LEUVEN: THE SMALL FLEMISH TOWN WITH A BIG (BANG) HISTORY

The barman at Fiere Margriet places a bottle of strong, dark ale in front of me. “Gouden Carolus,” he says. “Brewed 15 miles away”. A cold night has fallen over the city outside, but the low-lit pub is warm and woozy. Hops are strung along the walls; a stuffed fox looks out from the window. “This pub,” continues the barman, stroking his beard, “has been here since fourteen-hundred-an...

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