Sunny days in the West(hoek)

It's the final installment of my September travelogue. And about time too, as it's now more than six weeks ago that we woke up to sunshine streaming in through our window on Friday the 5th of September. 

The weather forecast for the day ahead looked very promising, with highs of 22°C, which felt positively balmy now that the wind had finally taken a backseat. We had thrown open the cottage's French window while having breakfast and were enjoying the antics of the resident sheep (a.k.a. the lawnmowers), when a telltale sound coming from across the road made us leap up from our seats and walk over to the cottage's front door. Yes, it was that time of year again: hop picking had finally commenced!

We decided to make the most of the fact that the weather gods were on their best behaviour by going for a walk and enjoy the bounty nature has to offer. Not wanting to stray too far that day, we'd selected Helleketelbos (bos is the Flemish word for wood), which, in theory, would involve a drive of less than 15 minutes.

However, as there were roadworks along the route which would normally take us there, we decided to catch two birds with one stone and take the road we could see in the far distance when looking towards the Franco-Flemish hills from our balcony. 

A couple of houses on said road had been catching our attention for years, so we were wondering if we would be able spot our cottage if we'd seek these out. And we could! As it was in the shade, however, it wasn't exactly straightforward to pick it out among the surrounding trees, so I've added a helpful pink arrow for you!

From there, finding Helleketelbos should have been a doddle. After all, the road we were now on was called Helleketelweg (weg being the Flemish word for road), so we presumed that this was where it led to. So, we refrained from entering our destination in our Satnav, deciding to rely on our - admittedly shaky - sense of direction and a rudimentary map. 

Well, what can I say? Those winding country lanes did get the better of us so that, after literally driving around in circles, we finally admitted defeat and tasked Truus, our Satnav with the Dutch accent, with pointing us into the right direction.

By the time we finally made it there, our shattered nerves were sorely in need of a spot of Shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing. It was then that we remembered that, in spite of the existence of numbered markers which correspond with the handy map we were carrying, we always seem to end up getting lost here.

So, why not throw caution to the wind and start our walk the other way around, taking the path we usually - and eventually - arrive back on?

This seemed to have done the trick, as we finished our walk without any hiccups whatsoever. Or perhaps we have finally learned from our past mistakes?

Helleketelbos covers an area of around 56 hectares. The name Helleketel, which literally translates as Hell's Cauldron, is not as ominous as it sounds. In old Flemish the word helle means hillside and ketel refers to a depression at the bottom of a slope. 

Helleketelbos is a remnant of an early medieval forest. The current wood consists of plots of deciduous, coniferous and mixed woodland and is surrounded by agricultural land. 

At the edge of the wood is a small half-timbered farm labourer's cottage, which used to be part of a large farmstead. It is locally known as the Witches Cottage. The cottage, which is in an enclosure with a picnic area, has been restored in recent years. Sadly, however, signs of vandalism are already apparent, with one of the windows giving access to the basement having been smashed to smithereens.

We rested here for a while, but as we hadn't brought a picnic and it was getting late, our faintly rumbling stomachs demanded that we drive back to our cottage for lunch. This was followed by a siësta, after which we drove down to Poperinge.

Here, we started with a visit to the local charity shop, which turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. Although I've found many a treasure here over the years, the stock wasn't up to scratch at all this time around and prices were considerably higher than where we live. I mean, € 11,50 for a dress, that's almost double what we're generally paying here.

We then continued to St. Jan's Kerk (St. John's Church), which has its origins in the 13th Century. The church is a well-known place of pilgrimage, connected with the nearby Mirakelhuisje (Miracle House) where it is said a stillborn child was brought back to life by Our Lady of St. John in 1479.

About 400 meters from the Market Place it is a little bit out of our way, so that it was only our second visit to the church in the 14 years we've been coming here.

But it was the Market Place we'd come for, and more specifically, the terrace of well-known establishment La Poupée, for an afternoon treat of waffles and cups of cappuccino.

Although we were already salivating at the mere thought, we stopped to photograph the magnificent neo-Gothic town hall for the umpteenth time. 

Our last day, Saturday the 6th of September, dawned sunny with some light clouds, which the sun would soon make short shrift of. With highs of 25°C forecasted for the day, there was no need for a jacket, so I made do with my faithful haori style cover-up to protect my arms from the sun.

This time, we stayed even closer to the cottage for our morning walk. 

A short stroll along a bumpy unsurfaced path, the whitewashed chapel of Ons Heerens Boompje (literally translated as Our Lord's little Tree) would have been visible from our balcony if only some trees hadn't been in the way. 

