Just going with the flow

If in the introduction to my previous blog post I might have given you the impression that blogging has become a bit of a chore, with deadlines and the like, then nothing could be further from the truth. I love my blog with a passion and I absolutely relish the interaction with my fellow bloggers and readers. In fact, in times of stress, blogging has always been my lifeline as it allows me to put things into perspective.

The latter rings particularly true in case of our September holiday, which in all honesty didn't exactly go according to plan.

At least the weather gods seemed to be putting their best foot forward on Wednesday the 4th of September. The morning sun was bathing the landscape in that hazy golden glow which is so typical for the time of year and the forecasted highs of around 22°C sounded very promising.

I dug out my trusty travelling companion - the denim maxi skirt I found in Think Twice in May 2023 - and combined it with a charity shopped t-shirt top, a close-up of whose funky print you can find here.

The fabulous haori I layered on top was a gift from my friend Inneke. Well, it was actually intended for my other friend, Inez, but as I wouldn't be seeing her until after my holiday, I thought I might as well try it out myself :-)

The day's forecast for - mostly - dry weather with lots of sunny spells would have been perfect for either that trip across the border I've been going on about or a day at the seaside. In the end, however, we decided to stay local and just go with the flow.

On the day before we left, Jos had developed a nasty-looking boil called a furuncle on the back of his leg, which hadn't got any better so far and thus had us a bit worried. Therefore, we drove into Poperinge to seek advice and supplies from a chemist. Having obtained instructions, ointment, dressing pads and plasters, we walked around the corner to the town's green lung, the Burggraaf Frimoutpark. 

Opened almost exactly 22 years to the day, the park was named after one of Poperinge's most famous sons, Dirk Frimout, who in 1992 was the first Belgian in space. 

The sculpture Jos is standing next to isn't a victim of vandalism or gale force winds; this is actually the way it is meant to be. The six meter long hollow bronze sculpture is called "Shot at Dawn" and originally was the focal point of the eponymous 2016 exhibition held in the town. Apparently its creator, the Dutch artist Anno Dijkstra, was inspired by Poperinge's War Memorial in the Market Place. You can catch a glimpse of it here.

The park is usually our first port of call on the Sunday of our arrival, when we have to share it with  families enjoying a Sunday stroll and groups of loitering youths. This being a weekday, however, we had the park practically to ourselves. In fact, I think we only met a single dog walker and a young couple sitting on a bench.

As long as the weather gods are on their best behaviour, I absolutely love this time of year, the sights and scents of Summer reluctantly passing the torch to Autumn making my heart sing and putting a spring in my step. 

As the sun had by now been eclipsed by the grey sky she would be playing hide-and-seek with all day, I'd replaced the haori by one of my favourite light-weight blazers.

 

We meandered along the reed-edged boardwalk leading through a marshy area and along a duck-filled pond, although this time around the ducks were rather conspicuous by their absence.

Then we returned by way of the main path which is lined with a series of garden rooms proudly displaying the flowers of the current season - much appreciated magnets for the local bees - and the gracefully dying seed heads of the last.

After leaving the park, we strolled through the town, reacquainting ourselves with Poperinge's by now well-known landmarks. The ancient hop-picking equipment (above, top left) is standing in the courtyard of the town's Hop Museum, while "De Spellewerkege" (above, top right) by local artist Rik Ryon commemorates Poperinge's former lacemaking industry.

Then we had huge cups of cappuccino on the terrace of La Poupée, one of the cafés lining the Market Place. The one with the whipped cream is the Belgian version of cappuccino ordered by yours truly.

In front of La Poupée is a gold sculpture of a girl balancing a serving tray. This is a tribute to Eliane Cossey, an attractive red-haired girl who worked at her father's café during the First World War. She was given the nickname of Ginger by the officers who came from far and wide to see her.

On our way back to where we'd parked our car, we paid a brief visit to the town's principal church which owes its name to Saint Bertin, who was abbot in the French town of Saint Omer in the 7th Century. 

