When we finally arrived in Bruges, several hours later than anticipated, hubby said, “Let’s go see why everyone is gathered near the street.”
We could hear drums beating in the distance. Our anticipation swelled as we waited with thousands of others to see what would come around the corner. To our surprise, it was a knight in shining armor accompanied by a medieval marching band! I’m pretty sure the handsome knight hoped to swoop me up on his horse and carry me into the sunset, but once he caught sight of hubby he was totally intimidated. Or perhaps it was the fact that he’d have to swoop up two kids as well.
We watched as fair maidens danced down the street, crusaders galloped with banners held high, and the gruesome, bloody head of a giant dangled from the shoulders of six men. Villagers with fiery torches shouted, and a Viking ship rowed by fierce men in horned helmets rowed merrily down the street. The crowd cheered and sang along as yet another fully-costumed medieval band played the Flanders National Anthem.
After an hour, we told the kids we were going to dinner since we had not eaten anything except chocolate and cookies for the entire day. Five-year-old daughter thought hard and then came up with a solution, “Could you just bring me a hot dog? This isn’t really a parade, it’s a story!”
We watched for another 40 minutes, and finally pulled her away. The parade wound through the cobblestone streets, and as luck would have it, we met up with the beginning of it again. The handsome knight gave me a longing glance, but I shook my head so that he understood that I’m completely in love with my own knight from Boone County.