Trappist is also the name of a popular Belgian beer (SerialNo.115-11)

If you take the train from the Brussels airport to central station, the minute you exit, you see an outlet of the Scottish brewery Brewdog. It's not exactly the Belgian brown cafe you are hoping for, but after a day of traveling, it's a welcome sight, especially when one of the guest taps is local De Ranke Brewery's Noir de Dottignies strong dark ale (top left). It's enough to fortify you for the walk to your room at B&B Les Clarisses (top right), which is right up the street from Winehouse Osteria and directly across from some pretty spectacular murals (bottom left). Inside, it's equally artistic, with a narrow little staircase that matches the narrow little alley it sits on (bottom right). 

 

 

In a city full of artistic masterpieces, including Rene Magritte's Son of Man, it's really surreal that every tourist wants to see the Manneken Pis, a tiny statue that often is adorned in costumes like a porch-step goose (top left). It's perhaps even more absurd that right across the street, a larger replica appears to be taking a leak on a collection of Belgian waffles (top right). But then, a few blocks away,  no one stops to admire the shop of a true artist, making musical masterpieces (bottom).

But for us beer trappers, we were on the hunt for a different kind of craftsperson. In our attempt to find En Stoemelings, which brews everything by hand, we stumbled upon two drinking institutions. At Les Marseillais, its many patrons had clearly mastered the art of day drinking. At La Broncante, there were fewer patrons (left), but one of them was literally creating art at a sunlit table. I watched the man's skill with colored pencils as I sipped Brasserie de la Senne's Brusseleir dark ale (right).

We never did find the actual brewery, but we sampled some En Stoemelings at dinner  at Nuetnigenough. The restaurant has an extensive bottle list and includes beer in almost all of its offerings, including our terrine appetizer (top). With our mains, we tried Belgium's two top potato specialties: frites with TJ's pork cheeks and stoemp with my blood sausages (bottom left). We were happy we arrived early, so we could easily snag a no-reservations table amid the small eatery's framed and bottled art (bottom right).

After dinner, we strolled through the rain-soaked streets and lamp-lit facades of the old city, including the appropriately named Grand-Place (top left). We took a shortcut through the Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert (top right) to reach A La Mort Subite (bottom left), a 1920s institution whose name means "At the Sudden Death" (fun fact: I am pretty sure this bar was used as a set in The Danish Girl, filling in as Paris during that time period). We finished the night at a much more modern drinking establishment, Moeder Lambic, conveniently located about a block from our B&B (bottom right).

The highlight of our 24-hour whirlwind tour was a visit to the Brussels Museum of the Gueuze, which is really just the Cantillon Brewery, a family business that has been open since 1900 (top left). We took a self-guided tour of the operation, which utilizes mostly original 19th-century equipment, including the mash tun (top right). The brewery's pride and joy is a copper cooling tun, which is where the magic wild fermentation happens (bottom left). The brewery is so dedicated to consistency that it replaced its aging roof over a decade in an attempt maintain the strains of yeast found in the rafters. At the end of tour in the tasting room (bottom right), we drank lambic straight from the barrel, then compared it to gueuze, a blend of lambics with secondary bottle fermentation, and framboise, a lambic infused with raspberries that is blended with young lambic for secondary fermentation.

We could've lingered all day at the brewery, but before we boarded our train to Luxembourg, we opted for one more Belgian meal. On the way, we passed Porte de Hal, a gate of the medieval city that has been turned into -- what else -- an art museum (top left). We ate across from the Town Hall of Saint-Gilles, a neighborhood known for its art nouveau architecture (top right). We wanted to try a culinary mainstay at Brasserie de la Renaissance (bottom left). We remembered that a recommended dish started with a "C" in French, and unfortunately, our waitress was one of the few who didn't speak English. So we pressed our luck and ordered two "C" dishes from the specials board. TJ was the lucky winner of the carbonnade, like boeuf Bourguignon but with beer instead of wine (bottom right). Fortunately, my cod with chorizo was equally delicious.

