How can all those canals and bridges and cobbled streets and those churches, all that beautiful fucking fairytale stuff, how can that not be somebody’s fucking thing, eh?
I have wanted to visit Bruges for a long time and had originally intended to there towards the end of next week as it’s quite close to Lille. This was not to be as I couldn’t get it to work with trains and accommodation, and I had pretty much decided to leave it until the next great Extravaganza until Host suggested we drive there because it’s quicker by car than by train; there is work in progress on the line. I said yes, of course, and after breakfast we set out with a mini picnic and some water.
Host suggested that “without museums”, Bruges could be done in a day, and that’s probably a fair assessment.
We parked at the station because it was the closest biggest car park to the pretty part, and so I also got an opportunity to look at another station. Some woo, I suppose, but I have now been spoiled so not even the fair in the carpark at the back with its loud vomit and death machines could impress me. But I bought a postcard, so that’s nice.
I let host lead me through the narrow cobbled streets and over some bridges until we arrived at the Katelijnestraat, which appears to be where the biggest concentration of tat emporia and waffle shops is. We fought our way through the crowds of people on the Mariastrat who, shockingly, had had the same idea as us on a beautiful Sunday afternoon to go out for a bit of a walk.
We sat near the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk and had a lovely drink on a lovely terrace, watching the world go by, before setting off to look for very pretty things.
The Grote Markt is a huge square surrounded by majestic gilted buildings (money from the wool trade) and those lovely colourful pointy houses you can buy on fridge magnets in tat shops; I resisted, somehow. Its most imposing edifice is the Belfort van Brugge, the Belfry of Bruges, which has got progressively taller over its eight-hundred year life.
While it’s possible to go up for stunning views of the city, we opted to go up the tower of the Historium instead where we could get views of the city and take a “selfie with the Belfry”. There’s also a rather fun VR history which takes you around the city at a time when the Woaterhalle stood over the canal that linked the market to the sea, allowing a flow of wine, wool, and silk — among other things — into the city. It ceased to exist in 1787 and was replaced by the Provincial Court.
Behind it, in another gorgeous little square, is the Basiliek van het Heilig Bloed (Basilica of the Holy Blood), which Google somewhat unceremoniously describes as “a minor basilica most famous for housing a phial claimed to contain a cloth with Christ’s blood.” It may be minor, but that doesn’t stop it from being exceptionally pretty.
The heretics of Wikipedia state “popular legend claims that the phial was taken to Bruges during the Second Crusade of CE 1147–1149, by Thierry of Alsace, who returned from Jerusalem with the relic of the Holy Blood presented to him by his brother-in-law Baldwin III of Jerusalem, as the reward of his great services.” If I’m honest, I’m not overly convinced by the blood story, but went up to have a look at it nonetheless.
One picnic, a stroll through a brocante, and a visit to a tat emporium later, I managed to squeeze in a quick dash round the Sint-Salvatorskathedraal, and then we went home.
A great day this has turned out to be.
