You can’t forget about belguim

Tucked between the Netherlands and France, Belgium is a charming country where Germanic tongues meet the sweet sound of romance. Belgium is linguistically divided in half: the Dutch/Flemish-speaking north and the French-speaking south. The capital of Belgium, Brussels, is also the capital of the European Union, the headquarters of NATO, and the unofficial international business capital of Europe.

From Antwerpen, I traveled west to Brugge (sounds like luge)–a remarkably preserved medieval stronghold dating back to the 11th century. Brugge became the largest cloth market in northern Europe by the 14th century (Belgium is known for its tapestry) and the city’s population reached 35,000, as large as London at the time. In the 15th century, Brugge saw peaceful and prosperous times while its neighbors, England and France, were fencing their way through a century of war. Unfortunately for Brugge, a economic collapse soon followed in the 16th century.

Today Brugge is a quaint historical hot spot. The city, which feels more like a town, is surrounded by the former moat (now used for canal tours) and all of it’s main attractions are within the center, a rough square mile. The bell tower has looked over the market square since the 1300s and the view from the top is well worth the 266 steps to get there. The Groeninge Museum has the most complete collection of primitive Flemish art (“primitive” means before the Renaissance) and a lazy stroll around the corner to the Church of Our Lady offers one of the rare Michelangelo sculptures outside of Italy, Madonna and Child.

Okay, now for the good stuff. A trip to Belgium wouldn’t be complete without sampling the local lager and of course the famed Belgium chocolate. After my day visits around town, I found myself in a small, hole-for-a-bar, talking and drinking with neighborhood pub rats. Evidently, the Belgians take serious pride in their country much like their beer because before I knew it, my new found friends had pushed a broad selection of Belgium’s finest, each explaining the Belgian way of life in broken English. I left smiling. The 9.5% beir–more like wine, soon had me wondering through 500 year old streets stopping at random pubs, asking each to show me their best of Belgium.

My late night escapade quickly dissolved into a mid-morning dash out of the hotel. With a bottle of water in one hand and a box of chocolate in the other, not even Forest Gump would have rushed back to the train station– I walked gingerly, appreciating the narrow streets along the way.