(in) Bruges

Some of you will know of the film 'In Bruges', and it was to Bruges we travelled from London. This marked the continuation of a trend in our itinerary, with destinations informed not by a guidebook, but instead by some other media. York and Lancaster (for the latter we visited Windermere, which is near enough) were online pseudonyms of ours, and thus made it onto our list of places we must visit. I apologise profusely to James for any negative impact such a revelation has on his street-cred (for the record, he's York). Bruges was a place that we may indeed have discovered in a guidebook, but instead were exposed via film. Declared to be the 'best preserved medieval village in Belgium', it makes a gorgeous film set. Now, if you've not seen the film, I'd highly recommend it. It's no family flick, and has its share of all the bad things that make a film climb the ratings ladders, but it's a clever bit of work and is worth it if only for the scenery. You'll get to see the best bits of Bruges... without the tourists. Which of course, we were, joining the rest of the horde. Bruges is a very busy little place, and mostly due to the masses who come to marvel at this picturesque town.

Bruge is showing the signs of a town being overwhelmed by tourism, yet still manages to utterly captivate. Walking into the town was a rollercoaster of appreciation, starting with the definite trough of crossing a busy dual-carriageway, amidst the cranes (mechanical, not avian) developing the station precinct. Beyond this, however, one has to walk through a cobbled laneway, seemingly unaltered for centuries. Looking along this stretch of road, a cathedral rises up above the rooftops. At this point one feels very guilty for doubting Bruges. Until of course a bend is rounded, revealing a main strip of the latest fashion outlets, complete with a portable carousel sporting an acrylic menagerie, and a fairground waffle stand. Once more, that hypocritical disgruntlement crosses my mind. Bloody tourists, ruin everything.

Now, Bruge is almost entirely cobbled. This is our first experience with proper cobbled streets. Of course, here and there in every city we've visited, there have been bits and pieces, particularly in the old areas. However, Bruges in its entirety falls into the category of 'old', and thus it's difficult to find a smooth bit of pavement. At this point, I make the grand claim that walking on cobbles is 'good for you'. I make this statement with the ironclad case that 'I've seen it on TV.' That I certainly had, in an infomercial-esque situation where some clever soul was selling strips of molded rubber flooring, replicating the inconsistency of a cobbled road. Walking on such a surface would cause the whole foot to be exercised, not like the foolishly smooth pavement to which we are accustomed. It took about 30 minutes for James to denounce me as an idiot of the highest order for believing and repeating such nonsense, and for me to curse infomercials for their lies. Indeed, our feet had been exercised, in there entirety, perhaps a little too thoroughly.

Bruges boasts not only wonderful sights, but wonderful scents. Ninety percent of the time, the air is filled with the delicious aroma of chocolate and waffles. It is hard to feel anything but blissful, walking through ancient streets, smelling waffles. The payoff for such indulgence is that the remaining 10 percent of the time, you'll catch the unfortunate whiff of sewerage, drifting up from somewhere below the streets. In the event of such an encounter the best course of action was to calmly cease breathing, and power-walk until more oxygen was required. With any luck, you'll get a lungful of choc-waffle air. Then again, you might not. Keep walking!