The Urban Trail and Other Pursuits


A whole week ago, off I jauntily set for one of my favourite weekly activities, coffee with the 'girls' in Hotel Martin's in Oude Burg. I had only really stepped outside before I tripped, really heavily, over a protruding cobblestone, in fact, over a little cluster of raised stones, in the square. I am not sure why, [the ageing slow reactions I suppose] but I managed for the full impact of a swift descent, to land on my chin. I won't go into details of the wonderful kindness of strangers [and I always thought that that was a cliche] nor the six hour longeur of the day in hospital. It is enough to say that my jaw is broken in two places; the stitches in the chin and the now week-old technicolour bruising to my neck, are as nought. The wretched kaak, as the Dutch call it, now demands an entirely liquid diet and no talking, no chewing, no laughing or yawning. In fact, a closed mouth as much as is humanly possible. So I rebuff offers to visit, which I would love; I ignore the phone and GSM; I have temporarily stopped swimming but make myself go out for a walk each day. The almost-worst thing is my loss of confidence outside the flat; I thought I was super-careful; Brugge's cobblestones and pavements are notoriously uneven and the object of much muttering among the inhabitants. My neighbour, the pharmacist, did a similar plunge a year ago and finished up with a broken leg in a wheelchair; I did a tumble in January and landed on my thickly-gloved hands with only minimal damage plus loss of dignity! But this time the after-effects are of positively post-battle proportions and I suppose could have been worse. But not that much. 

 Other lovely grandchildren sent consolatory emails
but 5 year old Genevieve was moved to Serious Art.

However, a new life skill has now been developed. Daughter in California sent me an immediate delivery of a Nutribullet; son came over with bags of nuts and honey and chai seeds to teach me how to do stuff. Et voila! I'm into this super-healthy smoothie-making like a young Metropolitan! It is all very chic and easy and instant though I secretly long for the gorgeous bread from Sint Paulus on Vlamingstraat and a hot chicken from Wednesday's markt. Only five more weeks to go; first check-up in the hospital yesterday revealed that the position of the jaw had not changed. Hallelujah! The important aim is to keep it static and thus avoid a nasty operation. I am hoping to be able to eat a Christmas dinner; SO important as its reassuring re-appearance brings one annual sign that Life Goes On Anyway.



 Happy 'Trailers' queue for breakfast in the Grote Markt.

During my son's stay, immediately following my lapse, [and when, paradoxically, I felt more interested in, and energetic for, doing things] we wandered off to watch some of the fourth Urban Trail taking place throughout the centre. Below my windows streamed what seemed to be a non-stop cavalcade of runners aiming for the ambulance entrance of the Zwarte Zusters, the hospital next-door to me. There were yellow-suited marshals and Genthof was temporarily sealed off with plastic tape. Much excited I quickly read bits of an item in Exit and discovered that 5,000 runners were taking part in Brugge alone and that it was part of a national effort.

 Sightseeing as well as jogging; 5000 people take a serious
look at the architecture of Brugge.

It offers joggers a unique 10 kilometre trail through inner Brugge in which they not only run through the streets and back alleys but also jog into and through buildings including some of the most beautiful and monumental. For the hundreds of spectators, the spectacle was inspiring with all age ranges, including families, jogging along with names and numbers on chests and mostly smiles on faces. Brugge Grote Markt was seriously busy with crowded tables at cafes to see the weary arrivals queue for breakfast parcels and afterwards chat proudly to other participants. A run of ten kilometres starting at 9.30 and on a Sunday, is no mean feat. Nor is the frequent threading in and out of old buildings entirely restful, even though interesting!

 Hans Memling looks down on the fateful
cobblestones while I frequently gaze down on
him and his lovely 19th century legs.
[Hendrik Pickery. 1871]

Life as a tributary



My life is a tributary, serene and chiefly separate  from the whirling of the greater river nearby, swirling along with the never-ending traffic and events driven by myriad influences and urgencies. Occasionally, as now, comes a Brexit tumult which threatens to swamp me, but I cling on grimly and wait for the optimistic calming of the choppy seas. Backwater financial calm hasn't yet arrived but I am learning to manage it and in the meantime, to keep enjoying my privileged life here in Brugge. This edition of my blog is late because it has been waiting for a week or more for images to be added but I am about to remedy that.


