Brugge Slideshow

A video of the Market Square in Brugge

Bumps in the Road

Train travel is very relaxing IF you are only carrying your purse. I could not lift my baggage onto the train. I asked a young man at Brussels to help me and he was most gracious - I practically licked his boots. Leading up to this was the event of missing the first train to Brugge because the guy at the (mis-)
information booth told me the wrong track, so my train came and went “over there.” Not too bad, the next train left in 30 minutes from another track, just time enough to get my luggage down the stairs, over to the left, and up the stairs again. Getting off at Brugge was the cause of a little anxiety; if you have traveled by train in Europe, you know that they stop at the station for one minute. All I could think of was the time a friend of mine jumped off a moving train because she didn’t know that and didn‘t get ready soon enough. So, I went to stand by the door with my luggage, thinking that if I couldn’t get it out, all the people behind me would be anxious enough to get off that someone would help me. Fortunately, I didn’t have to take those extreme measures; a young couple not only helped me get everything off the train, but all the way downstairs because the elevator was broken. How many ways can you say thank you? (Do you know how old I feel? Soon people will be helping me cross the street.)

Brugge is a story-book town; it looks like someone made it up, it’s so quaint. The afternoon I got here I took the canal boat ride that was part of my package - it was partly sunny, not too cold, and the ride was just delightful! Belgium, as you know, is one of the low countries, so the canals go around and through the town, in some cases right up to the doorsteps of residences and buildings, just like in Venice. Low bridges cross the canals in many places; one even had stalactites (or is that stalagmites?) The architecture is similar to Holland and Germany - the stepped gables like Lynden tries to do. The town is ancient - the dates on some buildings are 17th century, but the town dates back to the 10th century.

I discovered Belgium waffles. No, you haven’t had a Belgium waffle unless you had it in Belgium. There’s very little resemblance to the ones you buy at the N.W. Washington Fair other than the pattern on it. This waffle was heavenly, covered (COVERED, I say) with a variety of FRESH fruit; no, not preserved strawberries like the Sidewalk Café in Lynden. I decided that was the only thing I wanted to eat while I was here. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the place again today - so much for my sense of direction. I did find a tea room which was darling, warm and inviting to a “flaneuse” who was wet and tired (it rained constantly today), so decided to take my chances. The waffle itself was different, a little crispier on the outside, a little airier on the inside, but the fruit was as fresh and abundant as the first one I had. And - the coffee was so good, I ordered another one. I wonder if anyone has ever done that before in this continent of one-cup-is-all-you-get.

As I said, it’s been raining all day. It’s also Monday so all the museums are closed, except for the Chocolate Museum which was open, but after trodding all over town looking for it in the rain, when I got there I realized I don’t really care how chocolate is made; especially when it costs $14 to find out. I’d rather spend the $14 on chocolate. So I left, uneducated.

I was amused by the names of these two businesses across the street from each other:




After a little shopping (I HAD to, it was raining) I came back to the hotel and postponed my guided tour (included) until tomorrow, hoping my ankles would feel better and that it would stop raining. So now I’m sitting in the hotel bar, having a beer and writing this. It’s very pleasant, the beer is good, classical music is playing. My computer will not connect with their wireless, so I don’t know when I’ll be able to post this to my blog or send any more pictures. The ones I took today were a little gloomy anyway.

Breakfast has changed and the smells have changed. I remember now what I didn’t like about Germany - for breakfast you get cold cuts and cheese and everything smells like sausage and sauerkraut. I really loved my croissants and café au lait.

Sorry, Krysta, about the picture of me and the Eiffel Tower. It just didn’t work out. I tried taking one myself, but it looked like the Eiffel Tower was growing out of my head, so you’ll have to be satisfied of one of the Eiffel Tower and one of me and the horses. I loved them, but I didn’t take a carriage ride because I didn’t want to exploit the horses. Every time I heard the clatter of their hooves on the cobblestones, all I could think of was shin splints.