Once again, Jos took a breather on one of the church chairs, while I explored its rich interior. The flower decorated sign is kindly asking people to pay € 0,20 chair money, which I'm afraid we neglected to do. I'm sure Saint Bertin must have told his friends the weather gods about our miserly ways.

Back at the cottage, we had lunch while discussing plans for the afternoon. We'd already earmarked a short local walk about 10 minutes from the cottage, when one look outside our window made us reconsider our options. The sky had taken on a moody granite grey hue from which, surely, rain would be pelting down any minute. Our weather app being ambiguous about the matter, we thought we'd better be safe than sorry and return to Poperinge to visit Talbot House instead.

During the First World War, Poperinge was part of unoccupied Belgium. Away from the turmoil of battle in the Ypres Salient, the town became the nerve centre of the British sector, with thousands of soldiers passing through the town each day when going to and returning from the front.

Thus, Talbot House was opened in 1915 by army chaplains Neville Talbot and Philip "Tubby" Clayton, as a club house for all soldiers regardless of rank. For many, this place became their home away from home, an oasis of serenity in a world gone mad. It was a place where people could forget about the war for just a moment, hence the sign next to the front door saying: "To pessimists, way out!"

Although we didn't know this at the time, Arthur's Dugout is part of an interactive family trail, during which Private Arthur Pettifer takes you on a tour through the house from basement to  attic. Obviously, we just had to have a look at what was down there, hadn't we?

Talbot House has been a museum since 1931 and is still run by British wardens. You can even spend the night in one of the guest rooms (above, bottom left). 

In fact, in the week before our holiday Talbot House was a contestant in the Flemish version of "Four in a Bed". Sadly, but rather unsurprisingly, they didn't win, as obviously the house was lacking the latest mod-cons and the en-suite bathrooms of the other contestants. 

By Thursday the weather gods had abandoned all pretence of trying to please us and treated us to an utterly grey and blustery day. Thankfully, no rain seemed to be at the horizon and, at 20°C, the temperature was still reasonable enough for us to go ahead with our planned visit to the seaside. After all, the forecast for Friday was looking pretty dire and there was no way we would be heading to the coast on a Saturday, so that this was our only chance to do so.

The gale-force wind dictated that I wear the only pair of trousers I'd brought and don my famous green raincoat to keep the shivers at bay.

As we'd stopped at my brother's - who moved to the area in the Spring of 2023 - on our way to the coast, it was well past midday before we'd parked our car in De Panne and found ourselves a place to eat. 

Then we braved the wind, trudging over the wet sand into the direction of France, accompanied by the soundtrack of the waves which kept chasing each other endlessly, their tips edged with frothing white foam.

But wait a minute, France, you say? Well yes, De Panne is Belgium's most westerly seaside resort. Next stop the French seaside town of Bray-Dunes! 

You can either walk along the beach or - when the tide is high - along a concrete walking embankment which runs all the way from De Panne to its French neighbour, a bracing 5 kilometer walk.

About halfway in you can find De Panne's latest attraction, the Westerpunt vantage point, which was opened in the Spring. If you squint and know what to look for, it can already be spotted from De Panne's main beach (above, top left), even if the view was rather marred by foggy weather conditions on the day of our visit.

I stumbled across this architectural masterpiece while doing some holiday prep in the weeks before our trip and instantly put it on my list of must-sees. So, propelled along by the fiercely whipping wind and with the waves crashing against the sea wall, we walked and walked until we were face to face with the mighty structure.

The Westerpunt is a geometric, low-rise staircase that takes you from the walking embankment up into the air, until you are virtually floating over the beach - or the sea if the tide is in - before taking you down again.  

The structure is six metres high and stands autonomously from the concrete walking embankment. Although it might sound incongruous, the concrete actually fits in nicely with the beach and the dunes in terms of colour and texture and - hopefully - will be able to withstand the harsh maritime climate.

