**N.B. This blog was originally written on February 7, 2011, but for some odd reason, I never finished it! I have just found it among my documents, and have decided to publish it along with some photos taken on that day trip, now just a memory......
Yet another grey winter morning dawned in Belgium, but as it was a Saturday, I determined
that, sun or no sun, this weekend we would visit Belgium’s
fourth largest city –Ghent. Earlier in the week, Vladi had been talking
yet again about taking the train to Aachen just across the border in Germany to
visit this well known spa town. We have
been planning this jaunt on and off for a year now, and still haven’t been. This time around, the various Bulgarians who were
supposed to go with us all dropped out for one reason or another, so we decided
to postpone once more.
Since
moving to Belgium, I haven’t
actually seen much of Flanders, or Vlaanderen as it is called in Dutch. The southern part of Belgium or Wallonie is French-speaking, while
the northern part, Vlaanderen, speaks Dutch, known in Belgium as Flemish. The language divide is approximately 40%
francophone, 60% néerlandophone, or Dutch-speaking. Brussels
is home to both languages, as well as a host of others, since 30% of the
capital’s population is foreign.
My Dutch teacher, Nadia, had told us that
in her view, Ghent (pronounced /Hent/ in Dutch,
and known as Gand in French) is
perhaps the most attractive city in Belgium. Everyone loves Bruges, which is undoubtedly picturesque, but
gives the impression of postcard perfection as if only tourists visit, and no
one actually lives there. Gent, on the other hand, is a lively university city of
250,000 inhabitants, and 50, 000 students.
The sheer number of bicycles densely parked at the train station as we
arrived testified to the students’ presence, as well as the numerous nacht markts (literally night markets - home-grown versions of a 7-11). By the
way, the mayor of Ghent
is said to ride his bicycle to work daily!
We caught a train from the Gare Centrale in Brussels
for a roundtrip cost of only 9 euros per person, and in 35 minutes we were in Ghent. The train station in Ghent, known as Sint-Pieters, was built in
1912 for the World Exposition. It is a
sprawling, eclectic redbrick structure with many small`arches and large clock
tower.
We set out on foot from the station towards
the old city center, noting street renovation projects underway, several
fishmongers (vers vis = fresh fish),
and a handful of secondhand and antiques shops. Interestingly, I read that the
city of Ghent
promotes one day a week as a meat-free day known as Donderdag Veggiedag (Thursday Veggieday) where vegetarian options are the standard
fare in the cafeterias for public employees of the city, as well as in the
public schools. Special city maps noting
vegetarian venues are distributed to encourage locals and visitors alike to opt
for meatless meals. This progressive
attitude is due to a recognition of the detrimental environmental effects of meat
production, which the United
Nations' Food and Agriculture Organization has established to represent nearly one-fifth
of global greenhouse gas emissions. (source : Wikipedia).
Even under gray skies, I could sense the
city’s charm, with medieval structures edging the canals where formerly ships
loaded and unloaded wool, beer, and other commodities during Ghent’s heyday as a port city of trade in the
14th century. It was purportedly second only to Paris in population from the 11th to the 13th
centuries with a population of 65,000. At the tourist information office
(which had very nice, clean public toilets– not always easy to find in Belgium), they
gave us a map with a self-guiding tour of the historic center, complete with a
colorful narration of the highlights.
In the huge Saint Bavo’s Cathedral, we
could see our breath, while outside the temperature was a comfortable 50
degrees F. Vladi didn’t last more than three minutes, but I insisted on
strolling the full length of the nave, around the apse and back to get a better
look at the wildly baroque choir stall and altar implanted in the middle of a
high Gothic cathedral. I had my eyes
fixed on the organ in the second story, but heard beautiful strains from a harp
emanating from one of the side chapels near the central apse. The harpist must have had very numb fingers
after sitting so still to play such heavenly music in such a cold place !
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