Antwerp, part I: Pelgromage to the home of Pietro and Silvius

Antwerp, Belgium

The tale of Silvius Brabo and the giant is legendary enough to warrant a Baroque fountain in the main square of Antwerp. A giant collecting tolls for those wanting to cross a bridge would cut off a travellers hand if they could not or would not pay. A brave Roman soldier, Silvius cut off the giant's hand to teach him a lesson and slew him, tossing the hand into the river. This is the fantastic story of how Antwerp got its name - from Dutch "hand" and "werpen" (thrower). Some believe that the giant was simply a strong figure who held great weight in society, and not a physical giant. 

In many bakeries, almond hand biscuits are sold. However, the real origin of the name is possibly from the Dutch "an 't werf", meaning 'on the wharf', as Antwerp was and is based around its powerful dock on the river. A less fanciful story, but still very interesting, as in the early sixteenth century Antwerp was in its golden age - sugar refineries were booming, as was moneylending and the spice trade. It was recorded at the time that hundreds of ships would dock per day, so it must have been some wharf. 

If Antwerpians love hand related things, they love Rubens more. While not born in the city, he moved there when he heard his mother was gravely ill. He unfortunately did not make it back from Italy before her death, but was an influential figure in the city and died there himself in 1640. He was sent on diplomatic missions to Spain as he was well liked, and was even knighted by Charles I of England.  He never returned to Italy; a shame as he had fallen in love with it (he would often go by Pietro Paulo Rubens - the Italian version of his name). He drew great inspiration from Carravaggio, who is said to have birthed Baroque. To contextualise with an earlier post, six of his paintings were destroyed in the Bombardment of Brussels (damn you Louis!). 

We watched what looked like a student project being filmed in front of the Rubens statue. It was difficult to tell what was going on, but it seemed to be an advertisement for antiperspirant. Interesting choice of background, bros. 

While in Antwerp, Rubens contributed several paintings (including thirty nine ceiling pieces) to the opulent interior of St-Carolus-Borromeuskerk. Most have been destroyed in fires or removed, but the main altarpiece remains. Soft and glowing, with curvy and heroic figures, you can see why Rubens was and remains a popular painter. 

Outside, we braved the rain to continue our awed tour of the city, which I enjoyed even more than Brussels. The cobblestoned streets had a beautiful sheen to them. I'll never take historic streets for granted when I'm so used to walking along asphalt and concrete. 

Sometimes in a city, your first view of a major monument can look something like this. Reaching up over the front doors, the cathedral's highly detailed carvings show an array of activities and personalities, such as scribes hard at work at their desks and demons poking their heads around the ankles of saints. 

Once you retreat a way, you can see the building in all its splendour. The storeys-high windows and golden clock faces are particularly striking. 

With a crick in my neck from gazing upwards all day, we entered Pelgrom bar along an alley called Pelgrimstraat. Located in a fifteenth century cellar, the candlelit wooden tables oozed antiquity. They hold medieval feasts here, where you eat hearty food with your hands, drinking and laughing with other merrymakers. This seemed a bit too method-acting for me, so we enjoyed a quiet sparkling water. The difficulty came when we wandered all along the series of brick rooms and were unable to find anything resembling a bar or place to order. Eventually a man came to take our order, and was entirely nonplused, saying that we could order and pay through him as though that were obvious. Emerging from the gloom, we re-entered the modern day.