Belgium

June 2012

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Belgium is one of those countries that I always take for granted. It is very close to the UK and I must have passed through it at least two dozen times, with the occasional day trip to Bruges or Brussels. So when the 4 day ‘Jubilee Weekend’ was announced, I thought an extended trip to Belgium would be a pleasant way to avoid the celebrations. My travel companions on this road trip would be my devoted and very tolerant girlfriend Wendy, her daughter Lauren and boyfriend Cemil.

Saturday June 2nd

The 2am ferry from Dover to Dunkirk, France was very familiar and the 5.30am –ish arrival meant that we could head straight into Belgium within 20 minutes and onto Bruges about an hour north of Dunkirk. While my passengers slept, I admired the sunrise behind the wind turbines and noticed that bright red poppies were in bloom along the road sides.

The Rough Guide says that “Belgium is perhaps the world’s most misunderstood nation, but also one of its most fascinating, punching far above its weight in all sorts of ways”. As one of the smallest nations in Europe, it still packs in a dense 10 million people, a tenth of who live in the capital Brussels. It has three official languages and a regional rivalry between the Flemish speaking north in Flanders and French-speaking south in Wallonia. Its historic cities rival many more famous ones in Europe, and there are some pockets of beautiful countryside. Most importantly, it has over 700 types of beer and some of the best chocolate in the world.

Anyone touring Belgium always ends up in the great medieval cloth town of Bruges sometime during their trip. Having escaped major damage during both World Wars, it has a reputation as one of the most perfectly preserved and unspoilt medieval cities in western Europe with intimate winding streets, woven around a network of picturesque narrow canals. The secret with Bruges is to arrive early before the tour groups invade. We had deliberately planned to be there before 7am. Another secret is that just before you get to the old centre, there is free parking by the side of the main highway which will save you a fortune and it is only a 10 minute walk to the start of the interesting stuff. But you have to get there early!

At the heart of Bruges is the Markt, an airy open space edged on three sides by rows of gabled 17th Century buildings with horse-drawn buggies clattering over the cobbles. It is overlooked by the mighty 83m tall Belfort, an octagonal bell tower built in 15th century.

On the dull overcast morning, the square was initially deserted apart from dustcarts hoovering up the previous day’s litter. We had a look at the options of breakfast on the Markt and opted for one where a waiter bade us a good morning and offered us an outside table with a heater. Everyone had different ideas of what they wanted and when the waiter came to take our order, we would change our minds. What we did not realise was that as we were ordering, he was tapping the order directly into an ipad which went straight to the kitchen to be prepared. Originally I opted for coffee and a waffle. Waffles are a mixture of butter, flour, eggs and sugar grilled on deep ridged waffle irons and Belgium invention.

Then I thought the breakfast deal of egg, sausage, toast, croissant, orange juice and a drink looked good and was going to change my mind, but what I actually did was order it on top of my original. We all did this so it was a bit of shock when the first drinks appeared and then the breakfasts, then the freshly made croissants. There was no space left on the table for all the glasses of orange juice, tea, coffee, side plates etc. Then when we were already full with the breakfast, our original orders arrived – the waffles (some with side dishes!). It was the funniest (and most expensive) breakfast I have ever partaken of. When the bill came, it was nearly £80! How we laughed while our spending money didn’t. The male toilets in the restaurant were also unique, in that the two urinals had a couple of waist high swing doors in front of them for privacy from the door/stall. If you were already facing away from the door, why were they there? I’d never seen anything like them before.

Taking advantage of the nearly empty streets, we followed a canal walk around town which started at the Burg. The Burg was originally the political and religious focus of Bruges and consequently has an impressive architectural ensemble. The Stadhuis is one of the oldest and finest town halls in Belgium built between 1375 and 1420 with a fabulous façade adorned with turrets and statues (much restored in the 19th century) in the Flamboyant Gothic style. The Provost’s House next door (1662) was built of grey stone in a Baroque style. The Heilig Bloed Basiliek (Basilica of the Holy Blood) holds one of the most sacred relics in Europe – a sacred phial, which is supposed to contain a few drops of blood and water washed from the body of Christ. The phial was brought here in 1150 from Jerusalem.

