Back from a little weekend in Belgium. Can't believe that weekend trips in Holland are to Belgium, Germany, and Denmark, versus weekend trips in TX are Corpus Christi and San Antonio.
So we took off for Bruges Friday morning at about 9 AM and arrived at around noon. Xander, as a good Dutchman, has on our trip (and beforehand) filled me in on the Belgian temperament, which is "stupid". And also, the country is slightly more dirty than Holland, he warns me.
After picking up a couple of maps en route, realizing that we don't really know where we are going (Katie, we weren't the only ones--remember VT?), along with a coffee (was buoyed to find out that gas-station coffee is SHITE the world over), we cross the border into Belgium. Exciting for me, of course. But I must say that the quality of the roads did not immediately plummet, but simply became a little less well-finished and the signage became poor.
And we somehow found a perfect entrance to Bruges and the perfectly-situated parking garage, which was only €8 for 24 hours! This sort of thing is still exciting for me, as I know that in Manhattan you would pay €8 (ok, $12) for 35 seconds. At any rate, we stared at what we were convinced was either the Markt or the Burg for a good 10 minutes trying to find it on the map.
Then realized, after walking up a street, that it was neither. Funny how you can make things be what you want them to be. Our first stop was for some frites from a cafe with a takeaway window, which is a Belgian phenomenon that I am a big fan of. Waffles to go, broodjes to go, frites to go! Does it get better than that? No, my friends. It does not.
So, some frites, then off to the Groeningemuseum to look at some Flemish Primitives: Jan Van Eyck, Roger Van der Weyden, Hans Memling, Gerard David. Good stuff. After enough Madonna and Childs to make one a bit cross-eyed, we headed off for to check out the Burg and the Markt, and pick up the first of many chocolates consumed in Belgium.
Afterwards, we had an overpriced beer in a touristy cafe overlooking the Markt, as I was itching for a Belgian brew. This one happened to be the Brugse Tripel, and got us nice and buzzed before we headed back to the car to pick up our bag (yes, one bag: Xander brought his big fancy backpack and I didn't have to carry anything. Isn't that nice?!!) and find the hotel.
We were staying in a place called The Passage. Now, those of you who have traveled with me (Katie) know that I have a systematic way of booking hotels. I cross-reference travel guides with TripAdvisor.com and Expedia and any other number of sites. So I did this, and frankly the TripAdvisor reviews were sketcy for the Passage. But I booked it anyway: €60 with breakfast and Bruges is so busy in the summer it was near impossible to find anything else. Well, turns out it was okay, but it did smell like a stinky fart (as opposed to a loud one with no smell) in the hallway. And you had to press the shower button to get it to flow repeatedly. But I guess that is what you get for €60 in high tourist season in small medieval cities. But who cares, right, when you are with a cute boy like Xander? And anyway, the beer combined with the 4500 chocolate truffles filled with liqueor had us a little tipsy and relatively uncaring about our accomodations. So after getting gussied up for dinner, we headed to a little place called De Koetse, where we ate the best mussels and frites I have ever had. Really. And some fish soup to start, yum. The service was a tad lacking, but again, we didn't care after an irish coffee for dessert.
(FYI: they speak Flemish in Bruges, which is basically the same as Dutch. Xander explained it like English spoken in the USA and English spoken in England. Like the Dutch is the USA English.)
So off to the oldest cafe in Bruges, Herberg Vlissinghe.
It was a good 15 minute walk, and of course I was wearing heels, a great choice tipsy and on cobbled streets. We had the only beer "legally brewed" (whatever that means) in Bruges, Bruges Zot. It was very yummy, and the bar really cool--lots of locals. Reminded me of a bar Katie and I went to in Glasgow where the locals befriended us and I fell in love with Scotch. When we left, we realized that we were on Blekerstraat, and wondered if that was the original "Bleecker Street" that inspired the one in NYC?!! Wouldn't that be cool?
And of course it was raining, even easier to walk in heels on cobbles and a little drunker. So we get home (wet) and decide it's an awesome idea to have yet another beer at a little joint down the street from our hotel. But it was a good idea, because the bar has a fire burning! Yes, friends, in most countries in the Northern Hemisphere, it is summer in July. But not in the "Benelux" countries, no! We burn fires here and wear jackets in July!
Somehow we stumble 10 yards to our hotel and pass out.
The next day we eat a paltry breakfast in the cafe that is part of the hotel, but it is very cozy in there, I must say.
And we head for Brussels.
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1 comment:
Great work.
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