So that title is actually a lie. I have been intending to make a pilgrimage to Luxembourg for a long time because it's the place my brother was living when he died. And from what his friends tell me, he was having big fun in that little town. So I wanted to see for myself what his time there might've been like.
We arrived by train at the main station, a depot I'm sure he set foot in. We stayed across the street at the Hotel Empire, which I'm pretty sure he never had reason to set foot in. After we checked in, we headed to the Corniche, the balcony of Europe (top left). I didn't smoke any cigarettes while strolling and surveying the valley, but I suspect he did. On our way there, we stopped at Independent Cafe (top right). When my brother lived in Luxembourg, he worked part-time at a bar. It likely wasn't this one or The Tube (bottom left) because they didn't exist then, but that didn't stop me from imagining him being there anyway. I certainly hope that at some point he had a doner at the same divey place we did (bottom right), but I'll never know for sure.
Possibly he bought some fresh flowers or groceries at the weekly market in Place de Guillaume II, named after the Grand Duke of Luxembourg (left). But even if he didn't, it's probable that he passed by the plaza's City Hall once or twice (right).
We ambled through the plaza as we were waiting for a bus to Larochette, which is about an hour's ride away. I have no evidence that my brother ever was there, but I'm willing to bet he and his classmates made the village a day trip, if only to see its castle (left). Or maybe they used it as a base for some hiking in the nearby hills (right), which I know my brother enjoyed.
If my brother did go there, I wonder if he was surprised as much as I was by the Portuguese influence. As we climbed down from the castle, we passed some small saintly shrines (top left). And when we got back to town, some of the side streets seemed straight out of Lisbon (top right). My brother's French and my Russian would've been equally unhelpful at Fielser Stuff, but luckily TJ's Spanish background taught him enough Portuguese that he could easily order a few "imperials" (bottom).
My brother didn't have the opportunity to enjoy the panoramic view (top left) at the top of the elevator to Pfaffenthal (top right) because it opened decades after he lived in Luxembourg. But being an explorer, he probably found all the nooks and crannies of the city, including scaling the steps down to the valley and walking along the Alzette River (bottom).
Even if it had been open, I suspect my brother wouldn't have enjoyed the Big Beer Company, located in a nightlife strip not far from the city's Youth Hostel, where we stopped for a beer when at first we had trouble finding the bar. Upon seeing how much of a party place it seemed to be, we weren't very disappointed to find it closed, prompting us to push farther down the Petrusse River into Grund.
Here, we easily found our destination, the Liquid Cafe, a craft-beer bar that felt very British, and not just because rugby was on the TVs (left). In this comforting place, I drank to my brother's honor with De Struise Brewers' Old Fisherman's Ale (right), a Flemish specialty that is somewhere between a dark ale and a stout -- and a far cry from the Killian's we once drank together. Here's to you, Chris.
We arrived by train at the main station, a depot I'm sure he set foot in. We stayed across the street at the Hotel Empire, which I'm pretty sure he never had reason to set foot in. After we checked in, we headed to the Corniche, the balcony of Europe (top left). I didn't smoke any cigarettes while strolling and surveying the valley, but I suspect he did. On our way there, we stopped at Independent Cafe (top right). When my brother lived in Luxembourg, he worked part-time at a bar. It likely wasn't this one or The Tube (bottom left) because they didn't exist then, but that didn't stop me from imagining him being there anyway. I certainly hope that at some point he had a doner at the same divey place we did (bottom right), but I'll never know for sure.
Here, we easily found our destination, the Liquid Cafe, a craft-beer bar that felt very British, and not just because rugby was on the TVs (left). In this comforting place, I drank to my brother's honor with De Struise Brewers' Old Fisherman's Ale (right), a Flemish specialty that is somewhere between a dark ale and a stout -- and a far cry from the Killian's we once drank together. Here's to you, Chris.
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