A tail wind whisked me along the pancake – flat landscape into Bruges yesterday. Ralph Fiennes description of the city is bang on. Swans swan, windmills mill and bells… chime.
The famous belfry in the Markt actually has a 9 tonne brass drum rigged to the clock acting like the world’s largest music box operating the 47 bells every quarter hour. While I was up there “It’s a Long Way From Triperary” boomed out above me. Sterling.
Even better is the Belgian beer. Anything less than 8% is a rarity so it is hard to get much done here. It does help facilitate animated conversations with locals and other travellers though. Many people travelling through here on loaded bikes. They are friendlier than the stern, lean old men dressed in full lycra that dominate the cycling scene outside the city.
I am in the hostel bar now eating a Belgian speciality – a spread flavoured the little biscuits you are served on the saucer next to your coffee – and drinking an exceptional Belgian pils… for one euro. It doesn’t get much better than this.