Bruges, Belgium
Before traveling to Bruges, we watched “In Bruge,” a hipster gangster film with Colin Farrell, who calls the city ‘rubbish’ in the opening scene. That must be because he has not been to Brussels. We love Bruges. It’s a charming well-preserved medieval city, surrounded by a canal and the remains of 11th Century walls. The gothic landmarks are best seen in the evening over lamplit cobbles that take you by Flanders’ counts and countesses. They peer down at us from centuries past. The museums and cathedrals are small, so you can spend no more than 30 minutes to absorb the collection before heading to the next.
Places to visit
The Basilica of the Holy Blood. 12th Century chapel houses a vail containing cloth stained with the blood of Christ. The story has it that this is part of the cloth used to clean the body of Christ. You can see the relic on the dais protected by one of the sisters at the Basilica.
Groeninge Musuem. Large collection of the Flemish Primitives. If you are a judge and you take a bribe, you can be flayed. His son (in blue robe) is pictured in the upper right corner of the painting, sitting in a chair after the flaying covered with his father’s skin. This was apparently an effective deterrent to maintain the public trust. In painting in middle, there is human escargot in the lower left corner. In the third, somebody lost his head but that good dog is happy to lick up his master’s blood.
Church of Our Lady. This 16th Century church features Michelangelo’s Madonna of Bruges. This is one of the few Michelangelo pieces you can find outside of Italy and Paris.
The food and drink in Bruges are phenomenol. I drank quite a bit of beer in the evenings...and some during the day. This is the best beer I’ve ever had. It’s not too hoppy. Cambrinus is a small pub off a side street just down from the Christmas market. They offer a selection of over 400 beers. I did not sample that many, but I highly recommend both beers in the photos. Beer is the perfect drink to accompany Flanders Fries. They are fried in oil twice, once in low heat and then, after sitting a few minutes, in much hotter oil. They serve fries with a dollop of mayonnaise, and this they should not do.
Beer and fries without the mayonnaise. That’s dinner. For breakfast, you should have waffles. There are waffles everywhere, at the Christmas markets and the food trucks, in storefront windows, at our hotel. There is no syrup. You have to drench your waffle in melted dark or milk chocolate. There are countless chocolate shops in Bruges, advertising special family recipes. You should eat and drink chocolate. I replaced my cups of coffee in Bruges with cups of hot chocolate. Typically, the server brings you a glass of very hot milk and you empty your selected chocolate chips and stir. In about a minute, you have hot rich chocolate. I sampled chocolate from five or six chocolatiers. Each claim an ancient family art form behind their craft. Local chocolates are featured at our hotel for breakfast. You can see that the hotel guests prefer milk and white chocolate to dark chocolate. I prefer dark chocolate.
After a memorable two days in Bruges and a forgetful day in Brussels, we returned to Paris.
At a Sunday brunch. Berni ordered scrambled eggs but somehow they had just run out of scrambled eggs. They could prepare fried eggs or an omelet but they could not scramble the eggs. I asked why not take the omelette batter and scramble in the pan for frying the eggs. “C’est impossible Monsieur!” But, I’m happy to pay a little extra if necessary. Not possible. The fried eggs were delicious. I had a similar experience at the Chantilly Chateau, trying to order just a side of fries without the grilled cheese. I could pay a little extra if it’s any trouble, if the cafe could just charge for the side of fries as they will up to 3 pm under the lunch menu. “C’est impossible.” There is only the evening menu.
Somehow the French “sticklerness” for rules reminds me of a series of scenes in “In Bruges.” At the beginning of the movie, one of the gangsters is trying to purchase a ticket to the Belfry tower (that was a killer climb for us — I took the top photo from the Belfry), but he only has 4.90 euro, and the ticket attendant won’t spot him the 10 cents. He slaps down a 50 euro note and grumbles on. In the final gruesome scenes, he makes use of the change from the tower apex, fishing them from his jacket pocket and dropping below. The tourists underneath the tower flee rather than pick up the change. He comes to understand too late that atonement and redemption are at once free and priceless. The sphere of money is better defined here, more finite, and I rather like that.
We went to a Holiday party near the Champs-Elysee. This is terrific night walking. The streets are golden. They glitter with holiday lights. The Holiday party was hosted by a couple working at the U.S. Embassy, career staffers who have held posts in Haiti, Senegal, Tanzania and Paris. There is a large portfolio of Embassy work beyond traditional consular responsibilities (passport, visas and press relations). We met Embassy employees working in energy, aviation, economic development, and oversight of US cemeteries on foreign soil. (Normandy is not the largest U.S. cemetery in France; it’s Meuse-Argonne, a WWI burial ground). We left with several recommendations how to more fully enjoy Paris and the hope for additional get togethers with those we exchanged contact info.
We plan our day the evening before. There are so many landmarks within our 5 kilometer perimeter, which will expand when the weather improves. I try to work a bit each day and to set aside some time for exercise. I have a new plan to prepare for Jack’s February half marathon because I am not able to keep up with Coach Emily’s exercise calendar. While I am exercising some, I have also strategized to increase my brown fat by taking freezing showers so that during exercise I metabolize fatty acids instead of carbohydrates. I am especially fit for fatty acid metabolism — stores of fat and a reservoir of glucocorticoids to generate ATP and hopefully stave off lactic acidosis. The idea is to combine a little of Emily’s exercise schedule and the showers. If this does not work, I will hand out Belgium beer in growlers to support Jack runners. Also, the showers really get me going in the morning.
We have settled in a bit, and the pace is slower. We moved to the smaller bedroom for sleeping. The bedroom is blanketed with ceiling to floor beige and green wall-paper. There is only one window. The window overlooks an alley. We keep it draped. It’s very dark. This is refurbished attic space, and it creaks with the wind at night and an occasional gentle swale when the wind has sufficient force. We are tucked in a cozy hut inside the belly of a whale that instantly puts Berni to sleep. La vie est belle.
