Three Day Trips from Bruges

By the Sea. A short train trip took us to Blankenberge, a seaside town on the North Sea. The seafront could have been Atlantic City with multistory condos and hotels lining the beach.

At a small bistro on the beach, we were the only customers except for a man smoking continuously outside with the bear-sized St. Bernard (possibly a St. Bearnard?) which patiently waited for frites treats.

The menu featured 7 Croque versions. Croques have been on menus everywhere. I googled what made a Croque a Croque: crunchy bread for grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with bechamel sauce. Not sure whether restaurants do the bechamel sauce or that I can even tell. We ordered four different Croques, the most unusual being Jim’s Croque Bolognaise. He expected a Croque with bologna but got Croque covered with meat sauce you expect on pasta.

A stiff wind discouraged more than a short stroll on the wide beach, but Jim put his feet in the North Sea which was a major objective for the day. To escape the wind, we ducked behind the phalanx of condos and walked into the old town to the train station.

Our path took us past many interesting and beautiful buildings that spoke to Blankenberge of yesteryear in stark contrast with the modern condos. A sign posted outside a bar attracted our attention and laughter.

Another Brussels Disappointment. When Becky and I planned our European train trip 10 years ago, Brussels as a major stop. Brussels suffered a huge bombing two days before we were to arrive and turned into a traumatized city overnight. We moved forward on the train rout to Maastricht, a place we knew nothing about but was a lagniappe and a favorite memory of the trip.

Still harboring a wish for Brussels, I promoted a day trip to this center of politics and culture and the capital of the European Union. Our plan was to hop on a HOHO bus for a quick look around, then return to one or two of the main attractions. What could go wrong?

The starting spot for the Tootbus tour was shown as just outside the train station. Instead of the bus, we found a young man selling tickets who walked us three blocks to the parked bus. Perhaps this was an omen. With maps in hand, we boarded with high hopes.

The tour today was rerouted due to a huge Pride Parade gathering in central Brussels. The prerecorded narration proceeded on its regular route, while our bus moved through an alternative universe. We heard about things we were could not see and drove past things that we wanted to know about.

On the odd occasion that sight and sound coincided, the narration was heavily accented English with an intervening medley of music at the volume of a 747. Turning the volume down during music and up during talk was necessary and irritating in so many ways.

Trapped like sardines in a tin can with ear spitting music and English gibberish, a doom fell upon us. After an hour of this mix and mismatch tour, we abandoned all hope, disconnected from the sound, and rode along in silence.

Since we did not know where we were, we were reluctant to get off the bus and explore—fearing we would never see another bus. Finally ending of our “two-hour tour,” we were desperate for lunch and restrooms and found a coffee shop under a green awning with both.

The Pride Parade was just starting and scheduled for two hours. Colorful exuberance of dancing, singing, and flag waving filled the two blocks between us and the train station. An EMS worker, on duty for accidents and possible mayhem, directed us to a Metro station on our side of the parade that would take us underground to the train station.

We left sadder but no wiser about Brussels. From the train we could see a ginormous bicycle parking lot, possibly the most interesting sight for the day.

The plan was good, but the mission was a failure. I still believe there are wonderful and interesting things to see and do in Brussels. Alas!

Glorious Ghent.

The Robson Report. As our trip was coming to an end, Jim and I wanted to visit one more city in Belgium; Ghent is only a half-hour train ride from Bruges. Jim considered taking the slow bus to Ghent, but the brusque man at the bus stations, said “No bus, take train.” This was good advice because we needed the full day to see Ghent. The Ghent train station was 2 miles from the old city, but a tram took us within five minutes of our Rick Steves’ walking tour.

The heart of Ghent looks much like it did in 1500 with cobblestone streets, centuries-old architecture and picturesque canals. Made fabulously wealthy by the textile trade, medieval Ghent was a powerhouse, once one of the biggest cities in Europe.

Our first stop was the Church of St. Nicholas. The church’s exterior, built over a 300 year period, mirrors Ghent’s economic rise and fall. The blueish-gray limestone of its imposing tower was built in the 1300s, when Ghent was at its wealthiest. The midsection with less expensive yellow limestone, dates its construction to the 1400s as Ghent was declining. The final section of the exterior is made of red brick from the 1500s, after Ghent’s economy had collapsed. Competition from Brussels and England was coupled with Ghent’s unwillingness to adapt to the quick-changing economic times.

Heading to the next stop, we passed a large outdoor flower market with a band playing in an old-fashioned bandshell. We browsed the flower stalls while enjoying the music then on to St. Bavo’s Cathedral.

The main church of Ghent houses the greatest art treasure of the city—Van Eyck’s Adoration of the Mystic Lamb Altarpiece. Unfortunately, that part of the cathedral was roped off and inaccessible. Disappointed, we left the cathedral.

Almost immediately we were surprised and surrounded by hundreds of motorcyclists heading to Vrijdagmkt.

They were participating in the Distinguished Men’s Charity Ride, an annual event raising funds for prostate cancer. Instead of leathers, they were sharply dressed in suits and very fancy shoes—quite the entertaining sight.

We ate lunch at one of the many cafes ringing this market square where Jim and I fufilled our pledge to consume a Belgian waffle covered with chocolate. We finished our walk at the Castle of the Counts (Gravensteen).

Built in 1180, the rough stone structure was designed not to protect the people of Ghent, but to intimidate anyone seeking independence from the rule of Philip of Alsace. It certainly must have done that!

