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.