Bruges or Brugge: just plain cute!

This "beer scooter" sort of sums up the town of Bruges: classic, quirky, with a touch of whimsy thrown in so you are not tempted to take it too seriously. This is above-all a tourist town with all manner of ways to show you the highlights. 

By horse and buggy, which plow through the narrow cobbled lanes at a dangerous clip:

By boat, with narration in French or Dutch:

Then if you decide to do a self-guided thing, the maps woven from lace will show you the way:

As in any Belgian tourist town, the lace and chocolate shops dominate the scene, and there are many dozens of restaurants selling the local fare like Moules Frites. We made a pact early in the day to do whatever it took to avoid frites, so we stumbled on a street with a number of ethnic restaurants. There was even a South African place, Greek and Brazilian, but the Lebanese place, called Cedrus was our choice. So no frites, but wonderful Fatoosh, lamb and pinenuts meatballs and stuffed vegetables. Delicious!

Farewell from Belgium!

A good way to start a day

This morning, we arrived in the town of Bruges and, since we hadn't eaten breakfast yet, we headed for the first place that had a cappuccino machine.

With our cappuccini and croissants, they also brought us a tiny pot of strawberry creme brulee and a square of locally-made dark chocolate. It's really hard to be cranky under those conditions.

The fine art of naming things . . .

Our hotel in Brussels is on a block between the police station and a very lively gay bar. The name of the bar is . . . 

                    HOMO ERECTUS

I snicker to myself every time I see this sign.

Ale and Flora are married

It was a lovely wedding at the Hotel de Ville in the Brussels suburb of Saint-Gilles. The special Salon for Marriages, on the second floor was ornately decorated, bright and felt very special despite this being a civil ceremony. The judge was jovial and conducted a joyful, upbeat wedding.

Flora's Italian gown was a creamy golden white color, much like a lustrous pearl, with a poufy tulle skirt and train.

The reception was at a restaurant and banquet hall called Chalet Robinson, which is located on a small island in the center of a small lake which is in a small forest just outside Brussels. The only way to get there is on a small barge, operated by a very small man.

It was interesting to talk to so many people from international backgrounds, including Flora's former PhD advisor and his son who sat at our table. Also neighbors, colleagues and  family members who all seemed to know who we were when we identified ourselves as "i vicini americani da Radicofani." I managed to have long, pleasant conversations with both Ale's and Flora's mothers--in Italian. Despite not studying for weeks, I managed to hold up my end pretty well.

We got to ride to the restaurant with the new couple! Joe was the holder of the flowers and balloons for the taxi ride.

A night on the town

The Grand Place is lit up dramatically at night.

On a Friday night, there's lots to see and do in Brussels. Folks are populating bars and cafes to have a celebratory drink with friends. Teenagers are bunched together like minnows in every dark corner or stairwell. There's lots of noisy buzz.

We left our neighborhood at dusk for a walk to the Grand Sablon area--full of upscale art galleries, antiques, jewelers and chocolatiers, whose products could easily be mistaken for jewels. We found a cozy-looking Greek tavern off the main route and had a light dinner of the Mezze platter, along with some delightful grilled squid. After dinner we made our way to the Fine Arts Center, where we bought tickets for the Belgian National Symphony Orchestra. The orchestra performed three pieces: Prokofiev, symphony 1, a concerto for clarinet composed originally for Benny Goodman by Aaron Copeland; and Mozart's symphony 40---all lovely, but I admit to dozing a bit here and there.

Here is the concert hall just as the musicians were entering. You're not suppose to take pix here, but I snuck one.

This gorgeous clock was along our walk.

The walk back to the Grand Place was lively and brisk and we were anxious to find a cozy bar where we could end the night with a glass of wine. We found such a spot right on the place--there is no shortage of happy, busy watering holes here. A long conversation near the fireplace and the next thing we knew it was nearly 1 a.m.

Is that big yellow thing the sun??

