Sequels nobody really wanted to see: Rocky V, Jaws V, and now....CAMINO II: The Porto-Geezers: May 26: Last Day in Bruges

May 26: Last Day in Bruges

We were warned of two days of rain during our stay and got some yesterday morning. By the time we’d settled into our room at the only five star hotel in Flanders yesterday afternoon, the sky was clearing and today began clear and a dazzling blue. The combination of old, old buildings and bright blue skies makes every photo look like a postcard.

Our first stop was "Lover’s Lake," a park at the far end (okay, it was still pretty close) of town. Green and lovely, but swan-free. Saw a couple of ducks, but that’s it. Passers by shrugged: "You see the swans on the boat ride." Yeah, the boat ride. Later. On our way to the lake, we pass by an exhibit entitled "Van Breugel’s Witches." Who needs swans, when you got witches? We leg it back, dodging bicyclists of all ages, but many, many high school and college aged kids, all looking healthy and more German than French, if you ask me. A fair number of blondes who might actually be blonde. We also dodge cars: not so many Renaults and Peugeots, more Audis and MBZs. (The Belgians do alright for themselves.) We also dodge tourists, the volume of which will doubtless double in June, July, and August. Tourists are all in the Big Three: France, Germany, and England. People who spent time here during WWI and WWII. (Doesn’t look as if the city was touched.)

Oh, Van Breugel. As you Art History majors will recall, the Italian Renaissance was all about idealized beauty. Not so in the Low Countries. In Van Eyck’s "Madonna and Child," (seen here on every street corner), Mary’s hands look dirty. The kid’s got dirty hands, too, and fat folds on his neck. The guy who paid for the painting, shown as a kneeling cleric, is a saggy, jowly wreck. And that’s Mary and baby Jesus. When you get to Van Breugel’s depictions of a witch, the gloves are really off: She’s a hair-blown hag, dancing by a cauldron while monstrosities look on with interest. Yikes. The painting is one of perhaps a hundred depictions of witchcraft, sorcery, and devil worship on display in a museum that was once a hospital – and probably a house of horrors based on the depictions of learned men digging their bare hands into the intestines of some unlucky fellow, or poking some scalpel-looking thing into a child’s eye while looking at the painter!! Watch what you’re doing!

So, a museum of medical practices and hospital history on one floor and, upstairs, a huge exhibit of witchcraft, etc. An amazing exhibit of paintings, etchings, books of infernal worship, knives, amulets and a time line of how many people were tried and executed for it during various ages. Germany led the way, perhaps because of better record-keeping. Several paintings of devil worshippers kissing a goat’s rectum, the goat (Satan) looking on with approval. Didn’t look like fun. Also, unlike later imagery which made demons attractive (at least at first) these witches were all hags with bad hair, bad teeth and sagging breasts. (So, if you have any of these tell-tale symptoms…call this toll-free number!)

We ambled through this, checking out the crazy stuff, while fifth graders on a school trip did the same. The most powerful images (to Dave at least) were depictions of good Christian souls reading their Bible or preaching from a pulpit while, nearby, all manner of beastly stuff went on. Not sure whether the righteous were holding on to faith in a hopelessly corrupt world or were ignoring a truth that needed action, not bead counting. And if you enjoy Hieronymous Bosch (a neighbor, geographically and artistically) you’ll get your fill of deformed monstrosities at this exhibit. See it after you finish your Belfort climb.

Then it was on to the boat ride, a half hour along Bruge’s canals, which make an inner loop through old, old town and an outer loop outside what were once the city boundaries. Lots of great-looking ginger bread houses packed together one after another and maybe one in a hundred (re)built in the last two hundred years. Old. Way old. But also prosperous, so clean and well maintained. Also saw plenty of swans. They’re a symbol of love because they mate for life, so long as nothing better comes along.

We lunch on Flemish Stew, so, at least one local dish. It came with a "Leffe Blond" beer, a little salad, French fries and (wait for it "Pulp Fiction" fans): mayo to dip the fries in. Yum. The "stew" was actually chunks of beef in a nice beefy sauce (also good for fries). Tasty.

After lunch we went to the Chocolate Museum to learn much more about the history and manufacturing of chocolate than anyone needs to know. In brief, it’s a processed food commodity and gets the full industrial treatment. Historically, it was a Central American drink that caught on as a fad in Europe, first among the wealthy, like tobacco, and eventually made its way to the rest of us. A solid version followed.

Now, as the evening darkens, we can say, yeah, if you’re in the area, it’s a good two days of ambling from witches to swans to Belfort at a civilized pace. Worth going out of your way for? Probably not, but it you like chocolate, not a bad place…but not in the summer. The Square and streets are getting crowded now and "Holy fuck!" as a fifteen year old school girl said today, trying maneuver her bike through the crush of aged tourists.

Mileage today: 7. Tomorrow, it’s up early for flight to Reykjavik, 3 hour lay-over, flight to Seattle, 2 hour lay-over, then flight to San Diego. As the fifteen year old school girl said… Well, you get the picture.

A few pictures including a few more of the town on a prettier day: