We’ve just returned for a short trip to Bruges, a city in Belgium I’ve always loved and visited in early spring. It is deservedly called the Venice of the North because of its delightful waterways and the integrity of its architecture. For me going there is always something of a pilgrimage to see the Saint Ursula Shrine at the Sint-Jan Hospitaalmuseum and the other marvels by Memling as well as the famous Beguinage House still in operation though now run by a tiny group of Benedictine nuns. Just inland from the North Sea, Bruges is often shrouded in mists and fogs which are particularly beautiful at night, though I have no photos for you to prove it, unfortunately. Each night we we spied a white swan floating all alone on the black water, cutting a path through the mist.
Near the Groeninge Museum with its excellent selection of Flemish Primitives. Note that primitive here means “innovative” coming from the Latin “primus” or first. This is because Van Ecke, Memling et compagnie eschewed egg yoke for linseed oil producing an oil paint that allowed them produce highly realistic works.
Waterfront homes…
A detail on a building. Notice the warm, earthy tones of the bricks. I had never been a big fan of bricks until I came to Bruges and saw how jewel-like they can be.
Without fail this Mother Superior greets us from an upstairs window right at the bridge crossing over to the Beguinage House.
The Beguines were an order of lay women, usually noble women from Northern Europe, who lived in a community of collective housing called a beguinage. They took care of women on the margins — widows, repentant whores, old maids etc — and were economically self-sufficient. Their community dates back to the 13th century when the men were off on the crusades murdering or being murdered for the glory of God knows what. These women were Catholic but did not take vows and hence were not nuns. They formed a thriving, autonomous community which the Catholic Church fathers grew wary of and eventually attempted to suppress. The proprietor of the hotel where we stayed explained that the City of Bruges which currently owns the Beguinage decided to commercialize it — perhaps they saw it as a shopping mall or food hall with Subway and Starbucks (Can someone tell me what the hell Subway is doing in Europe? Go home!!) — but the people of Bruges, rightly indignant, stood up and fought the city directors. The people won and the City was duly punished. The Beguinage will remain a beguinage and continue to pay its Medieval rent while City will have pay for all the maintenance and repairs, like a good and proper land lord. Well done, People of Bruges!!!
Apparently women can still request to do a retreat at the Beguinage and I plan to do just that. It would be the perfect place to hide away and write.
The Beguinage House with the daffodils just perking. You can mill around the grounds but must be silent. Women at prayer and good works.
My son wanted to go on a carriage ride through town, so we did that. I have the impression they do take excellent care of the horses just as they take care of their water quality (I’m referring to the clean canals) so that the swans remain healthy and happy. This dog spends his days in a carriage wrapped in a little coat. I have no idea what breed he is but we saw the exact same dog in one of the Flemish paintings dating back to the 15th century.
This is the courtyard of what they call almshouses or Godshuizen, built in the 17th century for the poor. Today they house the elderly I was told.
This is a superb shop for kitchen supplies and I wish we had it in Paris where there just aren’t any boutiques with affordable and great looking linens, dishes, and houseware. Down with Habitat, down with Monoprix! I want Dille and Kamille!
We always have lunch at this great bakery. The food is mostly organic, delicious and not expensive in a city where food prices are excessive. I recommend it.
And of course beer… More than 99 bottles of it here.
This is the reliquary of Saint Ursula believed to have been painted by Hans Memling. Of course the Legend of Saint Ursula is one of my favourites. Here is an abridged version:
Princess Ursula from Brittany is to be married to a British Pagan but insists that before they tie the knot he convert to the True Faith and visit the Pope. Before she sets off with her heathen husband-to-be she rounds up 11,000 virgins (perhaps to test his fidelity?) and gets them all in a boat. Off they row to Rome where they entreat the pope and a few of his cronies to join their posse. Pagan fiance converts, Ursula confesses and kisses papal ring. Back in the boat they make their way to Brittany but get detoured in Cologne for some reason where they are attacked by Huns and murdered all. This is called martyrdom.
Farewell, fair Bruges!