Longfellow wrote a poem about it, which made it to the film studios, and I’m reading one of many books devoted to the pride and joy of Brugge in Belgium. It is the Belfry tower, and tower it does in all its medieval glory over this stunning town. Nearly 400 steep and ever narrowing steps challenged my balance as they took me to the top of this famous landmark.
As you step back in time, one can see the famous step facades in all their colours, brick types and stone, that create a unique backdrop to their cobbled streets. The world’s second largest brick church is a work of art with small gardens inviting you around each of its corners. Pockets of trees provide a soft contrast to these sharp designs, while bits of canal can be spotted here and there.
Like the hills we have recently climbed that are more of a challenge going down, so are the stairs. To assist, a cloth covered chain acts as a railing that doesn’t help with passing others, as they retreat to small corners. Once below, streets fan out in a multitude of directions, not so obvious from above. These cobbled treasures travel alongside broad and narrow canals, crossing them on their ancient bridges and inviting you to stop and ponder when hunger or thirst comes on.
The famous Belgian artist, Memling, brightens up a melancholic church, while that huge brick beauty is home to Michelangelo’s sculpture of the Madonna and child. Homes are also provided for the poor not dissimilar to those of the average home owner, creating harmony more than difference. It seems to be part of Brugge culture which is home to a lot of women devoted to helping others, as depicted in Memling’s and others’ artwork.
Brugge is a proud Flemish culture and their language is Flemish. It appears to accept its past French and Spanish influence but does not necessarily embrace them today. Most appear to have a good grasp of English, with a couple of locals asking me what language I spoke before conversing with me. And while on languages, people often refer to this city by its French name, Bruges (which it is not), like I have, while its real name is Brugge which is Flemish.
Another culture shock as I left my iPad to go for a walk. The haunting sound of Argentinian tango music called to us just off the cobble stones. So 20 minutes later, having had a delightful interlude with a dance we love, it was a drink on the canal high up on a stone wall, over the bridge and through arched blossoms.

PS I forgot the bike race that passed through the market square that formed something of a huge backyard for the cathedral.

Tomorrow it’s Holland with our good friend, Phillip.