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About Antwerp

Still, it’s a minefield, mate. Angry again—blokes get ripped off left, right, and center. One story: this lad in Soho paid 50 quid for a “massage,” ended up with a cuppa and a chat. Robbed! “Some men just want to watch the world burn,” I reckon—total stitch-up. Me, I’d be too paranoid—am I getting mugged off? Is she a cop? Total buzzkill. Still, if you’re smart, play it cool, you might just find the goods. “I’m the one who knocks,” I’d say—nah, scratch that, wrong film. “I’m Batman!” There we go. Class.

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The streets – oh man. There's Kapellestraat, kinda busy, lined with cafes that smell so damn good. You ever have a latte that lifts your soul? I have. And then there’s Nieuwstraat. Somewhere by Nieuwstraat, I saw a tearful woman, and trust me, as a women’s counselor, that hit my heart. The way the folks whisper their secrets on these streets, well… it's like something out of that movie “The Master” – cryptic choose-your-own-adventure, you know?

Fig. 1. Lithostratigraphic classification of the lower middle Ypresian...