Day Zero

As our trip winds down the flights get shorter and shorter, so before I know it we’re coming into land at Brussels airport, and I’m striding purposefully through the station towards the train. ange had recommended a train/tram combination to get to the hotel, but I ended up taking the train to the centre of town and then grabbing a cab from there. There’s some confusion on exactly whrere the hotel is but after showing the address on my app and a brief discussion with the other taxi drivers, we’re loading the cab up and heading out. Not before I ask how much it will be though. “C’est combien?” is a great phrase.

The cobbles of the older part of town welcome me to the neighbourhood around a large church set in the centre of a roundabout with roads branching off in all directions. The hotel I’m staying at is so non descript that if I wasn’t following along with our progress on GoogleMaps, I probably wouldn’t have believed the driver when he says “we’re here”.

Day One

The next day we head out after breakfast and immediately take our bags to the next hotel. We realise that, as usual, it will be too early to actually get into the room, but we like to unburden ourselves of luggage to set ourselves up for a day out sight seeing.

My knowledge of “things to see” in Brussels is pretty much limited to a trio of pissing statues scattered through the city, so we head out to find these.  Ange has done a bit of research and found a few other things for us to do afterwards – Atomium and Mini-Europe.

The first pissing statue (Mannekin Pis) is an actual fountain and occasionally pisses beer. A cottage industry has sprung up around him with costumes appearing on him – and you can visit a museum with all the outfits that he has worn. Of course there are souvenir shops all around, but the thing which catches my eye are the waffles.

Signs with €1 waffles appear in shop windows beside waffles heaped with fruit, cream and sauces. Ange lets me know the secret – you ask for that waffle (she says pointing to one that Carmen Miranda could have worn as a hat) and it costs say €5 – which you have to pay because they’ve already bagged it up. If you want the €1 waffle, all you get is the waffle.

We head further into Brussels and come to the enormous central square, Grand Place. It’s surrounded by merchant houses and a great selection of different architectural styles reflecting the fact that, due to Brussels being taken over so fast by Germany in two world wars, it was spared any damage.

Ange had already done a free walking tour and gotten to know the best parts of town and so takes me into a slightly shabby shopping mall filled with dodgy fabric merchants and costume shops. I look over to her and give her a puzzled look “what are we doing here?”

She smiles enigmatically and leads me further into the depths of the mall until we come to a row of massage chairs. Give them a go, she says. OMG – its a-mazing. They look like an armchair but they have pneumatic cuffs which puff up, locking your legs into place and roller balls which knead and probe into your back, massaging you nicely. after five minutes my coins run out and I thank Ange for leading me there as we leave.

The second pissing statue (Jeanneke Pis) is a rather graphic depiction of a little girl squatting to relieve herself. The pose is quite disturbing and the statue is behind bars so I’m not really all that comfortable and we leave straight after getting as tasteful a photo as we can.

Opposite the statue is a famous pub – the Delirium Pub. They’re famous for having 2-3000 beers, and it’s amusing reading the reviews. They almost invariably refer to the bad service of the staff, and I can see why. The tourists rock up and ask for some sort of guidance on which of the beers that they should have and the staff don’t know or don’t care – they just want to serve the punters. Johnny Tourist on the other hand wants their hand held as they thoughtfully peruse the beers and let’s face it with that much to choose from you end up blindly pointing and hoping.

What would be a great addition would be a screen with a touch pad which walked you through what you should order – how hoppy do you like your beer? Ale or lager? Fruity or not? After a computerised decision tree the result would be “You like this beer: click here to order”. The other thing about the place is that there’s only so much room for so many barrels of beer – they can’t all be in stock. So again it’s hit and miss whether the result of your hour long perusal of the menu is even available.

The pub itself has grown with the steady stream of tourists coming to take a picture of the pissing statue and now fills the entire city block, and has branched out to include the neighbouring restaurants and an absinthe bar featuring over 400 types of absinthe.

The lucky last of the pissing statues is a pissing dog (zinneke pis) which is found out of the way down a side street. Totally underwhelming.

We end up doubling back on ourselves to find a bar on a corner serving food. At least we think it serves food – turns out it’s actually a front for a glorious Art Deco restaurant down the road.

Evidenced by watching the waiter bring a polystyrene box containing orders of food from the restaurant, down the street and delivering it sans box to the tables. I get the mussels et frites and Ange gets the mushrooms on toast, and we wash it down with fruity beer. Because it’s a tourist menu, the mussels vary greatly in size, with about 10% being of decent size but the rest being pretty rubbish. When will I learn that you get what you pay for and that tourist menus sacrifice too much quality for the price?

After lunch we head out of the city centre to Atomium and Mini-Europe.

Atomium is a huge structure designed to look like a molecule of interconnected atoms. It’s actually a remnant of a World Fair back in the 50s and looks super impressive from the ground level. We get combined tickets for it and Mini Europe after casting a doubtful glance at the sky. There are three parks adjacent to one another – Atomium, Mini-Europe and Océade, a water park.

While it’s cloudy and windy now, we’re wondering if it will fine up later making a refreshing dip very appealing. After a brief discussion we figure it will stay cloudy and so forego the “all three” ticket option.

After we get our tickets we head to the entrance to the Atomium structure to discover a mob of school children in line ahead of us. We don’t particularly want to waste our time queuing, so instead head over to Mini-Europe.

Mini-Europe is a park full of scale replicas of famous buildings from around Europe. I swallow my cynicism and resolve to give it a chance. As we approach we can see into the water park which looks a lot smaller than it did in the maps and posters. We enter the park and ignore the efforts of the mascot and a photographer wanting to engage us in a welcome ceremony, moving purposefully towards the beginning of the path through the park. It turns out this is actually the ending point and so we proceed through the park backwards, occasionally matching the buildings with their entries in the guide book.

