When In Bruges

Far far away, over the mountains and trees, somewhere in the northwest of Belgium there lies a small town called Bruges. It's a cosy dwelling about 2 hours from Brussels and its streets and buildings can remind a person of Christmas any time of year. The train ride through rural Belgium passed through field after field of crops. It was enough to bring me straight back to the fields of rural Alberta.

I had just enough time to take a city tour. With canals, cobble stoned streets and with most of its medieval architecture still intact, it is one of the most well preserved medieval towns in Europe.

There's also chocolate museums and a wall of beer.

My tour guide took me out to another historical masterpiece, the windmills. In the 16th century there were 23 of them grinding grain everyday and now there are only 8 remaining. It was lovely, and far from the crowds where a person could breathe and enjoy the space.

As I walked through the streets with chocolate melting in my mouth I gazed at all the trees losing their leaves to the coming fall season. My hood was up and my boots were on in an effort to shield myself from the chill. It started to rain. I looked to my right and saw a few swans, peacefully making their way through the water. In the epic silence I took a deep breath and saw it exhale in the air. Everything was still. Everything was quiet. There was nothing left to think about, except what month it was.

Here's to another month of memories. Of course not without beer.

Bailey Sue