From the Burg, we crossed Blinde Ezelstraat bridge turning left on Steenhouwersdijk past the Vismarkt (fish market). We then strolled along the charming Groenerei and at the end crossed Predikherenburg Bridge. Continuing along the waterfront to the Molenburg, we walked on along the Verversdijk with its beautiful gabled buildings and crossed the second bridge, Stooiburg at the canal junction to pop down Blekerstraat to Bruges oldest pub Café Vlissinghe. We then Crossed Carmersburg, followed Spiegelrei to Jan Van Eyckplein, walked across Biskajersplien to the Kraanrei and turned right into Philipstockstraat to the Markt back around the Belfort turning right down Oude Burg, left into Nieuwstraat and left into Gruuthusestraat and walked along the Dijver. We finally headed to Rozenhoedkaai before returning to the Burg. This was a lovely walk and very recommended if you want some great photos of Bruges’s beauty.

After the walk we checked out an old alchemist who explained how he was still using centuries old recipes to make modern medicine, a couple of lace shops and chocolate shops and generally played the tourist card. We even came across a Frites Museum - Frites were a Belgium invention even though they have become universally known as French fries.

By 11am, the streets were heaving with tour groups and tourists. The canals were full of boats taking them on tours. It started to feel claustrophobic. After a beer, everyone felt that they had seen Burges at its best before the people arrived and we decided to head for Ghent.

It was only a 45 minute drive to Ghent – a proud Flemish city (240,000 pop) and another medieval cloth town. While my passengers caught up with a nap, I was able to follow my driving instructions on motorways around the city to the south and then turn in to an industrial area to a pre-booked Campanile Hotel. I had never stayed at one before. It had always been Formula 1s. But for a few more Euros, the improvement in standard was remarkable. Best of all was that we were on the ground floor at the back with an enclosed lawn to relax on. We arrived around 2pm but were allowed to check in and relaxed for a couple of hours before heading into the centre for a look around.

As a tourist destination, Ghent has long been overshadowed by Bruges reflecting a divergent economy. After the cloth trade declined, Ghent went on to become an industrial city (while Bruges didn’t). The city’s antique buildings were covered in layers of grime which were finally cleaned in the 1980s to attract tourists.

The gothic St Baafskathedral dates from the 12th century and the nearby Belfort together with the adjacent Lakenhalle (cloth hall) was the centre of the medieval trade. The Stadhuis façade displays two different architectural styles – an elaborate flamboyant gothic style (early 16th Century) and later plainer section. The Graslei which runs along the River Leie was the original medieval harbour and the quay possesses a fine set of guild houses.

Ironically, when I had visited Ghent for the first time last year, it was on the way back from the Amsterdam Marathon when I couldn’t walk so I had been forced to stay in the car and just drive around. This time, the town seemed to be packed and there was no where to park. So I still didn’t get to explore it properly. Oh well, it’s always there.

There were few signs in Ghent and after a tour, we ended up in the top left hand corner of the city in a poor suburb. I managed to find the inner ring road which took us down the eastern side of the centre, but there were no signs and every motorway said Antwerp/Brussels. We were on a different road from the one I had originally entered Ghent and just couldn’t find any clues as to where our hotel was. I chose a motorway which turned out to be wrong and took us miles out of Ghent but there was no U-turn possible so I had to take another motorway to get off. Which just left me felling further disorientated.

Suffice to say, we probably spent 2 hours messing around trying to find some kind of clue as to where we were (My road map stopped 3 miles north of the hotel area!). I spotted an IKEA and remembered we had driven past that on the way to the hotel. I pulled in and asked a couple. They had no idea. They called the hotel who said ‘Take the Antwerp/Brussels motorway’. By now I think we had taken every Antwerp/ Brussels motorway around the city. Just to rub salt into the wound, my car decided to play up by not starting. Just before the trip, it had failed to start, needing breakdown assistance, but I didn’t have time to get it checked out before the trip. So we push started the car, headed for the nearest Antwerp/Brussels motorway and I recognised the turn off.

By now it was nearly 10pm, we had set off at 5pm for a quick tour! Ensuring that we stayed on the Hotel road, I drove to the nearest town. The only place open was a kebab takeaway. Anything would do.