There are a lot of buildings there. Some of them I recognise because I’ve been there, but quite a few look familiar but turn out to be from places I’ve never been – showing that iconic buildings are just buildings with a purpose that have subsequently been imbued with meaning, and that the functionality and architectural style is frequently shared.

Some of the displays are quite exciting – a fire in a port complete with real flames is my favourite. Some of the moving elements on the displays require user interaction before they operate  – saying “ole!” into a stand which triggers the bull fighting display to cheer “ole!” or turning a handle to make a cyclist pedal down the Champs Elysees being two examples.

It’s not all naff – it is supposed to show the unity of Europe and somehow it does manage to impress with collecting the cultures of the peoples of Europe through miniature representations of their buildings, but I’m left with a niggling dissatisfaction. I can’t quite put my finger on it until we’re about to leave: my OCD hates the fact that all the buildings and displays are at different scales.

Each building is an accurate reproduction, but when you’re looking at them alongside each other, and you’ve been to both, the scale difference is jarring. An example of this would be a person in the Champs Elysees display would be up to the second floor on the Pompidou Centre.

As we leave we notice there’s a kiosk with photos from the entrance – line after line of photos of people with the park mascot, which you can buy, or get made into a key ring or fridge magnet. The guy behind the counter does a quick glance at us and then his eyes dart down the line of photographs, ready to give us the hard sell. He doesn’t find our photos though and looks confused as we head past. The welcome ceremony obviously included the photo taking!

Then we head back to Atomium. It really is an impressive sight, these huge silver balls hanging in the sky, connected by struts. The  entrance is well and truly less cluttered with youths now and so we breeze through a security check to be confronted with yet another mascot and accompanying photographer. We push past saying “no thank you” and the photographer doesn’t like that and calls out at our backs “It’s for security!”. I don’t break stride and let my incredulity show in my voice “Really?” The photographer has the good grace to back down with a meek “No”.

The path through the structure is a bit back and forth: first you go up to the top level via lift. Then  you come back down the same lift and get off at the ground floor, and go around the corner to take an escalator up to one of the other “atoms”. Up some more escalators to another atom, then down a combination of stairs and escalators to the last atom and then back down to the starting point.

In each atom there are multiple floors and I’m kind of impressed that something so cool was made for a World Fair so long ago. So what’s inside the atoms? What are the displays? The same displays that featured in them back when the World Fair was on – it was sponsored by an airline so it’s a bunch of displays promoting their flights. The seats. The routes. That sort of thing. Mad Men aside, there only so much appeal to the promotional efforts of 1950’s airline advertising, so the star of the installation is definitely the actual structure itself.

In order to make money, its possible to have overnight stays in the Atomium, and I think they have an educational section that you can’t visit unless part of a school group. As we leave I notice the mascot sitting at his post waiting for the next lot of tourists to come through. It’s hard to detect emotion without seeing someone’s face but his body language certainly seems downbeat.

We leave through the gift shop (naturally), and see the rack of photographs waiting for someone to purchase them. Again, you can get them made into a keyring or fridge magnet, but the prices don’t match the low value we hold having a constant memory of our trip to Atomium, so we move on. I wonder idly what happens with all the photos afterwards – the Europeans tend to have tougher privacy laws than the UK or US.

We check in at the hotel and then head out to grab something to eat. There was a burger place beside the Metro and so we elect to dine on fast food. I think it might be a obstinate reaction to being so near such an upper class shopping neighbourhood. We sit beside the window and watch a very lively streetscape – my favourite being a couple rollerblading while pushing a pram – very upwardly mobile!

Day Two

The next day we checkout after breakfast and again stash our luggage before walking up the road to the Magritte museum. Magritte was a surrealist painter best known for his “Man with Bowler hat and green apple instead of a face” though he called it “Son of Man”.

I loved it – the audioguide actually added to the experience and there was lots to get through. A brilliant choice.

When we were done, we headed back to the hotel to collect our luggage and then double back on ourselves to head to the train station. The threat of rain was starting to convert into actual rain and the sparse drops of rain certainly felt like they were just the scouts for an upcoming full on assault. I found it difficult to find Ghent on the destination stations in the ticket machine until Ange suggested that they may drop the ‘h’.

Upon arriving in Ghent (or Gent), we stored our luggage at the station and then headed out to the bus and tram stops to find our way into the central part of town. We’d just figured out where our tram was leaving from when we saw a tram pulling in. Quick! I bellowed, heading off in that direction. I heard a gasp and turned back to see Ange had tripped on a broken paving slab and had turned her ankle. Are you alright? I asked. Give me a minute, she said. After a while we made our way over to the tram stop and got on. It was packed and not a fun trip to the centre of town.

When we got there Ange suggested we find someplace for lunch, though I suspected it was just an opportunity to sit down and get the weight off her ankle. We found a likely looking restaurant called Passion and I got the waterzooi which turned out to be a broth with chicken pieces in it and Ange got the potato soup and bread. I was delighted when they brought over an additional small crock pot with an additional chicken leg!

We walked around a bit more taking photos (my favourite being a poster for a comedy show consisting of a man yelling at a flower) but Ange didn’t seem to be moving very freely, so when she didn’t seem too keen on going into see the castle, I suggest we head back instead. We took the tram back to the station and managed to time our arrival five minutes before the next train to Brugge came through. With a bit of urgency, we were able to collect our luggage and get aboard in time and enjoyed the short trip onto Brugge.

