"Ga voor de 600 meter. Dan slaat u rechtsaf.", whispers a sultry voice.Helga, our trust-worthy Dutch GPS frau, is leading us away from the bustle of Brussels to fine Flanders countryside. Eric and I have decided to visit the charming town of Bruges ("Broo-zh" spelled the French way or "Brucchah" spelled the Dutch way). Practically every guide book on Belgium demands you to visit Bruges after your customary exploration of Brussels. A town that is walkable from end to end in an afternoon has enough sights, sounds and smells to keep you enthralled for a weekend...maybe even a week.
Somewhere in the 13th century, Bruges was one of the busiest ports in all of Europe. Its weavers were considered the finest in the world and their work drew traders from all over Europe. Through trade, Bruges developed a busy market for wool, weaving and spices. The golden years also saw the opening of the first stock exchange ('The Bourse') in the world here. Flemish school of art, centered here, attained a distinction around the 15th century. However, in the 16th century, the Zwin channel started to silt, affecting the main trade route for the city and dealing a severe blow to its economic stability.
In the 17th century, lace work tried to rekindle progress. While it is still universally acknowledged that Bruges is the home of fine lace work, the trade wasn't enough to save the city's decline as a commercial center. Its population dwindled and its former glory remained sunk in the obscure depths of its many canals. More recently, the city launched massive efforts to reclaim its place in Europe's history and culture. Tourism favored the city's revival and today, Bruges is your quintessential European model town. Paintings of canals and cobblestone streets come to life on every street. The city practically unfolds like the pages of an art book. Swans add daubs of white to vast expanses of rich, green parks and river banks. Church bells strike at the hour with absolute lethargy begging time to stop still.
We decide to park Eric's car at the train station which is fairly close to the older part of town. Guide map in hand, we cut through a park to land on a street filled with identical, white houses.
This is the Begijnhof ('Be-hine-hoff'). The Beguines were women who formed a sisterhood in the 13th century to renounce material pleasures and retreat to a simpler lifestyle. They weren't nuns in that they didn't belong to a particular religious order. Nor were they confined to this lifestyle by society. They chose to live this way and they were free to leave at will and return to material comforts. As I found out later, most cities in Belgium and the Netherlands had such Begijnhofs constructed to house the beguines. Today, these houses in Bruges are occupied by Benedictine sisters.
Going down Mariastraat, alleys branch off with charming gabled houses. Standing tall behind them is the tallest spire in all of Belgium. All roads in old town Bruges seem to lead to the magnificent Onze Lieve Vrouwekerk ("Church of Our Lady").The church was built over a span of 200 years between the 13th and 15th centuries. While its exteriors reflect a variety of architectural styles, the interior is remarkably modest with white walls.
Besides having the second tallest brick spire in the world, this church also enjoys the distinction of housing the only sculpture by Michelangelo to ever leave Italy. His Madonna holds the infant Jesus and looks upon the thousands who visit this church every year.
The grounds around the church are truly marvellous. Winter seems to cast an additional magic even though it hasn't snowed here in several days. The air is full of scents of dried leaves and fresh dew. Naked branches on trees stare into tiny windows of gabled, brick houses. Smoke spews out from a chimney. You can practically see a hobbit sticking his head out to see if Peter Jackson is clinging to a tree out there.
At this point, we have decided to abandon our map and simply let our feet wander. The town begs you to lose yourself in its streets anyway. We follow clumps of tourists to a busy street with a canal that is buzzing with activity. Most canal tours depart from this spot-the Rozenhoedkaai.
With the Vrouwekerk standing majestically in the backdrop, the Rozenhoedkaai certainly makes for a pretty picture. However, only 1 boat tour is in operation during our visit so the line at the ticket counter is quite formidable. The boats are boarded on a first-come first-served basis so you don't need to show up at a specific time.
With the Vrouwekerk standing majestically in the backdrop, the Rozenhoedkaai certainly makes for a pretty picture. However, only 1 boat tour is in operation during our visit so the line at the ticket counter is quite formidable. The boats are boarded on a first-come first-served basis so you don't need to show up at a specific time.
Deciding to return to the canal tour later, we head off in the direction of the Markt,a 13th century market square which still holds a market each Saturday. Since we are visiting over Christmas, the place looks like several Christmas markets exploded here.
The Markt is dominated by the imposing Belfort. This bell tower housed the town's charter and is therefore an important landmark, reminding its people of the city's golden days of trade and commerce. You can see stunning views of Bruges from the top of the tower by climbing a tall, winding staircase inside. Personally, I see some stunning views of liege waffles on food carts and they are just 30 steps away. I love it when I find reason to back my indulgence.
I stroll from stall to stall, picking up small souvenirs. Allison likes to collect Christmas ornaments from around the world so I pick one for her over here. Make sure you don't stroll outside for too long in winter though. Public restrooms charge a fee and aren't easy to find either. Your best bet is to use one in a restaurant.
