In Bruges

We woke up to a sky of deepest blue, its colour appearing even more vivid against the amber and gold Autumn foliage. The weather forecast couldn’t have been better, speaking of highs of 18°C and promising a day which, if one disregards the fact that signs of advanced Autumn were all around us, could almost have been considered summery. After weeks of grey and rainy days, we couldn’t have planned our holiday at a better time if we’d tried. The world – or at least Bruges – was our oyster that day and Veronique’s breakfast was awaiting us. 

So, what could possibly go wrong? Well, quite a lot, it seems as, after a fitful night’s sleep, Jos had woken up feeling tired and queasy.

We were the only guests for the first two nights, so breakfast was set out exclusively for us. Apart from a selection of cereals, homemade granola, fruit and yoghurt, homemade bread, rolls and croissants, Veronique had produced a fingerlickingly good chocolate cake. Set out on our table was a selection of charcuterie, cheeses and smoked salmon, all of which were making my mouth water. Not Jos’s though, although he did do his best to at least eat something in spite of his appetite having gone AWOL.

After breakfast, we took our time getting ready for the 20-minute or so drive into Bruges, parking at the inner-city car park at the ‘t Zand square. There’s a cheaper alternative at the railway station from where there’s free public transport to the city centre. However, we are prepared to pay somewhat over the odds for the luxury of being within a short walk of the majority of Bruges’ tourist attractions.

We hadn’t made any definite plans on what to do apart from earmarking a couple of museums in case it should rain. As the weather gods clearly didn’t have any intention in that direction, we were just going to wander and see where our feet would take us. 

There’s no avoiding the hordes of tourists who flock to Bruges any given day of the week or time of year, but we still wanted to give a wide birth to the main shopping thoroughfares leading to the tourist honey pots around the Market Square. Instead, we walked along some quiet back streets into the general direction of the Beguinage.

Still not feeling up to much, Jos was lagging behind while I tried to keep my own spirits up by taking photographs of anything which grabbed my attention, starting with an armada of paper boats floating upon the water of 't Putje, a tiny square in the shadow of the Concert Hall.

Our feet ultimately took us to the Minnewater (a.k.a. the Lake of Love), where we found Jos a sun-trap of a bench on which to sit and watch the world go by. 

People once believed that water nymphs (minnen in old Flemish) lived here, and thus the lake acquired its name. Add to that a tragic love story, mysterious trees and an abundance of greenery and you get a place steeped in romance. 

The tragic legend recounts the tale of Minna, a young woman who was in love with a warrior of a neighbouring tribe. Minna ran away from her father to avoid being forced to marry someone else. She ran into the forest and found her lover, only to die in his arms of exhaustion from her journey.

The Minnewater is also home to the famous Bruges swans. 

After the death of Mary of Burgundy in 1482, Bruges went through some troubled times. The townspeople, enraged by the new taxes imposed by Mary's successor, Emperor Maximilian of Austria, rose in revolt against their new ruler. As Maximilian was locked up in House Craenenburg on the Market Square, he helplessly witnessed the torture and eventual beheading of his bailiff, Pieter Lanchals, whose surname translates as long neck. Legend has it that the Emperor eventually escaped and later took his revenge on the local people by forcing them to keep long necks, or swans, on the canals for eternity. 

In reality, however, swans have been swimming on the canals since the beginning of the 15th Century, when they were seen as a status symbol of the city’s power and wealth.

The picturesque building which meets its reflection in the lake (above, bottom left) is the Sashuis (or Lock-Keeper's House)  used to regulate the city's water supply The current Sashuis was built in the 16th Century to replace a 13th Century lock complex. It has been out of use since the 1970s but the three sluice gates are still clearly visible. 

Leaving Jos topping up his Vitamin D levels on that lakeside bench, I decided to walk into the direction of the bridge the eagle-eyed of you might be able to spot between the trees on the bottom right in the above collage, and which lies at the opposite end of the Minnewater.

There were picture postcard views everywhere I looked, and I couldn't resist taking snapshots of the reflections in the mirror-like surface of the lake. Quite a few trees seemed to be reluctant to let go of their leaves and, if one half-closed one's eyes, one could even imagine it being at the tail-end of Summer rather than the year's penultimate month. But then the quality of light - so typical of a sunny Autumn day - and the seasonal show of reds, yellows and golds were giving the game away. 

