Post by LHR02 on Jul 13, 2005 18:00:14 GMT -5
Hello readers:
This past weekend I decided to take another trip. My destination? Bruges, Belgium. You see I had always heard fantastic things about this place. Not only from Rick Steves but also from some friends of mine who are big fans of Bruges. From everything I had read online it seemed like a perfect place to spend a weekend: a relatively small town, chock full of scenery, and safe for my single, female, travelling-self. In fact, last time I was in France I had thought of taking a trip up to Bruges and the battle fields nearby. That was originally my plan for Armistice Day. Instead, however, we ended up heading to Germany and Austria. This time though my ticket was booked and I was off!!!
I arrived at Gare du Nord early in the morning. Given the events of the recent days I had left my bags unlocked. I was anticipating a search that never came. Somewhat shocked but unphazed I boarded the Thalys (high speed train) to Bruges. Once again I can't say much about the country side en route to my destination -- I fell asleep. Besides, those trains travel so ridiculously fast that even if you wanted to catch a glimpse of the countryside it would all be a blurr.
I have to confess I was very very excited! This was my first train ride
for leisure travel in two years! I was ever so happy to be hitting the
rails again!
My train pulled into the Bruges train station at about 10:30am. I got off and quickly found my way to the information centre to purchase a map. Here was where I encountered my first language dilemma -- English or French? Having done my research before hand I knew the primary languages in Belgium to be French and Flemish (a variation on Dutch). I of course speak no Dutch but can manage quite well in French. Further to my research, however, I had also become aware of the fact that there are ethnic tensions in Belgium that in someways mirror the Quebec v Rest of Canada divide we have back home. Being sensitive to this issue I asked my European friends (before leaving Paris) if it would be okay to speak French in Bruges. I was told that this would indeed be okay. Armed with this information I asked for my map in French. And happily I discovered that this caused no problems. French, I decided then, would be my language of choice. Of course this would all change in a couple of hours when I quickly realized that although people in Bruges spoke better French than English they would always request that I comunicate in the latter. Clearly, I had committed a faux-pas tantamount to speaking English to some farmer in the heart of "Separatist Country."
I had chosen to stay at a place called Lybeer's Travellers Hostel for the weekend. At first I had been somewhat afraid I would have to stay in one of the better known hostel in the cities. Truth be told I don't think I've ever read very good reviews on them. But as a sole student traveller I appreciate the value of a good deal. So I set off to find myself a good place to stay. I came across Lybeer's on the internet and decided that at 25Euros a single bed in a private room with a buffet breakfast was a fantastic deal. Once in Bruges, the first thing on my mind was finding my accomodations so I could drop off my pack and head off to do some sight-seeing. Instead of taking a taxi or a bus I decided to walk the approx. 15 min. (it actually took more like 10) to Lybeer's. Oh and what a walk it was!!! I had escaped Paris, where the weather had been down right chilly and fall like, to a beautiful city with lots of parks and canals. The tranquil scenery was a welcome respite from often crowded and hectic Paris. I could tell right away that this was a weekend I would enjoy!
Soon enough I found my hostel. Lybeer's is basically a hotel that has been converted into a hostel but really doesn't conform to what you typically expect from your typical HI place. In fact, just one glance at the mouldings and the chandeliers tells you that once upon a time it was a beautiful hotel. That's not to say it's no longer nice. But it is evident that the owners bought it having no intentions of returning it to it's former glory. It is however perfectly clean (although not neat in an institutional kind of way) and more than adequate. My room also turned out to be a good size and comfortable enough. All I needed for one night in the city.
Having left my things behind at the hostel I set off to explore the city. As soon as I started walking on the relatively empty narrow lanes of the town I couldn't help but think: "This place is perfect." Really, there is no other way to describe it! Somehow Bruges manages to be everything that tourists expect Europe to be -- except in Bruges all of that is rolled up into one tiny and neat little package. Needless to say I took many pictures before I got to the centre of town. I also walked into several stores and bought myself some goodies. The first store I found was like the bakery of my dreams. A big place full of beautiful little packages of baked good. Even better though was the fully exposed work area in back. This open concept allowed the aroma of freshly baked cookies to waft through the air. I bought two of their local specialties and headed off to find me some chocolates. On my way to town I passed a place called "The Chocolate Line." I recognized the name from Rick Steves book and went in -- from a myriad of choices I somehow managed to select a marzipan chocolate. Delicious, although as a little plug -- not nearly as good as anything Bernard Callebaut sells. But in order to give credit where credit is due -- he is a Belgian (he just works in Canada)!!
