Lille is penitently quiet on Monday mornings, almost as though it were begging forgiveness for the excesses of the weekend. A few trucks still drive through pedestrian zones, but the streets are otherwise almost deserted. Shattered glass litters the sidewalks, and street cleaners -- that is my name for those machines that people drive to clean the streets -- crawl through the streets. The few people who are out of doors appear to be getting breakfast from coffee shops and bakeries.
I saw relatively little of Lille today, as I was in a rush to leave and the city's citadel, as it turned out, was closed. I was impressed, though, by the city's greenness; Lille appeared to have the most trees per hectare of any city that I visited in France. It has a small, free zoo, a massive park full of attractions for children, and a canal surrounding the park, which makes it feel like its own island. Lillians, or residents of Lille, take their citadel seriously: while it was built in the seventeenth century, it is now a military base! I am not sure whom Lille is fighting at present, but I did see one military man leaving the base on his bicycle with an expression of equanimity on his face at roughly 10:30 AM, perhaps a decoy meant to give the base an appearance of calm.
As I went from Lille to Kortrijk, I both started reading Aeschylus, who seems like a more serious writer than Hesse, and considered that one's journeys on trips abroad were more important, and more memorable, than the destinations themselves. I will spare you most of my thoughts concerning the matter, as I am exhausted; in short, this idea partly arose when I realized that Chartres itself was essentially just another cathedral, the appearance of which I would forget. I would not forget the conversation that I had on the way there, though, or the feeling of the train ride back, &c.
The first announcement that I heard on the train from Lille to Kortrijk let me know that I was leaving France, as the person making it sounded like he was speaking in tongues. To give you an idea of what Dutch looks and, by extension, sounds like, take the word "guesthouse," which is written on the slip of paper that has this guesthouse's WiFi code: "gastenverblijk." This probably looks like some kind of cruel joke, the scribbling of dyslexic six-year-old (not to make fun of dyslexic people), but it is not. Now consider that every word in the language is written like that, and you will have an idea of how hard it is to speak and understand.
I spoke my first words in Dutch today, saying "I would like a yogurt and a strawberry tart, please," and "I from Canada," which started a brief discussion with the bakery employee about Canada (in English), as she had been to Toronto. People here speak excellent English, though I have been trying to use Dutch whenever possible, such as when I asked, "Here is Kortrijk?" as my train arrived there. The trains in Belgium are cheaper and worse than those in France: they do not have any announcements of stops, and train tickets do not include one's arrival time. Controllers check one's tickets here much more frequently than in France, and people have more of a hale-fellow-well-met disposition than in France. When I asked one of the controllers today if I could get from Kortrijk to Ypres and back in one day, and then asked him if he could give me a return ticket (a two-way ticket) when he told me that he could print one off for me, he cried out, "I have everything!" in English.
On the whole, everything seems quieter, smaller, and slower in Belgium than in France (perhaps because I have only seen small cities). I have not yet seen a high-rise here that I can remember, and the drivers here are not only sane but even yield to pedestrians! I noticed one thing, before I forget, that surprised me: when Belgians want to signal that something is disallowed, such as walking on a certain path or parking somewhere, they circle the disallowed symbol in red, almost as we do (in North America) when something is allowed. It took me awhile today to figure out what these circles meant. Belgian architecture so far seems defined by brick buildings with particolored facades, triangular roofs, and the same little attics as in many French buildings. The town hall of Kortrijk, if my memory holds, looked like it had devils' horns as a results of its having two triangular rooftop adornments.
My trip to Ypres was a huge success. While I was tired on the way there and did not want to get off the train, I was intrigued by it as soon as I stepped onto the gravel path that was one of its railway platforms: I was in the sticks again, as I had been in Arles. Ypres is full of very pretty, old buildings, including its world-famous former cloth hall and its cathedral, and it has several museums and war memorials. It is a bit of a pity, in fact, that the war hangs so heavily over the city, as though it were the city's only defining feature, which must rankle some local residents. Ypres has been the site of many battles historically, though, as one is reminded by reading the plaques on the sides of some buildings. Its cathedral had the most impressive display that I have seen so far on this trip: it included a wheelbarrow with a massive China vase in place of its usual metal holder, a sculpture of roses, some sort of non-stone representation of dead soldiers, a bunch of spray-painted rocks, some old furniture, a manuscript related to the city's original cathedral, and so on. I could not figure out the exact point of some of these objects, as the descriptions of them were mostly just in Dutch, but one got the idea that they related to the city's history.
I enjoyed Kortrijk's historic center, as well, although it was less impressive, but I have no time to describe that, as I need to get to bed (and should have done so an hour ago). I am going to have some time to rest up over the next few days before plunging myself more seriously into my travels for a few days. One plus to rushing so much, perhaps the only plus, is that it costs relatively less than taking one's time would (one presumes, assuming that one would attempt to see roughly the same amount of cities); while the guesthouse in which I am staying is terrific, staying for a few days would rack up a handy bill.
Some final thoughts include that Belgium seems -- again, perhaps because of my not yet having seen a big city here -- to have more cyclists and narrower streets than any of France. It is much better at not sucking than France -- I do not know why, but I get that overall impression. I saw someone texting and biking today, which was cool, but I also saw someone texting and driving. I met a stereotypical Chinese salesman the other day, whom I would like to describe, but everyone knows the stereotype anyway, and some people find stereotypes offensive if they are treated with undue insensitivity. I skipped a free concert in Lille the other night, as I had no time to see it, though I got to hear plenty of street music regardless (on National Music Day). Finally, a note on English: when I took the bus here today, the bus driver said that he would "drop me" at the stop nearest to my hotel. Verbal phrases must be terribly hard for foreigners to learn -- it must take a real leap of faith to say, for example, "drop you off" instead of "drop you." I am off to bed. I have to get up at 9:00 AM for breakfast tomorrow!
