Bruges

BRUGES

30, 31, 1 October/November

Posted 20 november

After Antwerp, which proved to be an incredible city, vibrant in every way, and totally interesting from a museum perspective, I had very high hopes for Bruges, which always seems to get rave reviews online.  Everyone seems to love Bruges, so I was really excited as I got off the train under grey skies, and got a taxi to the hotel.

Given the homerun feeling of the Antwerp hotel, with its spacious accommodations, I was ready for a reality check as I walked into the Hotel Notre Dame in Bruges.  I met with the beast at the desk (well, maybe that's an overstatement... I'm sure she would be attractive to a 65 year old biker dude with more hair than a grizzly and some thick beer goggles), and she gave me my keys- one for the front door, and one for my room- and proceeded to show me to my room.  (I love that there was a front door key because there isn’t always somebody at the desk to keep an eye on things!)  Either something got lost in translation, which isn't likely since she was speaking pretty good English, but long story short, she brought me to the base of the stairs and said my room was up there.  Now, these weren't just any stairs, these were clearly the service stairs of a mid 17th century house.  Without doubt these were the smallest stairs I've ever seen, and my foot barely fit sideways on the tread.  On the plus side, if I fell down, there was only one bend to go around before I would land in a heap on the first floor, unlike a certain staircase in a Connecticut fraternity that I’ve been known to tumble down.

Anyway, it's probably a good thing that the lady didn't actually show me to my room because there would be no space for the both of us in it.  I don't know the dimensions of a double bed, but there was nowhere in the room where the bed was surrounded by more than 30 inches of carpet; in fact, it's surrounded by much less than 30 inches.  Suffice it to say that this is a bit more of reality than I was really prepared for.  I think the prostitutes in Antwerp had more space in their pubical cubicles than I do in my bedroom.  Oh well, it's not the space that matters, it's how you use it.  

After getting settled it, and with the time now approaching 3:45, I decided to do a brief walk.  If I had really been thinking, I would have left Antwerp early in the morning so I would arrive in Bruges before noon.  As it was, leaving at 1:05, there was really no time to see a museum before it closed, and all the major museums are closed on Monday, so I wandered around and looked at churches.  

The first church I visited, and perhaps Bruges' most famous, was the Basillica of the Holy Blood.  Now, first let's talk about blood, Willie, and churches and how they all fit together.  Blood is in the body, and it's normally red.  There is blood in my body and occasionally, when I’m not careful, it comes out.  Once in a while, upon such occurrences, I pass out.  When I found out that during communion the Catholics actually drink the "blood of Christ," I was a bit taken aback.  Isn't there some Papal decree saying no drinking Jesus?  Isn't that cannibalism?  Well, I don't know, but I do know that in the world of Protestantism, the wine served (or grape juice as served in the Union Church of Northeast Harbor) does not become blood before the eyes of the congregation.  It's a symbol, a representation... definitely not blood.  

Why does this matter?  Well, not only does the Basilica of the Holy Blood serve "Jesus" at mass, but they also have a vial of Jesus, which makes them especially famous.  Yes, they have (or claim to have) a vial with a bloodstained fabric, which is said to be that which Joseph of Arimathea wiped from Christ.  Funny they haven't reconstituted it and had it with Communion Wafers, huh....  (Well that was vulgar!)  Anyway I marched my way up the stairs into the little tiny Gothic church, and there up high on this throne like thing was a lady wiping off a glass vial after somebody had just left from fondling it, with a huge line of people waiting their turn.  There was the dry Jesus!  I sat down for a minute, thinking about whether I wanted to go and see this in person, of if the Mona Lisa Proximity Rule was in effect (I'm close enough to see it, I don't need to stand in line to be closer- my opinion of the Mona Lisa at the Louvre).  Well, since it was supposedly Jesus, and not some clipping of a toenail of some largely unknown saint, or a piece of a piece of a piece of a tooth of some body like a lot of other churches show off, I decided I wanted to see this, and to get my hands on it.  

Now, the Catholic Church isn't stupid, and they're certainly not a 501(c)3 non-profit.  They love making a buck when they can.  (Examples include all the admission fees I've been paying for churches.)  Well here, rather than actually charging, there was a large sign basically saying: If you want to touch the dry Jesus blood, you should put some money into the box to help preserve our church.  As cheap as I am, I pulled out some money - thrilled to get some of those damned heavy coins out of my already too loose pants- and put it in the box as I went up to see the Jesus vial.  Plus, since it was going for a cause that I liked - the preservation of a beautiful little Gothic cathedral - I hardly winced as my fingers finally let loose the death grip they had on the money.  After taking my sweet time going up the stairs (I'd waited for this moment for an entire 4.5 minutes), I followed the lead of the scores of people ahead of me and put my hand on this little vial which was underneath a rounded piece of glass.  I made sure to place my palm so it wouldn't obscure my view, however.  There were clearly some dark rusty spots in the vail, but whether or not they were blood, I don't know.  I don't know what blood looks like after a week, let alone 2000 years!  Having basked in my glory of the Jesus vial for a goodly amount of time, I thanked the lady and got off the podium thing to take a seat.  

