Other Bruges Topics

FRIES
Everybody knows that Belgians are the originators of the French fry. Okay, maybe not everybody, but when you go to Bruges, they make damned sure that you know it by the time you leave. Our first meal in Bruges was at one of two the fry shops in front of the Belfry tower. According to our Use-it map, there has been an on-going “Who’s got the better fry competition” going on between the two shops since the late 1800s. When you face the front of the Belfry, we dined at the fry stand on the left hand side. We tried a sauce called “Americain.” Honestly, no offense Belgium, but I wasn’t that impressed with these fries—or the sauce.

On our first full day, we enjoyed Holland Fries, on our trip to Sluis. These fries were nothing to write home about (blogging about it is okay though). This time we tried something called “Joppiesauce,” which I believe is a sweet onion/mustard sauce. We enjoyed the sauce better, but still weren’t terribly impressed with the fries.

The next day we tried the fry stand on the right hand side. We both agreed that although the right-hand side shop lacked the variety of sauces the lefthand side had, the right hand side fries were better. But still not incredible or anything. I can think of probably 5-10 places in Minneapolis establishments where I enjoy the fries more. We had tartar sauce. Good stuff.

Our final fry experience (thank god), was at a snack shop in Bruges. We actually agreed that these were probably the best fries we had in Belgium, but once again---not that amazing. We had the Joppiesauce here too—not as good as the Holland Joppiesauce.

UG--enough with the fries. But I couldn’t resist checking out the Fries Museum, which was not far from our hostel. For 5 euro, I got a comprehensive understanding of the origins of the potato, and the origins of the fry. I also got a coupon for some fries at the end, which I opted not to try. But I feel like I can really count myself as a connoisseur of fries after our Belgium trip.

SNACK SHOPS
Fries weren’t the only thing we ate in Belgium. We also had a lot of other “fast food” from various food stands. Most notably—the “Bicky burger.” I’m holding back vomit as I type this by the way. When we visited our first fry stand in Belgium, Jacob and I also ordered Bicky burgers. It sounded good in theory. Burger, cheese, fried onions, and a special bicky sauce. Those ingredients sound pretty good right? Dear God, the burger patty was so rubbery and nasty, and the bicky sauce was so gooey, it still makes me sick thinking about it.

While Jacob generally had the same reaction—that didn’t stop him from having not just one, but TWO more Bicky burgers while we were in Bruges. It had to be better somewhere else right? Remember—the ingredients sounded good. Bicky Burger in Sluis, was a slight improvement, but still pretty gross. Bicky #3 was at a snack shop. It looked to be of a higher quality than the last two, but it was too late for that. We had been Bickied out long before that.

A little on the snack-shop culture in general: Bruges was filled with cheap fast food shops, which seemed quite popular with both tourists and locals. They were kind of funny places though. Each stand or shop had a little deli counter with a glass case displaying all the various frozen items they’d happily fry up for you. It was completely bizarre—gross yellow lighting illuminated frozen chicken patties, burger patties, several kinds of brats, kebabs, and other meat based products.



Why on earth do they do that? Is it to make it seem like things are fresh? Is it so you better understand what you’re ordering? It was a widespread phenomenon there and very funny. I simultaneously hated it and loved it.

BEER

Oh the beer! And so affordable. So odd to be ordering glasses of Orval for 2 euro, or Karmeleit tripel’s for 2.50. We tried out many different kinds and couldn’t get over how cheap it was. Our hostel had happy hour from 9-10pm, where they offered a lager by Maes for 1 Euro! Crazy right? One night we were sitting in the hostel’s bar area, and at 9:55, Jacob looked down at his watch and said, “I’ve got to get me another one of those free beers.” I erupted with laughter—“Jacob, they’re not free!!” But at the same time I totally understood his sentiment. 1 euro? Come on! It’s an ongoing joke now.

