Single Step

After a fascinating morning at the European Union Parliamentarian Museum and a delicious luncheon of oysters and asparagus, we left Brussels for Cologne by train. The 2 hour ride passed through flat farmland, lush with new corn sprouts and fields of long grass where cattle and sheep graze.

Upon our arrival, clearly marked signs led us outside to Roncalli Platz and the Cathedral — only steps from the Cologne train station and worth a visit. Gord remarked — and I was thinking the same thing — that the main sanctuary looked like the scene from Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings where the Fellowship of the Ring finds itself in mines of Moriah with its immense pillars and ceiling. Apparently, the diminuating (is that even a word?) effect is intentional. Stained glass windows date from the 13th century and the cathedral boasts of a 10th century crucifix, one of the oldest surviving wooden carvings in the world.

Our 1st class train ticket — the only way to acquire a sleeping berth — gave us entry into the train station lounge where we rested into late evening while awaiting our Prague departure. We hopped aboard, settled into our berth and awoke in Prague!

It was too early to check in but the hotel allowed us to leave our bags there as we headed for the Jewish Quarter and toured 6 Jewish museum sites. The synagogue is the oldest in Eastern Europe and feels like an air raid shelter with its damp, cave-like atmosphere, thick walls and slitted windows. The cemetery is a chaotic mess of tombstones, like someone took a handful of dominoes and threw them across a small patch of lawn.

The tram took us to King Wenceslas Square where the architecture reflects what was in style at the time, an eclectic mix of Art Nouveau, Neo-classic, New-renaissance and Communist Utilitarian.

The metro is a quick way to get from here to there and today we encountered a first — but one we’ve been warned about. Gord looked down to find a man’s hand in his pant’s pocket. I felt a tug at the zipper on my handbag and we knew at once we were the targets of a pick-pocket.  Nothing was taken but it was a good reminder to keep valuables in the hotel safe or tucked inside a money-belt. Gord looked the fellow in the eye and said, “You put your hand in my pocket, didn’t you?” The guilty party made no reply and a quick exit. Violent crime involving tourist is fairly rare in Europe but pickpocketing is common.

As I write, we are taking a break in our hobbit-like “Prancing Pony” room, safe from any shadowy folks and thankful to be here.

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We caught a 9am train south toward Brugges, Belgium and stopped in Antwerp for a few hours on the way. Temperatures are hot today and we arrived in Brugges at the breaking of a thunder and lightening storm, bombarded with hailstones the size of concord grapes.

Drama aside, we are settling into more old world charm in classic Brugges with its touristy shops, waffles, Belgian horses prancing down the cobbled lanes and canal-side rows of red brick buildings. Quintessentially Europe!

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