Wandering into culture

Such an interesting and varied day on Saturday last, in company with Michele, my neighbour on the floor above. I call her The Oracle as She Knows Everything, especially about life in Brugge and about Brugge!

The weather blessed us as we wandered through empty, quiet streets towards the Guido Gezelle Museum, itself a serious oasis of peace. I think it has relatively few visitors, [most tourists don't find it and don't, I suspect, even look for it or know that it is there.] But G.G is a nationally important literary figure in Belgium and is considered one of the most important poets in Dutch literature. Born in Brugge [1830] and living most of his life in West Flanders, he worked as a teacher and Roman Catholic priest in Roeselare for many years before returning to Brugge, to the house where he was born, close to the English Convent on Carmerstraat where he became its official priest. As well as producing a huge canon of poetry and other writing, he translated the poetry and prose of others, for instance, Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha [1886]

His house, with its huge and splendid garden, is now a modern museum devoted to his memory with numerous photographs of the great man and his family, and also artefacts, some furniture and beautiful engraved window glass. There is also a striking extension constructed within what seems to have been a long barn during his lifetime. This provides a beautiful space for external exhibitions, presently one called Passe Compose showing a small part of the extensive collection of the Gruuthuse Museum. Gezelle had strong connections with that museum; the town archivist, Felix D'Hoop, an English art historian, James Weale who spent most of his life in Brugge, and G.G. set up the Archaeological Society of Brugge in 1865 and in 1876 the city of Brugge bought the Gruuthuse, an early mediaeval building constructed at the start of the fifteenth century, to house the rapidly-expanding collection of the Archaeological Society.

Passe Compose [ there should be an accent on each final 'e'. It means, as we all know, Past Perfect, a beautiful title] shows a range of exhibits but my absolutely favourite exhibits were the small stone figures, some mediaeval, some as late as the nineteenth century, originally gracing churches or grand houses, and depicting, predictably in this town of Mary, the Virgin, saints and including one stunning statue of Tristan and Isolde.

The personification of the mediaeval legend of romantic love.

 Between Tristan, the Cornish knight and Iseult, [Isolde] the Irish princess.

We went for a coffee break which turned into a beer break at the Cafe Vlissinghe, nearby, currently celebrating its unbroken 500 years of commercial activity! We sat outside where there is now a stylish terrace, a covered seating area and the updated but ever-present, petanque alley. When Eric and I first discovered it, the outside area was somewhat rougher! The interior remains the same however; old Brugge writ large I think; dark, beamed, dark wooden tables, chandelier. Really cosy and atmospheric in winter and now alas often crowded with tourists who have read about it on Trip Advisor. I remember Eric's oft-repeated cry, 'Bring back elitism darling', which used to appal me but which always pops irresistibly to mind in the Vlissinghe. When Michele and I went, however, it was blessedly almost empty.

For lunch we decided to grace 't Terrastje opposite the Carmerbrug at the end of Genthof and tucked neatly into a sheltered corner. Ian, English, and Patricia, Dutch, own it and though they work very hard, often helped by Patricia's parents, they never seem to take it all too seriously and often swan off on some holiday or other, leaving the locals without a nearby terrace to sit on, should the rain ever stop.

After which, more culture in the Volkskundemuseum which advertised a little exhibition on the Vlissinghe's 500 years, as well as its usual panoply of everyday life over the last hundred and fifty years. It is fascinating; schoolroom, apoteek, domestic interiors, grocery shop, saddlery; the list goes on. The Vlissinghe exhibition was unexpectedly small and disappointing and the man on the door, incredibly grumpy and disinterested but the saving grace was De Zwarte Kat, the little bar at one end of the museum, run by a hugely cheerful volunteer and popular with the punters. Until April, Aristide, the resident black cat, was an important part of the experience but sadly, Aristide has disappeared, now presumed to be strolling the meadows of the Elysian Fields as he contemplates his erstwhile fame. Down below there were several posters in the area pleading for his return. Only later did I discover that Aristide did a runner when news broke that the Museum was to close in the face of economic stringency. So the rather disillusioned chap on the door must have been a perhaps unwilling volunteer!

As we began to stroll homewards, we decided on impulse to go to Sint Jeruzalemkerk and to my delight, Veronique, whom I know, was the volunteer on duty there [and she is the example, par excellence, of the committed, engaged volunteer] and she allowed us to climb the tower and enjoy the marvellous view. It is my favourite church in Brugge, built by Anselm Adornes, business man, diplomat, aristocrat, knight. The church, really a little family chapel  was inspired by the St Sepulchre Church in Jerusalem, and was consecrated in 1429. It is small and utterly special. There is a mansion adjoining the church and an interesting museum behind in low buildings which were originally twelve Godshuizen, almshouses; six now remain. It is amazing that the whole complex is still owned by the same family today, the present seventeenth generation being the Count and Countess Maximilien de Limburg Stirum.

In all, our Saturday spanned nine hours and satisfied, par excellence, the cultural appetite. I suppose if your interests are for football or perhaps famous people, then Brugge might be found wanting but for anyone with even a little interest in the life historical, it is fascinating and never fails to engage this visitor. I am, in fact, after seven months, nearly a real resident, nearly the possessor of the much-needed ID card; the commune promised two to three weeks and that was about two weeks ago. And, oh yes, on the subject of football, there was some important match last evening HERE between Man United and Brugge. Didn't even know that Bruges had a proper football team. I have just checked the local news on the Internet and see, approvingly, that Sir Bobby Charlton was here to support and is pictured drinking the local brew, Brugse Zot, with the Burgemeester, in the Markt yesterday. Less approvingly, I read that three Man United fans beat up a Bruggeling, a young inhabitant of Brugge. Oh dear.