The top of our cottage was visible from the path we were walking on, basking in sunshine across a field of cabbages (above, top right).

Harvest was in full swing as we walked along the maize fields, until we came to a sign nailed to a fence post and pointing us towards the chapel, which, as you have probably gathered, is kapel in Flemish.

Quite why there were two signs, if even one would have been superfluous as at that point the chapel in its copse of trees was clearly visible, we'll never know. 

It is a so-called "fever chapel", where people come to pray for the relief of fever and pain as well as miracles in general.

The bushes and trees surrounding the chapel are hung with ribbons, handkerchiefs and other pieces of fabric - indeed in some cases whole garments - since legend has it that this would make fever or pain go away.

We usually burn a small candle here, for whatever it's worth. Last time we were here, though, in September 2020, we only had a € 5 note on us. In order get our money's worth, we lighted both a small candle and votive candle, and took a spare votive candle back with us as a souvenir.

If we were hoping of invoking the odd little miracle, we could never have guessed that it would actually work. As it was, exactly nine months later Jos's youngest grandson was born, although his parents had long ago given up hope.

Again, we had lunch at the cottage followed by a little siësta, after which I went to post a letter at the post office. 

Only joking! The post office I am about to enter in the above photo is part of an open air museum called Bachten de Kupe, about 20 kilometers from Poperinge.

The museum introduces you to the fascinating traditions of yesteryear.

It is a reconstructed farming village from the Westhoek region and consists of 46 authentic buildings, the oldest of which dates back to 1650, as well as thousands of objects that bring the past back to life. 

Old cobbled streets lead you through a village with shops, an inn, a farmhouse, and much more. Too much really, as every available nook and cranny is crammed full of stuff, which makes the interiors of the shops and other buildings a bit confusing and unrealistic.

Whether this is down to a lack of funds to properly display all the objects the museum is being donated, I have no idea, but somehow I can't help feeling that it's a bit of a missed opportunity.

It didn't really help that our visit coincided with that of a coachload of slightly inebriated folk, who were talking and laughing too loud and were making fun of some of the exhibits. A couple even attempted to ride the bicycles which were on display! Trying to keep one step ahead of them was our main object, but in the end they were literally everywhere.

Still, my camera kept working overtime, so here are some snapshots of the things which caught my eye.

After our rounds of the village, we finished our visit with a drink on the terrace of the inn on the village square. Service here was quite confusing as well, but we managed to get our order of non-alcoholic beers in the end!

So, that was it, our September holiday 2025. 

We spent our last night wistfully staring out of our window, and noting the progress made by the hop pickers in just one day, leaving a huge chunk of the hop poles bare.

It will be business as usual in my next post, starting with a massive round-up of September outfits.

See you soon!

A little French adventure

Hello friends and readers! I'm delighted that you are joining me again for the second installment of my latest travelogue. To refresh your minds: we were staying at the little cottage in Belgium's west country which has been our home away from home for many years.

One of the advantages of staying in Poperinge, in the far west of Belgium commonly known as the Westhoek, is that it is just a stone's throw from the French border. In fact, the road which passes our cottage leads all the way to border town Watou, a matter of just under 6 kilometers away.

And so it was that on Monday the 1st of September - the first day of school after the long Summer break - saw us driving to Cassel, a charming little hilltop town in the north-eastern corner of France.

With the weather forecast for the week ahead speaking of stormy weather, we were pleased to notice that on this day at least the weather gods were showing us some mercy. In fact, our 30-minute journey under a bright blue sky dotted with cotton wool clouds couldn't have been more delightful.

Driving on a succession of quiet country roads through fields of green, we suddenly spotted Cassel hill on the horizon. It might look like a mere bump on the horizon here, but the hill the town is perched on is about 176 meters above the Flanders plain.

The final stretch of our journey was on a bumpy cobbled road which zig-zags up the hill, until finally the town centre is reached. On our two previous visits, in 2017 and 2021, we were able to snag a rare free parking spot at the edge of the Grand'Place, so we were hoping to do the same this time around.

However, our hopes were dashed and we had to drive around in circles and part of the way back down the hill until we finally found a spot on the Rue de Bergues, a quiet back street with a view! Having been there before, I instantly recognized the octagonal Horne chapel we'd passed when following the town trail which starts at the Grand'Place. After leaving our car, making sure with a local that there was no charge, we tried our luck at the chapel, but unfortunately found its doors firmly locked. Still, I managed to capture some of its interior through the grilles before making our way to the town centre.

This meant either walking back up the road we'd driven down on, or proceeding into the direction of the Place Vandamme, where a cobbled footpath leads uphill to the top of Mont Cassel.  Although this would involve a more strenuous walk by far, it would also be the most picturesque, so that it was actually a no-brainer!

