Castle in a Cloud

Floralia Brussels was cancelled last year, so I bought tickets for the very first weekend it was open this spring. Then the kids and I got quarantined, so we couldn’t go. Our first weekend out of quarantine promised a full day of rain–should we still go? We did! Put on your rain gear, kids–we trained for THIS!

Raindrops pattered softly on our umbrellas and raincoats as we crossed the arched bridge over the moat to Kasteel van Groot Bijgaarden, where the fortified entrance has kept guard since the 15th century. The guard tower dates to 1347, and the castle itself was built in the 17th century in Flemish Renaissance style. That means it’s built with iconic red bricks with white stone stripes, and the blue slate roof that is common in Belgium. This complex was the castle of the village of Grand Bigard, or Groot Bijgaarden, and the lords of Bigard have lived on the site since 1110 as part of the greater region of Brabant.

You would not believe how many interesting dramas have played out here over the years—the castle and lordship of the area was bestowed or sold to dozens of people who had a hand in Belgian and European events. One guy who ruled here did so at the pleasure of Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, until he was killed in the Siege of Amiens in 1471; one resident was treasurer to Charles V; another married his daughter to an Austrian count and chamberlord of the emperor of Austria. Another guy and his mom converted to Protestantism while the region was Catholic by law. They were chased up into the Donjon tower (the one that dates to the 14th century) and barricaded themselves within its 6-ft walls. When they surrendered, they were beheaded and the castle was sold off again. Beheading was a dignified death offered to them as nobles—others branded as heretics here were burned at the stake.

We found out we were moving here around this time two years ago, so pictures of the spring celebrations at this garden were some of the first photos of Brussels I saw as I tuned all my social media stations into Belgium. The gentle rain provided a misty surrealism to the gardens–it felt like we were walking through an impressionist painting. The scent of the hyacinths was strong enough to smell through our masks and rain gear, and of course it was not crowded at all. We got pastries and tea and nibbled them in a greenhouse at a garden table; were we breaking the law? Restaurants and outdoor seating remains closed, even though of course this means people have to cram together more often to eat on benches and steps.

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The soft sound of steady, light rain, a tummy full of tartes Française, the heady smell of spring flowers, and raindrops beading on every colorful pedal, all with a silent stone castle looming over the moat, made for a perfect spring morning, even though it was quite cold. The kids played under a draping pine and among the flowers under a bridge. They climbed into a carriage display and ran around the paths and over bridges. We were having a lovely time. And then I fell.

I don’t mean I stumbled and waved my arms around in the air to catch my balance. I don’t even mean that I tripped and fell on my face. We were about to leave and Chris wanted us to look inside the castle first. Isaac ran down a soggy wooden ramp and I thought, “I hope he doesn’t slip!” and thankfully, he did not. I skipped the ramp and went up some stairs, we all peered into the castle drawing room (very cool, nice big fireplace), and headed back down to leave. Without even thinking, I started down the soggy wooden ramp and BAM my head hit so hard I didn’t even know what was happening. I slipped, I slid—it was like a roller coaster. Finally I ROLLED MYSELF OFF THE RAMP to stop sliding down so I could get up.

Where were my arms in all this, you ask? Well, like I mentioned earlier, we were all decked out in our rain gear. I had on a black coat, my hands tucked warmly in my pockets, and my excellent gortex rain cape over that. I love my rain cape—it adds a touch of mystery and dignity to a rainy day walk around a medieval castle, right up until the moment when you go flying and tumbling down a ramp in disgrace. My arms attempted to flail, but with my hands in my pockets, the rain cape functioned like a straight jacket. It was so awful, other people in the garden stopped to ask if I was ok and my beloved nine-year-old laughed at me loudly until I told him to can it. My sister says if you’re young, people laugh when you fall, and if you’re old, people get worried when you fall, so Isaac laughing at me was I guess a good sign. But my head-neck-back-hips hurt afterwards for two days, so that made me feel old anyway.

But anyway, the castle and gardens are fantastic, and I highly recommend a visit. But watch your feet. And also I guess your head, if you’re feeling heretical.

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