Monday, 10 April, Ghent: Bruges and old haunts
Written 20 June 2023
We've been to Ghent and Bruges before (without Viking), once in 1983, for the week-long 5th triennial International Meiofauna Congress (VIMCO), and once in 2010, for the week-long 14th triennial International Meiofauna Congress (FourtIMCO). The first of those visits was long before my on-line diary days (almost before the internet), but you can read all about the second in my 2010 Vacation Diary. Each of them included a day-long visit to Bruges.
Three excursion options were offered for the day (a) Flanders fields with half-day visit to Bruges, (b) half-day tour of Bruges followed by afternoon at leisure in Ghent, and (c) half-day tour of Bruges followed by afternoon at leisure in Bruges. David Rachel and I all signed up for option (b), hoping to revisit the wonders of Bruges, then to visit old haunts in Ghent, including the huge, newly restored, Adoration of the Mystic Lamb altarpiece. We had already visited Flanders fields thoroughly on the 2010 trip.
We arrived in Ghent about 8 am, and shortly thereafter set off on our day's excursion. According to our guide, Volvo has a big presence here in the port of Ghent, employing 6000. He named another company, whose name I didn't catch, that also also employs about 6000. And the port itself employs about 8000.
The night before, we found that the steward had left my tour tickets in David's stateroom and his in mine, so we swapped. We didn't notice until boarding time this morning that they had put me on the A bus with Rachel but left David on the F bus for the leisurely tour (where he wound up wondering where the heck we were).
On the drive to Bruges, the guide pointed out features like this slab-sided structure, which is the teaching hospital of the University of Ghent. It enjoys a very good reputation, especially for complex surgeries; it has a staff of 6000 and buildings throughout the city (which I hope are more attractive than this one).
The lettering on the old water tower at the right reads "O.C. Sint-Jozef, Broeders van Liefde." The Broeders van Liefde (literally, "Brothers of Love") are a Catholic religious order. They may or may not be the same as the Brothers of Charity; I found it hard to tell from descriptions I found on line.
Things we learned frm the guide on our way to Bruges:
Buses aren't allowed in the central section of Bruges, so we were dropped off at a special bus shelter on the outskirts (where we were able to reunite with David and short things out with the guides so that we could all be in the same group). The bus shelter had large tourism-oriented public restrooms, for which we all had our coins ready.
From there we were ferried into town in chauffeured vans. In the town, our drop-off, pick-up, and rendez-vous point was the couryard of the city's belfry. The left-hand photo is of the building's bronze model, showing its long, narrow courtyard and the bottom of the tower over its front door. We were dropped off at the back door to it (the end without the tower), walked inside, and waited in the courtyard for other van-loads to arrive and assmemble around our guide.
The right-hand photo shows the bell tower (from the "back" side, i.e., from inside the courtyard). Like many others we've seen, it was built in successive stages, as money was available, so the bottom layer is romanesque and the top gothic. It was, the guide emphasized, never a church tower. It was built by the city to make clear that it was equal in power and privilege to the church. Its carillon has 47 bells. In the middle ages there were a few bells with specific funcions: a fire bell, a city gate closing bell. It included a treasury and an archive for the city, and the cloth halls, where textiles were traded, were in the inner court, where we assembled. You can climb the tower, but there's no lift.
We left the courtyard by the front door, under the tower, and emerged into the main town square. It is more or less square, and it's bounded by the town belfry, the city hall (left-hand photo), a row of guild halls, and a row of private houses (e.g., the house of the snail, the flowers, the cat, the herring). Those houses were prestigious and expensive when they were built by prosperous traders, and the prices have not gone down. The guide told us you'd pay 140,000 euros each for these little green wooden kiosks that sell fries in the square. The ground floors of most of the buildings are now restaurants with tables out front in the square.
In one corner of Burg Square is the Basilica of the Holy Blot (right-hand photo). At least that's what the guide said. It turns out to house a cloth bearing three drops of Christ's blood, so "blot" is plausible, but he probably just mispronounced "blood." I think the guide said that they are brought out or veneration from 12 to 4 each day.
The square has a monumental statue in the center, and two quarter-circle areas of seating and bicycle parking, but we couldn't see much of that because a traveling carnival was set up in the middle.
We did see this bronze fellow, sitting on a bench with his bronze cone of fries, just sitting there being Belgian, I guess.
Nearby was another shop window showing the set-up for making bobbin lace. The pattern is the beige rectangle in the center (flanked by several finished bookmarks). Rows of pins outline the finished section of the one in progress, and the positive forest of pins marks the zone still being worked. You may not be able to see that the beign rectangle is cardboard with a pattern of pin-holes in it. Those holes guide the lacemaker in the placement of additional pins as the piece progresses. At suitable junctures, pins are removed from the far side of the forest and placed in the right holes along the near side.