HOLY BLOOD CHAPEL
While I was learning about the origin of the potato, Jacob headed down to Holy Blood Chapel. Weird name, right? Well not for a church that actually contains a VILE of CHRIST’S BLOOD. Or so they say at least. Apparently it’s a relic from the Crusades. They keep the vile behind some glass usually, but every so often they bring it out in a larger vile so that people can actually touch it! Jacob just so happened to be there during one of these venerations, and so he got to touch Christ’s blood! Jacob described it as “dried, scabby, crusty, and dark maroon.” That makes sense I suppose.

OUR HOSTEL
We stayed at a place called the Snuffel backpacker’s hostel (why do hostels always have such strange names?). For a hostel, we thought it was a pretty good spot. Great bar, with great American indie-music, a place where locals actually chill from time to time, and reasonably clean facilities. And a really intense spiral staircase which we had to climb to get to our room.

Quite often when we were wandering around Bruges, we found ourselves coming back to Snuffel because of the reasonable drink prices, and the general good vibe. Met a few people there too. Our first sets of roommates were from England, and the guy was a big American football fan. Of course, he was a fan of the Packers!! Jeeez. The next guys were from Spain. As much as I kind of hate hostels, it’s fun to meet people from all over the world and listen to where other people are traveling. We dug it.

THE CITY OF BRUGES

We really liked Bruges. It was a breath of fresh air after Paris—both in terms of the general environment (fewer people, laid back pace, a smaller, more navigable city) and in terms of the price. When we arrived at our hostel, we were blown away to be able to purchase such high-quality beers at such reasonable prices. While the city of the Bruges is very touristy, Jacob and I both felt that city still had the feel of a working city. Perhaps not as much as Strasbourg, but the locals are out and about in the city center, going to work, school, and just hanging out enjoying their local brews. It’s a gorgeous city with plenty to do and plenty to see, and I’m really glad we made it part of our trip!!

Biking in Belgium

Our first full day in Bruges, we awoke to clouds and some light rain. We had planned to rent bikes, but now we weren’t sure. We hemmed and hawed over breakfast. “Maybe it will be nicer tomorrow.” “But what if it’s worse?” We decided that although it was cloudy, the weather was still sufficient for a bike ride. For 6 Euro we rented bikes from our hostel. The man at the reception table gave us a good route which took us to Holland, the North Sea, and back. Off we went!

Biking on cobblestones is harder that it looks. Europeans make it seem so easy. It’s quite uncomfortable, but if you can get over the constant jostling, the scenery is quite nice. Soon enough we were on pavement and really cruising. Before leaving the center of Bruges, we stopped to check out some windmills.

A little info on the bike paths in Belgium: Imagine standard farm fields with dirt roads connecting them. Now pave them. This made up about 30% of the paths we took on our ride. Now add some canals as main thoroughfares, a few country roads with bike lanes, small gravel paths, and narrow off-road paths connecting everything. Each stretch of path/road had a number marking it. All we had to do was follow the signs for each next stretch of path, which were generally well marked. It was a very smart system and it made our bike trip very easy to navigate.

The beginning of the trip started with a long stretch of bike path next to a long tree-lined canal. Occasionally, we’d pass a small town, or a lone house. Parts of it felt suburban—but you know, in a European suburban kind of way. Soon enough it felt like we were in the middle of nowhere—farm fields as far as the eye could see. Eventually, our route took us on gravel roads that snaked between marshland and cornfields, fields of uprooted onions, wildflowers, lush green grass, amazing Seuss-like trees, countless cows, stunning horses, baah-ing goats and sheep, and geese bathing themselves in backyards. It was wonderful. It was a cool, crisp Sunday, which made us think of fall Sundays in Minnesota—opening up the windows and letting the cool air float in, curling up and watching the Vikings (lose) and drinking a cider or beer, or both. But never mind that—we are in Belgium! Onward we biked.

Eventually we biked into a Sluis, Holland and had a nice cheap lunch on a patio. Sluis is a small town with quite a lot of tourists. Crowded streets, filled patios, paddleboat rides--Sluis had it going on!

Eventually, we hopped on our bikes and headed to the North Sea. After a couple of hours, we reached the Knokke-Heist area. From what we could tell, it is a wealthy beach town with country clubs, golf courses, and a lot of HUGE (and seemingly) empty mansions. As we got closer to the beach, the buildings got taller and denser. Much like the U.S., the shore was lined with beach condos, but these buildings still had their own unique Belgian flare.

