Not-Quite-Summer over Flanders’ Fields and Beaches, Belgium

Last Sunday marked 100 years since the signing of the Armistice with Germany, after World War I – “the war to end all wars.”

My understanding of history has always been a bit fuzzy, but I had direct ancestors on both sides of that horrific conflict and the one that followed. Growing up in a Commonwealth country, the November 11th Remembrance Day (aka: Poppy Day,  Memorial Day, or Armistice Day) was a big deal, and we all learned and recited the poem “In Flanders Fields”, written about that war by Captain John D. McCrae.

So, Flanders – and red poppies – have always been part of my consciousness, even if I had never been to the sites in question.

I had been to Belgium. I may have been there as an infant, but the first time I remember touching base there was also a long time ago. On a rail trip from Paris to Germany, the train cut through a corner of Belgium – forcing Border Control personnel (in those pre-European Union days) to check my ticket and passport twice in the space of about fifteen minutes. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t have known that the green fields rolling past my window represented three different countries!

I had always wanted to visited Bruges – especially after the 2008 movie In Bruges was released. I hadn’t yet seen the film, but the trailers had put that medieval Flemish city back on my mental map. I was in Paris with a day to spare, and a brochure in the hotel where I was staying advertised a day trip to Bruges. I booked the trip for myself and my husband, and at the appointed pre-dawn hour, we stood out on a cold road in the Septième Arrondissement (Seventh District), watching our frozen breath under a street lamp near our hotel, and waiting for a bus which never came… We re-explored Paris instead.

I had hoped to visit Bruges this year, when we were to be docked in nearby Zeebrugge. Unfortunately, the fates conspired against us again. The direction of our ocean trip through the English Channel and around the outside of the west coast of Europe was reversed, resulting in less port-time everywhere, as we motored against the prevailing currents. I wasn’t going to forgo our included shore excursion: Scenic Flanders & Coastal Village of Knokke, leaving us no time to get into the old city.

We were very excited ahead of our cruise: we had done a European river cruise and had been thrilled with the included shore excursions and with time we spent exploring cities on our own (eg: Passau; Regensburg; Melk; Kelheim to Weltenburg; Vienna; Budapest Market; and Buda Castle Hill). Of course, ocean cruising – even in a relatively small boat – is different, and we found ourselves a long way from city-centres. Instead of the inner-city walks we had experienced before, our shore excursions typically involved a lot of bus time. To frustrate me (and my cameras) further, the buses didn’t necessarily stop at the places with the best light (see: An (Other) English Spring).

So it was that we got onto a big tour bus at the dockside in Zeebrugge, and drove past the outside of Bruges and into the Flemish countryside, not stopping until we got to Knokke, where the beach was pretty much deserted in the cold North Sea wind.

Photographically, this made for real challenges! Many of these pictures were taken from the bus, where curved windows cause odd reflections, tinted glass makes for strange colour effects, and unpredictable movements result in blur that may-or-may-not be artistic.

But, I did find red tulips (no poppies), and I payed mental respects to the region’s bloody, muddy history.

As we got back on our bus, cold and tired, but with a bag of chocolate truffles in our possession, we could reflect on how truly lucky we are!

Once again I missed out on Bruges, but the tulips of Knokke served as a reminder of sacrifices made in the past so that we can have the life we do today.

Lest we Forget!

Pictures: 24April2018