A Great Big Belge
2006-11-14, 9:11 p.m.
Hello dears!Back again, safe and sound and here's the pictures to prove I didnt just sit at home for the weekend, eating poptarts and watching telly. (news at the bottom, after the pictures)
As you can see, Bruges is a pretty place although it does smell a bit of pooh, on account of the canals and the horse-drawn carriages and the fact that Belgians let their dogs crap in the street and dont clear it up. The people living opposite sis were having their cess pit drained or something, so the street smelled of pooh, too.
If you were in any doubt as to whether or not the Eurost@r was a peasant way to travel, I'd like to say that it is. Its a jolly pleasant way to travel, especially if you go First Class. You get free champagne and a remarkably edible dinner (with real knives and forks - evidently, the good people of Eurostar First Class are above such things as random acts of terrorism with fish forks.)and lots of newspapers and pleasant stewards who bring you stuff and keep coming back to check if you're OK.
The bit going under the Channel isnt any worse than going in a regular rail tunnel although your ears do pop a bit - Jooj and Treac are going in a couple of weeks as a special Auntie Sis Christmas Treat and Treac was gutted to find out that it isnt like the tunnel at the Sea Life Centre, with fish swimming all around and stuff.
Changed trains at Brussels, but even that bit wasnt too bad as the information signs are clear and easy to understand. Sis speaks a bit of Flemish and we're both pretty good at French so Im sure that helped but even so, I wouldnt have been too daunted to have done the trip with no knowledge of either language.
Got to Bruges around lunchtime Friday and trudged our suitcases up from the station across the park, going bumpity-bumpity-bumpity on the cobbles. Dumped our stauff and after a few minutes admirin what Sis and BiL have done to the house - its coming along quite nicely now, and it was astonising to see the gas fire so dismissively mentioned here was now in situ and looking authentic and cosy and 'right', a full year after I'd rubbished it so roundly.
Went into town and did a little light shopping, mostly casing the shops for future purchases - didnt want to peak early, then out to dinner. Found a lovely restaurant, Sis had been there before and said it was a vegetarian restaurant so I was a bit surprised to find waterzooi on the menu. It was a delight - light and wholesome and warming and well, frankly, yumlicious. Go on, surprise yourself - cook something Belgian today!
Saturday's shopping extravangaza was curtailed somewhat by it being Armistice Day and therefore a public holiday - all the shops were shut til lunchtime so we wandered around the market getting gorgeous bits of scrumptiousness for our supper that night and Sis dragged me round all the bits of Bruges that were worth taking photos of. Ate waffles in the street like a pair of tourists and mooched about in the artists craft market where I bought a beautiful ring made of some kind of special glass which is all iridescent and matches a pendant I bought in Penzance when we were in Cornwall in the spring. The man who made it was called Piet de Groote, which is Flemish for Big Pete and is only funny if you had actually seen him - all 5'2" of wispy-bearded, beret-wearing, grey-skinned punyness of him. Still, he makes nice jewellery despite of his incongruous name and Im sure he didnt know we were laughing at him.
After a lunch of tuna and horseradish salad on Hazelnut Honey Bread (sounds disgusting but is a force to be reckoned with - the sweetness of the bread offsets the horseradish in a really unexpected way), we found the shops were starting to open up again so we spent a couple of hours retailing and admiring all the beautiful Christmas decorations that these Johnny Foreigners seem to do SO much better than us Brits - cascades of baubles in every colour, mirror tile and feathers and velvet and berries, carved wood and plaited straw and silks and ribbons. Not a Bratz Countdown Calendar or fibre-optic Winnie the Pooh in a Santa Hat to be seen. *sigh*. I could've spent THOUSANDS.
