Procastination

It's easy to have
the world showing you something

But it's hard to show
Something original back

All the great writers & thinkers
Why didn't they buckle
Before the wisdom
That had already been written down
Before they were even born

And went to the pub?

Maybe you need to get
Old enough to get a glimpse of death
on the horizon.

And maybe this is why Bukowski
Published his first book when he was 51
And did not stop writing until the end.

In Bruges

Dotted along the coastline of Northern France, Belgium and Holland lie many old merchant towns, cities that came to fame and success in the cloth- and wool-trade in the 14^th ande 15^th century. Cities like Calais, Antwerps, Middleburg and Zierikzee. But the mother of all these towns most be Bruges in Northern Flanders. Somehow all marauders and forces of nature in the last five hundred years have bypassed the city. French soldiers of fortune in the 30 years war, Dutch troops during the Belgian Revolutin in 1830, invading Germans in the first and Allied Bomberstreams in the second World War and finally the big flood of 1953 – none of these did not lay one building in Bruges to ruins. And left the city almost preserved in time, like a glimpse of a time and age long gone, carved into stone walls and wooden panels. So it's no wonder that millions of tourists visit the city each year, either on a day-trip from nearby Brussels or for a longer stay in the many Hotels and Bed and Breakfasts of Bruges.

As a German expat living in Ireland, my first encounter with this city was Martin McDonagh's brilliant movie “In Bruges” with Colin Farrell. In the past I had only passed through Belgium and Flanders when driving to the Dutch beaches with my parents in summer, using the tiny country as one big transit-lane. So I felt it was my duty to pay respect to this old city; and went there on a 3-day trip to see with what character in the movie I would side: either with the elder gangster Ken who thinks that Bruges is “rather pretty”, or with newcomer Ray, who is under the impression that Bruges is “a shithole”.

The first impressions of Bruges made my utter the lines of gangsterboss Harry from said film: “it's a fucking fairytale”. Accomodated in a nice B&B made out of a converted stable from the 17^th century, situated directly next to a pretty little canal near the town centre I was in a perfect situation to take it all in: the impressive belfort from the 13^th century, the restored hospital dating back to the 12^th century (now a museum housing some masterpieces of flemish painters) and of course the Groeningen Museum which has works from Hieronymus Bosch, Hans Memling and Rene Magritte on display.

As my stay was from Monday to Wednesday, I did not encounter as many tourists as I had expected, so I could sample most local specialities undisturbed: the incredible Belgian beer (worth a whole story, or even a whole book on itself), the delicious chips (or “Frites”) drowned in an assortment of sauces and of course I tried some of the exquisit Belgian chocolates.

Staying overnight has it's advantages. Bruges at dusk has an eerie atmosphere of it's own. Over days and in the sunshine, sharing the city with people from all over the world one might think that all the pretty buildings were errected by Flemish pixies just to please the eye of the visitor. But take a walk at sunset – the streets are almost deserted, day-trippers have gone and the other tourists and townsfolk are having their dinners. Linger around the statues representing the four riders of the apocalypse in the Arentshof, and you may remember that Bruges once was famous for the “Bruugse Metten”, the “Mass of Bruges”: in 1302 the people of this neat town rose in revolt and killed all Frenchmen (and other foreigners) who could not pronounce the Flemish phrase: “schild en vriend” (“shield and friend”). About 4000 people perished, which did not prevent the Belgians from setting up a statue for the leaders of the revolt. It's all pretty in Bruges, but there's a dangerous and violent past still lurking around some corners.

The town is so pretty, I felt almost intimidated when I had the urge to visit the toilet and no pub or cafe was in reach – I had actually enjoyed one beer too many in the famous but tiny “Halve Maan” (or “Half Moon”) brewery which still produces three different types of beer locally. But thankfully the city of Bruges has installed some urinals made of stainless steel at some strategic key positions throughout the city centre, so even the most active wassailer does not have to soil the medieval building structures while testing Belgian beers.

Besides the fact that Bruges is a perfect location to visit for a couple of days or a weekend, I wondered what it's like to be to grow up there. No graffiti, no tags, and hardly any “alternative” scene was to be found. There are some funky bars around a place called the “Eiermarkt” next to the great place with the belfry, but on weekdays there is not much “funkyness” to be had. There are also some music and film festivals going on all year round, but it's still a medium-sized provincial town with 100,000 inhabitants and an impressive past. And a real “scene” must be elsewhere.

My personal resume is this: there are two reasons why you should visit Bruges. Either you'd like to spend a nice romantic weekend aways with your spouse (hell, they even have horse-drawn carriages going round town) or you like beer and history. Bruges is perfect for both – but be warned. If you are looking to raise hell while drowning Belgian beers with 9 % Alcohol and listening to 2ManyDJ's, you should stay in Brussels.

But at all and large, Bruges is not a shithole.

Es ist März...

..und die Iren haben das Grillen angefangen. Vielleicht wird der Sommer doch gut.