Bruges

Bruges is a medieval city inside an egg: the ring canal that follows the line of the walls of 1300 encloses a town that the wool and banking money of the fourteenth century built and that the silting of its harbour, a century later, froze in place — so that the Belfry still stands over the Markt with its three hundred and sixty-six steps, the Basilica still keeps its relic on the Burg, Michelangelo's Madonna still sits in the Church of Our Lady, and the swans still glide on the Minnewater by the white silence of the Beguinage. UNESCO listed the whole in 2000; the day-trippers had discovered it before.

The traveller climbs the Belfry early for the roofs; walks the Burg and the Rozenhoedkaai, the view every camera takes; takes the boat through the inner canals for the half hour that shows the backs of the houses; visits the Memlings at St. John's hospital and the Madonna at Our Lady; sits in the Beguinage's courtyard; walks the eastern ramparts to the windmills; eats a waffle standing and a stew sitting, and drinks a beer brewed inside the walls; and, above all, stays the night — when the coaches leave at five, the city that remains is the one the bankers built.

The Guide's honesty: Bruges is small and receives millions, and between eleven and four in high season it can feel like a stage set — the answer is the night, the early morning, the weekday and the streets two turns from the Markt, where the town lives —; the chocolate is superb and the shops selling it are of every quality, so choose by the smell; the cobbles are relentless; a bicycle to Damme along the canal is the best hour outside the walls; and the city's beauty is not a trick — it is simply preserved, and rewards those who slow to its speed.