It was insanely windy on the beach, so we didn’t stick around for long. We walked down to the water to stick our hands in the North Sea, pick up a few shells, and admire the view which included many wind turbines installed beyond the shoreline.

We were already pretty tired by the time we headed back to Bruges. I was nervous that the ride back would be a shilthorn like experience—grueling and never ending. The further we got from the coast, the less windy it became, and the more pleasant the biking. Within an hour or so, we were biking back into Bruges city center ready for a beer!

We're not in Paris anymore

Bruges is a little over two hours and one train transfer from Paris. Aside from a frantic, confusing, 9-minute transfer in the Brussels train station, the ride went smoothly.

We emerged from the Bruges train station immediately noticing the fresher air. People were walking at a more casual pace - strolling, if you will. No sight of pidgins, but plenty of ducks and swans. We're not in Paris anymore.

When we were staring at the map trying to find the intersection our hostel was located at, a local approached me and said something in Flemish. Since I can't understand Flemish, I'll tell you what my stupid American ears heard: "Ooka dooka?"

Given our first interaction in our previous city - a tween beggar who pleaded for money like he would to his parents - I was a little wary about what "ooka dooka" meant. I must have given this local a look of supreme confusion and a bit of trepidation. She then said, "Help? Do you need help?" It's a blessing and a curse being, for the most part, a uni-lingual American. Most people can speak some English in Europe - many people as good or better than Americans - which makes travel for us easy. But it makes me feel a bit sheepish and stupid when the norm, in some countries, is to speak the better part of four languages. Yes, for this dense American, English please.

Our hostel, Snuffel Backpacker Hostel, was also a bar with the cheapest selection of good beer we've seen, ever. Duvel, Westmalle, Orval, other local varieties - all under 3 Euro. We each enjoyed a brew, then headed out to see the Markt.

There's really no other way to put it: Bruges will charm your socks off. The city center, which was made a World Heritage Site in 2000, is fairy tale-esque. One of our hostel mates described it as "like a movie set," complete with horse and carriage. (Yeah, touristy, but, lest we forget, we are tourists.)

At the hostel, we were given these maps for "young travelers" made by an organization called Use-It Europe. They have them for several cities in Europe, and they're stellar. A great mix of economical things to do, see, eat, and drink as a tourist that you won't get anywhere else. We based many of our daily activities on these suggestions - one of which was visiting a brew pub called De Garre, where for 6 Euro you can get two pours of their can't-find-it-anywhere-else-in-the-world tripel, and a small dish of cheese as an accompaniment. In the spirit of Bruges' inherent quaintness, this old,small, barely two-story pub offers a delicious brew and coziness to boot - a great way to kick off our time in the Venice of the North.

In the next post, we cycle.

Luxembourg Gardens Picnic

Our second day in Paris took us to Sacre Couer in the morning, and to Luxembourg Gardens for our picnic in the afternoon. In between those two spots, we stopped by a Montmarte boulangerie to pick up a baguette (.90) and some cheese (2 euro). We also brought a couple apples which we had purchased the night before during our hour long quest to find our hotel.

We jumped onto the metro and were at the gardens in a flash. We found a spot with a good view and set up shop.

For lunch-- bread, cheese, and apples. Sometimes all at the same time!

With views of the Eiffel tower in the distance, we chatted about our thoughts on Paris, while another couple picnicked cosily on blanket nearby.

The pigeons in the park must have known our picnic was ending because they started to close in on us. We packed up and headed to Notre Dame.

It was quite a lovely experience--- and delicious!

Paris: Not really like that one movie

Remember that one movie set in Paris? No, not that one. No, not that one either. Not that one. Nope. Nope. Nope. Yes! That’s the one! The one with that Meg Ryany girl. Maybe Meg Ryan, who knows. I’ve never been to Paris, so I was expecting a lot of Meg Ryan-type romantic walking and funny arguing. Hate to spoil the ending, but it’s not really like that.

