AND SOME FREE–ASSOCIATION
By Kelly Sargent
HALLOWEEN is my favorite holiday. I get to be wacky and still be considered perfectly normal. Paul and I have been extremely sick for three entire weeks (more about that in an upcoming post), but I've been looking forward to Halloween since September, and I didn't want to miss it.
So here we are as hot sauce and popcorn. FYI: We made my clever popcorn hat by hot gluing individual pieces of popped popcorn to a stocking cap. It was Paul's crafty idea; he glued about half of the popcorn on, and I did the other half.
We stopped by Paul's parent's retirement community where there was a Halloween party in progress, and a fair number came in costume. We fit right in. See what I mean? On Halloween you get to be outrageous and no one bats an eye.
PS: This was my Halloween joke for the night: "If this isn't the best costume you've seen all night, I'll eat my hat!" C'mon. That's worth a couple of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups at least.
By Kelly Sargent
AMAZINGLY, Paul and I crammed all of the seeing and doing I've shared with you over the course of the previous ten posts . . . into a single week. We left on September 13 and flew home from Brussels on the 20th.
This final post is a wrap-up — a mélange of general observations, impressions and other oddments noted as we traveled the northwest quarter of Belgium, known as Flanders, and stuck our toe into the Netherlands.
Before we get to that, let me just say in all sincerity: OH MY GOD! I thought we'd never make it from Bergen op Zoom to the Brussels airport, certainly not in one piece!
The worst traffic ever!
It's not possible to adequately describe the frightening, frustrating journey of a mere 83.5 kilometers (52 miles) from BoZ to Bruxelles-National in such a way that anyone who wasn't along for the ride will get it. It was literally the stuff of nightmares . . . as in Paul had literal nightmares after we were home about making that drive. It was that harrowing, and it took hours!
Narrow, congested streets jammed with bumper to bumper cars, trucks that were entirely too big for the road even if there were no other vehicles, a phalanx of bicyclists, innumerable scooters weaving in and out, and pedestrians.
Do I exaggerate? Au contraire mon ami. Brussels is listed, depending on which survey you consult, as the city possessing either the eighth- or fourth- or second-worst traffic in Europe, and the survey that lists Brussels as number two also lists Antwerp as number four. Remember, we were traveling from Bergen op Zoom through Antwerp to Brussels, and Belgium in general is listed as the country with the worst traffic in all of Europe. Whee!!
Sint-Martens-Latem and Bruges
By Kelly Sargent
IMPOSSIBLE AS it may seem, all three of the previous posts about Ghent came from one day of exploring that magical place on foot and by boat! I know!! And then we were off to the town of Sint-Martens-Latem and from there to Bruges.
You may be wondering how we've been getting around. We rented a car, and I can't say enough about what a total stud Paul was throughout the trip — negotiating narrow, congested streets jammed with bumper to bumper cars, a phalanx of bicyclists, innumerable scooters weaving in and out, and of course pedestrians; driving a manual transmission which he hasn't driven since we were in Ireland at least 10 years ago, while attempting to read signs in another language. He was wise to insist on a car with a built-in GPS, but even with that, what a challenge, and he was masterful.
Due to narrow streets, congested traffic and extremely scarce parking, bicycles are a major form of transportation — that and walking, and small cars are the rule. We didn't see one oversized pickup truck or SUV the whole time we were there. (If only they didn't dominate the driving landscape in this country!) I had to laugh: when we picked up our rental car, the agent said, "Oh, you got a nice one!" It was a Volkswagen Gulf which I learned is considered a BIG car in Belgium.
Our first stop was Sint-Martens-Latem, a town of about 8200 residents. Pieter, our proprietor at Living in Brussels Urban B and B, was originally from there. Coincidentally, it's the wealthiest municipality in Belgium. But neither of those things was what enticed me to want to see it. Before we left home, I'd read that it's one of Belgium's most charmingly bucolic, small towns.
Unfortunately, it was raining the morning we were there, so we only drove around a bit and took a couple of photos.
Then we were on to Bruges. It seems as though everyone has heard of Bruges . . . and raves about it. Everyone but us. We, on the other hand, we're too keen on it. Yes, it has picturesque canals and waterways — it's known as the Venice of Northern Europe — but Bruges is also chockablock with tourists and souvenir shops. Paul said it was like being in Disneyland.
Actually more like Epcot Center with it's faux 'international experiences': manufactured, idealized streetscapes supposedly depicting various countries such as Canada, France, Mexico, the UK, Norway, China, Italy . . . you get the picture . . . including the USA (I kid you not), with "audio-animatronics" liberally employed.
When we walked into one of Bruges' centuries-old buildings turned into a museum and were greeted with an audio-animatronic medieval 'person' welcoming us, Paul was done.
After we were back home, someone suggested that if we visited Bruges during a less-favorable-weather month, there would be fewer tourists, and we might like it better. Less pods of tourists would be nice, but there would still be eleventy-seven souvenir shops. Conducting a bit of research since we've been back, I've found several travel blogs that advise: "Skip Bruges; go to Ghent." I might not suggest missing Bruges altogether, but I definitely recommend following our example; we spent three nights in Ghent, absolutely loved it there, and only day-tripped to Bruges.
There was another reason we simply had to go. Left is a photo of a painting that hangs on the wall at the foot of our bed. We're both smitten with this painting; we gaze at it morning and night. Paul was convinced that it was painted in Bruges, and he really, really wanted to see if we could find the exact spot.
Well we didn't, but we came close.
Paul Bridson and Kelly Sargent
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