IN BRUGES

After watching the hilarious and unexpectedly successful movie ‘In Bruges’ (2008) Belgian boyfriend B. decided to take me there as he was stunned by the fact that after having spent some good four years in Belgium, my first images of Bruges indeed came from the film. The picturesque town, on the screen frequently referred to as both ‘a shithole’ and ‘a fairy tale’, is among Belgians however commonly known as the ‘Venice of the north’.

Bruges is situated in the profoundly catholic province of Western-Flanders and apparently it is the best-preserved medieval town of the country, which is why it is on UNESCO’s list of wold heritage. One of its basilisks impressively conserves a shed of Jesus Christ’s blood (yeah right) and what is even more: is also a very romantic place… So, off we went - to Bruges!

The connection Leuven - Bruges turns out to be excellent for a change – a direct train which only stops in Brussels and Ghent takes you right to the heart of Western Flanders. Following the tourists one easily finds his way to the town centre. Once arrived there it is obvious that Bruges brings together everything Belgium is famous for: cosy cobblestone streets flanked by idyllic houses, shops and monumental churches that proudly tower over beautiful market places, the entire scene sweetly illuminated by a watery sun. Of course there are chocolatiers and waffles available at every street corner.

Curiously however Bruges also hosts an impressive amount of tea rooms and lace shops, which is more typically associated with British culture. Though, there is an easy explanation for that too. Standing in line to climb the bell tower we were surrounded by tourists - my boyfriend was most probably the only Belgian there – of whom the majority obviously were from British decent. This Britishness of Bruges might have caused the Irish protagonist of In Bruges, cry out that “maybe that’s what hell is, the entire rest of eternity spent in fucking Bruges!” Eternity is indeed a bit long, but for a day Bruges is absolutely doable and rather fairytale like, especially when you take a trip in a carriage, guided by a macho Italian coachman who is driving the horse –Venice indeed.

Still, there are some things that keep you far from imagining that you truly are in Italy. First there obviously is the difference in temperature between northern and southern ‘Venice’, as I could happily notice – the northern variant (visited during winter) is too cold, the southern (visited during summer) too hot. Next to that however, there is this guttural dry sound which the Western-Flemish proudly call their language –and a hell of a language it is indeed. Completely incomprehensible, even for other Flemish and Belgians. A non-Western Flemish friend of mine commented that to him “it sounds like Chinese” and another friend joined the Facebook-page “Western-Flemish is a speech deficiency”, but I am just fascinated by it. It may not sound so sweetly romantic and melodic as Italian, but it is a language with balls. It has character and when the Western-Flemish speak ‘general Dutch’, and polish their pronunciation a bit, Western-Flemish have a very nice sound and accent – at least in my opinion.

So, well. As became obvious from this little column, there is a lot to explore in Bruges. Go and see for yourself. Just make sure you’re catching the last train back to Leuven. |