Bruge

Bruge is the Venise of Belgium minus the pigeons. Like its Italian counterpart, it boasts narrow cobblestoned streets, water canals, vaporetto-style boats, a plaza surrounded by overpriced restaurants and hords of tourists.

Having no qualms about actually being a tourist in Bruge, we did all of the tourist things Bruge had to offer. We oohed and aahed in front of the Belfort, the Staduis and the Burg. We whispered explanations to (cynical) Edouard's questions during the religious service at the Basilica of the Holy Blood*. We queued for the guided canal boat tour. We ate with relish at a pub on the plaza (spaghetti for the kids, Flemish meat stew for me, a salad(!) and beer for Hubby).

We did not buy any lace. It was sales weekend (braderie) in Bruge.

*HEILIG-BLOEDBASILIEK takes its name from the relic of Christ's blood, a couple of drops stored in a phial, brought over after the Crusades.