Catharine Hewitson finds the, initially, hidden glories of Bruges are as tasty as Belgium's famous chocolate industry
IF I’m honest, when I arrived in Bruges I felt a little cheated. My guidebooks referred to the Belgian city as ‘picturesque’ and ‘quaint’; ‘the Venice of the North’. Even In Bruges, a black comedy about hit-men, portrayed the city in a fairytale light.
The coach transfer from the port of Zeebrugge dropped my boyfriend and I at the station on the south-west perimeter of the city. I had built up expectations of stepping into a medieval time-warp, but there didn’t seem to be a turret or cobblestone in sight.
