Amsterdam was food and laughing, late nights and walking. But Brugge was magic. Outside of Bruges, I loved the bike ride into the small city of Dame. The trees, the light. Even the angry locals who yell at us for attempting to park our bikes without being patrons. Maybe they live for those moments. They exchange stories about the tourists they chased off and what crazy things we think we’re allowed to do.
I loved seeing the remains of a medieval world. I didn’t get a moment to really put myself in the right state of mind, where I was really feeling like I was being taken back in history, not like in the gardens in Versailles. The cobblestone never made me feel like I was exploring a city when it was new and I was in another period. I felt like I was in this town that people were clinging to. Some were proud of their heritage and of their town, others were born there and haven’t left, but and perhaps some never thought much of how quaint their town is.
It’s strange to me that people live there, somewhat. It’s like thinking about people working at Disney. You go to disney, you don’t stay there 9-5 and make children’s dreams come true.
Living in a small town like Bruges, I wonder how much gossip happens. I wonder if it’s the type of place where people know almost everyone, so they do that kind of thing, or if they mostly talk about the tourists because it’s mostly a tourist town.
I want to write all about my trip, but the things I feel about Europe were deeply ingrained in my mind in Paris. They’re associated with the Eiffel Tower and boat rides and the white cliffs in northern France. That post will have to happen soon. Until then, this is Amsterdam and Bruges; two places I miss deeply.
All Amsterdam travel photography by Nessa K