Chocolate, stews and beer

Next month is going to be exciting for those of you who like football (or soccer, for those across the Atlantic). For those of you who would rather sit in a traffic jam while several toddlers scream in your ear, the excitement levels are a little lower. Somehow the European Football Championships don’t do it for me. Henry talks of little else. The Premier League has literally just finished and I mistakenly believed that meant we could have a few football-free months. But we can’t. And he tells me I should show an interest in what he likes as he occasionally goes to art galleries with me. These two things are clearly not the same but rather than argue I’m going to try to care. First of all I had to pick a team to support. You’re probably thinking since I’m English I should support England – but that would be far too easy. I decided to place my support elsewhere and choose a country based on something utterly unrelated to kicking a ball.

My choice is Belgium. Largely because I really want to go there next.

Among the European heavyweights (in terms of tourism) Belgium sits quietly, not showing off or shouting too much and yet everyone who goes there comes back raving. The food is rich and hearty with pork, beef, game and seafood served all over the place, predominantly in big, steaming cauldrons of delicious stew. Nobody does stew like the Belgians, if you ask me. They love chocolate too – we have that in common. I seriously love it. Strolling around the cobbled streets of Bruges, there’s always a chocolatier nearby with windows rammed full of the most delicious-looking creations I’ve ever seen. And of course they treat beer with the same reverence as other countries treat wine. Sit down for a three-course meal and the waiter will match what you choose with delicious beers served in wine glasses (strong beer too so don’t order a pint!). Before I went the first time I would have sworn I don’t like beer… the Belgians proved me wrong.

It’s not a big country and, as dull as it sounds, the rail network is absolutely brill. You can easily explore all of the country, from the coast to the many quaint towns. As you know I’m a Christmas market obsessive, and they have some of the best here. The festive season is a good time to go, but the summer is equally fun with the gorgeous countryside and beers just waiting to be sipped in the sun.

Whenever you go, I insist on visiting Bruges, Antwerp and Brussels though. Bruges is something of a fairy-tale town with canals, market squares, horses and carts, beautiful churches and general levels of beauty only a few spots can rival. Antwerp is the second largest city and home to the cool kids with a vibrant fashion, art and entertainment scene and some incredible modern architecture. It also has a fortress and a cathedral so it’s no slouch in the historical sites department.

Hotel de Orangerie, Bruges

Die Swaene, Bruges

Hotel de Tuilerieen, Bruges

The Pand Hotel, Bruges

De Witte Lelie, Antwerp

Then there’s the home of the EU – Brussels. Brussels is a strange mix of some of the most beautiful and ugly buildings you’ll ever see. The Grand Place, which is the centre square of the city, is probably one of the top 10 most attractive on the planet. Some of the 1960s buildings have a Medusa-like quality that stop you in your tracks.

The good news for me is that despite my unscientific approach to football team selection Henry tells me Belgium is actually very good at football and could do well. So I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself. When they win I’ll be raising a glass of beer while stuffing truffles in my mouth to celebrate.

Who will you be supporting at the Euros? I’d love to know – especially if you have unorthodox reasons like I do!

See you next week.

Melissa. x

Royal Baby names: Hippo or Mary Poppins

Shortly there’s going to be a new ‘most famous baby in the world’. The bookmakers have gone through all possible names and somehow come up with odds. My money is on James for a boy, Sophie for a girl. These are royal names befitting a new member of the monarchy.

But my heart is hoping for something much more exciting/weird. Something a little less royal. Perhaps Hippo for a boy, and Mary Poppins for a girl.

They are not the only couple having children at the moment in the UK. Everyone I know seems to be having their first, second, third, fourth or in one case, fifth child. The most striking thing about a couple with a baby versus a couple without one is the amount of kit that travels with them. The huge cars parents buy are not for the children. It’s for the 17 bags and boxes that come with the children. It’s as if all babies are old-fashioned royalty with a knackered two-person entourage dragging everything the nipper’s heart might desire around with them.

A change of clothes. Another change of clothes. A dummy, a spare dummy, loads of plastic bottles, a travel cot, a buggy, nappies, wipes, toys, a sanitising kit, a harness for carrying baby on one’s front…I could go on.

I do want a baby at some point but I worry about trying to get anywhere with the child without a minibus to transport everything. Airports with children? The idea makes me want to weep. I suspect Will and Kate don’t worry too much about such things. They probably have a little help and don’t have to struggle through security at Heathrow or JFK.