The picturesque building on the east bank of the lake is Minnewater Castle, previously known as Castle de la Faille and built in neo-Gothic style in 1893. Opened in 2015 as a brasserie with a lake-side terrace, we had the pleasure of enjoying cups of cappuccino here on a bitterly cold day back in March 2022. 

Upon reaching the bridge which marks the end of the lake, one comes face to face with the imposing Poertoren (Gunpowder Tower). The defensive tower, which was built in 1397 and stands 18 metres tall, was originally part of one of the city gates and was later converted into a gunpowder store. 

The bridge leads into the leafy Minnewater Park, where I took one of the winding paths to take me back to the start. I stopped to take a photo or two whenever a view of the lake opened up, and ultimately passed the rather forlorn looking Minnewater Castle (above, top right). The latter didn't seem to be open so that we would have to look elsewhere when in need of sustenance.

After touching base with Jos on his bench and making sure he was ok, I decided to join the hordes of tourists who were taking a guided tour of the Beguinage. As they all seemed to walking into the direction of the main gate, I took the one opposite the Lock-Keeper's House, and walked along a dead-end street with a couple of houses called de steert (transl. the tail).

Years of practice makes it look as if I was on my own here, but trust me, I wasn't. The place was inundated with groups of tourists who were being entertained by knowledgeable guides speaking every language under the sun.

The  'Princely Beguinage Ten Wijngaerde' was founded in 1245. This little piece of world heritage was once the home of the beguines, emancipated lay-women who nevertheless led a pious and celibate life. Their life in the beguinage was lived in silence as much as possible. 

Today it is still inhabited by a few nuns and by single women who choose to live a serene lifestyle. 

Leaving de steert, the Beguinage enfolds as a rough circle of delightful whitewashed houses surrounding a central green. In Spring, this is a mass of daffodils, which is quite a magical sight. 

Before leaving the beguinage, I paid a brief visit to its church (top and bottom left and bottom centre).

The 13th-Century St. Elisabeth church was originally Gothic, but almost completely burned down in the 16th Century due to a fallen candle. Some baroque interior elements were added during its reconstruction in the 17th Century.

The shrine to Our Lady of Banneux, virgin of the poor (above, top right), is hidden away in a little chapel in the front garden of one of the beguinage's cottages. 

It was almost 1.30 pm when I finally rejoined Jos, and my stomach was audibly rumbling. Walking away from the Minnewater on the picturesque Wijngaardplein we spotted an empty table on the terrace of a restaurant called La Dentelliere and decided to look no further. 

Jos still wasn't hungry and the pasta dish I'd ordered turned out to be fairly basic, so that it wasn't the most enjoyable experience ever, apart from the fact that we were able to eat outside in bright Autumnal sunshine on the 6th of November!

Wijngaardplein is the place where the horse carriage rides stop for a breather. The horses can be seen enjoying a short break from their work here and being given buckets of feed which the poor creatures need to share with the eternally famished flocks of pigeons. 

The afternoon was well advanced by the time we (or rather, I) finished lunch, so we decided to walk back to 't Zand.  I'd devised a little route which would take us past some Godshuisjes (Alms Houses), but unfortunately these turned out to be closed off as they were in the process of being restored.

Eventually we arrived in the peaceful Arents Courtyard, which is surrounded by the Arentshuis after which it was named and which has temporary exhibitions of fine art, the Onze Lieve Vrouwekerk (Church of Our Lady), and the the city palace of the lords of Gruuthuse, now an award-winning museum.

The chap on the top left in the above collage is one of the The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by Belgian sculptor Rik Poot (1924-2006).

From here, we wanted to cross into the courtyard in front of the Gruuthuse museum, but once again we found our plans thwarted by the omnipresent roadworks. Sigh! 

I still managed to take a couple of snapshots of the former palace's magnificent façade.

Then we took a deep breath and entered tourist land, crossing the Dijver canal and making our way towards the Market Square and along Bruges' main shopping street until we reached the car park. 

Back at the B&B, we rested our feet until it was time to devour the rest of Veronique's tapas board. I'm sure you'll be glad to know that Jos managed to eat some of it and that in the course of the evening he suddenly declared he was feeling much better!

I'll be back with a more cheerful report of our second day, but in the meantime here's a peek of what I was wearing underneath that checked coat ...