Beautiful Bruges

Last night's sleep was pretty poor, in spite of getting to see this great view in the evening as I was winding down

but I'm not one to let lack of sleep and the resulting migraine stop me from searching out great chocolate. There are chocolate shops practically on every street, but according to Steven, the bicycle guide, a lot of them sell chocolate made in factories. He recommended Burie chocolates, which had a shop about a 20 minute walk from my hotel. I headed out after breakfast, and when I arrived, I immediately knew it had been worth it.

 The smell upon entering the shop immediately set my mouth watering. I think I teared up a little as well, just from the joy of being in the presence of so much beautiful chocolate. I bought some treats as gifts and a couple for myself, which I have yet to sample (migraines, even after I take my meds, can make me a little queasy--I'm waiting until I can enjoy it fully). On my walk back, I spied one of the ubiquitous hands of Antwerp.

Then it was back to the hotel to grab my bags and get on the train to Bruges. Even though the taxi driver taking me from the train station to the B&B seemed intent on running down tourists (several shrieked and jumped/ran out of the street to avoid him), which was slightly distracting, I knew immediately that I was going to be one of those deep-sighing Bruges-lovers. I took about 75 photos in the first three hours I was here, which tells you something.

I am staying at a lovely B&B just steps from an even lovelier bridge over the canal--the Number 11 Exclusive Guesthouse. I was greeted by the manager, who informed me that I was the only guest for tonight. She just had a couple leave and has two more couples coming tomorrow, but I have the house to myself tonight as she lives in another home down the street. It's a little weird to be here by myself, but the beauty of the place and all the birdsong and voices that drift in through the windows keeps me from being lonely, as do the carillon bells that play a little tune at the striking of each hour.

Check out this loveliness:

the exterior

downstairs lounge

garden in back

my room

the tub I'll be soaking in a little later

But that's nothing compared to the loveliness outside. These views are just a few steps away:

I saw some boats cruising up and down the canal full of tourists, so I followed the canal for a bit and found the ticket booth. I barely registered what the driver of the boat was saying because what I was seeing with my eyes kind of incapacitated my other sense for a little while.

As you can see in the photos, though, the sky was full of clouds and rain would sprinkle every now and then, blowing in our faces with a stiff breeze. Sadly, this weather pattern has resulted in the hot air balloon ride I booked getting cancelled. I was really excited about getting to experience that, but I guess it wasn't meant to be. So, to get my lofty views of Bruges, I decided to climb the Belfort tower instead. The stairs were a little intimidating, but it really wasn't too bad in the end, and the views were worth it.

 going up

coming down

the bells

I worked up an appetite climbing all those stairs, so headed for the pub the B&B manager recommended.

This time dinner was chicken and frites with a side salad. In spite of my attempt to be somewhat healthy with the chicken and salad, the frites (which were amazeballs) are served with flavored mayonnaise. Yes, mayonnaise. Here in Belgium, you dip starchy fried food into more fat, and it's delicious. It's also probably sending my cholesterol levels through the roof. But all those stairs!

My last venture out was to sit in the courtyard of Belfort for a carillon concert. I lasted for about 25 minutes and then headed back to my B&B. Turns out I can hear it just fine here as well. A little taste:

One last shot with the evening light (taken about 9:30 pm)

Finally, thanks for all the wonderful comments--you are good company on this trip! And now for that bath...

Adventures in Antwerp

Apparently, being deprived of sleep and walking all over a city as soon as you arrive makes for a great night of sleep. Or mostly great. I have certain duvet issues that make it hard for me to be 100% comfortable in any European hotel room. I've written about it before, but many European hotels and B&Bs have a sheet on the mattress and a duvet (with cover) on the bed, and that's it. There are no intermediate layers, like a top sheet or blanket. It's just you and the duvet. I'm assuming this practice wouldn't be so popular unless a lot of people liked it, but I am not one of those people. I heat up very quickly, and putting a duvet over me in any other circumstance than a winter's night in a room with poor to no insulation is like sliding me into an oven and setting it to 400. I bake.