The little wooden fingers forming an arc around the near side of the round surface are bobbins, each wound with a reservoir of thread and each connected by that thread to the forest of pins. The lacemaker has also used a few pins to separate the bobbins into groups. The four at the right-hand side presumably form the tightly woven border down that side of the bookmark, the next group of six the openwork between the border and the central motifs, etc. The lacemaker weaves the pattern by reversing the positions of the right bobbins at the right times and moving pins to hold the result in place until enough has been woven that it can't unravel. Mindboggling. And I've seen them do it, back in 1983—they flip those little bobbins at breakneck speed, barely looking what they're doing!
Apparently, back in the times when these things were popular, jousts were held in this main square. Also public executions.
We didn't get to go inside, but the guide held up photos of the interior of the town hall, which is still used for, e.g., weddings. The small coats of arms on the façadeare all the little cities that Bruges ruled over, and the statues are saints, kings, nobles, and dukes.
The right-hand photo shows the Palace of Justice, with Justice on top and, on the lower pinnacle to the left of her, Moses and his tablets. It was restored 25 years ago.
Here's Rachel standing beside its door, which is topped by a prominent gablestone showing the arms of Bruges. It's a little later than the middle ages; the date 1531 is visible above the entrance to the passage.
The arms include a lion and a brown bear. The standing bear is in there because the duke first coming to Bruges was attacked by a large bear; his troops fled, but the duke himself speared it to a large tree.
Many of the buildings we saw don't actually date from the 15th century. A lot of them were rebuilt in the 19th century in gothic revival. And if I'm a little vague and confusing about what was on what square, it's because I'm a little vague and confused about the route our tour took. Sorry 'bout that.
But the city is lovely, and I thoroughly enjoyed all the wonderful little details we spotted, in addition to the grand old monumental architecture. One interesting, if not quaint, detail was watching this guy with a forklift remove several huge containers from a little wooded park we passed. (They must have been part of a market or festival, now over.) In extracting this one, he managed to break a very large branch completely off one of the park's larger trees. Bet he hears about that one from the city's forester.
I loved this little metal downspout in the shape of a dragon emptying into one of the canals.
Here's one of the landings for the little red and white boats that, for 12 euros each will take you on a 30-minute tour of the city's picturesque canals. That's another thing we did in 1983, at a warmer time of year, when all the floweres were in bloom and the weeping willows brushed our hats as we floated under them.
At the right here is the 19th century neoclassical fish market. Art and antiques were being sold there when we walked by.
At the end of the formal tour, the guide made sure we knew where to meet the shuttle van back to the Viking buses, pointed out the spire of the Church of Our Lady in the distance (easily recognizable because it's made of brick all the way to the tippy top), and turned us loose for some free time.
Since a major attraction for us was the Michaelangel madonna in the Church of Our Lady, we headed that way. At the left here is a particularly nice view of an intersection of canals, complete with large (but leafless) weeping willow.
At the right, the whimsical QR code of the town belfry.
Along our way, we passed an elegant hotel, with its Deux Chevaux shuttle vehicle parked out front, and a liquor store with a famous "beer wall," feature hundreds of different beers (including a special row named for the seven deadly sins). In the window it advertised a single-malt whisky called "Wild Weasel."
It's delivery vehicle, also parked outside, was this scooter entirely wall-papered with images of beer bottles. Rachel posed on it for a photo to send to her son Daniel, an avid beer afficianado.
A few doors away, we passed the "Museum of Torture," but we didn't take time to go in. There's one in Ghent, too, in the old duke's castle. We toured that in 1983.
A guy peddled by us with his two kids, on a bicycle built for three!
Finally, we came to the church, paid our admission, and there she was, the little statue of the madonna that featured so largely in the film The Monuments Men. She was also stolen during the French revolution but recovered then as well.
In the left-hand photo, that's her in the center, just above the altar, flanked by vases of flowers. This is not the main altar of the church, but one off to the side. That's as close as they will let you get to her.
So I fired up my trusty telephoto and got the shot shown here at the right. She really is gorgeous. Rachel thought she looked aloof. I thought she looked serene but sad because she forsaw all that lay before her son. I'll say it again: travellers, carry binoculars!
Nearby were a plaster model of her and one of the wall she's displayed on, to help the blind visualize her form and placement.
To one side (just visible at the lower left in the left-hand photo above) was this elaborate reliquary. It's the Zonnen Monstrance ganamt de Katte van Beversluys by Laurent Jan Beaucourt. I didn't note what was in it, but probably some relic of Mary.