We head back to the Rozenhoedkaai for our canal tour. The wait is slow and tedious even though 3 boats seem to be zipping up and down the River Dijver, carrying tourists. Eventually, we find ourselves sitting in the middle of a boat no larger than a dinghy. However, there are atleast 40 people with us and I am surrounded by rapid conversations in Italian, German, French and Spanish. The tour operator himself is a cheerful Flemish man who repeats all of his stories in English, Dutch and French.
I stroll from stall to stall, picking up small souvenirs. Allison likes to collect Christmas ornaments from around the world so I pick one for her over here. Make sure you don't stroll outside for too long in winter though. Public restrooms charge a fee and aren't easy to find either. Your best bet is to use one in a restaurant.
We head back to the Rozenhoedkaai for our canal tour. The wait is slow and tedious even though 3 boats seem to be zipping up and down the River Dijver, carrying tourists. Eventually, we find ourselves sitting in the middle of a boat no larger than a dinghy. However, there are atleast 40 people with us and I am surrounded by rapid conversations in Italian, German, French and Spanish. The tour operator himself is a cheerful Flemish man who repeats all of his stories in English, Dutch and French.
Over the next hour and a half, our tiny boat chugs up and down the Dijver through charming canals. Colourful gabled houses flank waterways on either side and the bridges we cross are surprisingly low. Considering how tall Dutch people can be (and they are very tall!), I wonder why these bridges are so low.
The scene cannot be more idyllic. Winter's cold muffles a lot of street noise and you only hear the occasional swan honking. At a point where several swans laze in a park, our boat turns around. This is Minnewater. Apparently, Emperor Maximilian of Austria ordered swans to be kept here in 1448 in memory of his councillor who was beheaded by the citizens of Bruges. It is chilling to hear that the people of this town weren't always a peaceful lot. Swans have been here at Minnewater ever since. They seem to reassure me that the town is as peaceful and charming as I've been led to believe.
After our canal tour, we have time to take in one more attraction although there are several to choose from. The Museum of Chocolate beckons in one direction while the Lace Center beckons in the other. Ultimately, we decide to visit the latter since Eric has already visited the Museum in the past. Plus, he recommends that a similar museum in Cologne is much bigger and not to be missed.
Off we head to the Kantcentrum ('Lace center'). While lace-making has existed since the 15th century, residents of Bruges will claim with pride that the real art began right here. The first school of lace work was started by the Sisters Apostoline in 1717. Since then, lacework from Bruges has become famous around the world. Today, the Kantcentrum houses classes and demonstrations in lace-making. Visitors can even sign up for classes of shorter duration. Several finished works are available for sale at the Kantcentrum shop. The Kantcentrum is located adjacent to Jeruzalemkerk, supposedly Bruges' most unusual church.
After our canal tour, we have time to take in one more attraction although there are several to choose from. The Museum of Chocolate beckons in one direction while the Lace Center beckons in the other. Ultimately, we decide to visit the latter since Eric has already visited the Museum in the past. Plus, he recommends that a similar museum in Cologne is much bigger and not to be missed.
Off we head to the Kantcentrum ('Lace center'). While lace-making has existed since the 15th century, residents of Bruges will claim with pride that the real art began right here. The first school of lace work was started by the Sisters Apostoline in 1717. Since then, lacework from Bruges has become famous around the world. Today, the Kantcentrum houses classes and demonstrations in lace-making. Visitors can even sign up for classes of shorter duration. Several finished works are available for sale at the Kantcentrum shop. The Kantcentrum is located adjacent to Jeruzalemkerk, supposedly Bruges' most unusual church.
Eric and I are quite excited to see demonstrations in lace-making, not that either of us plan to pick up the skill any time soon! The admission ticket costs just 2.5 euros, a stark difference from the 10-15 euro admissions we have been paying everywhere. Following signs for the demonstration room, we enter a hall filled with lots of empty chairs. Finished pieces of lacework have been framed and hung on the walls. There are lots of lace patterns strewn over tables and on the floor. Two ladies are bent over an unfinished piece and discussing in Flemish. The place hardly looks like a demonstration room to me. I interrupt their conversation to check if we are in the right place. Apparently, we are.
The demonstration isn't really a demonstration so much as it
is an 'observation'. You can sit and watch these ladies go about their work but there isn't going to be a presentation of sorts or an explanation of what they are doing. After visiting dozens of museums in the United States where such practical experiences are well-worth the price of admission, I am quite disappointed by what we are seeing. Apparently, the Lace Center's visitor experience doesn't quite carry any frills (corny pun...yep).
We decide to head to the museum part of the center which houses several pieces of finished lacework. We enter a modest building that resembles the gabled houses of the Begijnhof. The interior is well-lit but there seems to be a certain gloom cast over everything that is on display.
