All quiet on the Western front

If only I could stop the hands of the clock, I mused, even if just for a little while.

The early September sunshine warming my face, I was standing on the steps of Poperinge's town hall, savouring the delicious feeling of having a whole week's holiday stretched out in front of me.

It was Monday, 2 September, and we'd arrived in Poperinge, a sleepy little backwater in Belgium's west country, in the early afternoon. 

Too early for our 3 pm check-in into our cottage at the edge of town, we walked towards the town centre to reacquaint ourselves with the place which has been our base for touring the area since 2012.

Taking pride of place on the Grote Markt (market square) is its town hall. Built in neo-Gothic style as recently as 1911, it looks considerably older than its years. Proud of its buttery bricks, its decorative arches and stone carvings, not to mention its gleaming gold weathervane, it was preening itself in the shop windows opposite.

Its tower, together with those of the town's ancient churches, the 15th Century St. Bertinus Church (top left) and the 13th Century Church of Our Lady (top right), dominates the town's skyline, which can be seen from far and wide.

Making the most of the, according to the weathermen, short-lived sunshine, we enjoyed a cup of coffee while sitting on the terrace of one of the market square's cafés.

The gold sculpture of the girl with her serving tray belongs to another café on the square, La Poupée.

She isn't just there to attract customers, but commemorates Eliane Cossey, an attractive red-haired girl who worked at her father's café during the First World War, and was given the nickname of Ginger. Such was her fame that officers of all nationalities came from miles around to see this stunning continental beauty and her father's establishment soon became known as Ginger's instead of its French name La Poupée.

Although during the Great War, Poperinge was part of unoccupied Belgium, poignant reminders of its devastation are all around. This wall full of poppy-adorned wooden crosses (top left) can be found in the town hall's courtyard, next to the authentic execution pole. This a painful reminder of the fate which awaited many so-called ‘deserters’ during the Great War. Most of these frightened men were suffering from shell shock but, instead of receiving compassion and understanding, a terrifying example was made of them.

Our town walk then took us to a picturesque walled courtyard lined with little white-washed cottages. These were built in the late 18th Century as some kind of almshouses for poor widows. The flaming heart and cross above the entrance refers to the responsible charitable organization.

As always on the first day of our September holiday, we ended up at the local park, and the town's green lung, which was established in 2002, and named after one of Poperinge's most famous sons, Dirk Frimout who, in 1992, was the first Belgian in space.

By then, it was past 3 pm, so we beat a hasty retreat to our car and, after stocking up on provisions at the local supermarket, drove down to the little cottage which would be our home for the next six days.

A little studio apartment above the owner's carport, it has everything you can possibly need, but our favourite feature is the magnificent view over the lake, which is part of the owner's domain, and towards the hills on the Flemish-French border in the distance.

We know from past experience that, as long as the weather's dry, this is the perfect backdrop for daily outfit photos so, starting as we meant to go on, here is what I wore on Tuesday.

This sky blue Diolen dress sprinkled with clusters of orange, yellow and white flowers has a twin sister in mustard, which I actually wore during last year's September holiday (see here). 

I accessorized it with an orange belt and a yellow beaded necklace. As we had some serious uphill walking in mind, my footwear of choice were the pink floral sneakers I charity shopped in Shrewsbury back in June.

As you might have noticed, Monday's blue skies had disappeared, making way for a blanket of dull grey and, even though it was still in the low twenties, this put a bit of a damper on things. Especially when we were treated to some light drizzle upon reaching our destination.

We were headed to Kemmel, a picturesque village in the hilly country south of Poperinge. 

We'd planned to do the walk we would do today on the final day of last year's holiday, when unfortunately we found our plans thwarted by a cycling event which would have been a great hindrance. Not having a death wish, our plans were aborted and we did something else instead that day.

This time, we weren't to be deterred! Nipping inside the tourist office for a map of the area, we were tempted by a sign pointing into the direction of the church opposite, where an exhibition of all things sweet was being held.

So, after a visit to the church itself, where we admired the modern stained glass and were enamoured by a clock without hands which we agreed would be perfect for our time-stopping plans, we made our way to the exhibition, where I demonstrated my ice-cream scooping skills.

Seeing all those sweets, cakes and biscuits had made us hungry, so we went in search of lunch, after which we were ready to start our intented walk.

This would skirt and climb the hill Kemmelberg. Berg is the Dutch word for mountain and, at 156 meters, the Kemmelberg is the highest in flat Flanders! Those of you living in countries with real mountains, please refrain from laughing! 

The start of our walk was in the local park, where the former castle of the Bruneel de la Warande family now houses Kemmel's town hall.

