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!

Heatwave holiday - Part 3

Hello, and welcome to the final installment of this year's September holiday travelogue.

We were Thursday the 7th of September by now and the heatwave wasn't showing any sign of giving up just yet. We woke up to a brilliant blue sky, in which the sun was a searing orb intent on making us wilt at the mere thought of doing anything at all. But we had plans, and as luck would have it, they would require little or no effort from our side.

Back in March I'd received a message from my brother - in itself a bit of a rare occurrence - announcing that he and his girlfriend had moved to Belgium's west country. Intrigued, I messaged back, telling him that we had been spending the first of week of September in the area for many years. Turned out that he was living on an old brewery estate less than 10 minutes from our holiday cottage, upon which we agreed to meet up next time we were there.

We'd passed the imposing complex countless of times on our travels and had in fact already done so a couple of days earlier, when our Satnav directed us to the Belgian coast via France. But although I'd messaged my brother a week ahead of time informing him of the dates of our stay, we didn't hear back from him until halfway through our holiday week. When he finally called me on Wednesday evening we decided to strike the iron while it was hot and meet up the very next day.

At the beginning of the 20th Century, Brouwerij Feys - no prizes for guessing that brouwerij if Flemish for brewery - was the country's second largest brewery and it has been a protected monument since 2001.

The monumental building, which had been abandoned and standing empty since the early 1990s, was eventually bought by Hendrik Nelde from Ghent in 2013. Initially appointed to help sell the complex,  he fell in love with this extraordinary building, appreciated its historical value, and decided to give it a new lease of life. 

My brother and his girlfriend, who were initially looking for somewhere similar in France, ended up here by pure coincidence. They are currently renting a cottage on the estate for a mere pittance and their commitment to start an ecological vegetable garden from scratch. 

Judging from the plentiful and varied produce, they succeeded magnificently, their only complaint being that the people living in the "chateaux" - the mansion which is part of the complex and where Hendrik and his family live - do not consume nearly enough vegetables. 

The "chateaux", by the way, also provides lodging for the volunteers coming from all over the world - the so-called "workaways" - who are helping with the project.

My brother proudly showed us his achievements and then we sat chatting in their shady garden drinking coffee and enjoying a lunch of homemade bread spread thickly with delicious, equally homemade, prune jam.

As for their dream of a life in France: the brewery is just a matter of one and a half kilometres from the French border, so that they're actually having the best of both worlds!

It goes without saying that we also received an extensive tour of the brewery complex, where for one thing it was mercifully cool!

While we are looking around, here is a potted history courtesy of the brewery's website.

The complex is located on the Dode IJzer, an old meander of the River IJzer. Initially, it housed a linen bleaching plant, which was completely destroyed during the French Revolution.

In around 1850, a salt works was established here, remnants of which can still be seen today.

In 1883, the entire complex was acquired by Pieter Feys, who established a brewery on the premises. Later, in 1898, the malting plant with its distinctive malt kilns was added.

During the First World War, the brewery became one of the largest in the country.  Due to its geographical location within the River IJzer's flood plain, the brewery's copper was not requisitioned by the German occupiers so that brewing could continue to take place. 

Its best-known beer was Forte Brune, a brown high-fermentation beer which was bottled in brown 75 cl swing-top bottles.

After the war, both the brewery and the malting plant operated at full capacity. Malt was even supplied to other breweries, such as Lamot in Mechelen.

In the 1950s, it became increasingly difficult to keep the brewery profitable, notably due to the rise of lager beers. Sadly, the last of the Forte Brune beers was brewed in 1965.

The malting plant remained active until 1969, when it also stopped filling Lamot beers, of which the brewery was a distributor. Afterwards, the Feys family kept a beer shop on the premises, but this too was discontinued in the early 1990s.

Restoring the complex to its former glory will obviously take time but there definitely isn't a lack of initiative to fund the undoubtedly costly business. Some of the brewery's spaces can be rented out for events, and brewery tours are available most days of the week. There's also the possibility to explore the River IJzer by kayak. 

