A Sleeping Beauty

Bruges was like a medieval narrative. The buildings had a lot to say. The horse carriages, castles and canals seemed as if they were plucked from a fairy tale. It really is the little Venice of the North.

We only needed one-and-a-barely-half day to explore Bruges' treasures. Everything was within walking distance, including French fries and Belgian waffles. I finally had my authentic waffle smothered in Nutella with powder sugar... and it was yummy, but highly replicable. Les can't make his Sunday waffles on the cobblestone streets of Bruges.

The native dialect of Belgium is West-Flemish, so I had to try the French fries. The mythical story goes as this...Belgian commanders during World War 1 spoke French when they baked fries and their allied colleagues remembered French fries. Voilà.

In Bruges, there's no graffiti, skating, good shopping, or enough content to write an entire blog about. We paced passed the Belfry and Michelangelo's Madonna to find something to do - later ending up in Anthony's De Kleine Nachtmuziek (A Little Night Music). At first there was no music (apparently, it's only available upon request), but we met an Irish and British twosome who kept us laughing for the rest of the night. They were on a Le Grand Tour-mockery sort of business trip. .

This trip added an interesting dynamic to my relationship with my mother. We sipped Cognac and Whiskey as two adults. We bonded like friends, instead. I guess that means we are both getting older.