The church also had an elaborately carved pulpit whose roof was held up by cheerful dancing angels. I tried over and over to get a good photo of it, but without much luck. You can't really make out the angels very well.
The church also housed the tombs of Charles le Téméraire and his daughter (I think) Mary of Burgundy. Charles features in several of my other travel diaries, especially those having to do with Belgium, northern France, and Burgundy.
On the way back to our pick-up point, Rachel shopped for chocolate. At the left here, an array of truffles and other shapes in flavors like "praliné classique, pecan rice crispy, hazelnut, peanut, crispy grains, red fruit, macadamia," and many combinations and variations (mostly labeled in English). The red fruit ones are in the shape of black skulls, and the hazelnut in the shape of little ducks, in white, milk, and dark chocolate.
At the right, left to right, marble-colored ducks, plump white stegasauruses, upright bunnies, and green-and-white asparagus spears!
Finally, in the right-hand photo here, the lower shelf is full of nut-coated chocolates, but note rows of truffles the upper shelf, each stuck with a little disposable plastic syringe full of liquid to be injected by the consumer. The flavors include "cherry, mojito, redbull vodka, and whisky cola. Yikes!
We found our way back to the rendez-vous and were vanned back to the buses and bussed back to Ghent. On the way, the guide told us that Ghent is in the premier league for soccer, that they are the best (ranking or personal opinion I wonder?), and the play in a huge modern stadium, the Gelamco Arena, which I managed to get a photo of as we zoomed by. When Ghent plays Bruges, the guide said, it's called the Battle of Flanders.
Along our route, I also spotted clever compact highway exchanges, each consisting of al elevated rotary with an underpass under it—ideal for the intersection of a major road with a smaller one. People going straight through on the major road don't even have to slow down; they zoom straight ahead under the rotary. If they want to turn onto the smaller road or reverse direction, they pull off on a ramp to the right, drive around the rotary to their desired exit, and either continue on smaller road, in either direction, or go all the way around and back down going the other direction. Those approaching on the smaller road who want to continue straight have to slow down enough to drive halfway around the rotary before continuing, or they can take the appropriate exit from it to get down to the major road, in either direction. The major advantages of this system are (a) it takes up way less space than a traditional American cloverleaf, and (b) if you exit by accident, you can as easily get back on your original route as on any other.
As usual, we got back to Ghent, and the ship, just in time for lunch, which had been scheduled a little late to accommodate our schedule. The small-print appetizers were a little scoop of potato salad with crossed chives and a quarter bagel thinly spread with cream cheese and topped with some of yesterdays' hacked salmon, red onion, a thin slice of lime, and a dill sprig.
The regular appetizer was French onion soup, made with very rich, dark beef broth. Good. I'd already eaten the croutons, but there was a little cheese left in the bottom of the bowl.
David chose the fettucine Alfredo, which he declared excellent. I passed up the fish and chips and the Alpine salad to have the sandwich of roast beef and herbed cream cheese on a crusty baguette with lettuce, tomatoes, and sprouts.
The sandwich was good, but they weren't kidding about the crusty baguette. I had to be very careful not to tear up my gums and the roof of my mouth biting into it.
David jumped at the chance to order blueberry tart (he loves blueberries), which was a thin layer of berries on a thin custard base. Narrow streak of raspberry coulis on the side.
I chose the "black forest ice cream," which was, as usual, not black forest ice cream but a black forest sundae— chocolate ice cream with marinated sweet black cherries and whipped cream.
No guided tour of Ghent was offered, but the ship would be there until 9:45 pm, so Viking offered shuttle bus service into the center of town for those who wanted to sight-see on their own, and Rachel and I took advantage.
Here, the guide is orienting us, making sure we knew how to get back to the pick-up point, and giving directions to those who had specific goals. Behind him, neatly framed by the nearer bildings, is the Ghent city belfry (same function as the Bruges city belfry), one of the three medieval towers of Ghent. The other two are St. Nicholas's church and St. Bavo's (or in Flemish Sint Baafs) cathedral, the latter two practically next door to each other.
I had planned to walk around Ghent a little, visiting old haunts from meiofauna days, but for certain to visit the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb altarpiece in St. Bavo's. But it was raining and cold, so we decided just to start with the one thing we definitely wanted to see, then consult the weather. As it turned out, we spent all our time at St. Bavo's, and besides, it never stopped raining.
Following the guide's directions, we followed the street behind him to the belfry, then turned left, where the cathedral loomed unmistakable. (Going back, he said, keep the belfry in view directly behind you and watch for the huge, brown, hulk of St. Jacob's church, right next to the bus stop.)