Sunday June 3rd

I awoke to pouring rain. It was seriously hammering down. After the long day yesterday, I let the others have a lie in, not seeing any point in driving around in a downpour. I guess we finally got away around 11am and headed for Brussels. I was able to follow my directions onto the inner ring road and through the tunnels but I missed the relevant turn off (a sign more than 5 seconds before the turn off would have helped). Again, trying to backtrack through backstreets was a nightmare of one way systems that never went where you wanted to go and not a sign in site. We ended up in the district of Laeken in northern Brussels. I only knew this because I got out to look at a map by a church. When I realised where we were, I headed further out to the Atomium which was on my list today.

Built for the 1858 World Fair, the Atomium is probably (together with the Manneken Pis) the most identifiable symbol of Brussels. As the world moved into a new age of science and space travel at the end of the 1950s, so the design by Andre Watereyn reflected this with a structure of an iron atom, magnified 165 billion times. Each of the nine spheres that make up the ‘atom’ is 18m in diameter and linked by escalators.

Even in the rain, it looked an impressive sight from outside – huge silver balls linked by connectors – like a corporate giant’s desk-toy. It turned out that there was a Spanish food festival going on with lots of stalls offering tapas, Spanish alcohol etc. It was all a bit of a wash out, but we did come across some impressive dressage with horses in a small ring. Despite the rain, it was all a nice distraction.

Returning back into the centre, it was a case of following my nose and trying to find a familiar sight so I could use a map. We came across the Eternal Flame, then the Cathedral. Now I knew where we were, but to get to our hotel in the centre was another nightmare of following guessing the major roads, checking for street signs and gradually getting closer. Even when I parked up, sure that the hotel was close, I spent 10 minutes walking up and down a variety of streets before realising that the hotel was just around the corner from the car. Doh!

I don’t usually stay in the centre of capital cities with a car, but the Astrid Hotel was 3 stars, affordable and for 15 Euros, we could park the car in the basement. It was only 600m from Grand Place. Ironically, having checked in, I went to retrieve the car, only to find that it wouldn’t start. Another push start from the gang, I descended into the underground car park wondering what would happen if it didn’t start tomorrow.

Despite the rain continuing to fall, I went to explore the vicinity, heading for Grand Place. This is the geographical, historical and commercial heart of the city and the main tourist attraction offering a cobblestone square with the finest surviving example of Belgium’s ornate 17th century architecture. These Flemish renaissance buildings were actually rebuilt after French destroyed the previous guild-houses in 1695. It was described as “A tirelessly uplifting masterpiece of unified architecture. Flanked by tightly packed rows of former guild houses, it is bristling with symbolic sculptures and gilding” (Eyewitness Top 10 book).

Even after half a dozen visits, but never in the rain, I think the Grand Place is a show stopper. You have to take your time, look up and take in all the detail which is spectacular with the gold decorations sparkling in the sunshine. The 14th Century Hotel de Ville (Town Hall) is the architectural masterpiece and dominates the square. The spire (1449) is 95m tall and slightly crooked.

La Maison des Boulangers was a showpiece built by the wealthy and powerful guild of bakers. It is coated with symbols including six figures representing the essential elements of bread making. The 1676 octagonal copper dome is topped by a dancing golden figure of Fame. Le Cornet (no 6) was the Boatman’s Guild house (1697) and most notable for its gable, which is constructed in the form of a 17th century galleon’s bow. Le Renard (no 7) (with the fox statue illustrating the building’s former name) was built in the 1690s as the prestigious headquarters of the Guild of Haberdashers. ‘The Swan’ (No 9) – Guild of the Butchers. It became a café where Karl Marx held meetings of the German Worker’s Party here. Maison des Brasseurs (no 10) was the Brewers Guild House.

Under an arch, lay a bronze horizontal statue. Everard ‘t Serclaes was murdered defending Brussels in 1388 – touching the bronze arm of his statue is supposed to be lucky. Tourists were lined up to do this.