Months of rising and falling tides had deposited a veritable sandpit halfway up the first flight of stairs, so that it was actually already becoming part of the beach. 

Jos refrained from joining me but was able to take a handful of pictures with his phone. 

They actually make it look more spectacular than it felt, as even yours truly, having absolutely no head for heights, had no problems whatsoever going up there. 

So, that was one thing which could be checked off our list. Please do visit again if you want to find out what we did next!

City of patience

I had it all planned so well. After publishing my first travel post last Sunday, I would be making a start with the second one on Monday evening after work, selecting photos and assembling a couple of collages each day, ultimately finishing and publishing the thing on Friday. 

Well, what can I say? Courtesy of a stressful week, which left me tired and uninspired, things didn't quite work out that way. Other than catching up with blogland, everything else was put on the back burner until at last I made a half-hearted start with browsing my photos on Wednesday. The first batch of collages was made on Thursday, while the rest followed on Friday. And that's before I was able to put pen to paper, so to speak. 

In other words, it soon became clear that there was no way I'd be meeting my self-imposed deadline, so thank you for your patience and for bearing with me.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the only plan that went awry! 

Originally, a trip across the border to France was on the menu for Tuesday the 3rd of September. However, one look through our window confirmed the forecasted weather for that day. The sky was sulking and denying the sun a look-in. What's more, according to our phone's weather app there would be rain on the horizon.

The day's highs of 23°C didn't sound too bad, though, so I selected my linen-blend Zara skirt (Vix has its twin!) from my travel capsule and paired it with a charity shopped short-sleeved King Louie jumper.

My travel capsule also contained a selection of accessories, which have found the perfect home in this gorgeous patchwork washbag, a present from my lovely friend Claire. I just had to take a picture of it sitting on our balcony's railing and send it to her!

Seeing our plans for our trip to France thwarted once more, we opted for a visit to Ypres. Only twenty minutes up the road, the town has has plenty of wet weather options if needed. So, after breakfast, we kindly asked Truus, our Dutch-speaking Satnav, to take us the free car park at the town's station.

Although we've used this car park many times before, it just wasn't our lucky day. As all available spaces seemed to be taken, we started driving around in circles until a kind local directed us to another car park which admittedly she wasn't sure was still in use. According to her directions we would have to pass a level crossing, which strangely enough we never did. But then our patience finally paid off and we were able to park our car on a largely abandoned plot with weeds growing between its cobbles, where we joined a handful of other cars and some mobile homes. It had actually taken us longer to find parking space than it did to drive over to Ypres!

Crossing the road, we soon arrived at one of the entrances to the ramparts. These are among the best preserved in the country and now provide a green belt which garlands most of the historic town centre.

Although taking the main roads leading to the town centre would have taken us a mere 15 minutes or so, the 2,6 kilometer walk which meanders along the ramparts makes for a much more pleasant approach.

Almost instantly, remnants of the First World War can be found in a pair of British pillboxes, concrete structures with loopholes through which weapons could be fired. It is thought that the name "pillbox" derives from their similarity to the kind of circular cardboard box in which chemists of the time supplied pills.

Soon afterwards we came across the Peace Bridge. Opened in April 2023 and constructed from weathering steel, its guard rails are artistically embellished with the word "peace" in 86 languages: a statement of universal tolerance reinforcing Ypres’s message of peace.

The path then meanders past lakes and ponds, which are the remains of the moat, and the walk is an absolute delight: a perfect blend of nature and history, with the odd work of art thrown in.

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.

In the photos (above, top left, and below, bottom left and right), Jos is standing on the edge of the Predikherentoren (Preacher's tower), which wasn't something vertigo-suffering me was quite comfortable with. 

If it doesn't look much like a tower, it's because in the French era both of the towers which were part of the 14th century Burgundian ramparts were lowered and transformed into artillery platforms.

