Bruges

“It doesn’t feel like you’ve left the country when you take the Eurostar anywhere,” M said to me when we arrived in Brussels. Belgium, on our way from Brussels to Bruges, is a wide expanse of farmland spotted with grazing cows and skipping sheep. My memories of Brussels, which I last visited while studying abroad in college, were dominated by the infamous Manneken-Pis, what tourism books tout as the country’s “national symbol.” The statue of a naked boy urinating, I like to think, is proof of the Flemish people’s sense of humor.

Bruges (UNESCO WH) strikes me more as a small, quaint town rather than a city like Brussels. It receives more tourists than Brussels, but its attraction is that it has carefully preserved its centuries-old architecture and, save a modern sculpture built by a Japanese architect in the Markt (main square) looks like a European village whose replica may be found in Disney’s Epcot Center.

We began our afternoon at the plaza outside the Concert Hall before heading south to the Begijnholf and making our way north again to the Markts. On our way we stopped by the Basilica of the Holy Blood whose pilars reminded me of Istanbul’s Basilica Sistern. Horse-drawn carriages race by on the cobblestone streets, and tourists line up for a boat ride in Bruges’ canals. Bruges is literally built on top of water. While the bridges and canals are picturesque, one lingering look onto the Lake of Love is enough to detect the water is stagnant. Pollution– cans and plastic cups– visibly float near the lake’s shores.