Windmills in the mist

Next day we were up early, although it had rained overnight, the morning was bright and sunny. We had planned a visit to the Groeninge Museum, and then to wander across to east of the old city to see the famous windmills and do a bit of touristy shopping.

As we crossed back over Minnewater Park the sun disappeared and a low, chilly mist descended on the city. The effect was strange as it humg about 60 or 70 feet above the rooftops so although at ground level visibility was fine, the steeple of the Church of Our Lady tailed off into invisibility.

The disappearing steeple

In the square outside of the museum there is an interesting map of Bruges made out of lace, a scary fountain and a strange sculpture consisting of metal items of mysterious purpose packed into a tub. Well, it's Art innit!

Talking of art, the museum visit did not go as well as hoped. The Groeningemuseum houses a clutch of 'Flemish Primitive' masterpieces that have sat on my 'must see' list ever since I studied a Northern Renaissance module back in 1975 while at Manchester University. Gill's not so keen on art galleries, I can understand why she finds their hushed atmosphere stultifying and the reverence paid to the treasured pictures slightly ridiculous. She'd much rather admire a granite landscape than a famous picture. What happened next wholly reinforces her point. In the first room hang two Jan Van Eycks: the celebrated Virgin and Child with Canon Paele and a small portrait of a woman which hangs next to the larger panel. This is thought to be Van Eyck's wife, and is the first known portrait of an artist's spouse in the world. I was lagging behind a bit when Gill called me over, "I've just seen something amazing" she said, and drew my attention to the jewel-like brilliance of the rug upon which the Virgin is enthroned, the details were so carefully rendered you could almost see the fabric strands of the carpet. "How did he do it" she enthused, "imagine how tiny the brush must have been to paint like that," her forefinger hovering two or three inches away from the heavy glass screen that protected the picture. At this juncture a nearby attendant intervened, and rather than supply us with a nugget or two of information concerning mid-fifteenth century oil painting techniques, admonished us as if we were naughty children, "Don't point Miss with your finger so close at the picture".

Why not? Given the protective glass that shielded the painting the issue could not be one of security, but of decorum. The comment was in the same register as "it's rude to point" as if you were going to upset the picture's feelings.... I can see why Gill gets so irritated sometimes in galleries, the behavioural norm is reverential looking, not active enthusiasm or animated engagement - clearly such responses are frowned upon. I was taken aback; Gill was cross - "I'm out of here" and with that she disappeared at pace into the next room. For me the attendant's crass comment overshadowed the whole visit, As I wandered around I thought to myself, she's right, the way traditional galleries are set up is deliberately designed to exclude rather than engage. The lapsed art historian in me felt very sad about this. These pictures are among the most wonderful things our civilisation has produced; the mathematics behind the perspective and  alchemy behind the mixing of pigments were revolutionary im 1434, it represents the first flowerings of a more scientific way of looking at the world that underpins modernity. It should be explained, celebrated, shouted about - not hidden away in hushed silence.

Next we headed across the the eastern edge of the old town to take a look at Bruges' famous windmills. These were constructed at the end of the eighteenth century on top of the city walls, which I suppose were no longer needed for defensive purposes. The mist had not dissipated and the windmills took on a somewhat spectral appearance. The washed out tones resembled the pallid palette used by the Dutch landscape painters back in the 1700's which we'd just seen the gallery. One can only conclude that there must have been a lot of foggy weather back then too.

Old windmills on the city wall

doing their best to look atmospherically picturesque.

It was almost time for lunch, so we started to wend our way back to the city centre down a street called Rolweg - there's many a 'weg' in Bruges, which is hardly surprising since it means 'road' in Flemish. This part of town is packed full of cute artisan cottages, a shoemaking district apparently, unless the tourist map was just telling us a load of old cobblers....

Cobblers cottages.

Eventually we ended up at Jan Van Eyck Square at the end of an old dock which reached from the outer canal into the centre of town. We had lunch at a local restaurant named after the famous painter. It was crowded and small, but the omelets were tasty and the chips homemade. I was a bit shocked to have to pay 60 cents for a bit of mayonnaise - this is Belgium! Where there's chips there's got to be mayonnaise! What is the world coming too! The atmosphere in the restaurant was hardly lively, mainly couples speaking to each another in whispered tones accompanied by soulful 'chanson' type background music. By the time I'd heard Celine Dion for the third time it was definitely the moment to pay-up and go.