On arriving in Brugge we found the right bus and headed into the centre of town. The driver made a a point of saying that because of restrictions they would only be able to take us to the edge of town. More worried about Ange’s foot than anything else I told him as close as you can go. Which didn’t seem that far at all! And the prices seemed to have gone up since all the research I had done had been published. Turns out they were having a triathalon, so there were diversions and traffic restrictions.

We were lucky that the rain had gone through Brugge already and so while it was a little chilly and windy, it was at least dry. We made our way slowly through the cobbled streets until we got to the hotel. After checking in we didn’t want to go too far and so found a restaurant nearby which overlooked a square (not the main square). In front of it was a waffle caravan and we weighed up having one there and then, but elected to wait until after dinner. Possibly a mistake as he’d driven off by the time we’d finished our main.

Tompouce was a lovely spot overlooking the square and we sat under the awning out side. We elected to get the sharing degustation of stews, featuring five matching pots of mussels, rabbit, veal, lamb and beef along with the ubiquitous frites.

But we couldn’t help but overhear a conversation going on between two fellow diners behind us.

A rather large body builder was out with a someone on what appeared to be a first date, such was the awkwardness. Apparently they were both in town for a wedding and we speculated whether they both knew different members of the ceremony. Ange had the better vantage point than I and kept me informed of the body language and goings on. The amusing part was that he was Australian and loud so were treated with his attempts to find out what Bouillabaisse was – which consisted of him repeating the word about fifty million times!

Seeing as the waffle man had moved on, we decided we would share a waffle at Tompuce instead. It was a pretty impressive effort, with cream and two sauces in little pots: one a bog standard chocolate sauce, and the other a custardy creation which had brandy added. A high bar for all other waffles to be measured against…

Day Three

Ange woke up with her ankle very bruised and swollen, so I headed out to look for a chemist. I went to the first one that Google Maps said was closest but it was closed (Sunday!) and there was a poster in Dutch on the door. Ignoring the sign, I went to the second closest one according to Google. Again, closed, again with the same sign. I looked a bit closer and the sign had three entries, one for this Sunday and then two more for the next two Sundays, each with a single chemist and its address listed beside the date.

I figured that they only had one chemist each Sunday open and took it in turns for which one it was. Across Brugge I went, heading for the one I knew would be open.

And lo, it was open. I explained what had happened and asked for one of those sports socks, but the lady behind the counter said that was probably a bad idea because Ange would have to try it on to make sure it fitted. Instead I got a pressure bandage and the lady made sure I knew how to put it on before I paid and bounded out of the shop, because what we’d assumed would take 10 minutes had by now taken close to half an hour. Which turned into 40 minutes by the time I got back.

While it was still sore even after I showed off my ankle bandaging ability, Ange deemed it sufficiently supported to get to the next hotel and then to go on the free walking tour afterwards. Trooper!

We had some time between checking in and the tour so found a cafe that was open and sat down. Eventually the barman came over to see what we wanted, and after I tried to order some food said, “We don’t start serving food until 12”. I frowned slightly and asked if they opened at 11, what they did from 11am to noon to which he responded testily that they just did tea and coffee until 12.

We took our hunger and our business to one of the restaurants on the main square and paid touristy prices for a croque monsieur for me and an omelette for Ange.

Ange wasn’t impressed, figuring it should have come with some toast or something as well. We went back to the hotel and the room was ready so we headed up to check in but not before asking if we could get some ice for Ange’s ankle.

They fetched some from the kitchen and when we got to the room we iced it down  – something we probably should have done from the get go. Her foot was a kaleidoscope of reds and blues but she was adamant that it looked worse than it was…

We then headed back to the main square for the free walking tour in the centre of town. The first thing we learned was that the locals pronounced the name of the town as “bru-ha”. There were a lot of people on the tour, but the guide managed to make himself heard well enough. We didn’t move from the central square for some time, listening to the well worn patter of the guide. The tour itself was ok – we did cover a lot of ground and most of what he had to say was entertaining enough. The beguinage was interesting – basically secular convents for single ladies – these actually form a UNESCO World Heritage Site distributed across the 20-off sites across Belgium and France.

Finally the tour finished, in the square where we had dinner the night before, and right in front of the waffle caravan. The tour included a discount voucher for waffles, so I wasted no time getting in line before the rush, getting me and Ange a chocolate sauce covered waffle each. Unfortunately I was a gentleman and gave her the first one he handed me which happened to be a burnt one – I offered to take it back but Ange struggled through it. Mine on the other hand was fresh off the pan and delicious. I tried not to show how much I was enjoying it.

We went back to the hotel for a while before heading back out in search of dinner. I had noticed a reastaurant with a funny name – Moule Poule (Mussels Chicken) but when we head over to have a look, theres nothing that appeals on the menu, so we keep looking. We’re spoiled for choice as Moules Poule is right on a square filled with restaurants. Nearby is one of the side streets that we came in on, and Ange remembers a restaurant that had caught her eye on the way in. We go back and it does appeal, so we head inside.

We got seated by a lovely older lady, imagine a grandmother as cast in every movie. There are one other couple in the whole place and we’re right beside them. The lady of the couple leans over and excitedly tells us that we’re in for a treat – this was the third night that they’d been in Brugge and all three nights they’d eaten here. It’s the best! I tried to restrain myself from asking how they could know it’s the best if that’s all they’ve had, and settle down to examine the menu.

I end up starting with the deep fried courgette and feta while Ange had the shrimps wrapped in salmon. The nicely painted plates that were sitting on the table when we had arrived are removed, obviously there for decoration, not to be eaten off.