Walking through the main street to Markt I passed many stores with "Soldes" signs out front. Apparently the semi-annual sales season is a phenomena not limited to France alone. Needless to say I made a mental note to head back to some of those stores later in the afternoon. In particular this one fantastic jewellery store called Bigor.
After being distracted by all sorts of yummy and pretty things I finally made it to Markt (not a spelling mistake). I knew in advance that this was a square located in the centre of town. I have to say however that the name was totally misleading!!! I was expecting some little place. Cute but little nonetheless. Instead I found myself finding a larger square than I could have imagined. It was surrounded by the most magnificent architecture too: on one side was the Provincial Government Palace housed in a neo-gothic building. And on the other was the belfry tower. Of course everywhere else there were beautiful stores and cafes. To be perfectly honest it looked like what I had originally expected Innsbruck would look like (but to my disappointment it did not). I happily took pictures while, funnily enough, a band of Latin Americna people played of my favourite Spanish music. It was quite the juxtaposition: beautiful buildings, happy tourists, a perfect blue sky, and some of my favourite songs. An odd mix indeed but truth is it could not have been more perfect!
After my "paparazzi" session I decided to climb up the belfry tower to take some aerial pictures of the town. I was in a particular rush because I wanted to be up there at the top of the hour (15 minutes left) for the ringing of the bells . . . AND I knew there were about 350 steps up a winding staircase still to come. I have to say that the stairs of the Belfry constitute by far the most clausterphobia inducing experience I have ever had in Europe. They were super narrow and at times required Spider Man like moves to keep from falling off while someone else went the opposite direction. Nonetheless ther climb was absolutely worth it! I reached the top just in time to hear the bells. It was simply fantastic to have the sound of bells in the background while I glanced at the colourful houses and canals of the town down below. Again, I felt this required another "paparazzi" session and I was too happy to oblige. In fact the pictures I took up there turned out to be amongst the best of the entire weekend!!!
Eventually I climbed down and continued walking to Burg. Another beautiful square with a myriad of different styles of architecture (clearly from several different centuries) lining it's sides. I gawked at the beautiful sculptures on one of the buildings and the incredible guilding of statues on yet another one. While I was doing this gawking, however, I noticed that the sky was starting to turn a rather menacing colour. Fearing for rain, I decided it would be best to go on one of the canal tours. That way if something were to happen I would have at least seen a lot of the city from the water. That turned out to be one of the best decisions of the day . . .
I approached the first ticket booth I saw and paid my 5.50Euros for the tour. Quickly, a boat arrived and we all packed in like happy little tourists. Armed with cameras and smiles for the obligatory canal shot. The tour was a happy 30 minutes of going up and down canals. I saw beautiful homes, old churches, swans galore, and people enjoying the lovely summer weather. It was idyllic and I found myself wishing I had more time just to luxuriate by the banks of the canal. Perhaps with a picnic made up of local delicacies . . . That would have to wait for another visit though.