We were thrust out of Gare de l’Est into the crowded streets of Paris among business people, loiterers, and beggars, many of them smoking. A young pre-teen immediately approached us. “Do you speak English?” We wanted our first interaction in Paris to go well, so we replied with an enthusiastic “Yes!” Trip to Paris Hint 1: Never say yes to that question. He then showed us a poorly written note about being from Bosnia or something, and asked us for money. When we said no, he more or less forced himself on us, hands together, pleading, “Please, please, please.” That went on for longer than seemed appropriate, but when it was clear we weren’t budging, he calmly walked away. Welcome to Paris.

With our bags on our backs, and front sides, we tried to make sense of the labyrinthine streets as we made our way to our hotel. With a name like “Perfect Hotel,” it better be at least striving for perfect. We were pleased to see it was indeed as close as it could come for the price. Our room was on the second floor, which, as you may know, would be the third floor in the U.S., with a balcony overlooking the street.

We unpacked, changed, and headed out for a stroll along the Avenue des Champs-Élysées to see the Arc de Triomphe and then the Eiffel Tower. Something I never heard about Paris was how crowded and bustling it was. It’s hard to “stroll” most places in Paris, as there are people everywhere, and the sidewalks, in some areas, are about two feet wide. Also infringing on any enjoyable stroll we had in mind was the almost constant smell of exhaust, sewers, cigarette smoke, or general filth. Think New York, only planned out hundreds of years before.

There are green spaces, like the large park next to the Eiffel Tower, or the beautiful gardens of the Luxembourg Palace, where pristine lawns and beautiful flowers decorate the landscape. It’s beautiful to look at -- from your bench in the dirty sand. Most lawns in these spaces are off limits to pedestrians, so the public is relegated to paths of sand and dirt, where pidgins scavenge for food crumbs.

I don’t mean to paint a completely negative picture of Paris. There were indeed some lovely parts of it. For example, everyone is generally better dressed and more attractive than in most places; Parisians are for the most part very friendly and cordial people; the bakeries are delicious and cheap, as is the wine; the sights and landmarks – Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Sacré-Coeur, etc. – are alone reason enough to go to Paris. But when planning our trip, we heard that three nights is simply not enough time to enjoy Paris. After three nights, we were glad to see it, but ready to leave.

Because restaurants and bars as expensive as they are, we ended up doing take out all three nights: a delicious gorgonzola pizza for two nights, and a Thai green curry chicken for the other. Some cheap wine, a balcony (not unlike the one we had in Mpls), and, okay, some cigarettes (when in Paris…) made for relaxing Montmarte evenings.

With a European must-see out of the way, we were headed out to a vacation from our vacation: the anti-Paris – beer, parks (ahem, real parks), bike-able streets, and a friendliness unrivaled by any place on our journey yet. Bruges, here we come.

Strasbourg Picnic: Lunch at a Doner place

As the name of our blog suggests, we plan to do a lot of picnicking on this trip. But we have a very broad definition of picnic. A picnic, to me, is fun, casual, cheap, simple, and delicious. And sometimes the cheaper thing to do is to eat street food or carry food out to a picturesque spot. It doesn’t always have to be bread a cheese (though people who know me, know I’m quite fond of that combination). That being said, I present to you, our 3rd picnic.

Lunchtime in Strasbourg around the cathedral the streets fill with ravenous (okay not ravenous, I added that for dramatic effect) tweens and teens who are on their school lunch break. It becomes easy to see where all the best places are because there is a line forming in the street to get in. As we made our way toward the cathedral, we noticed lots of people with doners. We both thought, “Dang, that looks good, maybe we ought to check that out after all the kiddies go back to school and after we tour the cathedral.” So that’s what we did!

The doner place, located on Rue de Saint Etienne had emptied by the time we arrived, giving us plenty of space to peruse the menu. 5.50 Euros for giant doner with fries and a drink? Yes please! Plenty of food for two. And it was delicious.

The tables in front of the place seemed scenic enough for us. More adorable Strasbourg. It was a delicious meal and a great deal, and we dined like Strasbourg’s youth—on the street.

mmmmm.

(by Karina)