Time is an odd thing when travelling. You watch the clock continuously to calculate and determine the time to leave to the airport and either you end up waiting a really long time airport or are rushed and you have the stress of “am I going to make it”.

Then you are on the plane and the whole concept of what day and time is it disappears for awhile, it is replaced with how many more minutes or hours until we get there.

Then, you arrive and the day and time fall back into question and you calculate what time do I need to go to bed to get over jet lag the fastest.

We took the subway and then the Up express to get to the airport. This has become our preference since the traffic is more parking than driving.

We got on at Broadview to a relatively busy subway my rolly case and back pack pushing through the crowd with their legs languishing in the eisle. A young man stood up to offer me a seat. Hum, that’s nice.

I sit and and observe the crowd, loving them in a weird way because of their strangeness and variedness. I think I need to get out more, the subway was so familiar before and crowd so ignorable, and now they have become a fascination.

We get off at DundasWest gather and push our things to the platform, up the stairs and roll along Bloor street to get up to the train platform.

Up is a great ride and a zoom to the airport.

We get off at Pearson Terminal One and take another jet train to Terminal 3. The jet train didn’t have too many people, but another young person gave up his seat. Now, I am wondering how old do I look? Am I a grandmother in their eyes. Is it my sophisticated pyjama look? Or my ankle socks.

I think I don’t question and enjoy the comfort of a seat.

We took the 10:58 train from Brugge to Brussels. I adverted a near disaster by realizing pretty soon after exiting the cab that I had forgotten my purse in the back. Whew, ran back to the taxi that hadn’t left yet with my stomach in my throat.

Close call

We made it back to Brussels with my crescendo plan to go to the Musical Instruments Museum. This museum houses some of the most amazing instruments and you can hear them play as you look at them.

12 minute walk from our hotel…down the hill close to Coudenberg Palace. I wanted to waste no time, so we checked into our room, dropped the luggage and John checked the directions. WHAT? They can’t be closed! We have to see for ourselves, off we go, and yes, closed again! Starting yesterday until the 17th of October.

So disappointing but not as disappointing as losing my purse would have been, so it kinda works out.

Lunch, then shopping and back to the hotel to put our feet up before supper.

We gleefully left the captivity of the boat for Brugge. John said he doubted anyone was surprised that we were the first to leave.

The people we met and spent time with on the boat were really lovely. Carol and Mark from Cambridge and Meg and Terry, and Maureen and Tom, and Judy and Jim. However, we were happy to escape the regiment of the group

We went early to walk around Brugge after dropping our luggage at the hotel. We got there just before the day-tourists arrived. We wandered the streets saying how beautiful and how many tiny wonderful houses there were. We actually walked a bit in circles ending up several times at the Burger Tower ( Burgers are a group of elites within the community that run the place)

Went to a lace museum and took a city tour. Then the afternoon was spent napping in the hotel and watching bad UK game shows, then time to eat out!

Perfect day really .

John found these in the grocery store. Yum

Dinner tonight was at Brugges Pigeon House.

Six minute walk from the hotel, a quiet corner. Specializing in local farmed food cooked in a wood oven. Again, a delicious meal.

We had pigeon pate, croquettes, lamb shank and rabbit, apple tart – mostly baked apples with a bit of filo pastry and chocolate tarts. ( I forgot to take photos, so the shots below are merely representative)

Lace making was, at one time, a very important industry in Brugges. It utilized the impoverished and orphans to make the very intricate designs. Then the Industrial Age came and the intricate work was replaced mostly by machines.

Here in Brugges the tradition continues (lace making, not the exploitation of the poor). So interesting to know that there are two types of lace making , bobbin lace making and needle lace making. For bobbin, there are patterns and with the use of pins the thread is braided to create the design. Needle is more like crochet and making loops.

We had planned on going to Brugge when we were last in Brussels, didn’t make it. And now we have arrived to one of the most picturesque towns in Europe..

Declared the capital of the Flanders district in 1100’s. It is a strategic position close to the water, making trading their commodity originally. Now, no doubt tourism is the thing.

They were also well known for their cloth production.

Brugge was occupied but not destroyed by the German’s in 1940 until 1944 when the city was liberated by Canadians – 12th Manitoba Dragoons.

The Flemish Architecture and Gothic style is well preserved and An Unesco town. They also get major bonus points with us by having movable chairs in their park. So civilized.

We will explore tomorrow when we are better rested.

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We got together for our last supper on the boat.

Seafood appetizer with some weird shrimp thing, yummy smoked fish and some deep fried shrimp, decorated with pea shoot.

Beef broth with pea shoot

Beef with potato and vegetables and a tomato based sauce and a pea shoot

Yummy mousse cake for dessert.

John followed me the whole way protecting me as I biked. Keeping me on the right when a car was coming, telling me when I needed to stop and tolerating my sudden stops, telling me “low gear is my friend”

Don and Sharon biked with us as well, they were also there protecting me and giving me encouragement. First day, Sharon said to me, “keep your eyes looking forward, don’t look down in front close by” I changed this a bit to: “look at Sharon’s Head” whenever I bike, she will be with me, because whoever is in front I will think, “look at Sharon’s head”

Don was our sweeper. He rode mostly with John at the back making sure everyone was well and checking on me when I missed a turn and landed in the dirt of a corn field. Whew, uninjured.

Poor John, he has a no falling rule for the family, so glad he is here with me when I tumbled. Nothing broken…just a scrape.