Down the road a few blocks stood the Manneken Pis, a tiny statue of a young boy (1 ft tall), relieving himself into a small pool. It was originally designed in 1619 but stolen in 1817. A new statue was recast immediately. He got his first costume donated in 1698 and a tradition was set. Maison du Roi, the ‘King’s House’ (1873) on the Grand Place has 400 tiny outfits for the Mannekin Pis. This tiny statue has been Brussels’ unofficial emblem for centuries rather like the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen.

Brussels has a variety of street murals and I did a ‘mural walk’ (see the Lonely Person’s Guide to Brussels) which I had never done before. They took some hunting but I saw ‘Nero’ in the Place St-Gery and L’Archange in the Rue Des Chartrux. I also came across the murals ‘Lucky Luke’, ‘Isabelle’, ‘Ric Hochet’ and ‘Victor Sackville’ Belgium has a tradition of comic art (e.g. Tin Tin) which is where the murals have spawned from.

Returning to the hotel, I dragged Wendy out for a tour. The rain had stopped but it was pretty miserable. On the way to/from the Grand Place stood the impressive La Bourse – the Stock Exchange which was built in 1873 like a Greek temple and lavishly decorated. Just behind it, we found a café that did frites & sausages on bread. Nearby was the Falstaff pub which I had read about. Le Falstaff is a famous restaurant and drinking palace opposite the Bourse which dates from 1903. The interior was rich in Art Nouveau details seen in the stained glass, mirrors, lamp fittings and the furniture. As I sipped my Cherry Beer, it was like stepping back in time, especially with a virtually deserted pub on a Sunday night. Recommended.

Monday June 4th

It was still pouring with rain on Monday morning. I went for another explore. I assumed I would back in Brussels next year to run the Marathon, and felt that I could have a long weekend then. But it was nice just to wander with no destination in mind. We finally checked out at 10.30. The car started and we found the inner ring road, back through the tunnels and took a turn off that would take us south of the city and then east. It was miserable. The rain just pelted the windscreen. We were driving due east to Maastricht which actually lay in the Netherlands. I had never been there, and this was my part of the trip. Shame about the weather, but it was a fast motorway and by the time we arrived at lunchtime, the rain had temporarily stopped.

Maastricht is widely known by way of the 1992 Maastricht Treaty, as the birthplace of the European Union, European citizenship, and the single European currency, the Euro. It is apparently known for its picturesque squares, romantic streets, and historical buildings. My impression came from the impressive Markt (Market) square which contained a statue of someone holding a flame and of the picturesque Dinghuis, a 15th-century former town hall and law courts building on the corner of Grote Staat and Kleine Staat. Other than that, it was pedestrianised shopping areas, a wide river and a laid back ambience. To be honest, we only spent about 90 minutes there which hardly gave it a chance to shine.

With the overcast afternoon, I drove south west to Bouillon, close to the French/Luxembourg border on the edge of the Ardennes. It was enclosed in a loop of the River Semois and crowned by a Chateau/castle set on a long and craggy ridge that ran high above the town. We climbed up via set of steep steps from a street near the river for an impressive view down over the town. Located by the river, it had such a lovely setting. It was too early for the ‘swan’ paddle boats – all moored up. On our walk along the river, over a bridge and back we popped in for frites. I don’t think they were used to English tourists but were friendly enough.

It had been either raining or drizzling all day. We had a reservation at La Place Verte, a farm in the Ardennes. But the directions were sparse and we would have to work our way across country and hopefully find it. Cemil came into his own as a map reader and found the right towns and right turn offs. He had to down to within a mile before we saw a tiny sign with our hotel on it.

The grey stone farmhouse was on the edge of the village of Surice at the end of a green. Marie welcomed us in, showed us to our rooms and then took us outside behind the house to the large cowshed where around 30 cows were being milked, four at a time. Her husband and son were introduced. Though none of them spoke English, they tried to communicate that the calves were kept separately and fed on special milk. We watched them switch the milking machine from one cow to another. Marie’s husband indicated that one of the cows who was laying down would give birth to a calf tomorrow. Cats prowled around the shed and a few dogs ambled around outside. It was very peaceful. Even the sunshine had reappeared in the evening which made a change.

It had been a long day. We knew there wasn’t much in the village and we had a stack of picnic stuff to use up. So we had a quiet night and enjoyed the ambience of the countryside.