By this point it was 2-something in the afternoon and I was starving so I decided to find myself a place full of authentic Flemish food. I of course had done my research and knew just the place. Translated to English it was called "The Flemish Pot" and came VERY highly recommended. So I trecked through the narrow, winding lanes of the town and eventually found a place that was even cuter than anything I had imagined. It was also away from the main tourist drag and seemed to cater mainly to locals. These in my books tend to be good things when choosing a restaurant on vacation. Of course this also meant that I had to ask the waitress to translate the menu for me. She happily obliged and recommended traditional Flemish pancakes to me. I told her I wanted something savoury and based on her descriptions I chose a pancake (I was told it would be crepe-like) that was supposed to have cheese, a bit of bacon, and a tiny bit of apple. Eagerly, I awaited what I thought would obviously be a fantastic meal. Eventually the waitress came back and placed the pancake in front of me. I swear to you I had NO idea what was staring back at me!!! It resembled more of an over-sized American pancake, in the middle was this massive chunk of goat cheese wrapped in bacon, all over the pancake were huge chunks of apple, drizzled all over everything was a syrup and there was powdered sugar over everything too!!! Anyone who knows my eating habits knows how I feel about mixing sweet and savoury. I still can't bring my sausages to fraternize with my pancakes. Nevertheless I was there for an adventure -- so I decided to suck-up my misgivings and tuck in. I did and quickly discovered that try as I might I could not make myself love the thing. I scarcely ate a quarter and then asked for the bill. Which btw came with a charge for mineral water that I never asked for and was never brought. In the end I grudgingly paid my bill and left . . . thinking of course that this would be a mere bump in the road and soon (at dinner) I would be enjoying moules-frites (mussels and fries - a specialty of Belgium).
Happily I left and headed back to my hostel for a short while. Just as I was getting ready to head off again I got hit by a horrible stomach ache. I ignored it though and kept on going. I had some shopping to do!! I had seen a lovely pearl necklace for my mother and I was determined to bring back a beautiful hand-made lace tablecloth to Canada. While successfully buying those two things I found myself suddenly overcome by increasingly worsening stomach pains. I rushed back to the hostel after it became obvious that I needed to lie down, be close to facilities, and drink lots and lots of coke (to settle my stomach).
Unfortunately, that was the end of my Bruges sightseeing. So much to do and I had only scratched the surface. In the end I had been done in by a funky pancake -- sigh . . . Good thing is, though, that now I know what I'm in for and I can't wait to come back in a future trip. But on this trip, I was forced to give-up and hope for a quick recovery in time to enjoy my trip of WWI battlefields the next day.
And that faithful readers is where I will end today's entry. To be followed soon (tomorrow) by the tale of my incredible experiences in Flanders Fields.
Until we meet again,
A Canadian in Paris
This past weekend I decided to take another trip. My destination? Bruges, Belgium. You see I had always heard fantastic things about this place. Not only from Rick Steves but also from some friends of mine who are big fans of Bruges. From everything I had read online it seemed like a perfect place to spend a weekend: a relatively small town, chock full of scenery, and safe for my single, female, travelling-self. In fact, last time I was in France I had thought of taking a trip up to Bruges and the battle fields nearby. That was originally my plan for Armistice Day. Instead, however, we ended up heading to Germany and Austria. This time though my ticket was booked and I was off!!!
I arrived at Gare du Nord early in the morning. Given the events of the recent days I had left my bags unlocked. I was anticipating a search that never came. Somewhat shocked but unphazed I boarded the Thalys (high speed train) to Bruges. Once again I can't say much about the country side en route to my destination -- I fell asleep. Besides, those trains travel so ridiculously fast that even if you wanted to catch a glimpse of the countryside it would all be a blurr.
I have to confess I was very very excited! This was my first train ride
for leisure travel in two years! I was ever so happy to be hitting the
rails again!
My train pulled into the Bruges train station at about 10:30am. I got off and quickly found my way to the information centre to purchase a map. Here was where I encountered my first language dilemma -- English or French? Having done my research before hand I knew the primary languages in Belgium to be French and Flemish (a variation on Dutch). I of course speak no Dutch but can manage quite well in French. Further to my research, however, I had also become aware of the fact that there are ethnic tensions in Belgium that in someways mirror the Quebec v Rest of Canada divide we have back home. Being sensitive to this issue I asked my European friends (before leaving Paris) if it would be okay to speak French in Bruges. I was told that this would indeed be okay. Armed with this information I asked for my map in French. And happily I discovered that this caused no problems. French, I decided then, would be my language of choice. Of course this would all change in a couple of hours when I quickly realized that although people in Bruges spoke better French than English they would always request that I comunicate in the latter. Clearly, I had committed a faux-pas tantamount to speaking English to some farmer in the heart of "Separatist Country."