Additionally, the complex has its own little chapel!

After an enjoyable couple of hours, we bade our goodbyes and drove back to our cottage, where we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with our feet up. 

I'd just started Sarah Waters' The Little Stranger, which had me hooked from page one and which I found quite unputdownable. My eyes didn't thank me for reading for hours at a time, though!

The weather forecast for Friday spoke of temperatures well over 30°C inland, but once again promised a more bearable 27°C at the seaside.

A morning fog veiled the landscape that morning, hiding the French-Flemish hills in the distance and wrapping the cottage in an eerie haze.

We took our time getting ready and lingering over a breakfast of soft boiled eggs and soldiers. 

In the fridge, the spoils from my brother's garden were kept crisp and fresh, but I thought I'd show you the intriguing black beans, which sadly do not keep their gorgeous colour when cooked, when they are transformed into a dark green!

En route to the coast, we drove through a sliver of France again. The landscape, which was flat as a pancake, was still blurred by a misty haze lingering on the horizon.

Parking our car in De Panne, our initial plan had been to take the tram to a different resort. However, feeling a bit lethargic as the heat had clearly gone to our heads, we found ourselves trudging along the beach at De Panne instead.

The fierce looking fellow is Leopold I, the first King of the Belgians. We imported him after Belgium became an independent state in 1930 and it was decided that we needed a king. The honour fell to Leopold von Saksen-Coburg, who was born in Germany, but who lived in England at the time. He used to be married to Princess Charlotte of Wales, second in line to the British throne and daughter of the future King George IV, but who died in childbirth after only a year of marriage. 

Leopold arrived in Calais by boat on July 17, 1831, from where he was taken to De Panne by coach. The statue was erected in the spot where he first put foot on Belgian soil.

From the past to the present, and from a king to a princess :-) 

I was wearing my zig-zag patterned skirt again, this time combined with an exotically patterned and frilly sleeved top, last seen wearing here.

The beach might look deceptively empty, but it being a Friday it was a lot busier than it was on our first visit to the town on Tuesday.

The upside was that our favourite restaurant was now open, so that we made a beeline for it by lunch time. Unfortunately, it was now my turn to have my order mixed up by the - again French speaking - waitress. Needless to say I wasn't too pleased about this, particularly since she initially kept insisting I'd ordered the wrong thing. We also had to wait far too long for my correct order to arrive, by which time Jos had nearly finished his steak and fries. In spite of the fact that, after we complained with the owner, the waitress apologized profusely, we will be giving the place a miss in future.

By Saturday, the mercury had climbed to 33°C and we were at a bit of a loss. 

The only thing we could think of to keep us occupied yet relatively cool was another walk in the woods. However, the patches of dark green our walking maps of the area were few and far between.

As those to the south, in the French-Flemish hills, were ruled out as we didn't fancy climbing in these temperatures, we looked north, and happened upon Eversambos, which was promoted as being perfect for a spot of forest bathing, or Shinrin-yoku, a therapy that originated in Japan in the 1980s.

It took us some time to get there, though, particularly since our Satnav didn't seem to have a clue and got us hopelessly lost.

Once there, we made the acquaintance of a giant hare, then proceeded to walk through a tunnel of trees until we found a rather wobbly bench with a view for our picnic.

Again, my chambray maxi skirt turned out to be my most worn garment of the holiday. On this hottest of days, it was accompanied by my green cotton peasant-style blouse, an old sales bargain from New Look.

Just like we did last September, we ended the final day of our holiday in Helleketelbos, the woods nearest to our cottage. And just like we did back then, we got lost in exactly the same spot, which we are now convinced must be due to the awkward placing of one of the numbered markers instead of our wobbly map reading skills!

But Shinrin-yoku has been taken up to the next level here with the giant sun lounger. Plus, we met several pixies in the woods!