Apart from the panoramic views of Flanders stretching as far as the eye can see, the hill is worth climbing for the Casteelmeulen (transl. Castle Mill), a post mill situated on the highest point of the hill on the site of a former castle. The present mill dates from the 18th century and is a listed building. Meulen, by the way, is the old-fashioned Flemish word for mill, while the modern word, which we use on the other side of the border, is molen.

We've been told that the people of French Flanders are proud of their Flemish heritage and that there are still evening classes teaching the language, which, confusingly, is a little bit different from the Flemish we speak on our side of the border.

Having to share its limelight with the mill is the equestrian monument of Marshall Foch, who had his headquarters in Cassel from October 1914 to June 1915, during the Battle of Ypres. 

Ferdinand Foch (1851-1929) was a marshal of France and commander of the Allied forces during the closing months of World War I, and generally considered the leader most responsible for the Allied victory.

We descended the hill by way of the Rue du Château, passing a couple of examples of what I'm euphemistically calling delightful dilapidation, with their peeling paint and rusty hinges. I loved the contrast of the pink geraniums with the flaky green paint of the window frames and, in one of the immaculately maintained houses on the other side of the street, the lace curtains which paid homage to the mill on the hill.

Having finally made it to the Grand' Place, our faintly rumbling stomachs told us the time of day. With Monday being the closing day of the majority of eating places here, we'd taken our precautions and packed a picnic. This turned out to have been the best decision as the only decent place which was in business was chock-a-block. The day's highs of 22°C being tempered by a fierce wind, sitting outside wasn't an option so that most people had fled inside.

We took shelter on a bench in front of l'Hôtel de la Noble Cour, a 16th-century Flemish mansion which is home to the Musée Départemental de Flandre, where we enjoyed the cheese and ham sandwiches we'd made that morning.

Feet rested and stomachs filled, we admired the 16th-century Renaissance façade with its abundance of stone carvings.

Classified as a Historic Monument, l'Hôtel de la Noble Cour is considered one of the most beautiful Flemish buildings in the Hauts-de-France region.

We then continued our explorations by walking around the corner and underneath the Porte d'Aire, one of Cassel's four remaining medieval town gates.

At the end of the Rue d'Aire lies one of the access points to the Chemin de Remparts, which skirts the town walls and consists of old cobblestone paths and narrow alleys.

The final stretch leads through an alley between houses, at some point only 70 centimeters wide, and eventually emerging onto a road leading back to the Grand'Place.

Still far too early to call it a day, we walked the length of the Grand' Place until we arrived in front of Cassel's recently restored main church, Collégiale Notre Dame de la Crypte, a listed monument since 1981.

While Jos took a breather on one of the church chairs, I explored its lavishly decorated interior, which included stained glass windows, wall paintings of various saints and ... a statue of St. Jeanne d'Arc which apparantly was only discovered in 2020. 

The crowned girl who is reclining below the altarpiece is St. Philomena (291-304), the patron saint of a wide variety of people and causes. Among these are babies and children, those trying to conceive, desperate or forgotten causes, prisoners, virgins, and youth. Little is known about her life, but it is believed she was a Greek princess who became a virgin martyr and died at 13-years-old. In 1961, a decree was issued by Rome stating that due to a lack of historical evidence to support the traditional story of St. Philomena’s life, her feast day was to be removed from the Roman Calendar. In doing so, many Catholics mistakenly took this to mean that St. Philomena was somehow no longer a saint, and devotion to her faded. Not here in Cassel, though ....

Oh, and look, here's St. Francis of Assisi, who was the first to receive the stigmata.

And no, I'm not knowledgeable about saints at all, I just love their at times gaudy statues. I was intrigued by poor St. Philomena's, so I just had to google her ... and then I came across St. Francis as well.

Having finished our explorations, we walked back up the Grand' Place, where we had a restorative petit café - which came with the tiniest of Madeleine cakes I'd ever seen - before girding our loins for the trek back to where we'd parked our car.

Of course, I couldn't help stopping to photograph some more charming little details along the way!

The sun had done a disappearing act by the time we were back at the cottage, with the sky holding the promise of imminent rain. 

However, there was still time to pose for outfit photos on our little balcony.

I found the black floral maxi skirt at Think Twice during a lunch-time rummage with my friend Inez in August, while the peasant-style denim blouse was a charity shop find back in April. Both were united in their first outing which took them abroad :-)

But the day still had a little surprise up its sleeve. 

