Belgium
Chapter one
Arrival and a Sunday in Bruges.
After the months in Africa, it’s almost a shock to arrive at the Brussels airport and navigate the transport system.
I’ve flown from Lusaka via Dubai, over Iran and Turkey en route to the capital of Belgium, watching the map and looking out the window at the vistas below.
At the ticket machine I pause, uncertain whether to buy a weekend ticket or not. An attendant sees me struggle and tells me not to get the weekend ticket. I’m better off buying separate tickets, especially given my itinerary. I thank him, swipe my card, pick up my ticket, and then head downstairs where a train is waiting to take me to Bruges.
The train slides silently out of the station and I stare out the windows at the city that slips by, giving way to fields and farms as we head further north towards our destination.
I admire the different textures and towns, the way the late day light shifts my perception. The sun won’t set until after 21:30 and I luxuriate in the light of a long afternoon.
Arriving in Bruges, I shoulder my bag and prepare myself for the walk to my hotel. I tell myself I won’t spend time taking photos, that it’s too much to drop my bags and grab my camera, that there’ll be time enough to take photos later, but as I step into my first cobblestoned lane I can’t help myself. I drop my bags and grab my camera and snap a few shots.
It’s almost 22:00 and yet there’s still light in the sky.
I let myself into the hotel and drop my bags before venturing back out into the street. The sun has properly set and dusk has fallen. I wander the relatively quiet streets around the hotel, looking to get my bearings.
I slowly make my way to the main square, determined to catch a tourist site before I turn in for the night. It’s been a long journey, but I don’t want to pass up the opportunity to get a glimpse of the town.
I wake up the next morning with the full day in front of me. I skip breakfast, deciding to pick up a croissant at a bakery on a far side of town for the walk. I returned to the Grand-Place and continued on to De Burg. There were few people at that early hour, and I enjoyed the relative quiet. If I had a dog, it’d be the hour I’d walk them every morning.
I continue walking crossing the Groenerei (the water still, a perfect mirror of its environs) en route to the Patisserie Schaeverbeke on the far side of Koningin Astridpark. There, I pick up a croissant and a pain au chocolat and return to the park. I find a bench by the path in front of the fountain and settle down to breakfast.
From the park I head back towards the center of Bruges, admiring the streets and the trees that line them. It’s a beautiful town just waking up.
I walk along a canal towards the Belfry, pausing on the Rosary Quay to admire the architecture. Tourist boats line the banks waiting to fill.
A small market is set up in De Dijver, a park along the banks. I browse the tables, and buy a few postcards from a man who has just finished setting up. I’m his first sale of the day.
I duck into the Groeningemuseum to walk its galleries, mesmerized by the highlights. One trompe-l'œil fools me completely as the bird seems to float free from its canvas and out of the frame.
Outside I admire a sculpture by Pablo Atchugarry. Untitled, it invites one to place one’s hand against its marble skin.
I stop by Otto Waffle Atelier Katelijnestraat. I take my waffle and coffee to the back of the small restaurant and enter a courtyard by a canael. I balance myself on a wall and eat the delicious waffle while tourist boats float by.
Afterwards I head south to the Sashuis and a pictaresque part of town where the canals open up into lakes.
Crossing a canal I head into the Ten Wijngaerde, a complex that houses nuns and religious lay women. A wooded square is lined with white 17th century homes. Gravel paths criss-cross their way from the church to the homes.
I emerge from the other side of the Ten Wijngaerde and wander south towards the Minnewaterbrug. I don’t really have anything in mind and don’t know the name of the attractions as I pass them.
Crossing over the Minnewaterbrug I stop to look out over the Minnewater, or Lake of Love. Flower boxes overflow, offering a beautiful foreground setting against which to admire the town spires.
On the opposite side of the bridge I find a chair and linger by the canal. I dig the postcards I had bought in the morning out of my bag and write to family and friends while watching people walk and bike to and fro.
Clouds spread across the sky and after finishing a few cards I get up to continue walking. The temperature has dropped a little, and I hope movement will help me ward off the chill.
I walk through the Site Oud Sint-Jan complex on my way back to the main square and the Belfry with the intent to climb to the top. It’s as if Im determined to see everyting in one day.
The views from the top are sweeping and reveal how flat the area is. Church towers push out from the horizon, red tiled roofs crowd out the green leafy canopy of trees.
Back at ground level I duck in to the Brugse Vrije to check out the tapestries and the mantlepiece. I’ve purchased a museum ticket package and am looking to take advantage of all that Bruges has to offer.
Outside, the skies have cleared again and I take the opportunity to walk further afield, heading north until I run across a canal and then following it further to the northeast corner of the town.
I pass the Dune Brdge, the only drawbridge in the entire city. A woman bikes acrosss it as I focus my camera, catching her mid-crossing.
My destination is Our Lady of the Pottery, a small church adjacent to a historic infirmary and convent. I step inside to admire the art contained therein and also to gaze upon its Baroque interior. A 13th-century ‘miracle’ statue sits upon the altar, one of the oldest statues in Br
Leaving the church I head to the edge of the old quarter of the town in time to see a barge pass under one of the drawbridges that span The Reie, the river that encircles Bruges and gives birth to all of its canals.
I head south, passing windmills that dot the hills that rise along the grassy parks running alongside the river. At the Sint-Janshuismolen windmill I climb the steep steps to take a look inside. Here, they still grind wheat into flour, which they give out to people, sometimes they’re given breads and baked goods in return. Unfortunately, the wind is not strong enough to day to run the mill, and I have to content myself with imagining the process as I climb through the wooden structure.
Walking back towards my hotel I thread my way down cobblestone streets and hug various canals. I’m wandering streets that are a little removed from the tourist center and have them almost all to myself.
In the late afternoon, I seek out certain spots to see the light reflected in the canals and watch the color drain from the sky.
In the evening I head back towards the bakery where I bought my breakfast. I’ve made a reservation at Park Restaurant, a restaurant specializing in classic Belgian food. The restaurant practically empty when I arrive. It’s still light out and I watch what little activity there is out on the street through the windows. I take out my collection of postcards, check my address list, sip my wine, and write between courses. 🇧🇪
28 July 2024
