Apr 02 2012 Bruges: without direction or watches

The second time I visited Bruges I arrived with the tight schedule, premiering around the world that we hardly let up. The rush were a lousy way to cross the medieval wall, an apology for the mills that we received with the blades cut the morning sun. José Luis, Alfonso and I needed to park the 4x4, order the roadmap and engulf the town with some good plans. Just a few days we had been traveling together and we had to refine the method, not to work in fits and starts, but it was clear that to date the plan was failing.

I gave instructions out loud and I could barely hear the sound of carriages across cobblestone streets. Alfonso pointed framed towers and the details: stepped roof, Princess balcony, a swan that seemed trained in behavior. Our camera had passed a feverish night and all day dragged cold sweats that did not prevent the camera cargase or commitment to record some of the most harmonious squares in Europe. Ascended the 83 meters from the Bell Tower in the Market Square, a torture for anyone who carries a camera crew. Once up, planted the tripod to focus the maze of red roofs and gutters. In that tower, I was so high, soil as far parcibí distance as if they were a decorated Bruges, as if I were not there. I saw the tourists invading the chocolate, I saw them buying cloth artisans, antique dolls, sweet and figurines with the triangular shape of the facades typical, paying memories they could get a free ride.

The rush were a lousy way to cross the medieval wall, an apology for the mills that we received with the blades cut the morning sun

We approached the City, decorated with statues and gold filigree that repelled the flash of cameras. Everything was beautiful but looked like a city exposed, unreal, a museum with its streets and churches so sharp that it seemed impossible they could hold. We visited the Plaza del Burgo, we recorded a demo recording as one huge.

At nap time we went to eat at the first restaurant we could find, I read crowded city street plans. I devoured anything, while the three, exhausted, we programmed the recording later we had. "We are missing the boat ride," said I., taking a last sip of coffee. Alfonso sighed without complaint and even our producer, José Luis, charged fixed camera equipment, while paying the bill.

We got into a boat, but the budget did not allow for privileges, so share it with a dozen tourists. The trip was idyllic, perhaps too artificial. We went through the eyes of the bridges, discovering in each section a new guard stationed colorful houses along the canal, I came to seem too corny for its roses and creams. The sun was setting and I had to finish a presentation of the city for one of the reports. I smiled with tourists smiling, and among so smirk, between picture and so much "oh!”, I thought only get out once and for all.

The first time I visited Bruges I found the city at night, lanterns lit by dim, with the boats reflected in the mirrors of water. He traveled from Spain with my girl, on board of my Renault Clio, both silent, absorbed by the burning towers along the maze of channels, my mouth was open as the roadmap, aimlessly. The impact of Bruges was mesmerizing midnight. If we find a passerby on the road, did not see. Appeared only a few swans in the bends of the channel, so, purely by chance.

The city was full of flowers and the sound of the carriages was the soundtrack of an enchanted city, so we had no rush to find our place.

The hostel was so modest and endearing is that to us all but we had plenty. The next day we went for a walk without more watches than the Bell Tower, I thought as slim as those swans necks spontaneous channel.

We then look for a restaurant, a secluded spot along the canals. The city was full of flowers and the sound of the carriages was the soundtrack of an enchanted city, so we had no rush to find our place. A window lit with candles, a quiet table in a restaurant without tourists, or maybe they were tourists, I do not remember-.

The afternoon wandering walk without maps, no boats, they were all crowded, without a destination. In Bruges is required to meet again later lost by a park in the custody of a church against the blue sky of Flanders. You have to flow like water channels, slowly, become even corny to not neglect the range of colors on the facades, back to the romantic image of a plan for two, choose the right company and believe the spell of the city, without judging.

Back to Bruges was a mistake, as is delving into the magic tricks. The city was the same, as beautiful as before, so proud and medieval, but had changed. They may have been the rush, the shooting schedule and the company. Or maybe it was, simply, there is only one first time to discover Bruges.