On the way back to the house, I spotted a poster for a concert at Sint Jakobskerk. Whilst its not my usual way to spend a Saturday night, huddled in my coat in a towering Gothic pile of a church, the Mozart's Requiem (K626)that we managed to secure tickets for, was sublime. The choir and orchestra, Were. Just. Wonderful. First was a Schubert Symphony which I hadnt heard of, but which turned out to be very similar to the theme music to the Harry Potter films, so it was very listenable (ooh, thats SO not a word)and then into the Mozart, scrambling in my pocket for a tissue before the Kyrie started, so that I wouldnt blub TOO obviously. As it turned out, K626 isnt the one with the Kyrie that makes me blub. I was thinking of the one from Mass No 18 (K427) - I only have to hear the first couple of notes and Im wailing like a baby. Sis doesnt know her 626 from her 427 either so she was on a similar tissue hunt, til I hissed "Its not this one - this one's OK".
Got a shameful fit of the giggles after telling Sis that there was a SingalongaEvita later in the evening and pointing up to a statue above the altar with a little banner underneath it saying "Salve Regina Mater Misericordiae". Sis was looking at me blankly til I started singing it, then she said I was going straight to hell and we had to stuff our gloves in our mouths and duck our heads down so nobody would see us going puce.
When we left the church, Sis was desperate for a pee so we walked round to her friend's restaurant so she ould avail herself of the facilities. It was quite late so we thought Daniel and Leve would be finished serving but the restaurant was packed. We felt a bit bad slurping Wheat Beers at the bar while Daniel and Leve were still rushing around but when Daniel refused entry to a party of Dutch students because they "looked stupid" we knew he wasnt far behind joining us at the bar. Within half an hour or so, the only other people at the bar were Olivier the Sommelier and his girlfriend and Nixon, the West African kitchen boy. We left at 1.30, weaving our way through the cobbled streets singing our own special MozartEvita medley. Ahem. We are Class.
Sunday we had a choice of excursions, both involving a train ride and a wander around the sights. We passed on Ypres - too depressing at Amistice - and headed for Ghent. On the way, we read some of the tourist brochures telling us about the kings of Flanders. Surprisingly, none of them was called King Ned. As we got off the train, Sis said "Right then. This is Ghent." "Splendid" says I, "You can be its Duchess".
Its astonishing just how many pathetically unfunny 'Duchess of Ghent' jokes two middle aged women can come up with whilst walking from the station to the flea market. And then how many variation sof the same joke the same two middle aged women can come up with once one of them says "Ok then, YOU be the duchess, I'LL be Princess Michael".
Note to overseas readers: Dont worry, its not funny. Even if I spend ages explaining the complexities of the English Royal Family and the Counties of England, it STILL wont be funny. Just skip over this bit.
Ghent Flea Market (every Sunday between 7 and 1) is a real treasure. Sis had to physically restrain me from one or two of my more, ahem, colourful purchasing intentions. The giant plaster 'Sacred Heart' Jesus statue, the three foot wide gong with its surround of carved monkeys, the Witch Doctor's 'skull on a pole' with the wild raffia hair, the antique wrought iron crib which was just BEGGING to be filled with giant overblown English tea roses. Gah. She's NO fun.
Got horribly lost Took the scenic route back across town and went to have lunch in the Stadts Museum of Actuele Kunst (modern art). After lunch we went in to look at the exhibits. Instead of tickets, they give you a little sticker with S.M.A.K. on it. This means you can go all round the museum smacking each other and blaming it on the stickers. Well, you can if you are me and Sis. We also stuck our heads in a giant black plastic 'installation' and debated whether or not it made you feel sick (it did), prompting the elderly curator-gnome to say "Exkjuus mi laydjis...Are you sjisters?" (apologies to any Flemish-speakers). We just looked at each other and went "Noooooo". Then we ran away.
Im really tired now so I'll just tell you we scoffed loads of chocolate and we walked for MILES and we did more shopping on Monday and I got back really late last night and had CrazyMonkeySex with BF as he's now on tour for a week or so and I have to keep my quota up.
nightie night
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