 Caldarium Musica

To finish the last week, I went to another concert, a free one this time [which suits my post-Brexit frugality] in the Munt, in de Orgelzaal of the Conservatorium. Een Podium voor de Passie  [A Stage for Passion] is the general title of these concerts on the first Saturday of September, October, November, January, February and March. Organised by Alexander Makay and Patrick Pieters they offer a wide variety of music. Last Saturday, we heard Caldarium Musica with viol, piano, flute, piccolo and clarinet, playing a marvellous selection from Arvo Part, [Spiegel im Spiegel], Claude Debussy's Sonata for viol and flute; Mozart's trio for piano, clarinet, and viol; Beethoven's Sonata for Piano No. 14 and Sjostakovitsj's Waltz for piccolo, clarinet and piano, plus the Adagio from his Sonata for viol and piano. A richly satisfying evening with the proceeds from the retiring collection going to Plan Belgie, a marvellous charity which does important work with children in Africa. I happen to be a contributor to Plan UK and send letters to Sandra, a fourteen year old in Zimbabwe. Plan does much excellent work in Africa and in Asia 

 The back entrance, across a little terrace, of
the Oud Huis Amsterdam across the square from me.

 

My usual week has sped past yet again; too much time trying to introduce myself to Dutch in pursuit of which, I have been to two Praatgroups where I stumble through the proceedings. Plus Anna Maria and her grammar and Bart Moyaert readings on Monday mornings. I do have several high spots in the week; my coffee with friends in a group of English-speaking women, in Hotel Martin's, where this Wednesday I saw my totally favourite Belgian waiter Martin, who speaks English with an Irish accent, learned working in an Irish Pub here. He says that everyone comments on his accent but the Irish claim not to recognise it! Another high spot is my Thursday evening group which meets to drink coffee, tea and beer and chat in English. Belgians all, indeed Bruggelingen all, their English is super and their company, delightful. They don't need my input really but I am grateful to meet up regularly with a lovely group of friends.



 Not an image of modern Bejing nor a realistic interpretation
of our weekly female sessions but it does suggest
the historical background of Mah Jong. And our
enjoyment is suggested and mirrored here.

  Fast becoming a bit of an obsession is Mah Jong on a Thursday morning where four or five of us meet up with Nancy, a Chinese girl, who adores Mah Jong and manages to teach us without any apparent condescension for our stuttering efforts. She is, in fact, charming but strict, which paradoxically, adds to the fun, but it will be aeons before we reach the speed of the frequent little groups of scruffy men playing Mah Jong with a rapid intensity, in the gutters of streets in Beijing. I admired them when I watched them; now I know how difficult it all is, the retrospective admiration is boundless!

 Geert Bourgeois

This Thursday, I sped off at lunch time to a talk in ENGLISH at the College of Europe not far from here. Geert Bourgeois, Minister-President of the Flanders Government and Flemish Foreign Minister spoke to the title: 'I Want My E.U. Back'. He referred to the existential crisis in the EU and said that structural reform was necessary. The Union however could not proceed at the pace of the slowest and he underlined the way the EU complements national identities which are so important though nationalism could be destructive. He mentioned the wish of the EU to be sympathetic to possible requests to join, from small countries which might break away from a larger mass, like Scotland and Catalonia. Though in a question from the floor about Macedonia possibly joining, M. Bourgeois said that overall, the EU wished to allow no more new entrants at present but would rather concentrate on deepening the relationships, implying attempts would be made to reorganise some structures and procedures. Clearly the UK Brexit had been unexpected and disagree able and he hoped that a soft Brexit would be possible. The deadlock in the refugee crisis must be resolved according to the principles of the Founding Fathers of Humanism, Human Rights and Solidarity, though he suggested no concrete remedies for resolving the impasse with Hungary and others apart from acknowledging the need for a humane return policy. M. Bourgeois summed up his view of the EU by emphasising that it is a global actor with a leading role in the search for conflict prevention. It inspires; it respects diversity; it unites and protects. He mentioned that a European Defence Force is a goal and I smiled inwardly as I remembered the horror with which that idea has been greeted in the UK. As political speeches go, I found this one impressive, delivered faultlessly in what is probably Meneer Bourgeois's third language! It was so pleasant to listen to an hour of a positive attitude to Europe compared to the relentless rubbishing in Britain. I asked a question and introduced myself as a post-Brexit refugee and afterwards a lovely girl student came up to me and said she was another such. We had a good chat and, at her suggestion, a coffee a few days later. She was so Keen on Europe it made my heart sing!! 
 

 DO hope that this is not Politically Incorrect!

As I have walked around the centre this weekend, I have noticed with pleasure that there are still many tourists visiting. Instead of last year's irritation at the slowness of gait, the barriers to ordinary walking as groups stop and gaze, or stop and point, this Autumn I am grateful that tourist numbers have increased again in August and September, following the disastrous emptiness after the Brussels airport explosions. However I think I detect very few Japanese and American tourists still; those twin pillars of tourism in Europe. From their distant perspective, one imagines Brussels seems too close to Brugge for insouciance.