The service was on the relaxed side, so if you were interested in a quick bite, this is not the place to come. I’ve subsequently seen reviews where the detractors (there apparently are one or two) have mentioned that the proprietor turns away guests if she doesn’t think that she can serve them all. It would be galling if the restaurant was empty and you were turned away, ignorant that there might be a group of six coming a bit later.

The starters are a delight – the batter is very light on mine and Ange raved about the textures and balanced tastes of her asparagus soup.

 The mains arrived a little later – I got the guinea fowl and Ange got the vegetarian plate. She counted the different types of vegetable and easily made it into double figures.

I love the fowl – perfectly cooked and accompanied with roast veggies. And to finish we had a peach tart.

Well fed and satisfied, we headed back to the hotel.

Day Four

We got up early the next morning to get breakfast and check-out. We caught a bus to the train station from the nearby bus stop. It was a relief when it came because we didn’t know for sure whether things were back to normal after the triathalon.

Ypres is not on the main train routes, involving a transfer at Kortrijk. We manage to find the connection without any issue, and find ourelves in Ypres, putting our luggage in storage at the station. After we do that we sit down briefly to discuss the plan for the day ahead and then in walk about 30 little preschool kids, all buddied up and holding hands, and all wearing yellow fluro vests and matching hats. Totally adorable. As they walk in they all stare at us like we’re two headed freaks.

We walk through town to the Flanders Field Museum, located in the old church. Well, I think it’s an old church until we find out the whole town was razed in World War I, so its a faithful reconstruction. The whole town in fact was reconstructed. The museum itself is a thought provoking look at the First World War and its impact on the local area.

It’s high tech with a wristband which you can load with experiences at certain stations around the museum. They use technology well – and although the museum is not very large its impact is significant.

For an extra €2 you can climb the towers to the roof, providing a great view out across the surrounding areas. The safety rail feels a little like a bolt on afterthought, so it doesn’t feel too safe. I look at my watch and realise that the bells would start ringing shortly so we make our way down before we get deafened!

The most moving part of the museum for me was the bit near thee exit gate which itemised the wars that have been fought since the “War to End all Wars” and their respective death tolls.

Afterwards we look for somewhere to eat – there are a bunch of restaurants along the square, but the prices seem a bit touristy. We do see a reasonably priced burger place called YpresBurger, but it’s full of kids so we head towards Menin Gate instead and hope that the crowds will have died down when we return.

Menin Gate is interesting because an organisation has arranged for the Last Post to always be played every night at 8pm. Unfortunately we have to leave before the ceremony, so instead we climb the stairs to the top of the wall and look at the memorial.

Then we walk along the top of the wall, looking alternately over the river which forms a moat on the outside of the town, and across the roofs of the houses within the walls.

After a while we decide to head back and try the burger place. It’s worth the wait: the burgers are fresh, tasty and cheap. After we’ve eaten we head back to the train station and collect our baggage. There’s a momentary panic when the door to the station building (including our luggage!) is locked. I find an alternate entrance and we retrieve our luggage and wait on the platform for the train.

We headed to the platform at Kortrijk to make the connection to the train to Lille, and there was a roll of text under the list of stations that are served by the train. I eventually decipher it – it seems that theres some sort of rail replacement bus and so the train will only got a place called Mousecron. We confirm the details with the conductor and then find a seat. As we settle in, another passenger come sup and asks the same question. Exasperated the conductor starts his explanation with “I’ve just told these people…” before regurgitating the same information.

If I was argumentative I may have told him that the fact that everyone is asking the same questions is a symptom of your failure to communicate the important information before they get on board the train, but I’m not argumentative so I keep my mouth shut.

We got off in the blazing sunny day in Mousecron and headed towards the bus stop adjacent to the train station. We found some shade and wait….and wait.

The conductor had told us that the bus would take about 45 minutes but that there would be the first of the restarted trains coming in an hour and the train would take 30 minutes, so basically if the bus didn’t arrive in 30 minutes it would be better just to wait for the new train. There’s no sign of the bus for twenty minutes so we bite the bullet and go inside to the cafe in the station and have a juice while we wait some more.

What can I tell you about Moucecron? Hmmm… pretty much nothing – SNCF ballsed up the rail replacement bus worse than a UK company could, so I’m in no mood to give the town the benefit of the doubt, and we don’t really have enough time to have a look around. We get onto the train when it pulls up, muttering darkly about the time we’ve lost to the interruption.

My mood is not improved when we get into Lille and my phone decides that it doesnt want to connect to any of the available networks and then when it does it doesnt want to allow internet. Kind of relying on that to get us to the hotel! Luckily I remembered vaguely which direction it was in, so we head in that direction and lo, we eventually get connection and yes, navigate the last few hundred metres to the hotel. Check in goes smoothly and we get ourselves settled.

It’s Monday night and apparently that means only a few places will be open, so we ask for recommendations from the front of house staff. The nearest place that will be open is a Thai place a few hundred metres away, so we head that way because we are starving. It’s packed, filled with locals and we’re lucky that there are two tables left.

Ange smiles at the people sitting beside us, close enough to rub elbows and the lady diner gets the implication and welcomes us. It is almost like we’re dining with them. I am hungrier than I thought, and conversation drops as I attack the food as soon as it arrives. At the risk of being boring, I found that you really cant go wrong with a good pad Thai. I throw caution to the wind and get mine with shrimps. I think Ange got the chicken pad Thai.

After dinner the sun is still around, so we go for a walk. I try to navigate a route for us to end up at the citadel, and that involves us walking along the quay. The glorious evening has brought the locals out in force and there’s a lively scenes overlooking the water, with people bringing their own beers and pizzas to dine alfresco.

