During the last five or six years all my vacations bit by bit, almost unnoticeably but unavoidably have turned into beercations. My itineraries revolve around breweries I want to visit, festivals I want to attend, events I want to participate in, stores I want to leave my money at and people I want to meet. But it seems I’m getting old. I don’t enjoy big vibrant and fast paced cities full of people and adventures as much as I did anymore. Not that I don’t like them at all, no. But I’m helplessly falling in love with tiny towns and villages and special people making something with their own hands and I’m eager to spend time on the road and get to them no matter what it takes. More so, if this people and I are brought together by mere accident, like a post on Facebook, a mention by a distant acquaintance or other intricate way of fate. And I’m extremely happy about the fact that such people exist and these unexpected journeys happen.
“Oh gosh, we’ve overslept the best connection for today!” This was the beginning of one Saturday morning in Belgium. Not your usual morning, because it was a morning of our 10 day long trip to the Holy ground of beer. Yes, I know it’s terribly cliched, but totally true nonetheless. Almost a month ago we spontaneously (yes, pun is intended) agreed this adventure with a brewery I accidentally found on the map of Milk the Funk society, people who love mix- and spontaneously ferment things. Antidoot doesn’t even sell beer yet, brothers Tom and Wim Jacobs only brew and welcome visitors some other Saturdays, but they are famous already, and it seems everyone knows about them, including two Swedish distributors whom we’d met in the afternoon. But I get ahead of myself.
Якщо ви думаєте, що хайп - це круто і всі його хочуть, то я пропоную вам ще раз подумати.
Our brewery is yours (Наша пивоварня належить вам)
Талліннська пивна сцена продовжує розширятися.