And so another week in the west country had come to its end. With heavy hearts we'd be packing our bags on Sunday morning and making our way back home.

But we'll be back, and what's more, we've already booked next year's September getaway!

West Side Story, Part 4

Time marches on relentlessly. Summer has made way for Autumn and in just a matter of days the calendar's page will be turned to October.

Apart from those which appeared in the episodes of my travelogue, I haven't shared any September outfits with you yet, nor did I tell you about the exciting life (NOT!) I've been leading since we came back from our holidays. Nevertheless, all this will have to wait another couple of days, while I regale you with another post of holiday adventures.

Although the previous episode ended on the afternoon of Wednesday the 8th of September, the day's excitements weren't finished just yet. As we happened to glance through our cottage's front door window, we saw that hop picking had commenced in the field across the road. The one I'd posed in only that morning! 

As usual, as the evening progressed, the resident sheep were joined by a fluffle of bunnies. Yes, that really is the collective noun for them!

Now let's move swiftly to Thursday! If the weathermen were for once to be believed, it would be a slightly cooler day, the temperature struggling to reach the mid-twenties, and with a strong possibility of rain towards the end of the afternoon.

Hoping the forecasted change of weather would have prevented the worst of the crowds of flocking to the seaside, that was our destination for the day sorted! So, off we went to De Panne, the nearest Belgian seaside resort to Poperinge, just under 35 kilometers away.

Having found ourselves a spot on a free car park just outside the town centre, we proceeded towards the promenade, where we soon spotted the colourful candy-striped cabins and parasols typical for this resort. 

It was busier than we'd expected but probably not much more so than on previous September visits. Not being very good with crowds to put it mildly, Covid-19 certainly seems to have exacerbated my dislike of them. What crowds, I can hear you thinking, there hardly seems to be anyone about! Well, I just happen to be an expert in framing my photographs just so that it seems as if we had the place practically to ourselves! The odd gull notwithstanding, obviously ...

Like most of the Belgian coastline, De Panne's skyline is marred by ugly apartment buildings to cater for the tourists and second-homers. Pranged between these, and holding on for dear life, are some delightful villas from a bygone age. 

After a stroll along the promenade, we were ready for a spot of lunch at De Kursaal, a long-time favourite whenever we come to De Panne. Originally one of the oldest hotels on the promenade, built in the 1870s, Grand Hotel du Kursaal was completely rebuilt after its destruction in the second war, the floors above the restaurant converted into yet more apartments. 

As a nod to our seaside rendez-vous, Jos was wearing a sailing boat patterned shirt ...

... while I honoured the occasion by wearing a lobster patterned top!

In spite of the sea breeze, it soon got too warm for the jackets we were originally wearing, especially when seated behind the glass screens enclosing De Kursaal's beach terrace. I had a most delicious fish gratin, which was served in a boat shaped dish! 

Our plan for the afternoon was a walk along the beach into the direction of France - De Panne is the final Belgian resort before the French border - as it is much quieter there, away from the hustle and bustle of the promenade. 

Our first mission, though, was to go and buy a hat, as once again I'd left mine behind in the car. Available in a range of colours, I went for this jaunty orange one!

The tide was coming in, and after a game of tag with the rolling waves, we soon had to desert what was left of the beach and make for the safety of the sea dyke. 

Meanwhile, ominous looking clouds with a definite promise of rain were advancing from France so, quickening our steps, we hurried back to our car, driving off just as the first raindrops were spotting our windscreen. 

The rain had turned into a veritable deluge by the time we reached Poperinge, where we waited until the worst had passed while parked opposite the town's charity shop.

In spite of its small size, we always seem to strike lucky here. This time, half an hour's rummage yielded two blouses - the one I'm wearing a King Louie - a red raffia belt, a blue wooden beaded necklace and a copper and turquoise cuff. There was also a retro tin for our kitchenalia collection and a delightfully kitschy plaster statue of Our Lady of St. Jan, local to Poperinge. 

