Wonder-Bruges

We went to Brugge/Bruges this past weekend. When deciding if we would visit Bruges or Brussels, most people were pretty adamant that Bruges was the city to see first and foremost.

This is information about which I already should have been aware, because I have actually been to Bruges before. Sort of.

What I mean by "sort of" is that due to the fact that I was possibly the least impressionable/observant 19-year-old on the planet, I have virtually no memory of the city. However, because I am fortunately in possession of photographic documentation of the trip and because I also have human witnesses to attest to the fact, I do know that the visit definitely did occur. Good thing, because I otherwise might have argued that I had never before laid eyes on the place.

Really, the only memories I have are as follows: climbing some sort of tower that had a rope instead of a bannister and therefore seemed pretty unsafe, drinking amazing hot chocolate where we recieved pots of molten chocolate to pour into steaming mugs of milk, and a rather ill-fated bicycle trip in a very cold and seemingly unnavigable forest.

Actually, I also remember something else: the aforementioned bicycle trip ended with several of my girlfriends and I getting into a taxi -van because we simply could not forge on under the cold and non-GPS guided conditions. Were I to forget large hunks of this initial trip to Bruges, I would have preferred to have forgotten my wimpy attempts at athleticism as opposed to the beauty of the city itself, but unfortunately my memory does not work that way.

More important than any of what I have said thus far, is why I could not remember this city. Well folks, I cannot say because it is actually really memorable. I loved it.

And I better tell you about it now, before my cantankerous memory decides to kick out the "Bruges" files in order to maintain the room for other super important life details that it refuses to forget, such as my sixth grade boyfriend's home phone number or the fact that my dad's friend, Spooky, whose house I visited only once when I was about six, had cactuses growing out of earns next to his front door (it does seem worth noting that it was winter in New England when I visited).

So, as I was saying, most people had told us that visiting Bruges was a "must." There were a few naysayers, however, who felt strongly that Bruges was way too touristy and not at all like a real city where real people live.

Well considering that I am a tourist and I rarely, if ever, live in the real world (my dad had friends with names like Spooky, does that sound like the "real" world to you?), it actually sounded like a pretty good fit.

And so it was. An exceedingly charming city of friendly people, cobble-stoned streets, and gorgeous architecture. After wandering around for a day, my only real question was: why doesn't everyone know about this place? They darn well should. It was so unbelievably magical I half expected to see unicorns frolicking about.

We did see reindeer on the train ride over, and that came pretty close.


Belgium is famous for beer, french fries--the french fry originated there if other bloggers are to be believed--(negligible point, who believes bloggers?), mussels, waffles, and chocolate.

If you want to be respectful when visiting a country, it is really only right that you try their native cuisine. So we did. With quasi-gluttonous pleasure, I might add.

I had the most incredible waffle ever consumed at a place called Le Medici, and it came with a pot of hot molten chocolate to pour over it. Ummm, scrumtaculous. We ate these amazing mussels, in this adorable restaurant that was essentially a 16th century cave, and we tried four different types of beer (my favorite was the Leffe Blonde). We stopped at a few chocolate places to sample the goods and to do a little compare/contrast tasting. I can comparitively say that all of it was good.

The only thing I will not rave about is the french fries, because I quite frankly did not find them all that wondrous. Disclaimer: I am not really a potato person. In fact, at lunch as we munched on these decent-but-not-sublime-fries, I made the call that If I were forced to give up five "major" foods forever, one of the first to go for me would be the potato.

So do with that what you will, but I would recommend that you do not count me high on your list of people from whom to take advice on potato products. My friend Kristyn is much better suited to the job, and I can give you her number. Chocolate, butter, wine...I am your girl. But please go to someone else for all matters potato related.

And if you have questions about Indian food, I really can't help you there either.

So we loved Bruges, we walked around the whole city all day, and visited a Dali exposition. I love Dali because he makes me feel sane, and I imagine that at least of a third of his other fans are fans for that very reason. But that is just conjecture. We saw the windmills on the city border, admired all the adorable little homes on cobble-stoned streets, and generally acted like food-obsessed tourists.

Except there was no "acting" going on. So if you have the chance definitely go to Bruges, poke into the charming/kitchy lace shops, admire the architecture, and eat your guilty pleasure--because it likely exists there and is darn good. A magical land of wonderment...and if you are really lucky, you might even see a reindeer on your train ride over.