So, while I did sleep deeply for a good chunk of time, there were a number of moments where I woke up just enough to slide the duvet off half my body, then slide it back on, then poke my feet out, then pull them back in, then poke just one out, and so on. Even so, I woke up feeling good enough to venture out after breakfast to visit the famous painter Peter Paul Rubens' house, or Rubenshuis, as they call it here.

The morning was gloomy and overcast again, but seeing as I come from the land (or state) of the never-ending drought, I decided to just embrace clouds and rain as part of the experience in this foreign land. I've walked this main road a few times now, which is primarily pedestrians and bicyclists, and while the buildings are beautiful and look as though they might have some historical significance, they all now house a bunch of shops--the ones you see in any major European city now: H&M, Fossil, ESPRIT, Mango, and (this one surprised me a little) Urban Outfitters.

The courtyard and gardens of Rubenshuis offered a welcome respite from all of that.

A few shots of the interior:

(sorry about the accidental finger blur)

If you happen to think, "Rubens and his wife must have been tiny people!" after seeing that bed the way I first did, here's a fun fact for you: people in that period (16th to 17th C.) believed that sleeping in a sitting up positing (or at least slightly reclined position) was good for the digestion, so that's why all the beds were so short. No one has ever explained that before, and I've seen a lot of short beds in historic homes/castles. I suppose anyone who suffers from heartburn might have figured that out, but I had no idea until I read it in the little guide.

Some of Rubens' paintings:

And yes, for those of you who remember my post about Paris from a couple years ago (anyone?), I am continuing my tradition of seeing beautiful, historic sites with hordes of school children.

You've already seen this, but I had to take one with some sunshine, which came out as I was exiting.

Afterwards, I trekked back to my hotel to drop off a few items and just lie down for a few minutes (the jet lag was hitting me right about then, which I calculated was 2:00am California time), scarfed down some lunch at a cafe, then hoofed it over to the harbor area to join the bicycle tour I'd signed up for. Turned out to be me and two women from Scotland (although they are currently working as nurses for a huge oil company in Saudi Arabia), along with our guide, Steven. Some highlights:

1) There is an old Antwerpen legend about a man who was small during the day but would grow into a giant during the night and go through the city looking for children and drunks to take with him out to the river to drown (nice way to try to scare the shit out of wayward children and drinkers, right?). Here's a statue of him about to snatch up two poor drunks at his feet:

Fortunately, another part of this legend was that if you had a statue of the Virgin Mary on your street corner with a lamp under it, you were safe. It also kept you from being taxed, for some reason I can't remember, so it was useful for those superstitious and thrifty, which is probably why there are hundreds of them all over the city:

Another thing you'll see frequently in Antwerp,or Antwerpen,  (sorry, no photos) are hands--the name of the city comes from another legend about a giant. This one lived by the river and would demand boatsmen pay him or he'd cut off their hand. One day, someone got tired of this and cut the hand off the giant while it was sleeping and threw it in the river--"Ant" being the "hand" part, and "werpen" being the "throw" part.

We got sidelined for about 20 minutes due to another downpour, then continued through a lighter rain, which was enough to get me pretty soaked. Again. But it eventually cleared up and we got to enjoy places like this:

2) Beguinage is an example of something you'll find in every city of Belgium, according to Steven. Not quite a convent, it was a property owned by the Catholic church where women who were "in trouble" or in need could go live in peace and safety without going the full route of committing to being brides of Christ for good. Currently, it is now home to a number of senior citizens and others who use the buildings as private residences. Some cats also live there, although they do NOT want to be petted. As Steven was talking, I watched tourist after tourist approach the cat and try to pet it. It started by simply dodging them, but by the third or fourth attempt, it resorted to a loud hiss and a swipe of the paw. I guess it would be annoying to have a bunch of strangers try to touch you all day when you're just trying to chill at home.

We then crossed the river to get a view of the city from the other side. Antwerp, for no reason Steven could explain, has no bridges. They just have two tunnels under the river--one for cars, and one for pedestrians and bicyclists. Normally there is an elevator that can take you down, but as it was broken, we had to use the escalator. Riding the escalator isn't that big of a deal, but doing so while holding/balancing a bike is a little scary the first time or two. Fortunately, it got easier with practice, which was a good thing since we had to come back.

