Belgium

From France we took the bullet train to Lille and then on to Brussels. With our Rand struggling against the Euro, we decided to stay in Halle, just outside Brussels on our first night - not a memorable place, but cheap(er) and a short train trip away from the City centre (the kids loved having a ticket to 'Hell'.) We started our visit to Brussels with a tour of the Chocolate Museum. Some fascinating insights into the history and the process and a not unsatisfying amount of tasting at the end as well! We realised we were only a short distance from the Grand Place - a gorgeous market square surrounded by ornate and gilded buildings and filled with a range of festive activities (and a whole lot of tourists). We loved the walkability of central Brussels, the interesting buildings, the luxurious shops, the smells and the festive spirit. We took the opportunity to duck into a Decathlon store to stock up on a second layer of winter hats, scarves and gloves, as Paris had showed us how badly prepared we were. And it was none too soon - as we exited the store we experienced our first snow of the trip. To conclude our visit to the European capital, we had to sample a famous Belgian waffle, and it didn't disappoint.

Ieper/Ypres captured our hearts. After our somewhat utilitarian spot in 'Hell', our place in Ieper felt like total luxury - with Belgian chocolates and a bottle of wine left for us by the host. He explained the building was one of the only residences that survived the WW1 decimation of Ieper, so it felt like being in the history of it all whether we were inside or outside.

We emerged from our cozy spot into the freeze of the morning as Christophe, our Flanders tour guide, greeted us warmly and welcomed us into his minivan. He was a wonderful story teller, and accomplished historian, and he regaled us with stories about the town's history, the war and the unbelievable reconstruction after the devastation. It was hard to believe that all the 'old' buildings surrounding us were completely rebuilt after the war.

We'll not likely forget the origins of the 'cat and jester' sculpture and the (nearly) annual Cat Parade - at the height of the town's prowess as the cloth weaving centre of Europe, rats and mice took over the cloth hall and started nibbling holes in the precious bales of cloth. A bright spark suggested locking hundreds of cats in the cloth hall with them - which was done. Apparently the vermin problem disappeared, only to be replaced by another - the cats clawed and scratched the cloth, causing holes and tears. (The cause of problems is solutions!) The Middle Ages weren't big on animal rights, so the problematic cats were taken to the belfry and thrown to their deaths in the square below. Apparently the Cat Parade that happens in May relives the history and practice as part of the town's history - but these days with stuffed toys thrown by the town jester to the waiting crowds below!

Christophe's tour of the World War 1 battle fields was informative, memorable and moving. From the centre of town, he took us to the Menin Gate, where we looked at the inscribed names of the 55 000 Commonwealth soldiers whose remains were never found to be buried. Then to the German cemetery at Langemark - a sombre and sad place where thousands of young German students were killed in the first battle of Ieper. Some were individually buried, but 25,000 lie in an 8m deep mass grave, headed by a poignant sculpture of 4 figures. Christophe asked us how many soldiers we could see - the obvious answer 4. Until he pointed out that the first is carrying a bowler hat, the second a briefcase, the third a welder's helmet and only the fourth carried a soldier's helmet. It was sculpted by a pacifist artist, depicting that only a quarter of those who were killed would have actually been soldiers by profession - many, in this battle, were idealistic young students, following the nation's propaganda of the time. Christophe also showed us a picture of Hitler visiting the cemetary during WW2 - apparently he didn't approve of its somber feel and lack of aggression, and called it ''a graveyard for old ladies'' not for heroes. Nevertheless, he still used it in his propaganda campaign to stimulate the sense of injustice against the Germans in WW1. We were shown (very carefully), old recovered hand grenades and mortar shells recovered by the local farmer friends of his - so many shells were dropped, farmers in the area are still picking up shards and uncovering bodies and bunkers 100 years later. We visited a surviving bunker and some trenches, walking as far as we could before the frozen sludge became too deep for our liking - as the icy wind bit through all our layers of clothing, our hands and feet ached and our teeth chattered, we were incredibly grateful we could just hop and into Christophe's warmed car, rather than endure this for months at a time. Tyne Cot cemetery, holding the identified remains of the Commonwealth soldiers, is moving in its sheer vastness. Following one or two stories attached to particular stones, opens up the depth of horror of so many human stories that ended here, in ''mud porridge''. Although difficult to imagine the real horror of the war, the suffering and the loss, it was good to get a sense of the place and the conditions. One can't help feeling how futile the whole thing was.

We were struck by how the war is so 'alive' and respectfully remembered by the Belgians. Every evening at 8pm, for the last 100 years, the Last Post Association holds a ceremony at the Menin Gate, where the last post is played by three buglers and a wreath is layed. It was a sombre and haunting experience to cap off an enlightening day. Our trip home via the delightful Belgian chocolatier and through the glinting Christmas lights of the Ieper town square was a real travel 'high' moment for us.

We could have stayed longer in Ieper, exploring the ramparts and just hanging out in the town, soaking in its stories and its 'gesellig' indoor spaces. But we had train tickets booked for the next leg, so the next morning we left the coziness of our lovely apartment, waved a poignant goodbye to a special place, and fell into our line of four as we wheeled our bags along the cobbled sidewalks back to the station - ready to head north to the Netherlands.