We get to the edge of the Citadel park but the cumulative effects of walking all day have had an impact on Ange’s ankle, so we head back. I’m feeling tired too, so don’t put up too much of an argument!

Day Five

We’re up early for breakfast – Ange in sympathy for me, and me to catch the Eurostar back to London to go to work. It’s funny to farewell Belgium from France but it’s been an interesting trip and the next weekend will be the last.

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The Hotel Heritage in Brugge is a member of Relais & Chateaux – which is an association of over 550 independent hotels, all at the upper end of the market. It’s a very short walk to the central square and so is incredibly well positioned as a base for exploring all that Brugge has to offer.

Our luggage sounds like a drunken avant garde jazz percussionist on the cobbled streets as we make our way across the main square and down two side streets to the hotel. We’re far enough away from the market to be untouched by the crowds while still be close enough to not even notice the walk – perfect placement! We’re, as usual, too early for the room to be ready and I’m very tempted to ask how much it would be to add an additional breakfast to the bill in order to sate my hunger now. Instead we head out for a bite – there are plenty of cafe’s and restaurants nearby.

Room

On our return we complete check-in and head up to our room, no. 39. There’s a narrow staircase but we take the lift which would probably fit four people comfortably. Our luggage has already been deposited in the room and we look around taking it all in.

The decor and fittings are amazing – they wouldn’t be out of place in the palaces we’d visited. Everything is tastefully laid out and the furnishings perfectly complement each other. There’s a desk for working at, a table and chairs to enjoy a coffee at and a coffee and tea maker as well!

I can’t decide if the most stylish element is the chandelier or the retro looking phone.

The bathroom is dominated by marble tiles and a gold framed mirror, the toiletries are Durance and a full sized bath has your choice of rain forest head or hand held shower head over the top of it. So tastefully decorated! A pair of robes hang against the wall and some slippers are stashed under the sink.

The bed is quite amazing – so much so that they include a little card so that you can get a discount if you buy one from the designers.

The only thing that stopped it from being perfect was the blue light glowing from the air con controls – we couldn’t figure out how to turn it off and ended up sticking some cardboard over it so that we could sleep.

Facilities

We’re perusing the documentation for the hotel on the free iPad that comes with the room and come across a mention of a sauna. I must have missed that on the website, so I head down to reception to ask about it. The staff seem confused. Yes, there is a sauna they say, but it will take 30-40 minutes for it to be ready. Looking back I think that the sauna only gets used in the winter months and our request struck them as quite strange. I smile at them and say that will be fine – we’ll be down in 45 minutes.

At the designated time we come down in our robes and collect the swipe key for the sauna. We head downstairs in to the basement and find the gym which is surprisingly well equipped. There are even suggested workout times and charts of exercises. But we are here for the sauna!

We head further along and use the swipe card to access the room. It’s really well set up for such a small area – you wouldn’t want more than maybe four people in there at a time, but there is a sauna, a steam room, a shower complete with plunge bucket and a lovely relaxation area with loungers and water station. A pair of loungers at the entrance have foot buckets for warming up too.

We spend about an hour trying out the facilities and then head up to the top floor where we’d seen there was a sun deck. The deck again is small, but does provide a nice vantage point for looking over the roofs of Brugge. I’d imagine it would be magical in the winter, looking out over the snow covered roofs! There are some loungers there too and a coffee table with some newspapers – a nice place to sit and take the sun.

The kitchen is closed the night that we are there, so we head out to taste the delights of Brugge – something to keep an eye on if you plan to eat at the hotel.

In the morning on our way to breakfast we notice that someone has slipped a card under the door – indicating the expected weather for the day – old school charm!

Breakfast

In the morning we head down for breakfast. We’re not quite the only ones there but close to it. the breakfast room is again, straight out of a palace with mirrors and chandeliers and tasteful furnishings everywhere. It’s the differences that we start noticing after a while with breakfasts – boutique hotels don’t tend to have buffet breakfasts because there aren’t enough customers to justify having that much food out. So they tend to have chef’s who make what ever you like. The Heritage has both, and what a buffet it is!!

Your standards are there in force – bacon (with the additions of sausages, tomato and mushrooms), croissants, buns and bread with a million jams. Juices, cold meats and cereals as well as fruit salad and a million toppings for the cereals.

It’s the bonus items which stand out. A selection of cheeses. Bread pudding. But the pièce de résistance is a glass case housing three large blocks of chocolate. Small dishes in front hold more edible sized chips of each, but it was so weird to see so much chocolate sitting there for breakfast!

After we sat down the lovely staff member asked if we’d like anything else – some eggs perhaps or some toast. I say sure – maybe a poached egg – Ange gets some toast. I had noticed that there hadn’t been any eggs on the buffet table, I guess they’re all made to order!

Pros and Cons

Would I Go Back?

I wouldn’t need asking twice. It’s everything you want a hotel to be – and more.

The Hotel Heritage supported our Summer 2017: UNESCO tour by providing a complimentary stay. All opinions remain our own.

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We arrive in Brugge just before their triathalon, so the buses only run halfway to the town centre and there are barricades across half the city. We manage to navigate to Martin’s Brugge well enough, enjoying the walk through cobbled lanes and past medieval buildings. The hotel is conveniently located a very short stroll from the main square, almost exactly in the centre of town.

Room

Our room is ready when we arrive and we’re given the key to room #001. We walk through the labyrinthine halls, crossing I believe into another building without going outside and finding our room on the ground level, overlooking the street outside through bars on the windows.

The room is an exercise in minimalism. An Ikea-type desk sits under the TV, and the closet has a safe built into it. The bed is a good size though, and seems comfortable enough.

