Brugge Blogge day 3 and last

My last full day in Brugge saw the worst weather of the entire trip. the temperature was actually a bit higher than on days one and two, but the rain was no longer light, and it was steady. Still, I was determined to see a few things I'd did not want to miss, only one of which was indoors. 

The Church of Our Lady

The indoors must-see was also the closest to the hotel, so out I trudged to the Church of Our Lady. The spire of this church is the tallest in the city, and if you can believe Wikipedia, the second tallest tower made from bricks in the world. Along with the very different-looking spire of San Salvator and the gigantic tower of Belfort is a very good navigation guide for travelers with a less than sure sense of direction, as it can be seen easily from many different directions. Indeed I'd been spotting this spire throughout my stay in Brugge, and now welcomed the chance to see the inside. And the three-Euro fee (reduced for over-65s, which I now am) was more than worth it, as the Church of Our Lady is a treasure trove. Beautiful sculptures, often from wood, paintings by Flemish masters but also one by Carravaggio, lovely little side chapels two of which were set aside for prayer. 

Michelangelo's
Madonna and Child

But most beautiful of all is one of the only works by Michelangelo to be seen outside of Italy and the only one to have left Italy during the artist's lifetime, a superb Madonna and Child completed shortly after Michelangelo had completed his Pietà. Unlike the Pietà, which was placed behind bullet-proof glass after it was attacked with a hammer by a mentally unbalanced man in 1972, this Madonna and Child sits in full view, the centerpiece of a side altar. The area is roped off for safety, but to be able to get within ten feet of this masterpiece is thrilling, or me at least. 

Madonna and Child up close

I am a theatre historian, not an art historian, but I remember an art history expert discussing madonna and child paintings and sculptures. He noted that neither of the faces are usually depicted as being happy, but rather that both are already staring directly ahead in time to the crucifixion. Certainly that seems true of this sculpture, particularly in the face of Mary, who is shown gazing into the distance in a somber, almost mournful manner. However one interprets the theme of madonna and child, seeing this one was for me at the same time beautiful and disturbing, and I can't help but think that that's what Michelangelo was working toward. It is probably now my favorite, or perhaps second favorite, religious sculpture in any church I've been in. There is no question that the Pietà is an absolute stunner, but two things -- the bulletproof glass and also the crowds constantly surrounding it, make it difficult to get close to, figuratively as well as literally. Whereas on this cold, rainy Friday morning in Brugge, I was one of the only people in the church, and had the sculpture very much to myself for as long as I wanted a look. Lucky!

Minnewater

Then I plunged back into the elements in search of the area called Minnewater and next to it Begijnhof. After misjudging the distance twice and thus walking much fatther than I needed to, I finally found what I was looking for. 

Minnewater

Minnewater is a widening in the canal, with swans sailing up and down it, lovely houses on its banks. Of course it would show better in spring, but it was still a lovely, quiet area, one of the more idyllic places in at town filled with them. I will admit that by this point I was quite wet, the lower portion of my pants soaked, and one of my shoes as well -- why one and not the other? Good question! They don't make them like they used to! Trying to take a photo with my umbrella up was proving a challenge, but still I did not give up. 

A bridge over Minnewater takes one into the fascinating private area called Begijnhof, in English Beguinage. 

Begijnhof

This unique spot, even more tranquil than its surroundings, was founded in the thirteenth century. Apparently in the Medieval era beguinages sprung up in several parts of Europe. There were several in Belgium alone. They were places populated by women, some widows and spinsters with little or no money, some from wealthy and noble families who wanted to live a life out of the ordinary, a contemplative, religious life, but not as formal and strict a life as nuns in recognized orders. In fact there was some distrust of these beguinages by the Church, but they were protected in Belgium, thus the large number in that country.


I had satisfied all but one of my touring desires, and the last I decided to leave for another visit. In the northeast of the city there are four windmills left from more than 20. While at least one is able to be visited, it is not open in January, but I wanted to have a look. However, I was in the south of the city, and soaked, so I opted for a cozy cafe instead. I returned to Petit Maxim's. I had broken my promise of a small breakfast by gorging myself, and so I was determined to have a bowl of soup only -- until I saw the special. It started with soup, but also included an omelette, and was topped off with chocolate mousse. I accompanied the first two courses with another Leffe, and savored the mousse, which in addition to the usual smooth texture of a mousse, featured small chunks of delicious Belgian chocolate!


Then I returned to the hotel and worked on blogs and photos and whatnot until it was time for supper. Did I eat lightly? Mais non! 

I had been eyeing a place called Mozarthujs each of the two days before, but made different selections. I wanted a piece of fish, and Mozarthujs is situated very close to the Vismarkt, so I went for a dinner of cod and baked potatoes, washed down with a glass of chardonnay. The wine was ok, but the fish was very fresh indeed. But this was my very last meal in Brugge and I had not yet sampled a Belgian waffle in Belgium. So! I had one with ridiculously fresh strawberries and really fine vanilla ice cream. The perfect culinary end to an almost perfect visit to this lovely city. The weather had not cooperated, but just about everything else in Brugge definitely had.

Belgian waffle, anyone?

One note before I toss this post out into the blogosphere. The taxi driver who took me to the train station on Saturday morning was one of the friendliest I've ever encountered. He was chatty, inquisitive, very solicitous. This is not usually the case with drivers of taxis, in fact I'm used in New York for example to sullen silence, or more often to cabbies who speak no English. I did have one fun ride in Manhattan with a Russian driver, who got a kick out of my attempts to speak the few words I remember. But other than my driver in Brugge I've had a few similar experiences in Edinburgh, and one recently in Bratislava, and that's about all. This man may have been the very best of the lot. At the station I thanked him for the ride and the good chat, and he responded, "Thank you for riding in my taxi!"  Lovely!