In the end I guess it's hard to say if that's REALLY the blood of Christ.  I guess it all depends on how much you want to believe.  In the meanwhile however, I'd like to thank the early Catholics for having their blood, and drinking it too!

High Altar

Tubed Jesus - sort of like Tubed Steak

After I’d spent a sufficient amount of time in the church (it’s really beautiful!), I left to do some more walking.  Bruges is very different than Antwerp architecturally, and the old buildings are definitely very beautiful.  I walked around the central square, the government buildings, and in general burned calories like a pyromaniac.  Bruges is interesting in that it has many canals going through the city, so it’s sort of like Venice, but more reserved.  In these canals, like Venice, are little power launches of about 26 feet with LOADS of tourists (I was going to write fat Americans, but there are also some full-bodied Germans) going around.

What was happening in North America in 1669?  Not much.  This was happening in Bruges

I made my way to the church of Notre Dame to look that over.  Not too shabby, but mostly closed because it was after 5, so I had to leave that on the list of things to do.  From there I went back to my hotel to change my clothes and get ready for dinner.  Making my way to the central square, I was impressed by the beautiful buildings illuminated - it’s really beautiful!  The only problem was that there was a food festival going on in the middle of the square, so it was impossible to get a clear view across the square.  Nonetheless Bruges: not too shabby.

I woke up the next day with a long list of things I wanted to do, including getting to the tourist bureau to get a better map.  I got there too early… figures.  So I walked a little distance to the “ten Wijngaerd Beguinage,” walking through Bruges former red light district along the way, which is now just an alley.  If you don’t know what ten Wijngaerd Beguinage means, it’s okay.  Neither did I.  It basically boils down to a convent campus built in the 17^th century for spinsters and other women who were shunned by society and ended up making their own organization, which still exists today.  It’s very quaint, with whitewashed buildings, an open quad area, a river, and a chapel.  It’s very calm and beautiful.  

Now after 10, the sun was out, and I marched over to the concert hall to the info bureau.  On my walk I got my first real taste of Bruges: TOURISTS!  They were everywhere.  There were literally entire streets that were choked because of tourists.  It was horrible.  I was shocked to find that the info bureau didn’t have a line you waited in.  Instead you took a number and waited… and waited… and waited….  But in the end I got the information and found out which museums were open on Monday (many European museums are closed on Mondays).  

Historic Preservation à la Flemande

My first stop was the back to Church of Notre Dame, which has the only Michealangelo ever exported from Italy during the artist’s lifetime.  Maybe I’m a snob - okay, fine, I’m a snob, but this was not a big sculpture.  If you can only see one Michaelangelo in your life, don’t make it this one.  It’s in a side aisle, and behind about 3 inches of glass.  I have no clue what they’re afraid of because you can’t go within 20 feet of the damned thing.  It’s not that it’s not beautiful, because it is, but I felt like I couldn’t really get close enough to appreciate the sculpture to look it all over.  The church also has the tombs of Charles the Bold (tomb dates from 1562) and Mary of Burgundy (tomb finished in 1502).  They also had a number of the medieval tombs open with glass on top of them, allowing people to see the interior decoration, which was interesting.  

From there I did the supposed “number 1 must do in Bruges.”  Apparently you have to go to the top of the bell tower of the on the central square.  So I stood in line for 1.5 hours and finally climbed the bell tower, reaching the top just in time hear the 1pm bells go off.  Suffice it to say that I’ll never hear again, but the view from the top was really impressive.  You could see for miles and miles!  The only problem was that the 366 steep, slippery, stone steps led to a severe case of jelly legs, and I was well into beer number two with lunch before my normal legs came back.  

After my lunch of a Indian-curry-rice-filled “pancake” (really a thicker crepe), I went to the Stadhuis, the town hall.  It’s a fast museum, and at first it’s nothing impressive, but when you’re upstairs in the Gothic Banquetting Hall, it’s all worth it!  Although it’s much changed, it’s really beautiful!

