In the Land of Pomme Frites and Chocolat

I am awakened by the clip clop of a horse drawn carriage on the cobblestones below. When I pull back the red velvet curtain, my eyes delight in architecture that economic decline preserved for four centuries. If imagination could magically transport, I would be in sixteenth century Belgium.

We could have stayed at a modern hotel but we carefully chose a place consistent in character with the ancient Brugge. From internet pictures and descriptions, we picked the Hotel Rolais, a five hundred year old building with a canal view, admirable wood floors and picturesque windows. The cab who drops us off at the hotel confirms, “You’re staying at the best place in Brugge.”

Most people come to Brugge Belgium for one or two night’s stay. We have come for three—ample time to experience every secret place, every chocolatier and every french fry (pomme frite) stand throughout the city. By our second day, we have learned that it is foolish to dine on anything but chocolate and French fries, because we will never taste any that are better. We stay relatively healthy by our transportation of bikes and eating a healthy breakfast: Yoghurt, which has always been superior to America’s, topped with muesli and fresh fruit.

Our favorite fry stand is located in the Market Square. You can never get lost in Brugge because all roads lead back to Market Square. We order our frites with three sauces: yellow curry, ketchup curry, pepper sauce and loads of onions. Dinner’s finale is a truffle that requires the indulgent to stop and remain silent until every morsel is properly relished.

Truffles are not all that you find in chocolate shops. A recurring theme in almost every chocolate shop are the life size female breasts formed from chocolate. As we stood in line for our thrice daily dose of chocolate we listened as an English woman asked if the shop sold body chocolate paint. The saleswoman said she had never heard of it—surely a city that takes their chocolate so serious would never waste it on body painting.

I always say when traveling to Switzerland, France or any other country known for their exquisite chocolate that I will bring an extra suitcase just to bring home chocolate; but I have never indulged my extra suitcase fantasy. I think it is because European chocolate is more than a taste sensation. It is the counter woman who politely tolerates your French II language abilities, it is nibbling your truffel beside the canal on a tree lined street, it is the uniqueness of the shop’s display--it is the pure pleasure of riding your bike down an ancient street, stopping on a whim for a truffle and then doing it all over again on the next street. I have never brought the extra suitcase because certain things are exquisite because they don't last forever-meals of french fries, chocolate and bike riding on cobblestone streets, which are all hard on the human seat after three days.