A modern set of stone steps descends to the bottom of the tower. After having been closed off for many years, we were delighted to find the entrance gate once again opened to the public. You can spot a Lilliput yours truly (above, top left) snapped by Jos with his phone's camera. It's a good thing I'd had the presence of mind to wear a bright orange cardigan!

Idyllically situated on the banks of the moat is Ramparts War Cemetery, a small British cemetery where 198 Commonwealth soldiers, of which 188 are identified casualties, are resting.

From February 1915 to April 1918 Ramparts Cemetery was used by Commonwealth Forces. Most of the casualties buried here were killed in February, March and April and then in July and August of that year. The casualties from 1917 include a number of Australian and New Zealand soldiers.

This is just one of the literally hundreds of military cemeteries which arose in Flanders Fields after the First World War, reminding us of the staggering human toll the conflict took.

As always after having visited one of these moving sites, it was in a somewhat subdued frame of mind that we continued our walk. In these beautiful surroundings, however, nature soon managed to soothe our souls.

As we neared our destination, we came across the entrance to an ice house, a Madonna and Child in a cobwebbed shrine, a sculpture of Tibeert the cat and Reynaert the fox - characters from a major work of Middle Dutch literature dating from 1250 - and an Indian Memorial dedicated to the 130.000 troops of the Indian Forces who served in Flanders during the Great War. Oh, and there was a playful red squirrel too!

The Ramparts Route ends at the iconic Menin Gate, the sight of which always halts us in our tracks. This time, however, we were totally unprepared to see the Memorial covered in scaffolding. Designed by Sir Reginald Blomfield and unveiled on 24 July 1927, it is undergoing a two-year restoration programme, started in April 2023.

Here and here you can see what it looked like on some of our previous visits.

Having finally reached the town centre, our first priority was filling our rumbling stomachs and find a place to have lunch. Obviously, there's plenty of choice on and around the Market Place, but we opted for Café Les Halles, where we'd eaten on our last visit in September 2021. 

Popular with both tourists and locals on their lunch break, we needed to exercise patience as we had a rather long wait until our food arrived. This was somewhat redeemed, however, by our view of the newly renovated Cloth Hall, not to mention the fact that Jos's favourite alcohol free beer was on the menu.

After 18 months of renovations which were completed earlier this year, the front of the Cloth Hall can once again be admired in all its glory 

The Cloth Hall was built in the Gothic style in the 13th century and epitomised the wealth generated by the cloth industry that was heavily reliant on the wool trade with England. One of Europe's largest Gothic civil buildings, it served as a covered market and storage depot for Flemish cloth, a fabric prized across the continent.

The building - as in fact was most of the town - was completely destroyed during the First World War when the city stood at the heart of the Great War battlefields. It was rebuilt after the conflict and only completed as recently as 1967.  

She was a city of patience; of proud name,

Dimmed by neglecting Time; of beauty and loss;

Of acquiescence in the creeping moss.

But on a sudden fierce destruction came

Tigerishly pouncing: thunderbolt and flame

Showered on her streets, to shatter them and toss

Her ancient towers to ashes. Riven across,

She rose, dead, into never-dying fame.

White against heavens of storm, a ghost, she is known

To the world's ends. The myriads of the brave

Sleep round her. Desolately glorified,

She, moon-like, draws her own far-moving tide

Of sorrow and memory; toward her, each alone,

Glide the dark dreams that seek an English grave.

- Laurence Binyon, Ypres, 1918 - 

It was when we were proceeding towards the Cloth Hall after lunch that it started drizzling. We ducked inside the passage running under the Cloth Hall, emerging on the other side in front of the Gothic St. Maartenskathedraal (St. Martin's Cathedral). Admiring its soaring interior, it's almost impossible to believe that the church - which like the Cloth Hall was reduced to rubble after the war - was actually completely rebuilt in the 20th Century!

While Jos took a breather, me and my camera explored the church and marvelled at its glorious architectural details as well as the modern artwork which was on display.