Looking down from the balcony, we spotted this gorgeous furry creature, who was watching us with a  look of recognition in her eyes. It was none other than the tiny kitten we'd secretly fed and made friends with last year! She started mewing pitifully, so of course we had to go down and pet her. And yes, she got a little treat from us as well. But shh, don't tell!

Hop fields and artworks

Oh my, how time flies! When I last posted, I'd just finished packing our bags for our week away, and here I am two weeks later, our holiday having whizzed by in the blink of an eye. 

I've been back on the hamster wheel since Tuesday,with the inevitable chaos I returned to at work having already sapped a large portion of the energy I'd gathered while we were away. Now, I'm finally sitting down and making a start with my travelogue, hoping to revive some of it while I'm reliving it all, one perfect day at a time. And perfect it definitely was, even if the weather gods did their best to throw one or two spanners in the works. 

My holiday wardrobe was built around a handful of maxi skirts, which I wore on ration, and a selection of short-sleeved tops and long-sleeved blouses to meet with all kinds weather, plus a cardigan or two for layering. 

The sturdy denim skirt I travelled in, which has two generous slits at the sides, was a second-hand find from the Shropshire Cat Rescue charity shop in Shrewsbury in June 2022. The  yellow patterned Wow To Go blouse was a local charity shop find in February 2024. 

After a reasonably straightforward drive of just under two hours, we arrived in Poperinge mid-afternoon on Saturday the 30th of August. We'd stopped at the local supermarket to buy the ingredients for our evening meal and breakfast before making our way to our long-time happy place, Marjolein Guesthouse. 

No matter how many times we've been here, our hearts are always making leaps of joy when we open the cottage's French windows to step onto the balcony with its enchanting view across the domain and the patchwork fields of the landscape beyond. It was looking particularly painterly with a congregation of white clouds scudding across a blue sky.

It's easy to ignore the often busy road at the front, leading to border town Watou, at this time of year mostly frequented by agricultural traffic bringing in the harvest. As usual, hop picking hadn't yet started in the fields across the road, but as we have learned that hops are a crop which is regular as clockwork, we knew it would only be a matter of days before we'd spot the familiar red hop picking machine.

Marjolein Guesthouse might have made its first appearance here on the blog in September 2016, our initial visit was four years prior, in 2012. As our first journey here was nothing if not traumatic, it is testimony to the charm of the cottage and the area in general that we kept returning again and again and that we were now here for the 15th time.

Ready for a trip down memory lane?

Down memory lane ...

Setting the time machine's control for 2012, we won't forget our very first trip to Poperinge in a hurry.

Here we were trundling along the motorway when, just after passing the city of Ghent, our car - a pea green Renault Twingo - gave up on us. Thankfully, Jos had the presence of mind to steer her towards the hard shoulder. As we have breakdown insurance, we made a phone-call and soon one of their mechanics pulled up in front of us. I remained in the car, and in my mind's eye I can still see him opening the bonnet, taking one look and slowly shaking his head. The verdict, which sealed our car's lot, was that the timing belt had broken.

The upside was that the insurance covered a replacement car for five days, which was exactly the length of our holiday. Still, it was hours later than planned and with shattered nerves that we drove through the cottage's gates for the very first time!

Now, let's return to the here and now, or rather, to Sunday the 31st of August.

Drawing our curtains, we were delighted to see the landscape beyond our window bathed in golden early morning sunshine. Sadly, our luck wouldn't last, as an army of angry-looking clouds was doing away with the last traces of blue while we were having breakfast. Sure enough, it didn't take long for them to release their liquid load.

We had plans for the afternoon, but nothing was set in stone for the morning, so we decided to stay put until the rain clouds had departed elsewhere. According to the weather app on Jos's phone, their departure would be imminent ... 

When, finally, by late morning, the rain had been reduced to a light drizzle, we grabbed our coats and umbrellas and drove to Poperinge - our cottage is on the outskirts of the town - for our usual exploratory stroll.

Having parked our car around the corner, we made our way to the Grote Markt (market square). Before we reached our destination, however, it started raining more heavily again, which made us duck into a doorway at the side of the town hall. Here, the prison cells - dating from 1913 - and execution pole in the courtyard beyond can be visited. During World War I, many Belgian, British and French soldiers spent one or more nights here. They were mostly sentenced for drunkenness or for staying away from their quarters. 

For some soldiers, however, this was death row. It was where they spend their last hours, waiting to be executed. At least four soldiers were executed here and in one of the cells there's a very haunting cinematic impression of a soldier waiting to be shot at dawn.

The rain seemed to have taken a brief respite while we'd been inside, so we continued to the Grote Markt which turned out to be partially cordoned off due to a festival which had taken place on Friday and Saturday. 