Initially, the climb was quite gentle, but once outside the park and into the provincial domain De Kemmelberg, the path starting climbing more seriously, meandering through the woods until, upon meeting a cobbled lane, a white wedding-cake building with an ornate tower could be glimpsed.

The building is a hotel and restaurant called the Belvédère, and its tower is a tourist attraction which can be climbed for a panoramic view. But as silly us only found this out after our visit, we'll have to return next year. 

Anyway, we still had another climb ahead of us before we were at the very top, which was marked by a stone pillar. They could have been considerate and supplied a bench for weary climbers to rest upon, but no!

Near the summit is an impressive French memorial which commemorates the heavy fighting which took place here in April 1918. 

The 18 metre-high column, popularly known as "The Angel", was erected in 1932 and looks wistfully over the battlefield where so many died.

A poppy wreath had been laid out on the stone pillar, and nearby we found a laminated photo of a soldier fastened to a tree. Written on the back was the soldier's name, Patrick Gammell, of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, who died here on 18 April 1918. 

Oh, these hills are alive with wartime memories!

Having reached the top, all was downhill from here. There were hazy views over the countryside to enjoy, as well as a field of sunflowers nestling in the Monet-like autumnal landscape.

Eventually we reached Kemmel's village square, where our car was parked. 

Driving towards our final destination for the day, a backward glance rewarded us with a view of the wooded Kemmelberg, the Belvédère tower appearing as a beacon among the trees.

A war memorial of a different kind is the Pool of Peace near the village of Wijtschate, 4 kilometers down the road from Kemmel.

This peaceful, secluded pool, 12 meters deep and with a diameter of 129 meters, is the site of the largest of 19 mines blown by the British Army under the German lines in the early hours of the morning of the 7th of June 1917, killing as many as 10000 German soldiers. 

As if on cue, the sky started darkening, with dramatically menacing clouds watching over this deceptively peaceful but war-riddled landscape.

Apart from that, it didn't look too well on the weather front. But more about that and what we did next in my next post.

A haunted castle

If all goes well, I'll be enjoying a short holiday by the time you are reading this. Since I still had a post up my sleeve, I thought I'd give scheduled posting a try. So, if you are reading this, it has worked! Yay!

I don't know about where you are, but here in Belgium we've had yet another batch of gorgeously warm and sunny weather in the week and weekend before last.

Admittedly the mornings were a bit chilly and once or twice there was a flimsy layer of hoarfrost greeting us upon drawing the curtains, but the warmth of the sun soon did away with that, and by midday it had warmed up sufficiently to start shedding layers.

We went charity shopping on Saturday before last and took a picnic, which we could easily have eaten outside if there had been any benches to sit on.

So, a car picnic it was then, but one with a view!

The rather murky water I'm looking out over belongs to the moat of one of the double ring of defensive forts around the city and port of Antwerp. This one, dating from 1878, is in Walem near Mechelen and is now a nature reserve which can only be visited with a guide.

Afterwards, we briefly walked along the water's edge and took some photos.

I was wearing a long sleeved frock, black but sprinkled with poppy-like flowers. It was, after all, that time of the year again when we wear poppies as a symbol of remembrance of those who died in war. I thought that this year the occasion of the centenary of the WW1 Armistice warranted the wearing of more than just that single poppy pinned to my jacket.

I took the lead from the pink flowers to add a pink cardigan and pink tweed jacket, but opted for green for the rest of my accessories, including green opaques and a green beret to tie in with the flowers' stems. I chose a white vinyl belt to please the white flowers.

Next stop was the charity shop near the park.

I'd come across a delightful green tweed jacket in the first shop we visited and, even if I'd told myself to stop buying more jackets, I just had to make an exception for this one. I mean: it's green! How could I not buy it?

I changed into it immediately and have in fact been wearing it for most of last week.

We spotted a heron at the other side of the pond and tried to get a little closer to take its picture, but unfortunately it had spotted us too and flew off. Oh well.

After a short circuit of the park, which was veiled in the light of the Autumn afternoon sunshine, it was time to continue our charity shopping.

The usually rather disappointing jewellery display came up with a marbled orange beaded necklace and a plastic ring in the shape of an apple, complete with diamanté leaf.

Anything velvet always grabs my attention and when I saw a black midi skirt with the most gorgeous metallic print, I knew resistance was futile. I'm promising to wear it on the blog soon, but until then you can admire a close-up of its amazing print.