The wrought iron sculpture, The Suffering Christ by local artist Adhémar Vandroemme (1917-2009) is particularly haunting and has received its permanent place here since Good Friday 2018.

I loved the row of angels - dating from 1934 but looking much older than their 90 years - with their dried flower headdresses, and was intrigued by the barrel on the top right. Holy water on tap, perhaps?

Outside the drizzle still continued so we made our way back to the Market Place and around the corner to the Ypres Museum, which had a temporary exhibition going on called Vrij, Vrolijk en Vunzig (transl. Free, Jolly and Filthy), lauded as a multifaceted discovery of the Middle Ages.

I thought the layout was rather confusing and, combined with the fact that it was quite warm and airless inside the venue, I'm afraid we rather rushed through.

It boggles my mind that one was able to walk at all and not trip up wearing those long pointed shoes, called poulaines. Apparently all the rage for men, they originated in the 13th century and reached extreme proportions in the 15th century. The points became longer while jackets got shorter. Poulaines were highly impractical and demonstrated that you were a man of leisure.

The object on the bottom left is the runner of a so-called jaw sledge for children, which was made by mounting a wooden board on the lower jawbone of a horse. 

The drizzle had turned into full-blown rain when we left the museum so any further plans for the day were shelved. Instead, we returned to the car park via the shortest route, hoping that our car would still be there. Much to our relief it was!

The weather gods, however, were having the last laugh that day, parting the clouds for a September sunset, illuminating the hop fields across the road and the hills across the border in France.

And look who was patiently waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her dinner!

Westward ho!

The weather has definitely taken a turn for the worse since we came back from our trip to Belgium's west country last Sunday. Without so much as a by your leave we have suddenly been plunged into Autumn with the temperature having taken a dive to barely into double figures. Bar the odd exception, the days have been dark and wet which did nothing to alleviate our end-of-yet-another-holiday blues.

The contrast with Sunday the 1st of September couldn't have been greater! 

We were a tiny bit too early for the 3 pm check-in into our holiday cottage so we drove over to Poperinge's town centre to get our bearings and do some food shopping. 

However, when we were hit by a sweltering 32°C upon getting out of our airconditioned car, we decided to just pick up some pre-packed salads and a baguette for our evening meal and call our host, Marino, to see if the cottage was ready. It was, so, after purchasing a loaf of bread for our host, which he'd kindly asked us to do - we have been on friendly terms with him for years! - we continued our journey to the cottage on the outskirts of the town. 

It was our 13th stay here and the 9th since I've started my blog so I'm sure the cottage - an all-in first floor studio situated above Marino's carport in a charming thatched wooden building - doesn't need further introduction. 

It's got everything you can think of but unfortunately there's only overhead lighting by way of spotlights placed at the very top of the roof beams, which makes reading after dark a bit of a struggle. In order not to strain my eyes even further, we brought our own reading lamp, bought from IKEA back in August. Therefore, Jos's first job upon arrival was assembling the thing!

One of the reasons we keep on returning to our little cottage opposite one of the town's hop fields is the view from the balcony, which never fails to delight us. We can actually see all the way to France - the undulating countryside on the horizon (above, bottom right) is part of the Franco-Flemish hills - and the view across the domain's lake is truly unsurpassable. The latter is teeming with wildlife: we love watching the antics of the coots and other waterfowl, the herons waiting patiently for their next meal to come along and the myriads of dragonflies dancing in front of our eyes.

But wait, what do we have here? This tiny kitten was meowing at us pitifully. You can see just what a little scrap of a thing it is sitting beneath the cottage balcony in the below collage on the top left. Can you spot it?

It kept us company while we were sitting outside but it scuttled away under the hedge if we tried to get closer. As it was still hanging around the next morning - and was actually waiting for us on the stairs leading up to the cottage - we called Marino to ask if it was his. Much to our dismay, it wasn't. He told us it always seemed to be sitting out there and admonished us not to feed it. I think you can guess how that turned out ...

