn't staying in this hostel his gig had been cancelled but the girl hadn't been told so she had been stranded in Antwerp for the day.
I had a look around the old part of the city. While the street layout and some of the buildings remained unaltered since the late 16th century. Much of the old town had changed. I arrived in Antwerp on Oct 8th some 420yrs and 4 days since Francisco De Cuellar sat down in a room somewhere nearby to write, by candle light, an account of his experiences with the Armada. Ironically just across the street from the hostel I was staying in there was a house fully restored to 16th century conditions, decor etc, and a couple of alleys next to the hostel are unaltered since then as well so I had to have a look. After a quick look it was back to sample some of the local Antwerp brews and I realized why the manager was always drunk. Their brews are so strong. The house beer is 8%, another one 'La Chouffe' is 14%. A couple of glasses of those and you're in happy land, just don't try getting off the bar stool. The manager joined me for a bit when he heard I was from Ireland. By now he was full of beans. He reckoned he knew where Leitrim is. He said he'd been to Ireland once for two months. He'd travelled by submarine 'to do something that had to be done' but he neither said what it was he had to do nor how he got back home again. I'm presuming it was in his submarine. A real international man of mystery this guy.
Later he and the PLO lad were going out for the night and I was invited along but I politley declined. My bidget wasn't going to stretch to their copious capacity for alcohol consumption and I was already feeling the effects a few glasses of the potent La Chouffe. Within éà mins the PLO lad was back looking after affairs so perhaps his ability to get by in the hostel relied on his ability to have good excuses on urgent matters back in the hostel when he's being dragged out to drink with the boss. I went to bed humming the yellow submarine.
Later he and the PLO lad were going out for the night and I was invited along but I politley declined. My bidget wasn't going to stretch to their copious capacity for alcohol consumption and I was already feeling the effects a few glasses of the potent La Chouffe. Within éà mins the PLO lad was back looking after affairs so perhaps his ability to get by in the hostel relied on his ability to have good excuses on urgent matters back in the hostel when he's being dragged out to drink with the boss. I went to bed humming the yellow submarine.
