We'd barely been to Belgium. We'd been blind to her buildings, bridges and beers. Her bell towers, boats and byways had yet to be broached, and as yet, we'd been blissfully unaware of the breadth of bewitching beauty that breached boundless boundaries in Bruges and Brussels and bunches between. I'd started alliterating around the letter "B" in Facebook posts on our holiday and it quickly became boring and blown and brain-numbing.....enough!
We've never come home from a holiday to Europe with anything other than heads spinning with wondrous visions and memories, and this trip was no different. We'd again tried to experience some cultures we were not so familiar with, and were equally surprised and delighted when Belgium and The Netherlands proved to be distinctly different to each other and from other countries on the continent.
We flew into and out of Amsterdam, which necessitated a three-train scramble down from Schiphol to the quaint medieval town of Ghent in Belgium where we'd planned to base ourselves for eight days. We'd opted to go a touch more upmarket than usual, so the luxurious and modern Marriot hotel wedged in behind an ancient façade on the main canal caressed us cozily for the first part of the break. Our room was large and well-appointed and the atrium all soaring glass and steel: the only indication of the building's heritage roots came upon exiting the front doors canal-side from the old grain store building.
As planned, we spent many days exploring this breathtakingly beautiful little city and took day trips to Bruges (once for a WW1 battlefields tour and once on its own merits) as well as a trip in the other direction to Brussels. The days in Ghent were spent in a familiar pattern: we slept in as is the European winter fashion when the sun struggles to breach the horizon until about 9 o'clock, whereupon we visited the breakfast restaurant overlooking the canal and consumed a bountiful feast. The offerings where of such quality and variety, and so delicious, that we were fortified for a day of touristing, most often only needing to eat again at an early dinner time. These evening feasts were wondrous events of hearty fare, beers that were meals on their own, and desserts so fine they lingered on the palate long after consumption. We tasted the Ghent specialty "Waterzooi" and if this isn't the reincarnation of mum's iconic Christmas chicken soup, I'm not here! I had meatballs in a tomato sauce so flavoursome and tasty, I declared it in the top three meals I've ever eaten. Cass was enamoured with the Belgian version of bread and butter pudding: when you lifted a piece of it, it seemed to defy the laws of physics as it weighed so much it strained the wrist bringing it to the mouth! We had too many meals of taste and quality to mention them all here.
The medieval castle of Gravensteen was Disneylandesque in appearance but a self-guided tour was informative and interesting: those guys sure knew how to torture a heretic! We toured the canals on a comfortable boat in frigid temperatures but thoughtfully, they issued us all with warm blankets for covers! We wandered the city streets and visited all the main churches, some more impressive than others. The ubiquitous Christmas markets were set up in various squares and forecourts dotted around the city and they were all well patronized and so pretty and gay. The smells of waffles, sausages and mulled wine and the cries of the hawkers mixed with clouds of expelled breaths and smoky hazes from cigarettes and stall's exhausts all combined to make a fairytale experience as ice-skaters twirled and whizzed around pop-up rinks. Ghent was also the start of our art trail and we enjoyed beautiful big Breughels alongside master works by Hieronymus Bosch at a surprisingly large art museum of the highest quality, the MSK. It also housed the currently-being-restored art curiosity, The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, by the van Eych brothers, considered one of the world's greatest art treasures: it was interesting, and perhaps we've not a clue, but we thought it was a bit of a fizzer!
The tram purred into the stop outside St. Michael's church and we boarded, tickets in hand, to travel across town to the station, then a train to Bruges took 25 minutes. Similar in beauty and backdrop to Ghent, Bruges was notably more touristy and was awash with nationalities of every ilk. We found the town square by following hordes of people heading purposefully somewhere and once there headed straight for the belfry, and the subsequent icy views of the city and surrounds. The Bruges Beer Experience was a highlight in the city, culminating in Cassy drinking a red fruit beer among others! I drank more beers in a canal-side pub and then we took a twilight cruise on the Bruges canal system for a comparative take with Ghent. It was so similar! We wondered why more people don't go to Ghent for their fix of medieval architecture, canal life and Belgian fare, but were happy that, for the time being at least, it remains off the main tourist trail. After a day of wandering and wondering we ate a hearty meal in a little cafe on the main square, snaring one of the precious window tables to watch the skaters and drinkers and strollers as we dined, before heading back to the train station and re-tracing our steps back to the hotel.
Back in Ghent and the following day to visit the Design Museum with an eclectic set of pieces on a theme of robotics and the future of work, a visit to the graffiti street, before more walking and viewing and a little bit of Belgian linen shopping for Cass. Cassy also somehow enticed me onto Ghent's version of the big Ferris Wheel, which was quite terrifying: either my aversion to heights has become magnified in my advancing years or there really was some substance to my thought that I would be thrown from the extremely flimsy gondola at any moment, as it swayed and rocked with alarming freedom at the top of each rotation!
We'd booked a trip to Ypres and the battlefields of World War One for the next day, so we roused ourselves earlier than usual and caught the train in the dark to Bruges once again, this time to meet up with Phillipe, his vast knowledge of World War One Belgian battlegrounds, and a boutique crew of fellow tourists to share his mini-van for the day. The day proved to be educational, inspiring and reflective all at once. We trod in the footsteps of Australian battalions from 1917, heard of their conquests, sympathized with their hardships and admired their bravery and tenacity. We visited cemeteries, towns involved in the conflict and the actual battlegrounds, including clamouring through the huge craters and depressions left on Hill 62 by battles in both World Wars. It was thought-provoking and sobering: our tiny first world problems seemed so microscopic in comparison.
Another day saw us traveling from Ghent by train again, this time in the opposite direction for about 40 minutes, and this time to the bustling hub of the country, Brussels. Our art journey continued here after finding our way from the main station in the drifting showers. The great Flemish masters' subjects started to peak from canvases as we made our way around the spacious halls of the Royal Museum of Fine Arts. Highlights were many, but Landscape with The Fall of Icarus shone among other Breughels, while van Dyck and Rubens also painted their marks in oil on the gallery walls' canvases. Our friends here in Taipei have Belgian connections and roots and highly recommended a restaurant in the centre of town. We negotiated our way across town to La Vilette, where we indulged in the signature dish of mussels boiled in a special pot. Served steaming in shells with a delicious sauce, we loved the place and lingered awhile to enjoy the cosy atmosphere. Outside, a steam-punk carousel whirled, police prowled the squares, and people variously drank champagne at outdoor stalls, quaffed oysters, or nursed robust coffees and delicate cakes. The atmosphere was festive and vibrant as we strolled back across the city, taking in the flash stores and restaurants and the major squares and halls.
Each time, we traveled back to our comfortable base in Ghent, but the next day we were to tram and train across town for the final time, this time headed for further adventures and another eight days of discovery. We trained back across the border into The Netherlands headed toward that fabled city of Amsterdam: we arrived safely and visited well, but I'll save that half of the trip for the next installment of this blog...stay tuned!
Here is the photo album from Belgium.