Anyway, back to Sunday. Once the heat of the day had somewhat come down, I posed for outfit photos in front of our own very posh wrought iron entrance gates ...

... and crossed the road to have a closer look at the hop poles dripping with hop cones, which we knew from experience would be harvested before the week was over. From as long ago as the 8th century, the month of September has been dedicated to hop picking here.

Poperinge is Belgium's hop growing capital and the characteristic hop fields are a typical feature of Poperinge's summer landscape. There are no less than 160 hectares of them, all cared for by 18 hop farmers. A handful of hop farms can be visited, which we did back in 2021 (see here and here). 

I played around with one of the photos I've taken, so there's nothing wrong with your eyes, you are actually seeing things double here!

We woke up to a sunny yet slightly cooler day on Monday, its highs of 25°C perfect for the day's planned activity. We'd slept like the proverbial logs and had taken our time getting ready and having breakfast. Having ditched our original plan to explore a little town on the other side of the border, we decided to stay local instead and go for a walk in the woods.

As due to our late-ish start this would involve a picnic, we needed to drive into Poperinge for provisions first. Mission accomplished, we walked around the corner to the tourist information office in the basement of Poperinge's neo-Gothic town hall to pick up some brochures. As you can see, it was quite windy ...

In the courtyard at the back of the town hall, the death cells and execution pole, where deserters faced the firing squad, can be visited. Quite a chilling and sobering experience, especially as in one of the cells you can see a cinematic impression of a soldier waiting to be shot at dawn. You can also see some of the graffiti left by the prisoners.

As with so many of the sites here in Flanders Fields, one cannot help but be moved, so we were quite annoyed by a group of sniggering youngsters who were visiting at the same time as us. 

It's definitely not the first time I find myself standing dreamily on the town hall steps. History is so tangible here, the now so peaceful region still bearing witness to the one million soldiers from more than 50 different countries which were wounded, missing or killed in action here. 

Back at the cottage, we made some sandwiches, grabbed a drink, and set off for the day's ultimate destination, which was only five minutes or so up the road.

Having exhausted most of the local nature walks - some of which we've done more than once - I was thrilled to find that part of the woods belonging to castle ‘t Couthof, had recently been opened to the public after it had been acquired by the Flemish nature conservation agency, Agentschap Natuur en Bos.

A walking trail has been laid out through the historic estate. Red arrows are pointing the way while information boards are telling you about the rich history of the castle and its woods. These are the oldest in the area and used to belong to Henri d’Udekem d’Acoz, the uncle of Queen Mathilde of Belgium, our current king's wife.

We were lamenting the absence of any benches to have our picnic on, when Jos spotted this conveniently located fallen tree, its trunk smoothed by the passage of time. It was the perfect spot, not just to sample our sandwiches, but to sit and listen to the sound of silence only punctuated by bird calls. 

Hunger pangs sated, we continued our walk on those woodland paths until we came to a clearing. Here, the information board told us, were the remains of a motte and bailey (above, bottom right) and the ruins of a hunting lodge (above, top right). There was talk, too, of Poperinge's oldest oak tree, planted around 1795. However, we couldn't decide which of the ancient trees surrounding us it might have been, as there were quite a few mighty oaks among them, our feet crunching on the acorns which had been scattered around liberally.

Before rejoining the woods for the final stretch of our walk, a folly awaited us. 

Standing menacingly in the middle of a field, cows placidly chewing the cud at its feet, this protected monument is locally known as "de Galge" (trans. the gallows).  Contrary to its name, however, nobody was ever hanged here. 

The neo-Gothic brick arcade used to be the orientation point of an elaborate hedge maze created between 1860 and 1870 by baron Jules Mazeman de Couthove, who owned the castle at the time.

The landmark was considered a symbol of the lord of the castle's jurisdiction, hence its sinister nickname.

The rest of the afternoon and evening were spent chilling out at the cottage ... and watching the domain's lawnmowers at work.

I'll be back with more soon. Hope to see you again in a couple of days!