I had chosen to stay at a place called Lybeer's Travellers Hostel for the weekend. At first I had been somewhat afraid I would have to stay in one of the better known hostel in the cities. Truth be told I don't think I've ever read very good reviews on them. But as a sole student traveller I appreciate the value of a good deal. So I set off to find myself a good place to stay. I came across Lybeer's on the internet and decided that at 25Euros a single bed in a private room with a buffet breakfast was a fantastic deal. Once in Bruges, the first thing on my mind was finding my accomodations so I could drop off my pack and head off to do some sight-seeing. Instead of taking a taxi or a bus I decided to walk the approx. 15 min. (it actually took more like 10) to Lybeer's. Oh and what a walk it was!!! I had escaped Paris, where the weather had been down right chilly and fall like, to a beautiful city with lots of parks and canals. The tranquil scenery was a welcome respite from often crowded and hectic Paris. I could tell right away that this was a weekend I would enjoy!
Soon enough I found my hostel. Lybeer's is basically a hotel that has been converted into a hostel but really doesn't conform to what you typically expect from your typical HI place. In fact, just one glance at the mouldings and the chandeliers tells you that once upon a time it was a beautiful hotel. That's not to say it's no longer nice. But it is evident that the owners bought it having no intentions of returning it to it's former glory. It is however perfectly clean (although not neat in an institutional kind of way) and more than adequate. My room also turned out to be a good size and comfortable enough. All I needed for one night in the city.
Having left my things behind at the hostel I set off to explore the city. As soon as I started walking on the relatively empty narrow lanes of the town I couldn't help but think: "This place is perfect." Really, there is no other way to describe it! Somehow Bruges manages to be everything that tourists expect Europe to be -- except in Bruges all of that is rolled up into one tiny and neat little package. Needless to say I took many pictures before I got to the centre of town. I also walked into several stores and bought myself some goodies. The first store I found was like the bakery of my dreams. A big place full of beautiful little packages of baked good. Even better though was the fully exposed work area in back. This open concept allowed the aroma of freshly baked cookies to waft through the air. I bought two of their local specialties and headed off to find me some chocolates. On my way to town I passed a place called "The Chocolate Line." I recognized the name from Rick Steves book and went in -- from a myriad of choices I somehow managed to select a marzipan chocolate. Delicious, although as a little plug -- not nearly as good as anything Bernard Callebaut sells. But in order to give credit where credit is due -- he is a Belgian (he just works in Canada)!!
Walking through the main street to Markt I passed many stores with "Soldes" signs out front. Apparently the semi-annual sales season is a phenomena not limited to France alone. Needless to say I made a mental note to head back to some of those stores later in the afternoon. In particular this one fantastic jewellery store called Bigor.
After being distracted by all sorts of yummy and pretty things I finally made it to Markt (not a spelling mistake). I knew in advance that this was a square located in the centre of town. I have to say however that the name was totally misleading!!! I was expecting some little place. Cute but little nonetheless. Instead I found myself finding a larger square than I could have imagined. It was surrounded by the most magnificent architecture too: on one side was the Provincial Government Palace housed in a neo-gothic building. And on the other was the belfry tower. Of course everywhere else there were beautiful stores and cafes. To be perfectly honest it looked like what I had originally expected Innsbruck would look like (but to my disappointment it did not). I happily took pictures while, funnily enough, a band of Latin Americna people played of my favourite Spanish music. It was quite the juxtaposition: beautiful buildings, happy tourists, a perfect blue sky, and some of my favourite songs. An odd mix indeed but truth is it could not have been more perfect!
After my "paparazzi" session I decided to climb up the belfry tower to take some aerial pictures of the town. I was in a particular rush because I wanted to be up there at the top of the hour (15 minutes left) for the ringing of the bells . . . AND I knew there were about 350 steps up a winding staircase still to come. I have to say that the stairs of the Belfry constitute by far the most clausterphobia inducing experience I have ever had in Europe. They were super narrow and at times required Spider Man like moves to keep from falling off while someone else went the opposite direction. Nonetheless ther climb was absolutely worth it! I reached the top just in time to hear the bells. It was simply fantastic to have the sound of bells in the background while I glanced at the colourful houses and canals of the town down below. Again, I felt this required another "paparazzi" session and I was too happy to oblige. In fact the pictures I took up there turned out to be amongst the best of the entire weekend!!!