If there’s anything worth telling you about, I’ll post one more blog. Otherwise this is

FIN

Postscript: I'll post pictures and videos on Thursday. Right now I have to get out of this smoky internet cafe before I get lung cancer.

Last Day in Paris

I’m on the Thalys on my way to Brussels, then on to Brugge. It’s 9:00 a.m. and the trip will be an hour and 15 minutes. Then I change trains for the rest of the trip to Brugge, another hour approximately. I got up at 6:00 which turned out to be just the right time to allow me to get ready, finish packing, and get the apartment shipshape. The taxi I called came right away, the only traffic on the streets were taxis, so I got to the train station early enough to have a croissant and a coffee before getting on the train. The train trip is pleasant but only occasionally can you see anything because of the high banks on either side of the tracks.

Yesterday started out cloudy and turned quite nice in the afternoon, so coats were unbuttoned and scarves loosened and everyone who had been indoors came out to enjoy the sunshine. Don’t we appericiate it this time of year! The Marche au Puces was fun - it was actually a brocante market which is a step up but not as expensive as antiques. I took a couple of pictures of the more interesting things. One vendor was selling the most beautiful Art Deco furniture. I don’t recall seeing much Art Deco in the US., have you? Maybe more on the east coast.

I bought a tiny Limoge pitcher for my collection and some old posstcards with writing on the back. The market was a bit away from the usual tourist areas, so I decided to try my luck with lunch there. I went to Café de la Fontaine, which turned out to be a perfect choice for my last day in Paris. It was turn of-the-century-old, decorated in the Belle Epoch style, with antique posters and menus to match. I was sitting elbow-to-elbow with a pleasant man who was taking his probably six year old daughter out to lunch. We exchanged pleasantries and laughed when my dessert came. I had ordered three “boules” of coffee ice cream and I got three “bols” (Boules are scoops; bols are, well, bowls.) The little girl ordered a hamburger, which looked very much like an American hamburger, served open-faced, with the meat and melted cheese on one bun and the lettuce, tomato, etc. on the other bun. She ate it with her fork and knife. I told her that in the U.S. Americans ate their hamburgers with their hands; wasn’t that awful? So we all, including the waiter had a laugh about that.



For lunch I had confit de canard and fried potatoes in garlic. It’s a southwestern dish and it was delicious!

Then I took a long walk (farther than I thought it was going to be and no pissoirs in sight) to Pont Alexandre III, the most ornate bridge in the city, and went to a real antique exposition, the kind of things you see in museums, except that everything’s for sale and you have to pay to get in. I didn’t buy anything there. After that I went home, went across the street to buy a beer (1664) and say good-by to the grocer. He was such a nice little man. He wished me a good trip and said, “A la prochaine fois.”

A final goodbye to my favorite place to spend time in Paris: le Jardin du Luxembourg.

Le Shopping

So, what do YOU do on a rainy day? Go to a movie or go shopping, n'est-ce pas? Well, that's what we Parisians do, too. And we all shop at the same place at the same time - Galeries LaFayette. They were having an anniversary sale, 15% off of anything. The scarves were flying off the shelves and you'd better stay out of the way because most people were not caring if they snatched a scarf or your wrist. It was a nasty, bloody scene. Reminded me of a Picasso painting. The poor girl in charge of re-folding the scarves was having a nervous breakdown. I managed to get out with one scarf, no wounds. I also HAD to buy a pair of boots. No, I really did. The only closed toe shoes I brought were boots with heels and canvas shoes. The canvas shoes will be ruined in the wet, muddy streets, and I tried wearing the high-heeled boots shopping today, thinking I would be riding the metro more than walking. My feet lasted until halfway through the BHV, a store that has everything from toilets to toiletries, and then I knew I wasn't going to make it all day. I took the metro to Galeries Lafayette and bought a pair of "bottines," low boots with two straps and rubber soles. Very practical but stylish, and definitely more comfortable.