3) the two Scottish women and a glimpse of the escalator behind them (it was quite long, and there were two levels of them)

The tunnel (Look, Ma! I'm biking under water!)

After all that cycling (over 3 1/2 hours), I was ravenous. I asked Steven where I could get an authentic Belgian meal, and he sent me to Bomma's, which is Flemish for "Grandma's." Belgians really love their meat (they have streets named "Bacon" and "Slice of Ham"), so I went for the mixed grill dinner (including cauliflower in cheese sauce and mashed potatoes with broccoli and sweet potato), along with my first beer in Belgium. The grandmas watching over me were pleased.

Fun randomness that made me happy today: the ATM machine asked me to enter my "secret code" after I inserted my card. Isn't that about a hundred times cooler than "pin number"?

Time to wind down and get to bed. Tomorrow I'm going on the hunt for a chocolate shop recommended by Steven, then taking the train to Bruges.

Arrival in Antwerp

When I booked my flight back in March, United offered me a deal where I could upgrade to first/business class on one of the flights if I paid an extra chunk of money and used 20,000 of my miles. Since flying for long periods of time jammed into a seat built for a person who weighs no more than 90 pounds means I usually don't sleep at all on overseas flights, I decided it would be worth it to go for it this time around, especially since I had a 9:00am arrival and would have to stay awake all day. My leg from LAX to Chicago was still economy, but I had first class for Chicago to Brussels, and let me tell you, the world beyond the curtain is a very different one than in coach. I had barely reached my seat and hadn't even sat down before a flight attendant rushed up to me and said, "Welcome, Ms. Lo! Can I get you started with something to drink?" What the what?? So I asked for some wine, then sat down and reveled in how much space was in front of me and how cushiony the seat was.

Then we got presents: a little pack with an eye mask, beauty products, toothbrush, toothpaste, and socks. They bring you a hot, lemon scented towel to wipe your hands before dinner, a table cloth for your tray when your meals arrive, as much booze as you want (I stopped after my welcome glass of wine--jet lag is bad enough without a hangover), and a massage therapist comes around and gives you a foot rub. Okay, that last one doesn't actually happen, but it felt like it could. After dinner, I watched a little TV, then stretched out in my flattened recliner, and slept for about 2 1/2-3 hours. It wasn't a great sleep due to frequent turbulence, but it was still some sleep. 

I landed and got to the shuttle bus I needed with plenty of time to spare, and my first stop was Central Station, which is a beautiful place to start:

It was also a practical place to start as it not only had a little cell phone store where I could buy a local SIM card, but also a tourist information office with a really nice staff. This was especially helpful considering that I forgot to ever print out directions or a map to my hotel from the station. Turns out it's just behind the station. The employees at the Hotel Lindner and City Lounge were also kind enough to not only check me in at 11:30 am, but they also randomly upgraded me to a room with a city view and a balcony. 

After dropping my stuff and getting some lunch at Le Pain Quotidian next door, I decided the best way to keep awake was to keep moving, and walked about 20 minutes to the Cathedral of Our Lady 

 Altar piece by Rubens

 and the Grote Markt, which is an area full of historic buildings, bars, shops, and restaurants

Just a few steps away from Grote Markt, is a short, windy little road called Vlaaikensgang, which seems straight out of another time:

Another shot of the area near Grote Markt. See those dark clouds in the background? 

 Well, they turned into this, a downpour strong enough to make tourists run screeching for cover, and the cafe workers all cluster at entrances taking photos.

I decided to take advantage of the waffle place on the corner that had a large awning and sit/eat it out. I've never been so thankful for an awning in my life! And the waffle was pretty tasty too.

I waited there about 25 minutes,  but I was finding it hard to keep my eyes open, so I started walking again. Five soaked minutes later, I flagged a taxi,  and now I'm back at the hotel, drying out and still fighting to keep my eyes open. My goal is to make it to 8:00pm Antwerrp time. 