Eventually I climbed down and continued walking to Burg. Another beautiful square with a myriad of different styles of architecture (clearly from several different centuries) lining it's sides. I gawked at the beautiful sculptures on one of the buildings and the incredible guilding of statues on yet another one. While I was doing this gawking, however, I noticed that the sky was starting to turn a rather menacing colour. Fearing for rain, I decided it would be best to go on one of the canal tours. That way if something were to happen I would have at least seen a lot of the city from the water. That turned out to be one of the best decisions of the day . . .
I approached the first ticket booth I saw and paid my 5.50Euros for the tour. Quickly, a boat arrived and we all packed in like happy little tourists. Armed with cameras and smiles for the obligatory canal shot. The tour was a happy 30 minutes of going up and down canals. I saw beautiful homes, old churches, swans galore, and people enjoying the lovely summer weather. It was idyllic and I found myself wishing I had more time just to luxuriate by the banks of the canal. Perhaps with a picnic made up of local delicacies . . . That would have to wait for another visit though.
By this point it was 2-something in the afternoon and I was starving so I decided to find myself a place full of authentic Flemish food. I of course had done my research and knew just the place. Translated to English it was called "The Flemish Pot" and came VERY highly recommended. So I trecked through the narrow, winding lanes of the town and eventually found a place that was even cuter than anything I had imagined. It was also away from the main tourist drag and seemed to cater mainly to locals. These in my books tend to be good things when choosing a restaurant on vacation. Of course this also meant that I had to ask the waitress to translate the menu for me. She happily obliged and recommended traditional Flemish pancakes to me. I told her I wanted something savoury and based on her descriptions I chose a pancake (I was told it would be crepe-like) that was supposed to have cheese, a bit of bacon, and a tiny bit of apple. Eagerly, I awaited what I thought would obviously be a fantastic meal. Eventually the waitress came back and placed the pancake in front of me. I swear to you I had NO idea what was staring back at me!!! It resembled more of an over-sized American pancake, in the middle was this massive chunk of goat cheese wrapped in bacon, all over the pancake were huge chunks of apple, drizzled all over everything was a syrup and there was powdered sugar over everything too!!! Anyone who knows my eating habits knows how I feel about mixing sweet and savoury. I still can't bring my sausages to fraternize with my pancakes. Nevertheless I was there for an adventure -- so I decided to suck-up my misgivings and tuck in. I did and quickly discovered that try as I might I could not make myself love the thing. I scarcely ate a quarter and then asked for the bill. Which btw came with a charge for mineral water that I never asked for and was never brought. In the end I grudgingly paid my bill and left . . . thinking of course that this would be a mere bump in the road and soon (at dinner) I would be enjoying moules-frites (mussels and fries - a specialty of Belgium).
Happily I left and headed back to my hostel for a short while. Just as I was getting ready to head off again I got hit by a horrible stomach ache. I ignored it though and kept on going. I had some shopping to do!! I had seen a lovely pearl necklace for my mother and I was determined to bring back a beautiful hand-made lace tablecloth to Canada. While successfully buying those two things I found myself suddenly overcome by increasingly worsening stomach pains. I rushed back to the hostel after it became obvious that I needed to lie down, be close to facilities, and drink lots and lots of coke (to settle my stomach).
Unfortunately, that was the end of my Bruges sightseeing. So much to do and I had only scratched the surface. In the end I had been done in by a funky pancake -- sigh . . . Good thing is, though, that now I know what I'm in for and I can't wait to come back in a future trip. But on this trip, I was forced to give-up and hope for a quick recovery in time to enjoy my trip of WWI battlefields the next day.
And that faithful readers is where I will end today's entry. To be followed soon (tomorrow) by the tale of my incredible experiences in Flanders Fields.
Until we meet again,
A Canadian in Paris