Today is the only day I went without my camera and I really regretted it! I wanted to take pictures of the shoes! Everything is becoming more extreme: the stacked heels are getting bigger and higher, the platform soles had to be four inches high, the tennis shoes high-top, low-top, and in between, and silver, gold, fluorescent, patterned, striped, you-name-it. But, the BIG things is boots. Most of them have really high heels and really pointy toes. A very popular look is the cowboy "bottine." In fact, our "Old West" seems to be "de rigueur" here right now.

When I got really tired and had to rest at Maxim's :) I had a yummy "riz au lait avec son coulis de fruits," in other words, rice pudding. The French make it a little runny and give you a berry coulis to drizzle on it yourself. The problem with dining alone is that you don't have anyone to say "mmmmm" to. And - I washed it down with a glass of champagne! Am I treating myself right or what? Well, I'm having a sandwich for dinner.

Yesterday I went to a movie, American, English version, with Jodie Foster. I had never heard of it before; it was called "A Vif" in French which means sharp, or brisk or lively, and they translated it to "The Brave One." I doubt that it was ever called that in the U.S. It doesn't sound creative enough. Anyway, it was really a gripping movie, not the kind any of you would want to see, judging from past experience, but I loved it. I saw it in the early afternoon so I wouldn't have to walk home in the dark.

Tomorrow, my last day here, I'm going to a flea market on the other side of town. It's supposed to be a once-a-year affair and it's called Marche aux Puces and Jambon (ham). I'm not sure what the significance of the ham is.

I don't have any new photos for you today, so I'll see if I can put together a slide show of pictures I've taken along the way. The first three are for Connie. She'll know why. :)

Louis Vuitton



What's this?



Another face-lift.

A Wonderful Dining Experience!

Thanks, Julie, for making me go to Bofinger for lunch! It was just one of those unplanned things again; I had walked over to the Mouffetard to take a couple of pictures and check out a hotel for Marilyn's friend and decided to walk back to the Seine that I love so much. Paris certainly looks different this time of the year - I've never seen leaves falling and being blown about by the wind. The Seine was dark and gloomy, so I walked on to Bastille and what should I run into but Bofinger - it was just meant to be, I guess. The brasserie is huge; I had no idea how large it was, and decorated in the Art Nouveau style. I was shown to a table in the "non-fumeur" section which was under one of the two beautiful oval stained glass cupolas. The wait staff was not only polite, but friendly! My head waiter looked like Billy Crystal with hair, and he even smiled and made a little joke! I ordered a kir royale (sorry, Connie, but at least it wasn't at Tour Montparnasse)and they brought little dishes with the most delicious olives and tiny pretzels. For lunch I had the sole Meuniere and potatoes Anglais which were both delicious. The waiter, not Billy, but the one who delivers the food, presented the sole, which covered the whole platter, and asked me something which included "couper," so I assumed he was asking if I wanted him to cut up the sole for me. However, he was gone so long with my lunch, I started to worry that maybe I hadn't understood him after all. When he did come back, the fish had been beautifully filleted, and tasted as good as it looked. And the potatoes Anglais were nothing like the boiled potatoes I had when I was in England! For dessert I had the "gourmandise du jour," which, I think he called a "bavartine," something I'd never heard of but would certainly like to encounter again! It was a custard with a touch of cinnamon flavor with occasional little morsels of pear. Then, of course, the French after-dinner coffee, strong and sweet, with a small plate of petits fours. This lunch really gave me the boost I needed - I left humming to myself!

Do you want to hear about the dinner conversation? One thing about French restaurants, you never eat alone. Two businessmen were seated beside me, one French and one English; they were speaking English. Most of the conversation was very banal, but a couple of things caught my interest. They were talking about the exchange rate between the Euro and the dollar and how each of them had traveled in the U.S. recently, and how cheap everything was. They were feeling sympathy for us because of how expensive our weak dollar was making everything for Americans. It was nice to know they could feel my pain! Also, you've been hearing me complain about the food - the Frenchman was saying that most of the brasseries (and there are a lot of them) are owned by the same few people now. Only a few, and Bofinger was one of them, are individually owned and have kept up the standard of quality. I thought Julie might be interested in that. Sorry I don't have any photos to show you - I thought it would be gauche to take pictures.