Tuesday June 5th

A lovely sunny day welcomed us. Marie had laid out a wonderful continental breakfast with fresh bread, cold cuts, cheeses, cereal, fruit etc. Afterwards, we were ushered back to the cowshed, where the cows were being led in to be milked. They would stick their head through a metal grill to get access to food and the grill would be closed centrally. Wendy and Lauren were shown how to milk a cow by hand by pulling on the udders, before the machine was put on the cow. Next door was a large tank that collected and cooled the milk. There were half a dozen calves of varying ages/sizes and the girls fed them by hand holding large plastic bottles with dummies on the end or buckets of milk.

Then the husband waved us over in between the two sets of cows to the pregnant one lying down. He stuck his arm inside, had a feel and then attached a rope to the calf’s feet inside and began to pull. He was obviously experienced in doing this and made it look easy. Within a minute, a brand new calf had popped out, all slimy and shivering. Pouring some water over its head, the farmer laughed and ‘baptised’ it. Then he dragged the calf over the straw to the exhausted mother who began to lick the calf clean. We hadn’t expected to have this experience on our trip.

Outside, in the field a couple of donkeys had appeared along with the cows that had been milked. It was so peaceful. We were reluctant to drag ourselves away but we had a ferry to catch and still wanted to visit a final place. It was after 10.30am when we bade farewell with hugs. I would love to go back there and explore the countryside for a few days. Recommended (booked though Hotels.com).

We popped to Givet to take a couple of photos of the town by the river, and then made for a main road which took us to Mons, onto a motorway which took us to Leper/ Ypres. It only took a couple of hours from the farmhouse to this area.

We turned off just before the town and made for the Museum Passchendaele 1917 which had the region’s largest collection of World War 1 artefacts. Set in pleasant grounds with a lake, the museum took us through the four battles of Ypres during World War 1, concentrating on the Third Battle of Ypres with photos and military hardware. We descended into the basement via a ladder to the reconstruction of a trench and a dugout. Twenty years of research had gone into making this as accurate as possible and it was a great experience. Of course, there were no rats, lice or dripping water/mud but it still gave you a unique perspective. Recommended.

The area is covered in World War One graveyards. Outside the village of Passchendaele, I followed a sign to a graveyard along a narrow lane. 2000 soldiers, mostly Australians, were buried here in the middle of a wood, having attempted to take a small mound where German soldiers were embedded.

I had been to Leper (pronounced ‘Eeeps’) many times before. Leper (The British troops called it Ypres during the war) comes across as a typical Flemish small town with a bright and breezy main square overlooked by the remnants of its medieval heyday as a centre of the cloth trade. But everything was rebuilt after WW1 when it had been completely flattened.

Lakenhall on the Grote Markt, a copy of the 13th century original, is an impressive edifice. Wool was stored on the upper floor during the winter and cats used to keep the mice at bay. In the spring (up to 1817), the cats were thrown out of the windows to a hostile crowd as part of the ‘Cat’s Festival’, the slaughter intended to symbolize the killing of evil spirits. Now cloth imitations are used very year.

The massive Menin Gate war memorial was built on the route for British soldiers heading for the front. Its walls are covered with the names of 50,000 British and Commonwealth soldiers who died in the Ypres Salient but have no grave.

Wendy and I sat in the square in the sunshine and had omelette, frites and beer. It was a lovely way to end the trip. Leper is a scenic town to visit and within an hour of the ferry. This was fortunate because I had to put my foot down to reach the Dunkirk port in time. There were the inevitable delays getting through French and English passport control. But we made the 6pm ferry as planned.

Conclusion. As usual, I was pleasantly surprised by Belgium. There is still loads of things to see and maybe we should have just concentrated on one area, but it was fun to zip around the country and introduce Wendy, Lauren and Cemil to a new (for them) country. Shame about the weather for half the time, but at least Belgium is close enough to visit easily at any time. It’s a great country to visit for a short break. The driving (apart from a lack of signs in the major towns) is easy and the petrol is cheaper than in the UK. Be warned – with all the frites, waffles, chocolate and beer, you won’t lose any weight on your visit!