In Bruges

November 2015 

It was back to Belgium for our latest overseas adventure.

We needed to get back and see Flanders Fields, and properly see Bruges given our last trip to the city so short. Our trip was also  made more affordable with some help from Eurostar - the compensation from a 73 minute delay on our last trip to Belgium in August knocked off half of the ticket price!

We had a bit of trepidation leading up to the trip - the Paris attacks happened two weeks beforehand, with the pursuit/manhunt in Brussels locking down the city and raising the terror alert across the whole country, up to just a few days before we arrived. We got in to Brussels Midi on the Saturday to see a big police presence - about 10 cars outside one entrance, and groups of officers with assault rifles patrolling the station.

But everything still felt safe, and after transferring trains arrived in Bruges an hour later without any hassles. 

And the other thing to remember is that, while you may feel worried or scared, changing your plans and living in fear is exactly how the terrorists want you to feel. They try to spread terror, make you feel threatened and when you're changing your life to suit them, that's how they know they've won. So the best way for us to stick it to those murderous bastards is to live our lives as normal. 

Arrival 

After a short walk through the drizzle we checked in to our hotel, dropped off the bags and headed back out to explore. First up were the Christmas markets - which were much smaller than we expected and slightly disappointing. Nonetheless we had some mulled wine as well as frites and wandered around.

We also had a river boat cruise, which my condition last time didn't allow for. It was very nice to see the town from the water. 

And as it got darker, Bruges started to really light up in gorgeous warm colours. It made for a completely new feel to the town from our visit on summer.

By now the drizzle had upgraded to light rain and we ducked in to a restaurant for dinner - mussels and frites for me and a flemish stew for Rach. Then it was to 't Brugs Beertje, a highly recommended bar on Tripadvisor with a massive variety of beers. I had three, including a 750ml, 9% strength cherry flavoured beer which was unusual but delicious. 

Flanders Fields 

The next morning, we had a quick breakfast at the hotel of simple but tasty food and headed to the pickup spot for our Flanders Fields battlefields tour. The tour was excellent, run by Quasimodo tours, with an Aussie-Belgian as driver and guide. 

When we stopped on the side of the road by the first cemetery, and our driver Sharon told us that across the road was the third-largest British cemetery in Flanders, with 3,500 soldiers buried there - that's when the enormity of the First World War really dawned on us. This was just one British cemetery, not even the biggest one, with a population the size of a small town buried in it. How many more cemeteries must there be for the Germans, Belgians, Australians, New Zealanders, French? 

And on top of that, the land itself. The battles of 1914 to 1918 were all over such a small patch of land. Then Sharon showed us photos of the land - after just a few months of fighting, it was reduced to just mounds of mud. Not even trees were left standing, let alone buildings. 

So many hundreds of thousands of men died over this land. It's pretty sobering, and just makes you realise the enormity of war and helps you understand just a fraction of what they must have gone through.

And it still affects Belgium today - every year hundreds of bullets and shells are found, along with a couple of unexploded mustard gas shells which need to be disarmed in a special facility. Between three and four people die in the area from unexploded shells, children, often, or farmers ploughing their fields. Understandably the land is some of the cheapest in Belgium.

We stopped at the New Zealand memorial at Gravenstafel and at Tyne Cot where British and New Zealand soldiers were buried and commemorated. 

Rach here.

For as long as I can remember, Grandad told us about his Great-Uncle Tom who fought in World War 1 and lost his life in Passchendaele. Private Thomas William Gain of the New Zealand Machine Gun Corps, Regimental Number 10/2611. Before we set off to London we visited Nana and Grandad and I took photos of the 'In Memorium' certificate commemorating his service, his service photo of him in uniform and the letter written by his commanding officer informing my Great-great Aunt of his passing. I said at the time that we'd one day visit Belgium and we'd find Uncle Tom. 

Some research prior to this trip gave me an idea of where I might find 'Tommy's' name inscribed in Tyne Cot Cemetery, on a memorial for those not recovered. We booked a tour that assured a visit to Tyne Cot and off we went.

During the tour we learnt more and more about the New Zealand corps, and the Battle of Passchendaele or the Third Battle of Ypres. Gravenstafel, a small ridge in Flanders Fields is where the New Zealand memorial sits and with good reason. This was where the New Zealand division fought and suffered great loss of life. Given the attack on Gravenstafel spur happened on the 4th October 1917 and the letter confirmed that Great-Uncle Tom passed on the night of the 3rd-4th October, we came to the conclusion that this seemingly nondescript patch of land was where he fell. Sharon confirmed that given what was known of the New Zealand division over those days, she also believed this to be quite likely.    

Visiting Tyne Cot Cemetery was a surreal experience. It's difficult to quantify with words. At this stage of the day we'd had a lot of insight into the horrors of the on-going battle and had an idea of the terrain they fought on. So much mud. It was difficult to imagine given the lush, green pastures dotted with farmhouses and church spires. But we'd seen the photos. The sheer number of men who drowned in the shell craters. It made everything all the more poignant. 

It didn't take long to find Great-Uncle Tom. Being so far from my family and knowing that he'd been so far away from his; ours. Fighting a war so brutal in such heinous conditions. A young guy from Featherston with his whole life ahead. And then nothing. It was devastating. I was sure to give Nana and Grandad's love to him, and to let him know that he was certainly not forgotten, nor would he ever be. I feel more at peace now, knowing that after all these years someone has been to visit him.

At the end of the tour we opted for the last post at the Menin Gate in Ypres. It was moving, especially considering its been performed every day for almost 100 years. 

It also gave us a couple of hours to spend in Ypres. The cloth hall is impressive - built in the 1400s, then completely destroyed in the war, it was rebuilt brick by brick and finally completed in the 1960s. So what you see below is really only about 60 years old. 

Back in Bruges

After the tour, we headed back out to another bar, this time Le Trappiste, designed to feel like an underground room in a monastery. I had a taster board of five small beers while Rach stuck with just one.

I was determined to get some quality photos of Bruges at night, so we headed out. Unfortunately at that time, the rain gods decided to piss on my parade and its promptly poured down. And sadly all I got was drenched - no particularly good photos. 

On our final day, we wandered around Bruges - going up the Belfry, doing some Christmas shopping, drinking mulled wine, eating burgers and taking photos.

Then it was back to Brussels and home to London. A very worthwhile trip.