The weather forecast on Friday was quite uncertain and after a bit of dithering we decided that our best bet would be a day trip to Ypres. Not having visited this poignantly beautiful town for a couple of years, we were looking forward to reacquainting ourselves with its delights and perhaps indulge in a spot of shopping.

Sadly, our decision turned out to be a big mistake!

Having parked at the railway station, we walked towards the town centre when, just before reaching the Market Place, we were halted in our tracks by a huge hole in the road where extensive sewer works were taking place. But that wasn't all. There were road and construction works everywhere we turned, the Cloth Hall's magnificent belfry was covered in scaffolding and the Market Place itself was cordoned off due to a car show! 

We comforted ourselves with a spot of retail therapy, buying a poppy tapestry bag and wooden poppy brooch at the In Flanders Fields Museum shop. Then we had lunch at one of the restaurants lining the Market Square. Catering for the many British tourists who used to visit here pre-Covid, fish and chips was on the menu, so this is what I went for. And quite delicious it was too!

The morning's disappointments were somewhat redeemed by walking back to the railway station the long way, taking the designated footpath along the town's ramparts and moat. 

It was a lot busier than usual here too. As luck would have it, a three-day music festival taking place on the outskirts of Ypres was about to go off to a start that day, and we met several groups of youths making their way into town from the railway station. 

The same festival made us drive around in circles on our way home, as quite a few roads were closed off. To add insult to injury, the town's charity shop where we briefly stopped for a rummage turned out to be rather disappointing as well.

By the time we finally made it back to Marjolein the sun had decided to put in an appearance after all, offering the perfect opportunity for outfit photos on the balcony.

The new-to-me zig-zag skirt I wore earlier that week was now accompanied by a red and white floral top by Belgian retro label Wow To Go, which I think I once bought in the sales, and the red raffia belt I found in the charity shop in Poperinge.

A slate grey sky and a steady drizzle greeted us on Saturday morning. As there was no let-up in sight by mid-morning, we abandoned our plans of going for a local walk and, after checking their website to see whether we needed to book ahead, we set off for a visit Talbot House in Poperinge instead. 

Talbot House was founded in 1915. During World War I, Poperinge was used as a garrison town for the British soldiers, with thousands of soldiers passing through the town each day when going to and returning from the front;

Thus, Talbot House was opened as a club house for all soldiers, regardless of rank, by chaplain Philip "Tubby" Clayton. For many, this place became their home away from home. "An oasis of serenity in a world gone mad", is probably the best way to describe it.

This being our 10th stay in the area, it obviously wasn't out first visit to the house and its garden, but it definitely was as hauntingly moving as ever.

For the afternoon, we'd booked a tour at a hop farm in the neighbouring village of Proven, where we were initiated into the secrets of hop growing.

’t Hoppecruyt is a modern hop farm growing 11,5 hectares of environmentally friendly hops. 

The harvest is dried and pelletized on the premises, and as we were visiting during hop picking season, we were able to see part of that process up close.

Jos was delighted to learn that his favourite beer, the alcohol-free version of Brugse Zot, is made with hops grown at this particular farm! 

At the end of the visit we were offered a free beer from the range produced with the local hops, while farmer's wife and tour guide Benedikte regaled us with an old hop picking song accompanied on accordion.

In continuation with the beer theme, our final port of call for the day was Malt Tower St. Joris in Reningelst, another one of Poperinge's satellite villages. 

Built in 1913, the brewery malt house now offers exhibition space, as well as a magnificent panorama of the village and the West Flemish hills from its viewing platform.

As a nod to the weather, I was wearing my floral trousers from New Look again, this time combined with a sage green Breton top and a coral polka dot cardigan. 

Quite windy it was, as you can see ...

I hope you'll join me again on our final day, followed by some of the promised September outfits, in my next post!