Brugge

We drove on, reluctantly leaving France, to Brugge, a town we had visited in 1979, but of which we had no memories, save our hosts. We found our campground, Klein Strand in Jabbeke, a few miles outside Brugge, and next morning, despite considerable confusion, bused in to the old city. Our goals were to see some of the great art and the city and its mostly 17th century architecture. We are in Flemland now, as some call it, Belgium, a place of exceptional interest and beauty. And great beers. And lace and chocolate and waffles. And, above all, great frites.

No sooner than we walk to the bus stop in
Jabbeke where we camped than up pops
another bread vending machine; this time
imaginatively called a "MannaMatic"

Photo selection is so difficult; we'll skip
Brugge's forgettable cathedral in order to
show this sleek, stainless-steel public
pissoir, very nearly affixed to the cathedral
wall; of course I did

Street scene

Ditto

Interesting iron-work

Apse of cathedral; or some other apse

On the main drag en route to the bell tower
and main square

About a quarter of the "beer wall," featuring all of Belgium's
thousand or so beers; they really are the best; Duvel best of
them all

Peeking into the Dali museum; every big city seems to have
one

On the main square; not Brussels' Grande Place; but pretty
impressive

Indulging in the frites experience; this was the
petit serving, dinner for both of us; reminded
me of the old saw about how to tell Belgians
from French: the French have fries with their
bread; Belgians have bread with their fries

Artsy-fartsy shot of the day: the customary
bronze model and the real thing,  Brugge's
bell tower

More central square

On an adjoining square, just past the Kathe Wolhlfhart
shoppe; warning: Brugge is just a bit touristy

But that's forgivable when there are block after block after
block of these mostly 17th century beauties