Most of the cafés lining the square seemed to be closed as well, and as we weren't prepared to join the posse of cyclists which had descended on the terrace of the only one which was in business, we decided to forego refuelling with our usual cups of cappuccino.

We walked as far as Talbot House to photograph its façade and front door (above, top right) for Jos's daughter An who is about to check in there as we speak. By now, the rain clouds were back from their break with a vengeance ...  

Returning to our car, we were thankful we'd brought our umbrellas. Nevertheless, I might have been tempted by one of those see-through ones if the shop in question hadn't been closed on a Sunday.

Back at the cottage, we had sandwiches washed down with glasses of non-alcoholic beer while watching the comings and goings of the waterfowl on the pond. 

The rain clouds having finally tired themselves out, a blue sky reigned once more, even if the mercury wouldn't climb beyond 20°C that day. 

Then, after a little siesta, we were ready for our afternoon activity. Just a 5-minute drive up the road from Marjolein, we first visited Museumhuis Lucien De Gheus  on the last day of last year's holiday.

We'd vowed to return this year, and as it is only open on weekend afternoons in the Summer months, this lazy Sunday afternoon, with all of our holiday still in front of us, sounded like the perfect opportunity.

The museum is located in the house of local sculptor and ceramist Lucien De Gheus (1927-2013), who was successful in the post-war fifties and sixties, his main oeuvre consisting of sculpture, ceramic objects and bas-reliefs. 

By will Lucien De Gheus left his house and possessions to the foundation Private Stichting Lucien De Gheus – Druant, in order to open up his artistic legacy to the public. He also stipulated that the foundation promoted contemporary art by organizing Summer exhibitions.

This year's exhibition was called Keikoppen, which translates as cobble heads, the nickname of the inhabitants of Poperinge, and a symbol of stubbornness and resilience.

The work of the 30 contemporary artists which comprises this year's exhibition is dotted all over the house and garden, cheek to jowl with Lucien's prolific output.

Above, top left: 2023 IV, 2023 by Leyla Aydoslu

Above, top bottom right: Brick Cast Planter, 2024 by Bram Vanderbeke

Above, bottom left: Twigs, 2025, made in situ by the artist Filip Dujardin

There's a large studio in the garden which showcases some of Lucien's work, a sample of all the artistic disciplines he excelled in : stained glass, paintings, glazed tiles, ceramics and furniture to name but a few.

There were some textiles on show among the artist's tools in the picturesque little shed.

The house, which was designed and built by the artist himself, was meant to be a sculptor’s home right from the start, with a large and high hall/exposition area, a heatable winter studio and a summer studio with high windows to the north to let in neutral light.  

The artwork on the work bench is by Edith Dekyndt, who created it especially for this exhibition, using one of the leftover pieces of wood stacked in Lucien's atelier and adding a digitally created mask, blurring nature and technology in the process.

The artwork I'm studying (above, top right) is called Courtyard Tales III (2017-2018) and is by Berlinde De Bruyckere. If her name sounds familiar, it is she of the giant maces in Middelheim sculpture park.

The felt and plaster hand is by Helena Cnockaert and the drawings on the bottom left are by Ante Timmermans.

Before venturing into the artist's eclectic home itself, we made use of the honesty bar and rested our feet at one of the little tables dotted around the garden. The non-alcoholic lager available was called Cristal and sadly it doesn't come recommended as it was utterly tasteless. Still refreshing, though, but we could have had water instead ...

We absolutely love the juxtaposition of the various works of art with the paraphernalia of daily life as lived by Lucien and his wife Suzanne, who moved into the house in August 1962 and stayed there until their deaths, in 2012 and 2013 respectively.

On the top right is another artwork belonging to the exhibtion. The rust steel structure is called Fireworks model 48 and is by Muller Van Severen, a Belgian duo creating sculpturally interesting furniture objects.

The tiny sculptures on the shelves in the centre of the collage are prototypes for the sculpture of Master Ghybe - a folkloristic figure dating back to the Middle Ages - which has been taking pride of place on Poperinge's Grote Markt since 2005.

Returning to our temporary home, we made a little detour to Nine Elms British Cemetery, one of the plethora of Commonwealth War Graves around here, which unfortunately was closed off due to restoration. That'll be for next year then!

Before calling it a day - and refuelling our energies for Monday's activities - let me show you what I was wearing. 

Embroidered linen maxi skirt: Zara Summer sales 2022

King Louie short-sleeved floral jumper, waterfall cardigan and wooden necklace: charity shopped

Belt: Think Twice

Golden ballerinas: gift from a friend

See you soon!