After lunch I strolled down Faubourg de St. Antoine, a wonderful shopping street. The sunny morning had turned to an overcast afternoon, windy and threatening rain. I only had a scarf, no jacket, so I went into a little shop, Etam, and bought a short trench in beige. It will be very useful back home, and certainly warmed me up at the time. It's the first time I've ever bought clothes in France. That must be another sign that the French are getting bigger. Near the end of the day, I came to the Viaduct des Arts, which is a raised path, planted on each side, along the former bed of a train track. Below are shops of interior decorators, accessories, florists, etc. After window shopping down below, I climbed the stairs and came back along the path. Being up above the traffic and at eye level with the 3rd story apartments gives a whole new perspective. By this time it was raining, but the temperature was mild, and with my new jacket and umbrella, (yes, Connie, I still have it)the walk was very pleasant.

My time is getting short, my countdown clock is ticking fast. Next week at this time I'll be flying home. Back to reality, but also back to friends and dogs. :)

I'm Back!

Had a couple of low days there - nothing serious, just a bit of travel fatigue. On Sunday I went to an art fair and found a couple of things I couldn't live without. I'm trying to buy only flat things this time so I don't have to buy an extra suitcase like I usually do before I come home. I also brought along a few things I can jettison before I leave here, like some old wash cloths. I never have found out what the French wash themselves with...

After the art fair I took the Metro waaay out to a garden called Serres (greenhouses) d'Autueil to hear a free concert. I was very early so I had lunch, which was quite good, by the way, and then strolled through the gardens, still pretty in spite of the lateness of the season. I wandered through the iron and glass hothouses (this construction was very popular the last half of the 19th century; think Eiffel Tower)and "judged" a floral competition, then went to sit in the park outside to get some fresh air and wait for the concert to begin. From where I was sitting, I could hear the orchestra practicing. After about 20 minutes, I suddenly lost interest and got up and went home! Maybe I thought I'd already heard the concert, I don't know. Here's a little slide show of the park:

Monday morning I slept late, lay around in my bathrobe on the couch, and read a trashy detective novel. Finally, about 3:00 I roused myself and went to the new architectural exhibit at the Palais de Chaillot. Am I ever glad I did! Just when I think I've seen everything there is to see in Paris, the French come up with something new. This is a newly refurbished wing of a U-shaped museum that faces the Eiffel tower across the river; the exhibit had just opened three days after I got here. Again, words fail me when I try to describe this exhibit: the portals, columns, tympanum, sculptures, etc. of every major Gothic cathedral or residence or city hall of note in the entire country had been reproduced, life-size, and was on display in this immense building. I just sort of stood there thinking, "This can't be possible. How could anyone do it?" I managed to get one photo before the guard came running over, scolding me in very rapid French. On another floor, the interiors of Romanesque churches, chapels and baptistries had been reproduced to the last detail. Intricacies of sculpture and painting were there, but so was the damage that had been done from war, wear, and use. The colors in the murals were rich, but faded, and completely "worn away" in many places. The noses and feet of statues were missing where they had been broken off in religious wars and the revolution. Every last detail was accurate. The publicity on this exhibit explained that now everyone could tour France without leaving Paris. :)



In the evening I went to a concert in the Church of the Madeleine, a neo-classical style church, very different in appearance from the usual Romanesque or Gothic cathedral that you usually see in France. It looks more like the Parthenon, with great columns all around the building. (Remember the coconut cake, Beth?) The concert was quite varied, a string nonette (is that what you call a group of nine?), a soprano soloist who had a beautiful voice and a competent coloratura, but looked like a wind-up Barbie doll (or maybe more like a street performer miming a wind-up doll)and a virtuoso violinist. Definitely worth taking the late Metro home.