We decide to head to the museum part of the center which houses several pieces of finished lacework. We enter a modest building that resembles the gabled houses of the Begijnhof. The interior is well-lit but there seems to be a certain gloom cast over everything that is on display.
Dozens of table cloths, runners, kerchiefs and other items are on display in glass cases and frames. The sheer beauty of these pieces is undeniable but something seems amiss. There are no displays with information on the types of lace work or their history. Occasionally, we find a little card describing the style of lace work used in a piece. The details have been typed using a dot matrix printer or typewriter. The cards are frayed at the edges.
As we pass from room to room, I get a strong melancholic feeling in this place. It is almost as if these pieces are trying to say something. Bruges draws a lot of tourists every year and several of them make it to the Kantcentrum to learn more about lacework. However, the art of handmade lace is dying and this cannot be denied. Back in the day, women used to practice lacework at home buying raw materials from suppliers and selling finished pieces to them. Today, the number of people who still create handmade lace is very small and dwindling. I don't expect that too many women make it to the Kantcentrum to learn lace work today. Is that why this place feels somewhat desolate?
Finishing our visit, we step out into the courtyard and walk back to the gift shop. A sombre wooden statue of a nun watches us silently. That feeling of despondency only grows stronger. I have not enjoyed this visit as much as I expected to. We check out the gift shop quickly. Prices are quite reasonable but well above what I am comfortable paying. Handmade lace is VERY expensive.We decide to visit the Jeruzalemkerk next door before heading back. As we cross the courtyard, I stop to click a picture of Sombre Sister. As I take a few steps back to frame my shot, I knock over a metal divider in front of the admissions counter. The friendly man at the counter watches in surprise as I knock the divider down and then yell, "Holy $#iT!". I clamber to place it upright again. Then I realize that I have just yelled out an expletive in a church. These are the moments in life when you want to crawl under a rock.
The Jeruzalemkerk, adjacent to the Kantcentrum, is an interesting church. It dates back to the 15th century when an Italian family commissioned its construction. Their black marble tomb can be seen inside.
The altarpiece is carved with skulls and demons. Two flights of stairs lead to the higher choir from the nave. The crypt in the church houses a replica of the Holy Grave of Christ. The exterior of the church resembles the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. There is a striking wooden tower atop which stand a pair of wooden lanterns topped by an orb (representing the world). It is believed that the Italian family which lived here wanted to copy the Holy Grail of Jerusalem. That's how the church gets its name.
While the Kantcentrum and Jeruzalemkerk have both been interesting places to visit, they seem to be shrouded with an unpleasant air. We walk back to the bustle of the Markt, stopping at souvenir stores along the way. In one such store, I pick up a piece of lacework for myself and start chatting with the friendly store lady. She knows her business well and takes time to explain it to us.
The Jeruzalemkerk, adjacent to the Kantcentrum, is an interesting church. It dates back to the 15th century when an Italian family commissioned its construction. Their black marble tomb can be seen inside.
The altarpiece is carved with skulls and demons. Two flights of stairs lead to the higher choir from the nave. The crypt in the church houses a replica of the Holy Grave of Christ. The exterior of the church resembles the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. There is a striking wooden tower atop which stand a pair of wooden lanterns topped by an orb (representing the world). It is believed that the Italian family which lived here wanted to copy the Holy Grail of Jerusalem. That's how the church gets its name.
While the Kantcentrum and Jeruzalemkerk have both been interesting places to visit, they seem to be shrouded with an unpleasant air. We walk back to the bustle of the Markt, stopping at souvenir stores along the way. In one such store, I pick up a piece of lacework for myself and start chatting with the friendly store lady. She knows her business well and takes time to explain it to us.
"Lacework is dying. It is quite sad.", she admits. "Five years ago, there were about 300 houses of handmade lace in Bruges. Today there are barely 10. Nobody wants to study it anymore and it takes too long to finish a piece by hand. We want to support the business but sometimes it can take several months to finish a piece."
She points to a magnificent table cloth on display. It has been framed and hung from the ceiling.
"See that piece there? It took over 1.5 years to finish it. I can sell it for 16,000 euros. But then, it might be the only piece I manage to sell all year. I can't run a store if the supply is so small. That's why we have started selling manufactured lace where you use a computer to design and weave. It is not authentic but it sells more easily."
She stops to ring up purchases for a customer. I hear her speaking Russian even though she had mentioned that she was Flemish.
"Lace used to be very popular here in Bruges but tourists don't buy it anymore. The ones who really love lace fly from around the world to get it here. So I try to teach myself some basic greetings to help them. I've done this for about 10 languages so far."