I saw relatively little of Lille today, as I was in a rush to leave and the city's citadel, as it turned out, was closed. I was impressed, though, by the city's greenness; Lille appeared to have the most trees per hectare of any city that I visited in France. It has a small, free zoo, a massive park full of attractions for children, and a canal surrounding the park, which makes it feel like its own island. Lillians, or residents of Lille, take their citadel seriously: while it was built in the seventeenth century, it is now a military base! I am not sure whom Lille is fighting at present, but I did see one military man leaving the base on his bicycle with an expression of equanimity on his face at roughly 10:30 AM, perhaps a decoy meant to give the base an appearance of calm.
As I went from Lille to Kortrijk, I both started reading Aeschylus, who seems like a more serious writer than Hesse, and considered that one's journeys on trips abroad were more important, and more memorable, than the destinations themselves. I will spare you most of my thoughts concerning the matter, as I am exhausted; in short, this idea partly arose when I realized that Chartres itself was essentially just another cathedral, the appearance of which I would forget. I would not forget the conversation that I had on the way there, though, or the feeling of the train ride back, &c.
The first announcement that I heard on the train from Lille to Kortrijk let me know that I was leaving France, as the person making it sounded like he was speaking in tongues. To give you an idea of what Dutch looks and, by extension, sounds like, take the word "guesthouse," which is written on the slip of paper that has this guesthouse's WiFi code: "gastenverblijk." This probably looks like some kind of cruel joke, the scribbling of dyslexic six-year-old (not to make fun of dyslexic people), but it is not. Now consider that every word in the language is written like that, and you will have an idea of how hard it is to speak and understand.
I spoke my first words in Dutch today, saying "I would like a yogurt and a strawberry tart, please," and "I from Canada," which started a brief discussion with the bakery employee about Canada (in English), as she had been to Toronto. People here speak excellent English, though I have been trying to use Dutch whenever possible, such as when I asked, "Here is Kortrijk?" as my train arrived there. The trains in Belgium are cheaper and worse than those in France: they do not have any announcements of stops, and train tickets do not include one's arrival time. Controllers check one's tickets here much more frequently than in France, and people have more of a hale-fellow-well-met disposition than in France. When I asked one of the controllers today if I could get from Kortrijk to Ypres and back in one day, and then asked him if he could give me a return ticket (a two-way ticket) when he told me that he could print one off for me, he cried out, "I have everything!" in English.
On the whole, everything seems quieter, smaller, and slower in Belgium than in France (perhaps because I have only seen small cities). I have not yet seen a high-rise here that I can remember, and the drivers here are not only sane but even yield to pedestrians! I noticed one thing, before I forget, that surprised me: when Belgians want to signal that something is disallowed, such as walking on a certain path or parking somewhere, they circle the disallowed symbol in red, almost as we do (in North America) when something is allowed. It took me awhile today to figure out what these circles meant. Belgian architecture so far seems defined by brick buildings with particolored facades, triangular roofs, and the same little attics as in many French buildings. The town hall of Kortrijk, if my memory holds, looked like it had devils' horns as a results of its having two triangular rooftop adornments.
My trip to Ypres was a huge success. While I was tired on the way there and did not want to get off the train, I was intrigued by it as soon as I stepped onto the gravel path that was one of its railway platforms: I was in the sticks again, as I had been in Arles. Ypres is full of very pretty, old buildings, including its world-famous former cloth hall and its cathedral, and it has several museums and war memorials. It is a bit of a pity, in fact, that the war hangs so heavily over the city, as though it were the city's only defining feature, which must rankle some local residents. Ypres has been the site of many battles historically, though, as one is reminded by reading the plaques on the sides of some buildings. Its cathedral had the most impressive display that I have seen so far on this trip: it included a wheelbarrow with a massive China vase in place of its usual metal holder, a sculpture of roses, some sort of non-stone representation of dead soldiers, a bunch of spray-painted rocks, some old furniture, a manuscript related to the city's original cathedral, and so on. I could not figure out the exact point of some of these objects, as the descriptions of them were mostly just in Dutch, but one got the idea that they related to the city's history.
I enjoyed Kortrijk's historic center, as well, although it was less impressive, but I have no time to describe that, as I need to get to bed (and should have done so an hour ago). I am going to have some time to rest up over the next few days before plunging myself more seriously into my travels for a few days. One plus to rushing so much, perhaps the only plus, is that it costs relatively less than taking one's time would (one presumes, assuming that one would attempt to see roughly the same amount of cities); while the guesthouse in which I am staying is terrific, staying for a few days would rack up a handy bill.
Some final thoughts include that Belgium seems -- again, perhaps because of my not yet having seen a big city here -- to have more cyclists and narrower streets than any of France. It is much better at not sucking than France -- I do not know why, but I get that overall impression. I saw someone texting and biking today, which was cool, but I also saw someone texting and driving. I met a stereotypical Chinese salesman the other day, whom I would like to describe, but everyone knows the stereotype anyway, and some people find stereotypes offensive if they are treated with undue insensitivity. I skipped a free concert in Lille the other night, as I had no time to see it, though I got to hear plenty of street music regardless (on National Music Day). Finally, a note on English: when I took the bus here today, the bus driver said that he would "drop me" at the stop nearest to my hotel. Verbal phrases must be terribly hard for foreigners to learn -- it must take a real leap of faith to say, for example, "drop you off" instead of "drop you." I am off to bed. I have to get up at 9:00 AM for breakfast tomorrow!
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| This war memorial honors soldiers from the entire Commonwealth. |
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