Brugge beyond

The most photographed corner of Bruges. And proud of it.

First things first – don’t come to Bruges with a wheeled suitcase. Yes, it’s easy to get there on the Eurostar and much of the town’s medieval architecture has been lovingly preserved, but this does mean cobbles galore, even on the pavements. The constant clack-clacking of those wheels even on the short walk from the station to our B&B pierced through the relative calm of the backstreets like the call of a particularly irritating bird. 

Bordered by a ring of canals, the city centre is a beautiful little island-bubble reminiscent of Venice, and its station also sits on the edge of a canal, disgorging daily hordes of tourists (yes, many with wheely cases) to clog up the city’s narrow arteries. It’s very obvious to trace the quickest route to the heart of Bruges, as these roads are the ones lined with wall to wall gift shops and eateries specialising in waffles, beer, lace and general tut. The key difference is that the city is still open to traffic despite efforts to discourage drivers, thereby creating a cocktail of cars, bikes, bumbling tourists and steep, narrow pavements for maximum claustrophobic fun.

Fucking swans!

Conversely, when we arrived on a Friday afternoon in late November, anywhere off the main streets was pleasantly quiet and we could certainly enjoy a stroll around the canal borders admiring the few remaining windmills, only seeing a few cyclists and joggers along the way.

The real action is centered around the Markt and Burg squares. The Christmas Market, chief excuse for our now-annual winter Euro-trips, is very petite and, although it has an ice rink, focuses mostly on selling refreshments – which of course is no bad thing. Sipping a Gluhwein while watching Europeans trying to ice-skate is one of life’s simpler pleasures. 

Most of the interesting facts below will be nicked from the walking tour we did, so any credit should be given to the “In Brugge” walking tour. If you go then it’s a must, as long as you don’t mind copious swearing by a slightly unhinged guide (be sure to ask for Thijs). 

Of course, that tour’s name refers to Martin McDonough’s cult movie, which portrayed an obvious generation gap when it came to appreciating the city. Whilst Brendan Gleason and Ralph Fiennes’ veteran gangsters could appreciate its quiet beauty, Colin Farrell’s hotheaded young gun was bored shitless, at least until his dwarf encounter. Now Bruges has quite paradoxically become a place for pop culture-savvy young people to visit whilst not actually offering many party options. 

‘Sleepy’ pretty much covers it, most stuff away from the very centre seemingly closing very early. That said, there are several hostels offering organised bar crawls, and some venues do open all night. Unfortunately we are far closer in spirit (albeit in better physical shape) to the older generation, so you’ll find no clues as to where you can get your late-night debauchery here, dwarf-related or otherwise.

Beer wall~!

In fact, my picky relationship with beer (strictly ales only) and our fondness for Gluhweins meant that we hardly sampled any of Belgium’s plethora of brews. We did go on a tour of Bruge’s one remaining brewery, where amongst other things it was explained that the reason for Belgium producing so many types of beer is the difference in every town’s water, or something. We did this tour yet didn’t visit any of the museums, which means we’re still not totally lame old fogeys, right?

Plus, our relative sobriety meant we were able to get up early enough to go up the Belfort, or bell tower, before the queues got too silly. This was never part of a church, rather a separate structure typical of medieval northern France and Belgium, built right in the middle of town on the Markt and used mainly as a defensive position to house the town’s treasures when invaders came a-calling. The town’s troops would then retreat into the tower to protect the loot and pick off the bad guys.

Most of the buildings overlooking the Markt are now chain stores or ripoff tourist trap restaurants. The architecture still looks authentically old-school, although the exact age of things is open to debate – apparently cobbles were only re-introduced to the square in the seventies as a canny marketing ploy, the originals having been tarmaced over long ago.

The tiniest ickle bridge in Bruges

And there are two shacks selling frites in front of the bell tower – always go to the left-hand shack, we were told, after of course having plumped for the right-hand one the day before. The right-hand fries actually tasted fine to us, although the incredible ones we had the next day at the Brussels market probably showed us what we’d missed.

With the fries come a bewildering array of sauces, not all the names being terribly descriptive. I had to Google what Samurai is made of – mayonnaise with harissa, apparently. I then searched for harissa to find out what the heck that is, and am still none the wiser. Belgians take their sauces as seriously as their fries, that’s for sure.

They also seem mildly annoyed that we insist on calling them French fries –swearing blind that they invented them and that their potatoes are the best, but that the Belgian army officers who first offered them to their Anglophone counterparts all spoke French, and our boys just couldn’t tell the difference (well, it was probably more the Americans’ fault, to be fair).

Chocolate Santas... bit racist really. That's a shame. 

Chocolates are also ubiquitous. Prices vary considerably and to be honest, although it’s worth taking a peek inside the higher-end establishments, you’re probably better off keeping your money in your pocket and just loading up in a cheaper shop or even a supermarket, such is the general quality. They also sell a lot of waffles in Belgium, although we were reliably informed that no self-respecting native adult would ever be seen dead eating one.

This is Brussels not Bruges - nice mural though anyway.

The other square, the Burg, which contains the City Hall, is smaller and more tasteful – although the latter might depend on how real you believe the phial of Christ’s bodily fluid in the gaudy Basilica of the Holy Blood is.

Religion-wise, more interesting than the Cathedral is the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk (Church of Our Lady), which boasts the only Michaelangelo artwork to leave Italy in his lifetime and the world’s second tallest brickwork tower. The tallest is in Germany, which seems fairly apt – Bruges isn’t the sort of place that shows itself off unduly. In fact, such is its sweet nature that despite being compact enough for you to see everything in a day, it would almost be an insult not to stay at least one night. Even with a wheeled case.

It's the Manneken-Pis! No, I don't know
why he's in a gimp costume either.

It might be possible to do Brussels in a day too, but we only had a few hours and much of that was spent strolling around the (very good) Christmas market. Brussels has a reputation for being dry and boring which is perhaps unjustified, being no doubt related to other hilarious “Bet you can’t name ten famous Belgians LOL!” stereotypes. On the other hand, when your city’s major attraction is a tiny pissing statue it does rather suggest that your marketing department has taken a wrong turn somewhere down the line. Nice costumes, though. 

The illuminated spire deserved better than this shoddy pic.
The chip van in the foreground, however, was AMAZING.