"People don't buy lace as gifts since chocolate and beer appeal more easily. They are cheaper and everyone likes them. But I still try to support the craft. We can't let it die here, you know. In fact, they are planning to open a new exhibition space near here. I'd like to have a passage way from there for visitors to exit through my store.", she adds.
I tell her that I plan to write about my travels and she encourages me to write about the Kantcentrum. This is the least I can do. I think of every art form, language or faith that is now dying in the world because no one practices them anymore. I read somewhere that a native American woman is trying hard to learn a dialect of language specific to her tribe. She lives in a city in Washington with her 90-year old grandmother who is ailing. The two of them are the only speakers of that language in the world. There are innumerable forms of pottery, painting, craft-making and other skills in India which are undocumented but practiced in villages. Families count on these skills for their sustenance but their children have dreams that go beyond the walls of their village. Who can these artists pass on their skills to? Why would they anyway when they can barely eke a living today? Finally, who is around to lament such a loss?
These questions challenge me but I am too exhausted to answer them. We have a long walk back to the train station where our car is parked. We leave the old town area and cross Minnewater to get to the station. The cobblestone streets give way to asphalt. Roads widen into several lanes. Cars choke up arterial ways and huge shopping plazas seem to be everywhere. The train station itself is huge and gleaming with rows of trendy stores.
The change is difficult to digest. Does the beauty of Bruges exist only in its old town area? What happened to scenic canals and graceful swans? I get this vision of a giant snowglobe that contains the Vrouwekerk, the Markt, Kantcentrum and every other place we have visited today. It feels like Bruges has decided to explode into an urban sprawl, leaving its old town for the thousands of tourists who head here-tourists who want an escape from that urban sprawl.
I feel slightly cheated in a way. My camera has been busier on the streets of Bruges but I must admit that the unassuming town of Ghent silently steals the show as the real charmer. Nevertheless, Bruges has been a great way to wrap up my Belgian experience.
Helga greets us with her sultry voice and gently directs us to the A27 expressway. The stars shine down as I drift off into dreams of women weaving lace and gnomes sprinkling chocolate around them.
Next stop-Amsterdam.
She points to a magnificent table cloth on display. It has been framed and hung from the ceiling.
"See that piece there? It took over 1.5 years to finish it. I can sell it for 16,000 euros. But then, it might be the only piece I manage to sell all year. I can't run a store if the supply is so small. That's why we have started selling manufactured lace where you use a computer to design and weave. It is not authentic but it sells more easily."
She stops to ring up purchases for a customer. I hear her speaking Russian even though she had mentioned that she was Flemish.
"Lace used to be very popular here in Bruges but tourists don't buy it anymore. The ones who really love lace fly from around the world to get it here. So I try to teach myself some basic greetings to help them. I've done this for about 10 languages so far."
"People don't buy lace as gifts since chocolate and beer appeal more easily. They are cheaper and everyone likes them. But I still try to support the craft. We can't let it die here, you know. In fact, they are planning to open a new exhibition space near here. I'd like to have a passage way from there for visitors to exit through my store.", she adds.
I tell her that I plan to write about my travels and she encourages me to write about the Kantcentrum. This is the least I can do. I think of every art form, language or faith that is now dying in the world because no one practices them anymore. I read somewhere that a native American woman is trying hard to learn a dialect of language specific to her tribe. She lives in a city in Washington with her 90-year old grandmother who is ailing. The two of them are the only speakers of that language in the world. There are innumerable forms of pottery, painting, craft-making and other skills in India which are undocumented but practiced in villages. Families count on these skills for their sustenance but their children have dreams that go beyond the walls of their village. Who can these artists pass on their skills to? Why would they anyway when they can barely eke a living today? Finally, who is around to lament such a loss?
These questions challenge me but I am too exhausted to answer them. We have a long walk back to the train station where our car is parked. We leave the old town area and cross Minnewater to get to the station. The cobblestone streets give way to asphalt. Roads widen into several lanes. Cars choke up arterial ways and huge shopping plazas seem to be everywhere. The train station itself is huge and gleaming with rows of trendy stores.
The change is difficult to digest. Does the beauty of Bruges exist only in its old town area? What happened to scenic canals and graceful swans? I get this vision of a giant snowglobe that contains the Vrouwekerk, the Markt, Kantcentrum and every other place we have visited today. It feels like Bruges has decided to explode into an urban sprawl, leaving its old town for the thousands of tourists who head here-tourists who want an escape from that urban sprawl.
I feel slightly cheated in a way. My camera has been busier on the streets of Bruges but I must admit that the unassuming town of Ghent silently steals the show as the real charmer. Nevertheless, Bruges has been a great way to wrap up my Belgian experience.
Helga greets us with her sultry voice and gently directs us to the A27 expressway. The stars shine down as I drift off into dreams of women weaving lace and gnomes sprinkling chocolate around them.
Next stop-Amsterdam.
