April in Belgium

It's April in Belgium, but it feels like January in San Francisco has followed us to Europe. As we drove towards Bruges, the clouds got thicker and we knew it was going to be a cold day. And what does one do when it's chilly outside? Well, eat and drink warm things of course. First up, as you've guessed were Belgian fries. I don't think Rosemarie will eat another fry without mayonnaise ever again. Served piping hot with a glob of the condiment, the snack was perfect as we walked up and down the medieval streets. My mother made a mess all over her sleeve as the mayo dripped down into the cone and it got a little tough trying to pick them up with the tiny forks.

And what's a trip to the ancient city without a stop in one of its most famous churches. The blood of Christ is stored in the cathedral and it only makes its appearance outside of its confinement during a rare pomp and circumstance ceremony. But today, for some unknown reason, visitors were allowed to touch it and offer up a prayer (for a donation, of course). Now, I am the most non religious person in the world, but how could you resist touching what legend says is the blood of Jesus Christ. I hate change in my pockets, so it was a pleasure to drop the annoying Euro coins into the offering box, Rosemarie and I got in line and touched the relic. I counted to ten, but I think every other person offered up some sort of prayer.

Bundled up against the assaulting wind, we decided to warm up with a hot beverage. The Italian Coffee with Amaretto was the perfect liquid. Sitting under the heat lamps in the square sheltered from the wind, the four of us watched as little Belgian children taunted one of their peers, who, Serge told us after they left, were bullying one little boy because he was clearly not white.

"Children are nasty everywhere," I said. "But he's got way more hair than any of them and they'll all be old bald bullies, so he'll have the last laugh."

If you thought the coffee would end the beverage consumption, you'd be mistaken as we wandered into one of the many chocolatier shops for what was clearly the best hot chocolate ever made. No doubt adding another five pounds to our waistlines from one sip, the drink, which for sure had the highest fat content of milk ever produced, warmed us up even more.

As the sun attempted to make its way vainly through the clouds, Serge took us to the city of Gant, where I marveled at the McDonald's'. Maybe the fast food eatery would be more appealing if, in the United States they were in such gorgeous surroundings. We took a look at the interesting menu but after Belgian fries and with Phillipe promising to make them for dinner tonight, there wasn't a question of stopping in.

The architecture never fails to impress me. How can you compare these surroundings to a bubble like Los Angeles where something built in 1963 is viewed as ancient. From the stones to the bricks to the sheer magnitude of the interiors, how these churches and houses were built is just astounding.

We're back from another full day, the dogs are settled down and Serge and Phillipe are once again in the kitchen preparing what smells like an incredible dinner. Tomorrow we leave on the morning train back to Paris, where I'm hoping the clouds will not make an appearance. I can't be sure of that, but I can be certain that the roosters will be non-existent.

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