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!

The burrs and the bees

I've been making the most of the last of the Summer days by wearing some of the things which were still rattling around unworn in my wardrobe.

With the Summer we've been having, my beloved polyester dresses must have thought their days were numbered, the heatwave dictating that I wore most of my cotton frocks, which in Summers past hardly left the suitcase they are stored in.

If I'd heeded the advice of those who are supposedly in the know, to let go of anything that hasn't been worn for over a year, these would have been ditched long ago.

Instead, any unworn Diolen, Trevira et al. dresses, apart from one or two which will be culled at my next wardrobe changeover, will live to shine another day.

I was quite surprised I hadn't even worn this red dress once,  with its cheerful print of green dots and white flowers, as it usually makes at least one Summer appearance (see here and here).

So, on Friday before last, I wore it to work, with a white belt for contrast. I pinned a big, white-rimmed plastic brooch to the green cardigan I'd added, while further accessories were a string of green beads and a yellow and pink swirled plastic ring.

As it has been getting quite chilly in the mornings, I also wore a jacket on top . This vintage black and white hounds-tooth jacket, with its shiny black buttons rimmed with gold, is a firm favourite. It's got belt loops but was lacking a belt when it first became mine, which was soon remedied by adding a slim shiny black belt with a gold buckle I already owned.

My dark red chiffon scarf added another pop of colour.

I'd taken the afternoon off and after Jos met me from the tram, we made a detour to the nearest charity shop before heading home.

I can never resist a wicker sewing basket! This one hadn't even made it to the shelves yet: I found it lurking beneath a large serving dish at the bottom of a crate of items ready to be shelved. Priced at € 1, it was obvious it had to be mine!

The jewellery display didn't disappoint either, with a necklace of rose pearls and translucent plastic beads, a bracelet and two bangles, and a delightful apple pendant.

Two new-to-me retro-print blouses also came home with me and while they are waiting their turn to be worn by me, Angelica was more than happy to model them for you!

The sun was shining on Saturday morning, but by the time we made it to the park clouds had gathered once again. We ate the sandwiches we'd brought for our picnic while sat on a bench, trying to avoid the omnipresent wasps which were intent on sharing our lunch.

The brightly coloured plaid print dress I was wearing is well travelled. It came with us to Wales last year and I'd packed it again for our week away earlier this month, although it didn't leave my suitcase on both occasions. 

Time to give it an outing before being packed away for Winter.  Besides, I thought its autumnal hues were perfect for this time of year!

My vintage jacket, made from cobalt blue crepe, was a lucky find in a charity shop in Newcastle Emlyn, Wales, a couple of years ago. 

The eagle-eyed among you may notice that I was wearing the bracelet and one of the bangles I found on Friday. The blue bangle and blue and white necklace were charity shopped as well, as was the handbag, but I can't remember where the brooch, a tiny plastic hat decorated with flowers, came from.

The half-elasticated belt was bought retail many years ago. I have it in orange as well.

And look, the dress has got pockets!

You can see a close-up of the brooch I'd pinned to its lapel, which I found at a flea market in Carmarthen, Wales, back in 2015, in one of the collages below.

The sun kept playing hide and seek while we went for a short stroll around the park.

I don't know what it is about September, and why it makes me feel quite so wistful. Might it be  because it's the month that I was born in, and when I first drew breath, I breathed in the bittersweet scent of September?

There is a hint of earthiness in the air, a heady mixture of delight and melancholy that I wish that I could bottle.

"The breezes taste

of apple peel.

The air is full

of smells to feel-

Ripe fruit, old footballs,

burning brush,

new books, erasers,

chalk, and such.

The bee, his hive,

well-honeyed hum,

and Mother cuts

chrysanthemums.

Like plates washed clean

with suds, the days

are polished with

a morning haze."

~John Updike, September

Summer foliage has had its time and is fading to hues of a mouldy, greyish brown, while solitary bees were feasting on the last of the late Summer flowers basking in the mellow sunlight.

One cannot deny that there is a subtle change in the light in these days which have Autumn breathing down their necks. The sun, when she graces us with her presence, is veiled by an almost imperceptible haze.

I was being attacked by burrs, so it was time to leave and cross the street to the charity shop which is almost opposite the park.

Here I found another stack of bangles as well as two vintage summer frocks, which will be put away for next year, by which time they'll be a surprise as I'll probably have forgotten all about them.

Then we had to dash home as we were going out that night, to the theatre, no less.

We were off to see a musical in which Jos's multi-talented 18 going on 19 year old granddaughter was performing, as she does each September. This year it was Grease! We admit not really being fans of the genre, but obviously we gladly make an exception for her. 

In my book, theatre-going equals dressing up, and I chose a long-sleeved ankle-length dress with an eye-catching blowsy flower print, which I'd bought at the tail end of the C&A sales earlier this year. 

In the end, I decided not to wear the shawl, crocheted for my birthday by my friend Ingrid two years ago, as it was quite a balmy night.

We made outfit photos before we went out, but as the colours were slightly drained by the evening sunlight, we re-did it on Sunday morning to offer you a better view of the details.

Look at how different the light is, changing the colours significantly!

My necklace, brooch and ring echo the colours of the dress's print, while the pink floral jacket, a present from Vix, provided contrast to the predominant dark tones of the dress.

This is the outfit I'll be linking to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style.

It's almost unimaginable that I was posing in our sunlit garden only a week ago, as it's been raining heavily while I'm typing these words, and the temperature has dropped considerably.

I'll be continuing my travelogue in my next post. Hope you will join me again on my travels?