There’s no air conditioning though, so we open the window for a bit. When we go to bed later we instantly regret that. Brugge is built on canals. A perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes. As soon as the light goes out they come out of the shadows and attack.

We flick the light back on and I can see them there on the ceiling. I pick up a rolled up magazine and do battle, killing four of them – even Ange gets in on the act, lashing out with cat-like reflexes to smoosh one as it tries to fly away. Unfortunately there were more than the five we killed so I woke up with bites all over my neck. Can’t blame the hotel for that – but you can blame them for the lack of internet.

Facilities

They’d said at reception that there was free WiFi and gave instructions on how to access it, but when we got to the room we couldn’t find any proof that there was internet. No connection at all. I reported this back at reception and they shrugged disinterestedly and suggested that it should be working. On check-out I mentioned it again and this time got told that a repairman must be on his way.

Look – the hotel is not a flash one: the decor is tired and the furnishings cheap. The room and bathroom are clean (except the corpses of five mosquitoes – sorry!), but I funnily enough don’t consider free wifi to be a luxury facility. Especially when it’s specifically mentioned in their promotional materials. And the manner in which the staff responded to my enquiries? Disappointing at best. Three star hotel?

Breakfast

There was a buffet breakfast on offer for €20 or €15 if you booked the previous night. I couldn’t fathom how such a basic hotel could produce anything coming close to being worth that sort of money, so we didn’t partake, electing to eat at an over-priced cafe on the main square instead and still paying less than at the hotel.

Pros and Cons

Would I Go Back?

I really wouldn’t. It’s a two star hotel masquerading as a three star with one star service. It’s not cheap either – if I wanted to stay cheaply in Brugge, I’d choose any of the other hotels nearby.

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Peering above the surrounding buildings we spot The Hotel in the distance after exiting the metro at Louise. The walk from station to hotel takes us past a veritable who’s who of high street fashion labels, and I’m beginning to think that we might be under dressed for such an upmarket neighbourhood.

The Hotel’s staff doesn’t make us feel that way, though they do apologise for the room not being ready, and so we deposit our bags and head out to investigate Brussels. The lobby is tastefully decorated and has an amazing light fixture which I gawp at before we head off out the side door.

Room

Upon our return we pick up our room key and head up to our room. The lifts are lined with a textured metal finish and I’m vaguely disappointed that we’re not on the top floor of the 27 available. Instead we’ll have to make do on the 24th, almost opposite the panoramic lounge which we’re allowed to use (which offers free refreshments), with a free mini-bar (!) and one floor below the gym and sauna. I’ve had free minibars before in Sharm and Petra, but never in a non-Muslim country, so I’m keen to see how much booze is on offer.

We enter the room and soak up the features. The blinds are down and the TV is on, its light cutting through the dimness. The TV has the lovely welcome message on it and we soon find the light switch to make the rest of the room visible. It’s quite a light switch!! After illuminating the room we take it all in.

It has an open plan bathroom and a toilet behind frosted glass. The mini-bar turns out to have a couple of cans of beer, some lemonade and a couple of mini-bottles of wine along with a couple of bottles of water, a can of coke and, this being Belgium, a bar of chocolate. Quite a haul!

The bed is huge, and feels great. There’s a lovely window nook which they have labelled “sofa niche” on the light remote and we’re just standing there taking it all in when I decide to hit the button for “Curtain Up”. Like a big reveal on some reality DIY show, the blinds slowly rise and reveal the amazing view to the northwest over the city. The tap and basin in the bathroom are very high tech and stylish, and there’s a sliding partition to provide some semblance of privacy. Definitely not a room to share with your boss on a business trip!!

With so many things we want to check out, I almost miss a really nice touch – in the sofa niche there is a collection of sockets for your electronics so that you can display them on the TV – a really nice touch so if you have movies on your laptop you can show them on the big screen without having to have the laptop right up close to the TV. And with such a wide selection of ports, you don’t need to have remembered your adapter either. Very thoughtful.

Facilities

We head across the hallway to check out the panoramic lounge and the free refreshments. I’m quietly impressed. While there’s enough food there to constitute a meal, the serving sizes remind you they’re just there for snacking. Club sandwiches, mini desserts and little mini muffins nestle beside nuts and olives , while the drinks section makes me nod appreciably.

Water, soda, beer and wine – pretty close to whatever you want is there. I grab a club sandwich and a juice and wander along, checking out the decor. The blinds are mainly pulled, obscuring the view and I pull one up slightly and soon see why – the sunlight streams in almost blinding me! There’s seating below the window and a large dining table as well.

In one corner is a bookshelf with a bunch of books and standing awkwardly in front of them is a pretty impressive telescope, pointing at the floor as if it’s embarrassed.

A small group of guests are engaging a staff member in conversation at the end of the room with the food – apparently one of the guests works for someone famous and regales the others with stories of his adventures. I’m glad the lounge is so large – at the other end of the room near the books you can barely hear him.

Before long it’s time to go back to our room and get changed into the robes and head up one floor to the gym and sauna. The gym is just to take photos you understand, but the sauna to partake. The floor-to-ceiling windows make working out almost appealing with the whole southeast end taken up with a really well stocked and spacious gym.

But it’s the sauna which we really like. You enter separately through the changing rooms and we each separately notice the sign saying to expect nudity from here on in. On the other side we meet up and explore. There’s a super shower outside the hammam (steam room), and opposite that is the sauna, which has great views out the window.

Opposite the changing rooms there are a couple of relaxing rooms complete with loungers and the ubiquitous green apples and water. We’re actually surprised that someone else is actually using the facilities – three other guests are visit while we’re there and we see three more exploring the gym as we leave.