But when I start holidaying with children I suspect I’ll be more than a little petrified and may end up giving up long before boarding.

Oddly enough, considering I’m not even pregnant yet, I have been researching ways to make travelling with bambinos a little easier. Hire a nanny seems to be the consensus. But if you don’t have the means for such luxury there are some interesting ways to reduce the size of your train.

Hotels are set up for children. And if they’re not they are very honest about it. So once you arrive there’s nothing to worry about. Planes on the other hand are not geared towards parents. There’s the hatred of all the other passengers to deal with of course. There’s the tiny amount of overhead locker space. And there’s not much there to entertain a nipper. So the key is to be on the plane for as short a time as possible!

With that in mind I’ve picked my top 3 places to go from my base in London when babies (hopefully) start turning up. It’s purely distance so I use the very snazzy SLH map. I’d be interested to hear which are the three nearest places to you by plane.

Mine are:

Belgium.  It’s not just chocolate they’re good at, they’re good at hotels too. Brussels and Bruges are my favourite spots, but only because I haven’t been to Antwerp. So I’m going to choose De Witte Lelie, a tranquil retreat in the cultural old quarter of the city.

Netherlands. There’s very little not to like about Amsterdam, in fact I can’t think of anything. It’s a beautiful city with astonishingly friendly people. As far as I’m concerned I’m not in Amsterdam if I can’t see a canal from my bedroom window which is why I’ve opted for former 17th century theatre The Dylan.

France. With a good pair of binoculars you can see England from the coast by Chateau La Cheneviere. So pretty safe to say it’s close by! Aside from that this 18th century mansion and farm has a heated pool, tennis courts and a spectacular golf course. Tres Bien!

Right. I’m off to let Henry know that I want to call our children Hippo and Mary Poppins. Wish me luck!

Every time I go to Bruges I worry that it’s not real.

How can it be? It’s too pretty to be a real place.

I pinched myself several times on a recent trip while walking around salivating at chocolate shops and wondering what time it becomes OK to start sampling Belgium’s extraordinary array of beer.

But I didn’t wake up. It is real. I’m not Alice and this isn’t wonderland. It’s Bruges. And I’m Melissa.

The whole place appears to have been put together with a level of care that reminds me of a very very expensive wedding cake. A cake that’s big enough for you to mini-break on for a few days.

I can’t be sure how many photos I took in total but, to give you an indication of why I might have repetitive strain injury in my finger, during the half hour canal tour alone I took 74. Because whichever way you look at, and whatever it is you happen to be looking at, there’s a postcard waiting to be printed.

There are two very important things one needs to make sure of, when a couple of days here await.

First, if you’re on the five two diet, make absolutely certain the two immediately precede or follow your trip. Because you have to eat waffles here. And pancakes. And truffles and bounteous hot meals of beef and mussels and frites. And drink the beer I mentioned earlier because nobody does beer as well as the Belgians.

Second, and this is even more important, stay at Hotel De Orangerie.

I don’t normally give orders to readers, it’s probably rude and I don’t imagine to know any more than you do about anything. But I do know that if you don’t stay here you’re, at best, staying in the second best hotel in the city.

It’s everything I love about Bruges condensed into a little converted 15^th-century convent.

On one side its ivy-covered facade overlooks the canal with easily the best outdoor sitting space in town. On the other a giant barn door, originally designed to let a horse and cart through, acts as the front door behind which a painfully perfect 20-room hotel oozes that charisma and care that chain hotels repeatedly try to unsuccessfully impersonate.

They can’t copy this though. Because the man who showed me to my room would marry the hotel if he was allowed to and wasn’t already in a relationship. It doesn’t matter how deep your pockets, you can’t pay for the passion of this chap. He epitomises the reasons independent hotels continue to defeat the economies of scale odds.

The rooms are a masterpiece of interior design. Effortless eclecticism that demonstrates great taste and great patience as the furniture was clearly a slowly built collection, not a job lot. If I thought there was any way of getting away with stealing everything in my room and having it delivered to my London flat I would have done so.

Breakfast was yummy, which was unsurprising. Surprising was that nobody was wolfing their food desperate to get back out into the delights of Bruges. Although I then realised I was subconsciously taking my time over every mouthful too. Because when you’re in this hotel you’re already in the best of Bruges. And the rest is just outside the window.