Gothic Hall

Walking around

From there it was time to get a good walk in, because I was feeling a little bit lazy, and there was a lot more I had to see.  I quickly walked to the edge of the town to see the windmills, which were exactly that: 2 old windmills.  BFD.  From there I walked to the Jerusalem Church, which is supposed to be some funky church, and it was funky, all right!  The altar was about 15 feet above the nave level.  I think the architect had been drinking when he did the plans because they made no sense.  In the crypt chapel, which was about 5 feet below ground level was a tiny door, about large enough for a 5 year old.  Well, after channeling my inner toddler I squeezed my way in and found a fully laid out sculpture of Jesus laying on the floor.  It was beyond bizarre.  For whatever reason the Jerusalem museum ended up being in the same compound as the Lace Museum, so with my entry ticket to the church I had entry into the lace museum.  Oh boy! What fun!  Well I walked through, and even though it wasn’t something that got me all excited it was really interesting.  I had no idea there were so many types of lace or that you could make entire images in lace.  

The coolest part of the lace museum was the “demonstration room.”  No, I didn’t learn how to make lace, but it was a big room with about 15 old ladies making lace.  They were laughing and gossiping, and making lace.  I’d never seen anything like it.  Some of these ladies had hundreds of little wooden spools with string, and they were keeping track of what to do with each one.  I was afraid to look at the string too much for fear that I would tangle it up, so I have no idea how they did it without getting one jumbled mess.  Not only were these old biddies paying next to no attention to what they were doing, but to me it looked like they were just throwing the little spindle/spool things around, and suddenly making something really awesome.  I wish I had taken a video because it was really impressive.  

After leaving the lace museum I went for a little walk around where the former medieval walls had been.  It was really a beautiful area and the sun made the buildings appear really warm.  I wandered for a while, had dinner and eventually went back to my hotel for the last night of my vacation.

The entire thing isn't much bigger than a stamp

Look at the tree - there isn't anything there

My final day in Bruges was even more scheduled than normal for me.  Since all the museums were closed the previous day, I had some major ground to cover!  I started bright and early on the top of the concert hall, which is supposedly a “sound center” or a museum of music.  Whatever it is, it’s not much.  It’s basically a bunch of bells hanging near wooden mallets and you go to make noise.  As somebody who is already a loud person, this didn’t do anything for me, but I was going with the idea of the view, which was good.  It wasn’t nearly as good as the tower, but it was good.  It was a shame, however, that some knee-high snotty-nosed 5 year old mistake kept making noise.  It was also a shame that you couldn’t go all the way to the edge, but I still managed a few decent pictures.

From there I went to the Gruthouse Museum.  It sucked.  Out loud.  It was random, there were next to no labels, and there was just a big board to read.  It was a mishmosh of old stuff that, while cool, was too abstract for me.  The coolest part of the museum was the private chapel that the family built into the choir of the church of Notre Dame in 1472.  You could go right into it, and technically you were in the church.  The next museum was the Grunen Museum, which is an art museum.  It was pretty good and a nice size.  Not too overwhelming, and with a great exhibit of Flemish primitives.  With that done I went to the store of Stephan Dumon, the chocolatier suggested by the beast running the hotel.  I shouldn’t call her a beast because she turned out to be a very nice woman and was very helpful.  She just looked like she was run hard and put away wet more than once….  The chocolatier was in the basement of this building and is a completely family run business, but I still managed to spend over 30 Euros on chocolate.  Damn, I’m good.  Chocolate in hand, it was lunch time: FRIES, of course! 

I went to drop off my chocolate at the hotel and then went to the Brugs Vriges, the former court house.  HOLY SHIT, BATMAN!  It was very beautiful and had the most amazing fireplace I’d ever seen in my life.  Speaking of superlatives, it also had the most beastly transvestite I’d ever seen in my life.  This “woman” was all of 6’6” and had an Adams apple that would make any Granny Smith blush.  This woman was a miserable bitch, to boot.  She was horrible to anybody who entered and God-forbid you should ask a question!  But she was sure interesting to look at!

Exterior of the Brugs Vriges

By now the weather was getting a bit gray, so I hustled off to my final destination: the Cathedral of St. Savior.  I’d tried to go the day before, but choir rehearsal kept me from entering.  Well I finally got in (famous last words, I know), and it was, like all churches in Europe, very beautiful.  This one had really beautiful stained glass, and lots of tapestries hanging like I’d read was the norm centuries ago.  Even with the tapestries, it was absolutely freezing, and I definitely didn’t want to sit still for long!  The cathedral had enclosed their cloister and made a museum, which was actually very good, and free!

With time running out, I ran back to the hotel, grabbed my bags, and walked to the train station, arriving just in time for the rain to start - the first rain of my entire vacation.  I’d say that was pretty damned lucky!  I got into my first class car (it was actually cheaper than the cattle class in back), had internet the entire way home, and arrived back chez moi just in time for dinner.  How wonderful is that!?

PS- remember that you can click on a picture to make it bigger.  I'm afraid if I leave them full size on here each message will be a mile long!