Suitably relaxed, we head out for food. We did weigh up dining at The Restaurant, but for some inexplicable reason they had built the restaurant on the ground floor. I couldn’t understand why they didn’t put it on the top floor – surely that would bring in the customers? After dinner we head back to The Hotel and enjoy a peaceful night’s sleep.

Breakfast

In the morning we head down for breakfast. It’s quite a spread. Served in The Restaurant, there’s a great selection of fruits, juices and hot and cold foods. Definitely something for everyone! My favourites are the meatballs and the juice shots.

I particularly like the little labels on everything and the fact that they have a gluten free selection as well. The restaurant looks out over a small lawn and on the other side of the tree lined fence is a park. It’s nice, but nowhere as nice as the top floor would be. Ange comes back from the bathroom with a photo of the amusing Gents/Ladies sign.

Pros and Cons

Would I Go Back?

Definitely! It’s a hotel where they make it hard to go sightseeing because the room is so inviting. If you want some company, go read in the panoramic lounge. Want to relax? Have a sauna. Want some exercise? Gym with a view. Everything you want or need, right in the comfort of The Hotel.

The Hotel supported our Summer 2017: UNESCO tour by providing a discounted stay. All opinions remain our own.

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Arrival

I’d been able to check-in early to most of the hotels we were staying at together, apart from Monrooms in Barcelona where I was quite early and had to wait in a library down the road. Again, at Les Ecrins I was early and the room wasn’t ready but it wasn’t a problem.

The man at reception said I could hang out in the breakfast room and use the WiFi, so I set up my laptop and tried to plug in but there was no power from the outlet. The man reassured me it was working and even plugged in a device to show me, and said “look it’s working”. Since I only had 10% battery I didn’t get much work done but he gave me the keys and said the cleaner would be finished in 20 minutes or so.

It was a stinking hot day and I’d read that the hotel had air conditioned rooms on the top floors. The key he gave me was for a room on the first floor so I gathered it wouldn’t have air con. I asked if we could get one with air con but he said no these were booked.

I hung outside on the patio for a while. Finally I was able to head up to the room.

Room

Résidence Les Ecrins is situtated in a 19th century townhouse which may explain why the room had a bit of a strange layout, you had to step up and enter through the bathroom. Another door held a double bed and a writing desk. It faced the apartments next door and overlooked the wooden patio area. The bedroom was pleasant enough, I liked the decor it was simple but homely like an English B&B.  

Chris arrived later that night and we attempted to get some sleep but it was a pretty hot night so we kept the window open. Unfortunately this meant Chris getting bitten by mosquitoes. The bed was quite comfortable though there was a bit of roll together.

Surrounds

The area had plenty of local flavour with cafes and speciality ice cream stores. But all I wanted was a takeaway salad since it was too hot to feel like eating. So I found a nearby supermarket which was blissfully cool. The servers even had fans set up blowing cold air into their faces.

Sainte-Catherine is one of the trendiest neighbourhoods in Brussels and we discovered later that the neighbourhood church had its own urinals attached to the outside walls. Peeing against a church would get you arrested in other European cities, not so in Brussels.

Breakfast 

Next morning we headed downstairs for breakfast: a basket of fresh bread, pastries and croissants, jam, orange juice and coffee. It was satisfactory and tasty, a good way to send us off, ready to check-in to our next hotel.

Pros and Cons

Would I Go Back?

Les Encrins offers a satisfactory stay in a upmarket area. If price is the main priority for your stay then you’d struggle to find something better than this.

Les Encrins supported our Summer 2017: UNESCO tour by providing a complimentary stay. All opinions remain our own.

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I checked beforehand that the Jacques Brel Youth Hostel would be still open when my late flight arrived in Brussels. They assured me that though reception would be closed I could check in via the bar which is open to 12.45 am. By the time I’d negotiated the rather massive airport, caught a train to the central station and flagged a taxi it is after midnight.

There’s a big locked barred gate outside the hostel and I have to wave my hand through to get someone’s attention to let me in. Luckily there are still people hanging out in the courtyard. It looks like a cute place with a small fountain and sided by a three storey building.

I head to the bar and am checked in by a Spanish guy who seems flustered and I’m sure would rather be shutting up shop. But he gives me two towels for free (usually you have to rent them.) My base for the next three nights is Room 114, a 6 bunk bed female dorm.

Room

The room is on the first floor which is also where the breakfast room is situated (a buffet breakfast is included in the price). On the ground floor is a games room, a bar/restaurant, internet cubicles and a couple of snack/water dispensing machines.

I hate people who check in late then wake everyone up when they come into the room but tonight I’m that person. Everyone else is snoozing until I open the door with my key card and light comes blindingly into the room. I mumble my apologies and find my bed, one of the top bunks which has an array of bedding.

Luckily there’s an adjoining room with a shower / toilet so I go in there to wash and sort myself out. Back in the room I spy a series of lockers and cubbyholes so jam my stuff in one as quietly as I can and then attempt to make my bed in the dark. It’s times like these I’m glad I’m 5ft 2 and can manoeuvre easily around on top bunks in the dark. I end up wrapping myself in a sheet and actually manage to get some sleep, despite the room being boiling hot and no air con. The windows are open at least which is a blessing.

Breakfast

The next morning I grab breakfast. For a hostel it has a good selection of items: cereals, yoghurt, fruit, jam, meat, cheese, boiled eggs and bread. A machine dispenses coffee, fresh cold water and fruit juice. 

After breakfast I head to the Victor Horta Museum, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, by metro, then tram. The house and workshop of Art Nouveau architect Victor Horta is stunning, and a great example of the flowing, nature inspired 19th century architectural style. It’s too bad you’re not allowed to take photos but I take a lot of the outside.

