Béguinages in Flanders

Minnewater in Bruges/Brugge may possibly get its name from other sources, but is translated in English as the lake of love.

... appropriately enough for a romantic park and lake filled with swans (courtesy of a legendary medieval injunction that the inhabitants of Brugge must keep swans on their lakes and canals for eternity).

Walking along here, a bridge gives access to the city's béguinage.

Unlike the swan legend, béguinages arose out of the real and harsh social context of many women in this part of Europe during the middle ages.  At a time when wars had taken the lives of many men, unmarried and widowed women were left with few secure options in life and some came together for support in communities of women.

The béguines established a cultural tradition of independent religious women. Unlike nuns, they didn't seclude themselves from the world, took no vows, kept their own possessions, and earned a living while doing charitable work. 

Entrance to the Begijnhof, Brugge

The Flemish béguinages, like this one in Brugge, endowed by benefactors, were surrounded by walls, had a church and small houses enclosing a central, peaceful green space. 

The béguines housed here usefully served their communities while having a degree of economic independence and self-determination in how they lived their lives, under their own elected councils.

A positive development in all respects that ultimately ended badly for many of these women.

 Inevitably, the strength of the béguine movement with its uniquely feminine spirituality came to be seen as a threat to the authority and control of the church. This was a time when women had only two legitimate spaces: in the home or in a convent. They were condemned as heretics, many béguinages were dissolved and béguines forced into convents or burned at the stake, depending on local authorities' interpretation of a papal decree.

Béguines in Flanders were more fortunate, though. They were left in peace with support from religious authorities and survived many centuries.

I discovered after visiting the one in Bruges that there is a revival of the concept and spirit of the béguinage in different parts of the world (including Germany, America), adapting the tradition of the béguines to the needs of many women today.

Outside the walls, swans, seagulls and cyclists in and around Lovers' Lake ...

In Bruges

... the bold modern Concertgebouw stands out in what may be Europe's most perfectly preserved medieval city. 

When I visited in late November last year (yes, my blog has suffered serious neglect) the central market square was just opening its Christmas market stalls, surrounded by colourful flags and buildings.

The burgers of Brugge and their dogs were out and about, looking unimpressed by seasonal tourist trappings, but maybe appreciating like me the amazing smells of fresh baked goodies. 

The Markt is surrounded by cosy bookstores, cafés and restaurants

and towered over by the 12th century belfry, unforgettable (to me, at least) as the site of some particularly grisly scenes involving darkly comedic Irish hitmen in In Bruges.

Sint Salvators cathedral and Church of Our Lady (bottom right)

I loved the Groeninge museum's collection of Flemish Primitive art and the walled gardens of the Arentshuis next door which has these sculptures of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.
   

Wandering the cobble-stoned streets surrounding the centre, it's all picture-perfect canals and bridges. 

You begin to see how, compared to many other European cities, Bruges has endured its long history as a prosperous trading port (and focus for Flemish art) pretty much unscathed by both world wars or major upheavals.

 It's friendly, fabulously photogenic, civilised,  almost literally crammed with some of the world's best chocolatiers and restaurants  - I'd go back in a hearbeat.

Iconic Paris

The Seine, the views from its bridges, rive gauche, rive droite, the Louvre, the Eiffel tower ... these must be amongst Paris's best known and most photographed images. Overworked and clichéd for sure, but somehow still impossibly photogenic in every season and type of weather. Here, in autumn, from my last visit there.

View of the Eiffel tower from the roof terrace restaurant Les Ombres at Quai Branly museum and, below, crossing the river, looking forward to the Palais de Tokyo and Paris Museum of Modern Art  - and back to the tower, silhouetted by a sunburst.

Alternate Paris

It's not Fez or Muscat, but Paris. The Grande Mosquée de Paris is a peaceful haven in the centre of the city that I discovered in the autumn. It has the fountain and tree-filled inner courtyard and brilliantly coloured mosaics of typical Moorish architecture (its builders inspired by the Alhambra), and there's also a tearoom in a pretty tree-shaded courtyard where you can have thé à la menthe and North African pastries.

From here it was an easy walk towards the Seine, through the Jardin des Plantes, past the quaint Natural History Museum going back to the French revolution ...

to the contrasting modernity of the Institut du Monde Arabe

for a close-up view of architect Jean Nouvel's amazing building: 
a metallic brise soleil is constructed of hundreds of light-sensitive openings - the shapes inspired by traditional middle eastern latticework façades - that regulate the amount of light entering the building. 

These 'eyes' open and shut in response to the amount of sunlight, creating and re-creating shifting geometric patterns on the outside, as well as changing interior spaces with filtered light - function and aesthetics merging perfectly. (I noticed only later, looking at the photos, how the paving stones on the ground mimic the façade).

From the terrace surrounding the glassed panoramic restaurant on the roof of the Institut there are fantastic views of the Île de la Cité and Île Saint Louis