In Brrrr...uges.

The idea was borne out of a chilly walk in Brentford one night in November.  My mate Manc and I always wax lyrical about far off trips to beautiful places, interesting cultures and the fabulous food.  I had just been made redundant so the long haul holiday had to be scrapped, neither one of us could afford the winter sun and sea holiday we had been yearning for,  but out of the blue Bruges appeared.

We had both seen the film and knew of its beauty, its charm and most of all the gothic style.  We are both keen photographers so to go to a place as beautiful only meant special memories would be captured on film.  That was it then.  Our Christmas present to each other was a train ticket and night stay in a hotel in Bruges.  Once we had made that decision, Manc was off, researching and planning the short stay we had planned.

Before I knew it, the trip was booked.  Fancy hotel, plush Eurostar and fab dinners ahoy!  I couldn’t wait.  After all, I had just lost my job and wasn’t getting paid for 2 months; I was under a lot of stress.

Manc booking this trip eased my mind; I finally had something to look forward to where I didn’t have to worry where the next penny was coming from or how I was going to pay for food.  I just went with it.

There was a crazy bout of snow a few weeks before we were due to travel and we all know that the UK stops when a tiny smattering of snow hits the ground.  I worried we would get stuck but kept the dream alive by telling myself we would be fine.  The snow had come and gone and we will be able to get there no problem.

The day arrived, 4am on 16^th Dec 2010, wide awake after having little sleep, just too excited to rest!  Our cab arrives at 5am to take us to St Pancras station; the holiday has begun!  Barely a soul there when we arrive, so we go to get some coffees from Starbucks.  Staff there were absolutely hilarious at that time in the morning, singing loudly, getting orders wrong for a laugh only to get it right every time.   Cheered me up a treat after getting up at stupid o’ clock in the morning.  A friend of a friend is the manager there so I mentioned it.  They thought there were going to get in trouble! I reassured them that I was going to tell my mate that I loved their service, it was great.

Off we go to check in and Eurostar has changed since I last used it.  X Ray machines and Passport control and no coffees allowed through.  Had to dump the drinks, barely touched.  GRRR.

We get on your train and it leaves on time.  Now I feel like I am on holiday.  Within minutes, I fall asleep.  I have an affliction where I can get in a car/train/plane and feel the instant need to sleep.  Happens all the time.  I wake up just as we get out of tunnel into France.  It looks the same as the UK, flat, green, misty and rainy.  Day 1 of the trip was going to be filled with rain.  This is not what I signed up for.

We get off in Brussels to the sparse and simple station and get our connecting train to Bruges.  Its fast, has very smartly dress conductors and had a painfully irritating but catchy intercom jingle.  We have arrived!  Bruges is cold, wet and grey.  This town is rapidly losing points with me.

We walk straight in to the town; it’s small and takes only a few minutes.  Almost instantly the landscape changes from industrial carriageways to golden cobbled streets and brightly coloured houses.  Each home has a saint of some kind built into the walls.  Religion is important here.  The town is founded on monks and nuns who made the place and the beers of course.  No monks or nuns left, but their mark is still felt.  We head straight for the Belfort tower.  Statuesque, gothic and magnificent, it towers about the town like a guardian watching over its people.

The main square is full of oldie worldy buildings, pubs, restaurants.  Horse and carriages drive around the centre of the square waiting for the tourists to arrive.  They stink and aren’t looked after properly.

We wander some more and find the ‘pretty place’.  I have no idea what it is a called, I am sure there is a proper name for it but it was just so pretty. 

Many a photo was taken here, until the rain threatened to drown us out so had to seek refuge in a restaurant where omelettes and hot chocolates went down a treat.  The rain subsided so we braved the cold some more.  Everything seemed like it was closed, barely any tourists around.  The town was ours for the taking.  Sadly it was too cold to start a riot/revolution.  Old age is clearly getting to me.

We trotted off to the hotel to check in and get warmed up.  NH Brugge is a converted monastery, beautiful golden brick work facing another open square of restaurants and a huge golden fountain.  Warm and very inviting, the rooms are simple but very comfortable.  It was difficult to get out of the bed once in them.

Warmed up, we trotted back out into town to see more sights.  Bruges is a very small town; you can see it all in a day.  Some of the markets were open so we wandered around until we found the brewery.   Did the tour purely because it kept us out the rain but the people there were lovely and inviting.  The tour itself was informative and fun, I never knew the monks made the beers, or that mental illness there was rare due to the amounts of beer drunk in a lifetime.

http://www.halvemaan.be/index.php?id=13&L=2

Having done the tour and warmed up, the thought of going outside was daunting.  It was chucking it down at this point and a wet and miserable Imrun is not much fun for anyone.  We thought the best idea would be to find a restaurant for the rest of the evening, mussels prescribed as the best medicine.  The moment we step indoors, it starts to snow.  A whole day of rain and the snow starts when we are inside!?!  That aside, the food was lovely, hearty and warming and the best chips ever.

I decide to use my best Flemish and tell the waitress Dat Was Heerlijk (that was delicious).  She laughs, Manc pisses himself.  I had to try it!

Off to the hotel we go and almost instantly I am asleep.

Until about 3am when the light goes on.  I think it is Manc, I see Manc though my barely open tired eyes.  The light that is one didn’t work at all earlier in the day.  Manc didn’t switch it on at all, there was no way he could have done.  I turn it off and it dawns on me that one of the Monk ghosts must have done it.

We wake up early but not chipper, could have done with an extra hours sleep for sure.  Open the curtains to find blue sky and snow everywhere.  Off we go to the ‘pretty place’ for more pictures and a quick tour of some places that weren’t open the day before.  We stop in a place called Delicious for brunch.  Dat was Heerlijk!

Lovely snowy pictures taken, we decide to get the train to Brussels early and see the sights there.   Brussels is beautiful.  Vibrant, noisy, old and new combined.  There is much more going on here.  Food is cheaper; people are more chatty and friendly too.  The main square is stunning, wonderful gothic towers in all corners, adorned in gold.  And a massive Christmas tree in the centre.  We take a cold walk up to the top of the city where the views are amazing, but at -8 it was too cold to stay around. 

En route we find the Mannekin Pis, or the Pissing Boy as he is famously known.  It is the oddest thing I have ever seen.  A little boy holding his wiener and pissing.  Dressed as a Moroccan man for this month.  Each month he is dressed as something different, Elvis etc.  Christmas week he will be Santa.  Holding his penis out and taking a piss.  A creepy Santa if you wish. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manneken_Pis

We headed back into town and had the obligatory waffle to get over seeing the pissing boy.

Just gorgeous.

In the short while we are in the coffee shop, the sun has gone and the night had arrived.  The main square was awash with light shows on the main building set to music.  Lots of fun!  Time starts running out for us so we decide to eat some paella from a street vendor which was utter shit but had to force it down so we wouldn’t get too hungry on the train home.

With the news of the mad snow in the UK, it worried me we might get delayed or have to sleep on the train overnight.  Thankfully we were only an hour late home.  Snug as a bug in a rug.  We missed the worst of it thank goodness!

I think Bruges and Brussels are lovely but worth going in the summer as the rain is such a dampener on the mood of the town and dulls the beautiful parts of the place.  I would definitely go again though!