The sun rarely pokes out in Brussels. I have been told this many times by our friends Ale and Flora, who have lived here several years, and whose wedding we will attend tomorrow. We looked at the forecast before leaving the states and it looked pretty grim for our entire visit. But then this morning, a very nice surprise--the sun was shining brilliantly and giving an optimistic aspect to the normally gray city.

We slept in our clothes, washed up, then put the same things back on to head outside for the day. Of course, this is not the optimal way to begin a vacation, but since nobody knows us here I was not too worried about my appearance and various body smells. This neighborhood has plenty of cafes and we found a cozy spot for cappuccino and muffins just around the corner. 

We quickly came upon the famous Manneken Pis statue, which must be one of the quirkiest things about Brussels. Why they have chosen to make a monument to a small boy taking a pee is anyone's guess.

Then we took a long stroll in the direction of the Royal Palace, where Belgium actually has a king and queen in residence. I looked up the royal family and saw that King Phillipe and Queen Mathilde just took over last July. They are a young couple with four small children. The buildings in that neighborhood include historic churches and a giant museum complex. We bought tickets and visited the Magritte Museum, dedicated to the life's work of native son and famed surrealist Rene Magritte.

 

These kids were on a field trip to see Magritte--surprising to us since the work contains so much nudity and very dark images. 

Then we moved on to the Fin-de-Siecle Museum, which just opened in December. It features the work of artists in the very early years of the 20th century. Mostly local artists were represented and there was a Van Gogh, three Gaugins and some pointilists, like Seurat and Signac whose work was on display.  We could have also gone to the museums of Modern Art and Old Masters, but there's really only so much art one can absorb in a day.

On to lunch in a local institution called Chez Leon, which was buzzing with customers--both local and tourists. I had the Moules Frites, which is like the national dish of Belgium and found on every menu. It was delicious.

Brussels, Gluttony city!

This is a city that's betting on complete lack of will power. Every street boasts at least a couple of waffle shops, more still of cookies and even more dedicated to the pursuit of chocolate fantasies. The scent of freshly made waffles wafts through the streets--it's not fair!!

Joe couldn't resist this selection of Middle Eastern-style cookies. 

These neat and orderly confections appeal to the serious and sedate chocoholic.

These giant rafts of nutty bark fill a window.

This colorful,  art nouveau facade appeals to the chocolate lover, who is also an art historian.

Believe me when I say that it takes a very determined person to consciously avoid all the sinful and gorgeously presented delicacies that are here to tickle the senses and strip the wallets.

A window full of waffles awaits a gluttonous passerby. Here, this is street food--meant to be eaten outdoors as one window shops for other goodies. Just thinking about all the sugary options makes me have to unbutton the top button of my pants.

Is it possible to get fat by osmosis??!!

Traveling stinks!!

By that I don't mean the type of traveling that involves warm, sunny beaches or fine restaurants with an exceptional wine list. I mean the type of traveling that occurs before you actually arrive at your desired destination.

At this moment, I am still trying to catch my breath after running from a delayed flight from Charleston to Philly to our departure gate for Brussels. I am sitting in the US Airways Club in Terminal A. I have a cheap glass of free wine and a paper cup of nut mix. I might go back for some of the free soup. But it will take more than the balm of hot soup to rid me of the panic and angst I felt when I arrived at the gate to see empty seats and a very large plane pulling away from the terminal. Missed it! Dammit!

We caught our breath, held hands and made our way to the airways club to figure out our next move. 

There's not another flight to Brussels until tomorrow night. Now what?

Lucky for us, we discovered that we'd been rebooked from Philly to Manchester, then on to Brussels from there. Our luggage was also successfully diverted and will, I hope, be on the same flights.

All's well that ends well, but still, why does this shit happen nearly every time we fly?? 

Addendum: the luggage didn't make it. We will be lucky to have it by Friday. Meanwhile we are trying to readjust our plans for Friday so we wont miss the delivery of the bags. Ugh!!!

Addendum 2: the luggage arrived after lunch on Friday. Yay!! It was delightful to brush my teeth and have fresh clothes after my shower.