Belgium - A Travel Blog Post for TopCashBack
In December 2010 my girlfriend and I left a very cold and snowy England for Belgium as part of a coach trip arranged by her place of work. Both fans of the white stuff (snow, that is, not the ‘other’ white stuff), we were thrilled to see that it had also made the journey to the continent. However, our joy was short-lived as it became evident from the increasingly loud and frantic phone calls we could overhear the coach driver making that our lovely 3-star hotel in Oostende was not expecting us and in fact we had nowhere to sleep that night.
Fortunately, 30 minutes and several further loud and frantic phone calls later, we were checked-in to a nearby hotel (‘hotel’ may be stretching it a little – there was a hotter bath to be had by rolling around in the snow outside, but at least we had a bed for the night) and relaxing with a stiff drink in our room. Dinner had been hastily arranged at another hotel, which the 30 or so of us walked to in convoy, shivering and slipping all the way. We were served a strange, watery soup and my ‘vegetarian’ main course was, I'm quite sure, actually chicken – which for the uninitiated amongst you is very non-vegetarian indeed. Still, the beer and wine were good and, despite our rather underwhelming first impressions of Belgium we were excited to be there and had another two full days to look forward to.
We woke the next morning to a veritable blanket of white. More snow had fallen overnight and large flakes continued to swirl outside our window. Our itinerary for the day involved a tour of the Somme battlefields just over the border in France Several of the party, either put off by the inclement weather or just preferring to do a spot of shopping instead, opted out. I pity them still, for it was to be an unforgettable experience which profoundly affected every single one of those who braved the cold that day.
Our guide was an elderly English gentleman who had lived in France for over twenty years and was an expert on the battle of the Somme. He first took us to some existing trenches and outlined in detail the horror of trench warfare. The hunger, the sleep deprivation and the biting cold (something we could all easily imagine right then) was often more unpleasant than the prospect of being killed by enemy fire. Faced with similar conditions to the ones we were battling (while wrapped in our warm 21st century clothing), soldiers of the Somme had minimal protection from the cold; several Scottish regiments wore kilts all the year round!
Our guide then took us to visit the magnificent Thiepval Memorial, which is the largest British battle memorial in the world, commemorating those soldiers who were lost in the Somme and whose bodies were never found. By now we were in blizzard conditions and visibility had diminished to a few metres. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this only added to the ethereal sensation of being stood in the place where so many young lives were snuffed out. The mood on the coach on the way back to the hotel was sombre; the experience had been both chilling (in every sense of the word) and enlightening – we all knew far more about the most famous conflict of WWI than we had a few hours; having been to the actual location made it more tangible and brought history crashing into our present.
The following day saw a mini-thaw; most of the lying snow had disappeared so we headed into Bruges for some Christmas shopping. Brugesis a delightfully pretty city full of architectural beauty and historic interest. The crisp day on which we visited served only to accentuate the aesthetic qualities of the canals, the bridges and the winding streets; the city centre is a World Heritage Site of UNESCO and rightly so, future generations will need places like this. The Christmas markets were in full swing; we purchased mulled wine and rum-infused hot chocolate and perused the seemingly endless array of stalls and displays. I defy anyone to spend more than five minutes in the swell of joyous goodwill that pervades the streets of Bruges at that time of year and not be filled with deep festive cheer.
However, there is much to see away from the markets too. A must-do for the fitter tourist is a walk to the top of the medieval belfry tower. The views from the top are unsurpassable and well worth the 366 steps you’ll have climbed to get there! After such exertion, you will be forgiven for seeking liquid refreshment; luckily Bruges has many picturesque bars and cafes serving everything from local beers to fine filter coffees.
Talking of beer, our final night on Belgian soil saw a few of us head to the famous Café Botteltje in Oostende, which has some 343 different varieties on offer. The beer list is roughly as thick as the first volume of War and Peace and makes for equally compelling reading – the choice is simply mind boggling; there is something there for everyone, whether or not you are a fan of all things ale. Even my girlfriend, who certainly isn’t a beer drinker, found a delicate cherry beer with which to wet her whistle and which she now seeks out in any well-stocked bar or off-licence. The food is particularly good at Café Botteltje too; they even offer a three-course meal paired with appropriate beers for the really dedicated hopheads. And thus, suitably fed and watered, we headed back to our rather ramshackle lodgings for the final time, reflecting that we had actually grown quite fond of them in a masochistic kind of way.
So, despite our initial misgivings,Belgium delivered a rather wondrous three days. I will never forget the tragic beauty of the Somme in the snow, and Bruges at the height of winter is something to behold in itself, before even factoring in the magical childlike charm of the Christmas markets. My only advice, should you decide to visit Belgium yourself, is to make your own hotel reservations…
