One of my reasons for choosing Antwerp was that, in addition
to its not being Brussels, a city whose inhabitants I find
racist, pretentious, money-grubbing, and dull, it had great
train connections to everywhere in case we got bored. As it
turns out we'd done quite well by Antwerp and in order to lend
justification to my plan, just decided to visit Mechelen, a city
now forgotten but at one time one of the most important on the
continent, having been at one time the capital of the Netherlands
and having had enough residual cachet that it was the terminus of
the first railroad trip in Europe in 1835 (the line was Brussels
to Mechelen, later extended to Antwerp and the rest of the world).
It's less than half an hour by train from Antwerp from either city
and despite being well worth the trip doesn't seem overvisited.

We took the slow train to Nekkerspoel, because that is closer
to the old town, and the walk to the cathedral is mostly through
the historic district and goes past assorted old structures.

The Neptune statue (the lazy fat man) by Mechelen resident Frans
Langhemans is the first historic monument we went by (it's amusing),
and then five minutes later the palace of Margaret of Austria (also
former home of Anne Boleyn) and across the way what's left of the
palace of Margaret of York. Then there's the elaborate town hall,
with its UNESCO World Heritage Site clocktower, and finally the
Cathedral of St. Rombout (Rumbold), with its own UNESCO World
Heritage Site clocktower, which one can climb, though we weren't
up for that. The sanctuary is worth a visit, as it's said to be the
grandest in the country (another testament to how important the city
was). I was inclined to go back to the Great Market to find the shrine
to beer that Michelin extols, but we weren't ready for lunch yet and
decided to walk along the Dyle River and the boardwalk built above
part of it. So at the end of the boardwalk we found Bistro Louis,
where we deemed ourselves ready for a quick snack. The waitress was
gruff but accurate and on the whole okay, and she didn't cave when
several other parties came at once, including one who dithered and
dathered and then got up from her prime table and left without
ordering anything. Bonnie had a croque monsieur, quite decent, but,
as with most of them in these parts, not enough ham, and the batter
had a bunch of nutmeg; and I had a plate of little beef croquettes,
which were crispy and ditto with too much nutmeg and not enough meat.
I suspect a factory was behind both these dishes. The beer on draft
was Pilsner Urquell, a fine but strange choice; Bonnie had another
red Bordeaux ordinaire.

We hustled to the other train station, where we could catch the
fast train back (5 minutes faster) to have time for a siesta before
dinner at 6 - this was our early night, since we had a flight from
Zavantem next day. The main train station turned out to be only
10 minutes away from our lunch spot.
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