When I left the fitting room and came across a rail full of coats, my eyes zoomed in on a gorgeous brown textured wool coat. Taking out its hanger for closer inspection, I was delighted to see a flash of orange floral lining. Then my eyes clocked the label. Now, I don't need another coat, but it was my size, and it would be quite foolish to leave this Dolce & Gabbana coat behind for € 32.

The next day, Sunday, we had to be up bright and early for our second trip of the year to Castle de Renesse in Oostmalle, just over half an hour's drive away.

There's a twice-yearly antiques market, held in April and November, when stalls selling all manner of brocante fill the castle's public rooms and corridors.

We were dismayed not to see the Brooch Lady presiding over her folders of brooches as usual, but on the plus side this seriously limited our spending!

Still, it's always a pleasure to be there and browse the many treasures, oddities and curiosities on display in this magnificent setting.

They were obviously expecting me as, climbing the spiral staircase in the castle's keep tower, there was this ornate silver and turquoise throne waiting for me. 

There have always been rumours that the castle is haunted, but this has now been officially confirmed. Apparently, an organization called Paranormal Research Europe, has done some investigations and has registered "entities".

During WWI, a German officer committed murder and then suicide, and legend has it that he is the notorious castle ghost, but whether he was one of the "entities" remains to be seen.

Our browsing finished, it was time for lunch, and as usual we'd brought a picnic, which I am delighted to say we were able to have outside.

There is only one picnic table, next to a path leading into the domain, and with a view to the castle across the lake. Funnily enough we seem to be the only ones making use of it. 

With our picnic hamper and checked tablecloth spread out on the table, we caught quite a bit of attention from the people walking or cycling past.

As a rule, and weather permitting, our picnics here are followed by a walk around the domain, and it was such an exceptionally gorgeous Autumn day that we picked up our walking sticks from the car and opted for a longer than usual walk.

But let me show you what I was wearing first.

You've already caught a glimpse of my outer wear: my new-to-me green tweed jacket, a fluffy pink charity shopped scarf and a dusty blue vintage beret.

What you haven't seen is my dress, in brown with a print featuring a profusion of flowers in pink, coral, lavender and green. It is handmade and lined and has the most unusual leg-of-mutton  sleeves. Can you believe I unearthed it from the reduced bin at one of Antwerp's vintage-per-kilo shops? 

I added a lavender vinyl belt, wore my rose beaded necklace, pinned a gold tone brooch with a red and white mottled stone on the dress's collar, and chose a pair of purple opaques.

And I just had to wear this ring, its colours echoing the dress's print almost exactly.

The sun was beaming dazzling rays of sunlight though the trees, creating a magically enchanting atmosphere.

The earthy aroma of the leaf-layered woods mingled with a nostalgia inducing pine tree smell, providing a ticket for time travelling back to my childhood.

On our way back, we passed the spot where a frame has been erected, perfectly catching the castle surrounded by Autumnal splendour.

We concluded the afternoon with coffee and cake, which we had outside in the castle courtyard.

Finally, here are the things we found. And no, we didn't set out to colour coordinate them!

Our first purchase, mere minutes after we walked in, was the fabulous head plaque. She has joined our wall of heads by now.

The turquoise leather gloves and large brooch with the turbaned lady both came from the same stall.

Upstairs is a stall selling - amongst other things - brooches at every reasonable prices. The choice wasn't as extensive as before, but I still managed to find this charming little bird brooch.

Lastly, a small book full of drool-worthy jewellery, edited by Judith Miller. I already have similar books on shoes and handbags.

I am leaving you now with a selfie. I am notoriously bad a taking selfies, and usually I can't push the delete button fast enough. Still, perseverance must have paid off as I was quite taken with this rather spooky one!

See you next week!

Yesterday is here

In spite of its historical significance, we only visited Ypres (Ieper in Flemish) for the first time in 2012, making a return visit one year later.

We hadn't planned to go there this year, but as the weather on Tuesday turned out to be quite dismal, we decided the town was our best option. In fact, although the day was wrapped in a blanket of grey clouds, it mercifully remained dry, the first drops of rain only appearing on our windscreen on our way back.

I'd packed clothes for all occasions and, after wearing red and blue for two days in a row, I decided to switch to green. I chose a floral vintage dress which I charity shopped a couple of years ago, accessorizing it with a green belt, pink plastic flower brooch and turquoise beads.

I also added a green cardigan, with a red flower corsage, which you will get to see later.

As the persistent clouds held a promise of rain I wore my blue raincoat on top, pinning a crocheted cherry brooch from Oxfam on its collar.

There is free and unlimited parking at the town's railway station, and from there it's a straightforward ten minute walk to the town centre.

