In Brugge

I almost got busted at the Dutch/Belgian border for not having a passport on me. "Did you know" they said "that this card is not valid without a passport?" they said. "No shit" I thought, "No I didn't" I said. They looked at my residence permit through a magnifying glass and walky-talkied someone to check its number. I felt betrayed by the Schengen agreement.

But that was after. Bruges was full of Russian tourists. Of all places... A lady in her fifties, whit a rich Soviet past, no doubt, was unpleasantly surprised to see people take the hand of a boat driver (I cannot quite bring myself to call him a captain, he just steers a boat) on getting on and off a tour boat. "И бабы и мужики" was her wording; the rest of judgmental message could be inferred from the intonation.

Brugge's Onze Lieve Vrouw Kerk (Church of Our Lady) is one of the rare places outside Italy where one can see Michelangelo's work. One's misanthropic sentiment could be easily fueled by the following picture. People, who were obviously not clear on what they were in for, would pass the beautiful statue of Madonna and proceed towards a flashier tombstone in the back. Then they would take a short glance at it, then a picture, and walk away (no doubt, they are going to study it at length in the comfort of their homes). Ok, maybe I've always been a bit coy about my true ability to appreciate Renaissance art but this!

The city, though, is really an eye candy. Especially when you walk away from the tourist areas. Only 20k people actually live within the city limit so the chance you will meet a local is next to nothing. No surprise. A piece of real estate in the quieter part of the downtown, we were told, was selling at 9+ mil eur...

But travel itself, it is so refreshing for the head. Not only have I come up with a potentially lucrative idea, mulled over old conclusions, but also have finally been able to truly appreciate Panda Bear's Tomboy (as well as the new Akron/Family).

I know that perhaps very few people believe me when I say that travelling alone is a choice and not some sort of a thousand years of solitude gig. But this is what it is and I do not remember when travelling did me more good than when I went alone, first to Paris and then to Brugge. There is a special thrill in being one on one with a city.