I was in Bruges...

but I wasn't In Bruges. Ha ha - that doesn't even make sense, but I've got chocolate on the brain this Easter - much like this visit. This was my favourite holiday destination in Belgium .... which doesn't bode well for the upcoming two posts about Ghent and Brussels, does it?

I stayed in a hotel that was in the old town in Bruges - walking distance from all of the important pointy buildings that I wanted to visit.

On checking in the very helpful concierge gave me a map. We discussed places I planned to visit and he pointed out one that I'd overlooked .... and it was my first port of call .... the chocolate museum (alas, I didn't detour into the lamp museum). 

I learnt about farming and processing of cacao (and giggled everytime I read it) in the Mayan and Aztec civilizations, to the Spanish conquistadors 'discovery' of chocolate, to its consumption by European royalty. I particularly liked Madame de Sevigne's 1672 take on improving her social circle.

Slicing open beans in the chocolate making process.

Pies AND chocolate!

Beautifully decorated porcelain sets for drinking chocolate consumption - I love the pomp and ceremony!

Molds for chocolate making - note the chocolate telephone!

After immersing myself in the world of chocolate I decided to explore further afield. Bruges was such a walkable city, including the 366 steps of the Belfry (Belfort), pictured above.

Apparently on a clear day you could see the coast.

My wanderings took me past many interesting a pretty buildings,

and I even found a relief of the city buildings and streets paired with braille labels for them all.

My craft-withdrawal-symptoms were kept at bay when I stumbled across the Museum voor Volkskunde (Folklore Musuem). This was housed in the low whitewashed buildings of 17th century Guild houses. 

Each room was laid out to illustrate traditional crafts and professions, including a pharmacy (with a spooky mannequin), a classroom (with mandatory portraits of royalty covering the walls and desks'/students' proximity to the furnace related to social standing and ability to pay tuition fees), a kitchen (with obligatory under skirt warmer to keep warm in the long cold winters in a kitchen with a brick floor), and a grocers (with the standard 'buy your gunpowder here' sign).

Entry was through the De Zwarte Kat (Black cat cafe) and the cafe's namesake prowled proudly throughout  the museum each day.

 

One of my favourite displays was the cobbler - I was fascinated with the shoe making process. They make it look so easy. I think I'll stick to clutches and totes tho'.

Then it was a quick stroll out to the edge of the old town to check out the last remaining parts of the city walls,

  

before being chased by windmills along the city's edge.

As well as being a feast for the eyes, Bruge was a feast for the tummy and tastebuds! Noms as far as the eye could see...

And more funny signs  -  this time one that reminded me of the vase/2 faces optical illusion.

And at the end of a big day of sightseeing I relaxed in the hotel bar, sampling the local wares

and reflecting on the wisdom gleaned during the day....

Go short or go home.

The next leg of my trip took me to Nijmegen in the south of Holland. The main reason for this detour between Sweden and Belgium was a university visit to speak with some Implementation Scientists. 

As well as networking my tush off I enjoyed aimless wandering in the streets of the oldest city in the Netherlands. I became slightly obsessed with a poster for an upcoming short film festival featuring a handsome stag,

and enjoyed having time to smell the, um, tulips and daffodils,

and notice the little suburban quirks that you so often miss when pre-occupied with life...

I stumbled across the Velorama (the only bicycle museum in Holland!)

replete with 250 bicycles, many from the late 1800s.

I 'wooden' have minded taking this one for a spin (guffaw).

Then it was more wandering, invading people's privacy by taking photos of their houses and cats,

and being overly amused by a companion dog who made very sure his owner knew a fire engine was going over a nearby bridge.

I spent a little time reflecting on life as I followed the Liberation route

through Valkhof park (the oldest park in Nijmegen)

and around the ruins of St Martin's chapel (Barbarossa ruins) before making my way into the town centre, market square and the 12th century built St Stephen's Church.

  

Then I spent the rest of the afternoon laughing at shop signs.

Once it gets below minus 10 ....

...it's still flippin' cold! Don't believe the hype!

In the Arctic circle, when your breath freezes on your balaclava and you think you might lose one, if not all, of your fingers as you've worn the gloves out snowmobiling that you've worn all day, so the accumulated dampness and sweat freezes them, it's more than just rub-your-hands-together cold!

I guess the landing at Kiruna airport and taxiing to the terminal, seeing a snowplough on the snow-covered tarmac, should have been a hint that we weren't in Kansas anymore.

And it wasn't too long before we were out in the elements....

Our first night was the hunt for the Northern Lights. And we weren't disappointed. Look, there it is there....

Coming back from our night of terror, driving (for the first time, and me - solo) our 750cc death machines, it turns out is was between minus 25 to minus 30 degrees. Beyond numb, but captivated by the Aurora Borealis in its bright green splendour, showing itself boldly and brightly at the 11th hour of our night out after a few whispy and underwhelming appearances earlier on in the night.

Thank goodness one of us had the sense to book us in the warm chalet that night. I've never been more thankful for heated bathroom tiles in.my.life.

Awaking from our slumber to a winter wonderland we readied ourselves for our stay in the minus 5 degree room in our super-sized igloo, the Ice Hotel. We explored the hotel's foyer, hall and many decorated and themed rooms...

beofre heading out for another adventure in Swedish lapland. 

Thankfully, this time we didn't do the driving.

Then it was back to more humble accommodation for our night on an ice bed before being woken for a morning cup of warm lingonberry juice. 

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