Ghent is a marvelous city rich in history and charm, and we were delighted to have visited. The tram took us back to the train station for our train ride home.

Return to Amsterdam

We had a leisurely morning with French press coffee and croissants from Carrefours. Jim was ready for the Clippity Clop and rushed out for a better photo of the 9:00 carriage parade.

Fillip agreed we could stay an extra hour and asked for the recycling which we placed outside the back door for him. The categories of recycling changed at each place we stayed. We were never quite sure what was recyclable, but we tried.

We were packed and ready for the Uber at 11:00. The Intercity train to Brussels was quick and uneventful. With enough time for lunch, Becky and I had sushi, and the Robsons ate wraps from Pret-a-Manger.

Keystone Cops Departure. When trains arrive at a station, they stand for a very limited time and are quickly whistled to resume their journey. Getting on and off trains requires quick action and cooperation toting baggage up train steps.

Under tutelage of Jim, Master of Mobile Transit, we learned to read the electronic board showing where cars on the train stop beside the platform. Having a clue about where to stand is an advantage.

On this day, a squadron of very young train reps in Eurostar vests (Can they hire 12-year olds?) insisted that we move from the spot designated by the electronic board for cars 11 and 12 to a place much further down the track. They repeatedly shouted and waved “all the way to the end of the track.” Today we were lemmings and did as told.

When the Eurostar pulled in, we were standing next beside Car 18 requiring a 6 furlong race back to cars 11 and 12 with luggage in tow. Now winded, flinging bags up the stairs, watching bags bounce back down, pitching back up—we engaged in turmoil reminiscent of the Keystone Cops. We barely made it before the whistle was blown, and we were underway to Amsterdam.

On to Amsterdam. Both Becky and I were in Car 11, and the Robsons were in Car 12 because we had traded seats. My Seat 11 was the first seat in Car 11 facing forward. Becky was in Seat 74 the last seat in the car facing back toward me. We could see each other and wave over the heads of 21 passengers between us. The conductor asked for Eurail pass and seat assignment which read “Betsy Robson.” She looked at me and said, “You don’t look like a Betsy.” I explained switching around. She smiled as I pointed to Becky in seat 74 who waved back.

I promptly fell asleep losing track of time and space. Waking with a start, I panicked thinking that we had arrived at Schiphol but it was Rotterdam.

Waiting for Ubermann. The taxi/arranged ride area at Schiphol was crowded with at least two hundred people waiting. Apparently the taxi gambit was jamming up the pick up lane and soliciting tired people at exorbitant prices such as 60 Euros for a 15 Euro ride. We turned down a couple of those. We observed a tour bus crash into a taxi parked incorrectly providing a little entertainment while the taxi driver, the bus driver, and the security people yelled at each other.

Both Jim and I tried calling Ubers but the requests were just spinning until Jim’s patience finally paid off. Our Uber finally arrived and delivered us to the nearby Hampton Inn where Becky and I had stayed on two previous trips to Amsterdam. Jim struck up a conversation with the driver and found out a lot about the cost of the taxi license. The driver shares the Mercedes van with another driver keeping the expensive vehicle in service about 20 hours; the other 4 hours are spent e-charging .

Early Morning Departure. Rather than venturing out for supper, we ate in the hotel cafe which was actually very good for heated prepared dinners. We turned in early. Next morning, we met at 6:30 for breakfast, got an Uber at 7:30, checked in by 8:00, went through security at 8:30, and were at our gate by 9:00–two hours early as requested.

Our flight was long and uneventful. Becky and I had an empty seat between us giving us some extra room. We could see Betsy and Jim one row back.

Arriving at Philadelphia in the new International Terminal A, we picked up bags and passed through the immigration line quickly with nothing to declare at customs. We rechecked our bags through TSA and opted for the shuttle service. The flight to AVL was in Terminal F, a 30 minute-plus walk as far away as you could get in the Airport.

David picked us up curbside at the AVL, and we were at the Robsons in 15 minutes and back to Flat Rock to end a long day of transit and 46 days of wonderful travel with great friends.

Great European Trainscapade 2025

Sorry for the delay finishing the travel blog. Writing two posts about Bruges competed with mail, bills, laundry, groceries, chores and repairs, meetings, many deferred doctor’s appointments, and recuperative sleep.

Planning the trip started at Thanksgiving 2024 when we set the itinerary with the Robsons and coordinated buying airline tickets. In January, Master of Movement Jim organized Eurail passes, tickets, and travel schedules. We split making the housing arrangements in five places after conferring and agreeing. Although each place had quirks, our choices were on the whole very good.

The Great European Trainscapade 2025 has been all we hoped for and even more than we envisioned.

Becky and I thank Jim and Betsy Robson for sharing this adventure. Since our first trip with them ten years ago to Australia and New Zealand, we have shared many travels in the US and five weeks in Great Britain.

Betsy and Jim are the best travel buddies ever and greet each day with an adventurous spirit even when we are all exhausted. They are constantly fun and funny, organized yet open to change and surprise, independent and cooperative, helpful, generous, and amazingly patient. Every day on the road is better because they are with us.

We also appreciate friends who travel with us electronically, and we hope you enjoy tales of wonderment and calamity. Reading your comments and reactions while on the road was great, and we would love to hear from you now at the end of the trip. Becky is preparing a photo essay of some of her best photos from the trip that we will add to the blog.