The canal which runs between Bruges  and Gent is now used  for pleasure traffic but without the canal there would have been no Bruges. 

Initially Bruges was a trading port with a sea harbour, but the sea arm of the canal began to silted up the city declined.  Trade stopped and it became almost frozen in time. For this reason it  has kept its charm. The  passing years were kind to it’s old buildings and they remained in pretty good shape ready to reawaken to the business of tourism

You could spend a whole week looking at museums that contain everything from  old masters to lace. There were Flemish masters dating back to the 14^th century, furniture, musical boxes  and in the church of Our Lady, a masterpiece, a sculpture of the Madonna by Michaelangelo.  In the town hall, which dates  from 1376, there are magnificent murals and heraldic shields.  Each, somewhere depicts a bear. 

  The legend tells that this Bruges bear was the first living being that the first Count of Flanders met  on his arrival and since that day it has stayed in the coats of arms.  
From the Belfry tower, three hundred and sixty six steps up, we got an intriguing view of the narrow winding streets below and  succumbed to an urge to explore the surrounding area. 

  Fortunately just round the corner  we found  a coffee shop that also hired out bikes. We were assured that we could  easily reach the forest or even the seaside (which was forty-five minutes pedaling away,) but we opted for something closer to hand.

I soon got used to the  bumpy  ride over the cobblestones. It all added to the adventure  and with bells ringing we  bounced off navigating our way through the locals who unlike us seemed to know where they were going.   One bonus for British who are not used to driving on the right hand side is that there are more than 50 one way streets in which you can cycle in both directions.  This sounds fine just so long as you don't meet another Brit driving a car!

I concentrated hard on keeping to the right and not creating a monumental pile up. Eventually we cycled over a  hump back bridge and found  a friendly pub called “In de Zwatre Kat.   It meant the 'Inn of the Black Cat.'   and was located in the end of a row of Alms Houses which had been converted into a folk museum. 

In these, you could walk through an old school room, a cobblers, a chemist,  and a tobacconist. 

Each was frozen in time by some eighty years. Out from beyond the green came the sound of wood balls hitting skittles as locals played in an old bowling alley.