That was hard, hiking in the snow (126Cong.Rec.Bound)

I used to be a little smug about references to "rambling" in the United Kingdom. I found it funny that they didn't just call it "hiking." But after a recent group hiking trip, I have fully embraced the word as the best descriptor of my kind of weekend in the woods; rambling is more concerted than walking but less challenging than actual hiking.

Our entourage of eight followed an itinerary arranged by Active Ukraine. To start, we took the overnight train from Kyiv to Ivano-Frankivsk (top), the same place TJ and I used as a jumping-off point for our first foray in the Carpathians. The sun was coming up just as we chugged into the city (bottom left). Our first walk, not hike, was to a filling breakfast at Urban Space. We also took a quick stroll around the city's Heritage Museum before heading out to our base camp (bottom right).

On the way there, we stopped in Yavoriv to see some heritage in action. The short but slow climb up to the location of our cultural activity was an indication that I might be out of my depth. But at least the sun was shining, which made it perfect for drying cheese and mushrooms outside (top left). But really, we were there to see how the locals turn hand-spun wool (top right) into beautiful but practical wool blankets called lizhnyk (bottom).

Our host, Panna Anna, demonstrated how to turn wool, which is cleaned with a "natural waterfall washing machine," into yarn (left) that is sometimes dyed before it is fed into hand-made looms for weaving (right). A few of tried our own hands at parts of the process, but I can tell you, none of us made it look as easy as Panna Anna (which means "Miss Anna" in Polish).

Despite our paltry contribution to her operation, she filled our bellies with a delicious lunch that included corncakes with brindza cheese as well as pancakes with berry jam (left). She also filled our glasses with various types of homemade alcohol, including samogan, otherwise known as Ukrainian moonshine. By the time the meal was over (right), some of us (re: me) were a little tipsy and wondering how well that afternoon's hike would go.

Luckily, it took a little while to reach the town of Dzembronya, where we met our guides at Bily Slon camp, which is named after the abandoned observatory on Pip Ivan, also known as Chornohora or Black Mountain (left). Many of the camp's cabins were booked so we all stayed together in a single house across the river and street called Ksenya Lodge (right).

After dropping off our gear, we set off for our first hike, 3 miles up and down the hills behind the camp. I knew there would be some ascents over the weekend, but I didn't realize just how high we would be climbing from the river valley (top left). It also didn't help that a fast pace was set by our accompanying malamute mascot (top right). Although I was sucking wind most of the way up, I was able to catch my breath as we stopped for snacks and selfies before making a slippery descent (top).

The next day, we drove to the starting point of our second hike, for which we split into two groups: faster and slower. You can probably guess which one I joined, but I didn't mind because being behind the lead pack allowed me to enjoy the solace of the path (top left). Originally, our guides had planned a much longer hike, but they scaled way back to about 5 miles after they assessed our ability, especially in knee-deep snow -- with possibly more on the way (top right). But we made it to our destination, some excellent stone formations hidden among the evergreens (bottom left). Standing beside the gigantic structures, I was enormously proud of my achievement (bottom right).

 

Once we got back down to the valley, we abandoned our hiking poles (top) and made a beeline for the banya. At first, after being out in the cold all day, I felt like I would never want to leave the heat, but it's a necessity of the tradition to alternate between the humid steam of the sauna (bottom left) and the bracing chill of a nearby plunge pool or snow bank (bottom right).

The alternation kind of reminded me of the process of an out-and-back hike. If you manage to make it up the hill (top left), you are rewarded with a return down the hill -- which can sometimes can be just as challenging (top right). If you cut a path across a field (bottom left), you'll follow those tracks back (bottom right). But somehow, the exertion makes you less aware of the repetition.

 

It also helps if you are distracted and entertained by a great guide, who had a knack for taking solid candid snapshots (top left). He took equally nice posed shots of our group along the trail (top right). I would be remiss if I didn't credit most of my motivation to my fellow trekkers (bottom), who at least for a weekend turned this ramblin' woman into a hikin' hopeful.