Looking towards Jan Van Eyck Square

On the way back to the motorhome we stopped off at a couple of touristy type shops to buy some chocolates and beer glasses for les enfants. As in any touristy place there is some strange trash to be bought.

Beer merchandising

Gonk-like Santas imported from Germany - the Brothers Grim!

We headed down the main shopping street to see the city's cathedral - it's big, it's ugly and built of bricks. The nicest architecture in Bruges is often the most modest, the whitewashed cottages and the like. The actual monuments are built on an impressive scale, but often without particular finesse. You wonder if the rich merchants were into height and size as a way of asserting power, a bit like the towers in San Gimignano. Anyway, just to prove the point that I like new structures as much as old ones I took a shine to this curvilinear bus shelter near the motorhome parking lot. Some thought has been put into how its sweeping lines related to the verticality of the trees in the park and form a foil to the horizontal rectilinear benches. The rounded form of the shelter itself was mirrored by the sinuous patterns in the brick paviers and the whole structure designed to harmonise with the form of a nearby footbridge that connects the shelter to the park.

It's certainly the case that new structures are not always ugly nor old ones always lovely, though that's often what guidebooks infer. Even more impressive is that the 'loo-lady' who looked after the place's toilet block had an extremely friendly small  pooch; the woman was very attentive around the facilities, disturbingly so for a slightly reserved Englishman having a pee!

Maybe I should post-up the bus shelter on Trip Adviser as a 'thing to do' in Bruges and invent enough fictional tourists to review it so it becomes more popular than the Groeningemuseum as payback for the attendant's rudeness.... a satisfyingly puerile fantasy!

The new top tourist attraction in Bruges...

Look, see, it's been designed with forethought and care!

Finally back with Maisy and our exciting purchases, some chocolates (small box), one small lemon tart to share wrapped with panache and placed in its own box, and three garlics...boy do we know how to party.

Shopping, but hardly a spree....

Gill pronounces on her half of the lemon tart, "this is quite lemony."

Before we had tea we took a a short wander around the canals and 'Jachthaven' next to where we were staying. The canals are very much working waterways with big chunky barges trundling towards Zeebrugge carry mainly bulk materials. The waterways are used for the leisure purposes too, the marina was full, and some barges had been refurbished as floating hotels. Nearby an old red lightship had been converted into a restaurant.

The old lightship

Pigeons on parade

For some reason I was quite affected by the sight of the old lightship, it seemed an emblem of a past life when the sea was a more dangerous place, and fishermen and mariners had to rely on a sextant and a slide rule rather than radar and GPS. One can be thankful for technical progress but still admire the heroism of people who faced the elements with courage and earned their living where hardship and danger was an everyday fact. The lyrics of Ewan McColl's great song 'The Shoals of Herring' occurred to me. When I got home I looked for it on Youtube.

After we'd eaten we went back into the centre for a final stroll. Bruges is very atmospheric at twilight. The street lighting is low key and the sound of the open topped horse drawn carriages echoing on the cobbled streets evoke  some heartfelt version of the past which probably never existed outside of Mills and Boon or Georgette Heyer. There's no doubt that Bruges' tourist authorities have thought through with ingenuity the invention of the place as a centre for a 'romantic city break'. Appreciating the ingenuity does wholly undermine the sense of romance, but it does put into some perspective. Chatting to Gill about it afterwards, I think the proximity of the well designed motor-home aire to the city centre and the attractive streets and cafes would make Bruges a really good first or last stop-off on a longer trip.

The carriages can give you quite a turn if you go round a corner to find Dobbin heading towards you at speed.

Pretty squares and inviting cafes for an early evening drink.

Pedestrianisation and subdued lighting helps create Bruges' romantic atmosphere

Sadly I was on medical instruction not to sample the Frituur

The twilit Beguinage - Bruges at its photogenic best...you can find a score of identical shots on Panramio.

I stood in a row with two others sporting digital SLR's to take this. I liked the green tree, quite Tim Burton.

So, back on the tunnel tomorrow and off to Lea Valley Camping in north London. Variety being the spice of life, I'm anticipating a bit of edgy urban grit to countermand Bruges' schmaltzy nostalgic vibe.