In the vast square before the cathedral was the striking structure in the right-hand photo, the city pavilion, a "large stand-alone canopy," intended to encourage revitilization of the city's squares. There's a café under there, and a city bike-rental and repair shop.
Here's the cathedral façade—the other two towers are out of the shot, to the right. I got a photo of all three, though, for the 2010 diary.
And at the right is a Rubens that was just on the way to the place where the altarpiece was displayed. It's the conversion of St. Bavo and was originally commissioned as the high altarpiece for the cathedral. It's still there, but no longer over the altar.
Written 22 June 2023
I wish I'd found a label for this lovely marble group. It seems to be an earthly person, maybe a churchman, looking up toward Mary and Jesus seated on a cloud held up by little cherubs.
But here, at the right is the famous altarpiece, the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb. We saw it in 1983, a little dingy, but properly assembled, and in those days, you could walk right up to it and look closely. Even uncleaned, it was stunning. You can see from this photo how large it is, yet the tiny flowers in the lawn at the lower edge, some painted with brushes of a single hair, were all identifiable to species.
At the top center, representing the heavenly redemption, is Jesus, flanked by the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist. Flanking those are angels playing music, in turn flanked by Adam and Eve.
In the center below Jesus, four columns of people, representing saints, sinners, clergy, and soldiers, move toward the Lamb of God (some of the figures are identifiable as real people, like historic figures of the church). The dove of Holy Spirit hovers overhead.
When we went back in 2010, we were disappointed to find that the whole thing was in pieces, being cleaned and restored. You could look through glass panels into the rooms where it was being worked on, and a few of the panels were displayed alone, but it was definitely not the same. Now, as you can see, the whole thing has been reassembled and is displayed inside a huge glass case, so you can't get as closed any more, but I had my trusty binoculars with me, so I could still study the detail from a conveniently placed bench.
You should really Google it up and look at better photos, study each panel in turn. It's amazing.
The four outer panels on each side can be closed inward like doors to cover the central section—I think the doors were opened only during mass, or maybe even only on religious holidays. The new glass case is designed so that you can walk around the sides to view the paintings on the outsides of the doors.
Here, left and right, are the outsides of the two lower panels on the two sides. The colorful figures are the donors of the altarpiece, Joost Vijdt and his wife Lysbette Borluut. The gray figures next to them are John the Baptist and John the Evandelist, who stand side by side when the lower doors are closed. The two upper panels on each side, which I didn't get good photos of, form the scene of the annunciation when closed; their very top edges show prophets and sibyls. The upper and lower doors could be opened and closed independently.
The altarpiece is the work of bothers Hubert and Jan van Eyck. Hubert was relatively obscure, whereas Jan became world famous, but Jan always claimed Hubert was the better artist.) Hubert started it ca. 1422, but he died in 1426, and Jan finished it alone, in 1432. Hubert was probably responsible for the overall design, but art historians haven't been able to sort out what parts were drawn or painted by whom. They agree though, that the piece represents a major advancement in Western art.
Over the centuries, it has been stolen, broken up, looted in war, scattered, hidden, reassembled, etc.—amazing that it's as intact as it is (although parts of the outer frame, bearing inscriptions have been lost). One stolen panel (the Just Judges, with the white horse in the lower left corner below Adam) has never been found and is replaced by a replica. I think we learned, on one of our previous trips, that they think they knew who took it but that he has died without revealing its hiding place.
While we were there, Rachel fell into conversation with a volunteer docent who knew everything there was to know, and they talked for most of an hour about points of history, art, and even theology. Afterward, she pronounced herself much reassured about some issue to do with the holy trinity and its artistic representation.
The rain continued, and we'd used up most of our time, so we just hiked back to the rendez-voux point across from St. Jacob's and took the shuttle back to the ship.
The evening's soup was tom kha gai, Thai chicken soup with coconut milk, lemongrass, and straw mushrooms. Very good.
For the main course, we both chose the rare grilled duck breast with butternut squash, mushrooms, and teriyaki sauce. Also very good.
I also tried the stuffed baked portobello mushroom with ratatouille, peppers, and polenta. Not such a much.
For dessert, I ordered the regional-speciality caramel nut cake with malt ice cream, which I'd liked very much on the previous cruise. The little cake is crispy and chewy and altogether yummy. On the first cruise, the ice cream had tasted mostly of malt, but the chef warned us that this time, it would taste mostly like beer. It did, but it was still good.
The evening's entertainment was a string ensemble, but I skipped it.
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