It’s a stinking hot day, Brussels is gripped in the midst of a heatwave and the temperature feels like it’s up in the late 30s inside the tram. Relieved to be back at the hostel I take my second shower of the day and have a siesta enjoying the flow of fresh air and no one else there.

Afterwards I do some work on ground floor which has cubicles set up with computers. The internet works well so there’s no issues with surf speed. The clock ticks round to dinner time whilst I’m there so I have dinner at the on-site restaurant. There’s a choice of cannelloni or pizza. I choose the cannelloni which is microwaved thoroughly but tastes ok.

I do a bit more work then get a message from Chris asking if I’m ok. “Yes, why?”. Turns out my sister is enquiring as she’s What’s App’d me and I didn’t reply. There’s been a bomb threat at the central station. After reassuring everyone that I’m ok, I process the information. The bomber was foiled before anyone was hurt but it’s still disconcerting that it happened just up the road. A bit close for comfort. 

I head to bed hearing the sounds of police car sirens and not liking being in a city that has suicide bombers. Sleep is evasive. I try and sort out the curtains but the wind blows them open and the street light outside shining in makes for a strobe-like effect. The next morning I check-out and head towards Botanique metro, a five minute walk from the hostel, to cut across town to my next hotel.

Pros and Cons

Would I Go Back?

Probably not. There was nothing glaringly wrong with the hostel and the modern conveniences were welcome after the Nice hostel. But because I was in Brussels during a heatwave the lack of air con in the room did make it uncomfortably hot. I didn’t really have a great sleep experience here, even after changing to a bottom bunk on the last night.

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For a renaissance gal like myself this was the perfect excursion. Although my French is okay, it was a nice respite to take in the Flemish culture in a place with so many official languages that speaking only English was no detriment. It was also a trip that was safe for a woman traveling alone or with children.

I consider myself moderately experienced in the travel arena. I’ve carried a toddler alone through Munich, landed in a small plane on an Alaskan glacier, and hunkered down in very impoverished areas of Haiti. But I still haven’t experienced the vast majority of our planet, and I am not a fan of risky terrain or of course, crime. No worries about any of that on a trip to Bruges!

While I took a bus, getting there by car or train is also quite straightforward. One can even take a day trip via Paris tour buses, leaving early in the morning and returning late at night. Journey by any of these modes of transportation takes about two and a half hours, and vehicles park in a designated lot nearby.

Wondering how you’ll get around once you’ve arrived? Well there were no cars in the 1600’s and the city won’t allow them to ruin the cobblestone now! Even the postman rides a bike. You’ll have to tour this quaint haven the medieval way—by canal or your own two feet. Or perhaps by another’s four feet. Horse drawn carriages are ubiquitous here. If you’ve got children in tow they’ll squeal with pleasure at helping their equine friends refuel with hand-fed carrots.

I travelled to Bruges in mid-March. The height of Europe’s ski season had passed and the greening was just beginning. From an economic vantage point this is a good time because air and hotel fares are not soaring, as they often are at more popular vacation times.

To get the utmost out of Bruges, you will ideally stay a few days. Midweek allows reasonable prices at a very good hotel in the heart of Bruges – the Hotel Martin’s Relais. Old world charm abounds here by the canal, but that means that if you have a car you’ll have to park it a short walk away.

Having addressed the logistics of transportation and lodging you’ll be free to immerse yourself in the plethora of art, history, and culture that this destination boasts. To that end, there are certain things you can’t miss. If you’re a day-tripper, prioritise a canal tour, a toothsome local meal, purchases of chocolate and lace, plus a visit to the Beguinages and at least one church.

That’s a lot to pack into a day, but keep in mind, this is a Unesco world heritage site. Two days will allow you to pad your subterranean canal views with elevated ones from a trotting carriage. You can also see wooden purchases whittled right before your eyes, and even sit in on a lace tatting class.

Three-day visitors can tour some historic museums and those with Flemish art, and shouldn’t overlook the charming booksellers in and near the Markt. They aren’t your run-of-the-mill Barnes & Noble! Where else can you peruse books in Dutch, French, German, and English? As it is, meandering through the medieval towers of Bruges makes one hark back to stories like Rapunzel. But the original wood and marble fireplace in one bookery made me feel like I was actually in the fairy tale I was reading.

Some details about the afore-mentioned activities: The canal tours are about an hour and can be given in English. Remember though, that English might come with a charming but heavy accent. I was nearly decapitated before I realised that our Belgian gondolier had just said we were about to cruise under an exceedingly low bridge. So remember to duck.

The Beguinages are rich in area history and are another must-see. Started as a type of nunnery, they used to house single women. The outside edifices and daffodil grounds are picturesque and the inside features a typically ornate chapel. Flemish paintings and stained glass flank the sides while the altar surrounds feature historically significant black trim and golden statues. You’ll see the same colours on the façade of the nearby Basilica of the Holy Blood.

Finally, nothing says Belgium like an underground beer piping system. Marrying the modern with the medieval, Bruges has just that. Perhaps they mimicked the mechanical ingenuity of their German neighbours when they sought to address a problem: five-hundred-year-old cobblestone throughways can’t sustain tons of beer-hauling trucks.

To be blunt, the Belgians’ insatiable thirst for a good brew was causing traffic problems. What better solution than to pipe their award-winning beer straight from brewery to bar? Try a weissbier from the official brewery of the nation, Hoegaarden. Enjoy it with steamed mussels just fished from the North Sea, which meets the port of Bruges minutes away. And don’t forget the pommes frites!

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