Our route into town passed the Fish Market, which is a cobbled square off the Boterstraat (Butter Street), reached through the Fish Gate decorated with Neptune, the god of the seas. This was originally built in 1714 but was rebuilt after being destroyed in the First World War.

In the market itself are two covered stalls and at the end is the old toll house, called Minckhuisje, where the fishmongers had to pay their tolls.

Continuing along the Boterstraat, we arrived at the Grote Markt (Market Square), where we were met by the sight of the impressive Lakenhalle (Cloth Hall) with its 70 metre high belfry, which dominates the square.

During the First World War the building was completely destroyed except for a section of the tower and some walls.

As the town was at the centre of the whirlwind of the Great War, being in a precarious position wedged between fronts, it was quite literally wiped off the map by four years of shelling and trench warfare, and by the end of the war, there was hardly a building left standing.

After the war, the town's historical buildings, and in particular the cloth hall with its belfry and St. Martin's Church, were rebuilt as close to the original designs as possible.

The base of the belfry, the “Donkerpoort”, managed to survive. It is the passage under the belfry and dates back to about 1200, representing one of the very rare remnants of medieval Ypres.

A large German artillery shell is located in the  passage. The shell is from a heavy gun called “Dicke Bertha” by the German Army and nicknamed in translation “Big Bertha” by the British.

Apart from the town hall and tourist office, the Lakenhalle also houses the haunting In Flanders Field museum, which we visited back in 2013 and which uses first-hand accounts and state-of-the-art techniques to tell the story and preserve the memory of the Great War.

Passing through the Donkerpoort, St. Martin's Church, which lies behind the Lakenhalle, is reached. This too was rebuilt after the war, but with a pointed spire instead of a square tower, adding considerably to its height.

The Lapidarium next to the cathedral contains the older ruins of St. Martin’s monastery and cloisters. One of the few remaining ruins in the town centre, the Lapidarium is a permanent reminder of the destruction caused by the First World War.

The Kloosterpoort (Cloister Gate), dating from about 1780, was one of the few structures which was not completely demolished by the end of the war. It was still standing while almost everything around it was reduced to piles of rubble.

Pranged between the Cloister Gate and St. Martin's church is the lavishly decorated theatre, dating from 1931.

We explored the area around the Market Square until it was time for lunch, which we had on a - admittedly covered and heated - terrace of one of the square's multitude of eateries.

Before we left the square, we went into the tourist office to pick up some leaflets. I also bought an enameled poppy brooch, which I'll be wearing in November. Then my eye was caught by this delightful poppy umbrella, which obviously I couldn't resist.

A visit to Ypres isn't complete if you haven't been to the Menin Gate, which was our next stop.

The largest memorial to the First World War, the Menin Gate is the spot where the Last Post has been sounded every evening at 8 o’clock since 1928.

This memorial in the form of a Roman triumphal arch, and designed by Sir Reginald Blomfield, displays the names of 54,896 soldiers of the then British Empire who went missing in action. It lists the names from the beginning of the war until 15 August 1917.

Soldiers reported missing after 16 August 1917 until the end of the war are mentioned on panels at Tyne Cot Cemetery in Passchendaele.

One cannot be but moved by those interminable lists of names carved into the stone of the walls and the surrounding loggias. The many poppies and wooden crosses are testimony that the men behind those names are not forgotten.

In 1914 there was no building or formal gate as such, it was simply a crossing point over the moat and through the old town ramparts, through which the troops marched onto the roads leading into the battlefields of the Ypres Salient, many of them never to return.

I have yet to stand here without choking up, thinking of Siegfried Sassoon's bleak but fitting poem, On Passing the New Menin Gate:

Who will remember, passing through this Gate,
the unheroic dead who fed the guns?
Who shall absolve the foulness of their fate,
Those doomed, conscripted, unvictorious ones?

The Menin Gate is right next to the town's ramparts and moat, which provide a green belt around the town. There is a delightful 2,6 kilometer walk along them which starts here and takes you all the way back to the station, in our case making it into a true circular walk.

Initially, the ramparts were little more than an earth wall with a moat. Later, stone walls and towers were added, until it was developed into a complex structure with bastions, advance redoubts, moats and walls.

Along the walk, you come across the small Ramparts Cemetery, lying on the banks of the moat. 

Near the end of the walk, in the middle of the surrounding greenery, is Pacific Eiland (not a misspelling, it's the Flemish for island), a tearoom and restaurant on an actual island in the moat, which can be reached by a little bridge.

Here we sat down for a while at the moat's edge, looking back on a wonderful day, while enjoying yet another cup of cappuccino!

P.S. Back home, I tried out the umbrella, which surely must have been tempting fate!