On a more serious note, even though I'm miles away, yesterday's mass shooting in Florida weighs heavy on my heart, as I'm sure it does on everyone's. The news footage was on the TV screens as I boarded my flight, and it was playing behind the woman checking me in here at the hotel. As I watched that and noticed the heightened security at the Brussels Airport and even the process required for obtaining a SIM card (they can no longer be sold anonymously in Belgium or France, but must be registered with full identification information), I am reminded that there is no really 'safe' place. All it takes is someone who's crazy or fanatical getting their hands on some weapons. But while we can't do a whole lot about the crazy/fanatical part, we can do something about the weapons part. Or let's at least try.

Here I Go Again

This past year, the school calendar in my district shifted to a start date in early August, which meant that last summer, I lost two weeks of my summer break. I realize it's tough for most working people reading this to conjure any sympathy for me, seeing as my vacation time still far outstrips most of yours, but for the sake of this post, just work with me. Pretend it's sad. I was sad, at any rate, and I consoled myself by deciding I would start saving for another trip to Europe. Save I did, and now that summer has rolled around again, I am about to embark on another adventure to Belgium and the UK (primarily Wales).

Why Belgium and Wales? I settled on Wales first for a few reasons: I've never been there before, I wanted to go somewhere with beautiful and somewhat wild/remote landscapes without actually being too far from civilization, and it's got the Wye River Valley and Tintern Abbey, which is the inspiration for a famous Wordsworth poem that my students read. I love visiting locations significant to the literature I teach--the kids love seeing the photos, and I get to write off part of the trip on my taxes. From there, I decided I wanted to visit another country I'd never visited before that wasn't far from the UK. I looked at a map, and when I saw Belgium, I remembered watching In Bruges years ago and, unlike the character Ray, loving what I saw of the city in the film. That, and when I started talking about it as a possibility, people were suddenly coming out of the woodwork as Bruges-lovers. The typical response I'd get was a dreamy look, big sigh, and exclamation of "Oh, Bruges! I love Bruges!" Turns out Belgium also has some other really cool cities with lots of medieval history and I read that most people there speak English. Sold!

To answer a couple other FAQ's, I am going alone, and I am not joining a tour group. Planning everything myself, which I've done for all my past trips as well, has mostly been interesting and fun, although sometimes stressful and draining as all this legwork has eaten up hours and hours and forced me to make numerous decisions in a short amount of time. Labor aside, most people respond to the fact that I'm traveling alone sans travel group by saying, "You're brave!" I appreciate that characterization, and while I'd love to be able to own it and say, "Yes, yes I am!" the truth is that I am not brave. There is a part of me that is excited about this trip and knows from past experience that once I'm there, I'll have a wonderful time. But there is also part of me (the dominant part this final week) that is full of anxiety and dread, and irrationally thinks things like, "Why am I leaving? I like my house! I like staying home! I don't need to go anywhere--I have Netflix!" I worry about whether I'll pack the right things and bring the right size suitcase. I worry about figuring out transportation and navigating. Keep in mind, I'm someone who gets completely disoriented just coming out a different part of a parking structure than I went into. I worry about weather. I worry about getting lonely. And then there are the travel advisories from the State Department about "all of Europe" being vulnerable to terrorist attacks and recommending that travelers avoid train stations, popular public spaces, and pretty much everywhere a tourist might actually go. I guess I could just go hang at the local playground, but even there I could find myself surrounded by conflicted Irish assassins:

(Seriously, if you haven't seen In Bruges and you like dark comedies, you need to watch this. Also excellent and offering more of the wonderful Brendan Gleeson: The Guard and Calvary--written and directed by the brother of the In Bruges director).

So, fear and anxiety. They are, I've learned, an inevitable part of travel for me, and that's partly why I keep doing it--to keep re-learning that I can get past the fear and anxiety and have a great experience, which is a pretty good thing to learn and remember for all of life. My problem is that my amygdala never quite grasps this, so it's a bit of a struggle each and every time. One of the things on my to-do list today is to call my doctor for a new prescription of Xanax. I rarely take it (which is why my current supply has expired), but just knowing it's available if I need it helps. So, if you find yourself sitting next to a woman clutching a little white tablet in her sweaty palm on your next flight, Hello, my name is Katherine.

I'm departing Sunday, and my first stop will be Antwerp. Hope you can join me, at least virtually. Although if anyone wants to show up in person and meet me for a beer, I'd be down for that too!