Flanders in May

It didn't take me long to find a nation as jolly as the Swiss. Having returned to the Netherlands for another fantastic weekend with Chris and Dom, I headed south through the Maas and Scheldt delta expecting to find another Rotterdam. Instead I found a gem.

Antwerp is the heart of the diamond industry which is largely controlled by Orthodox Jews. In all streats around the station there were men with wide rimmed black hats and impossibly long curled sideburns shifting around with briefcases. The station itself is reminicent of a medieval palace: with expansive ceilings, pointed turrets and, as I would find everywhere in Antwerp, superb attention to detail.

A wide street leads from the station to the old town which must be a womans paradise with the quality of shops off set by splendidly powerful upper stories topped with grey domes and figures clutching bolts of lightning. The streets then diverge into a maze of facades containing boutiques and brasseries with tall slim Dutch form and a decaying Roman Catholic extravagence.

But for all the architectural treasures and character of the sleepy romantic streets of Brugge, it is the humour of the Belgians that is most notable. A hostel full of manequins, hidden provocative sculptures, a monument to Gaston Lagaffe... and the people themselves who are friendly, unpretentious and full bodied such that, over many generations, they may have had one too many delicious beers and pommes-frites mayonaise but feel all the better for it.

I arrived at the "belgian national center for comic books" around 10am and had to drag myself away from their genius world at closing time. My journey through the improbable collage which is Brussels took me through two narrow streets with the densest concentration of restaurants I have seen each of them serving one thing - moules frites. I wrapped up the evening with one of Belgiums famous super clubs with a full compliment of live electronica bands, parisian folk singers and great DJ's who oversaw the movement of whole rooms full of happy belgians each reaching towards the lights in mutual jubilation. With a jazz club featuring a deamon lead bassist in the expansive inner city and musicians playing their accordians and guitars freely on the streets I am convinced that this city has the real life.