Mechelen Is Like a Mini Bruges Without the Crowds — Here’s How to Visit Belgium’s Best-kept Secret

I didn’t have any intention of stumbling on a fascinating new place. I was visiting my long-time college friend Anne, who had been living in Belgium intermittently for two decades.  My husband, David, wanted to go to Antwerp for the day, just for something to do (and taste some Belgian beer), but Anne felt it was too far and hectic. “Let’s go to Mechelen,” she said. “It’s like a mini Bruges, with no tourists.” I was intrigued.

Mechelen lies just 30 minutes from both Brussels and Antwerp in the heart of Flanders, Belgium’s Dutch-speaking northern realm. We took the quick train ride from Anne’s house in a village outside Brussels, noticing several priests on board. “Odd,” Anne said. “Even though Belgium is Catholic, I’ve never seen priests on a train.”

A short walk from the train station, we plunged into a striking medieval painting. Cobblestone streets moseyed through a labyrinth of ancient stone buildings, and off in the distance rose the Gothic tower of a medieval cathedral. My first impression was that Mechelen must have been a very important town, and it turns out it was. 

In the early 16th century, the city reigned as the capital of the Low Countries (Belgium, Netherlands, and Luxembourg) under Queen Margaret of Austria. Her lavish palace in Mechelen, with its fantastic library, is considered the first Renaissance-style building in northern Europe — it’s now a law court. After she died in 1530, the capital was moved to Brussels, while the Netherlands separated and created its own capital at Amsterdam. But during its heyday, Mechelen prospered in a lucrative cloth trade and enjoyed a rich cultural life in the arts and music.

Sundays are generally quiet in most European towns, but the town center buzzed with people. “It’s the braderie!” Anne said. Markets occur every Saturday in town, but twice a year — including the day of our visit — a fair is held, where shop owners set up tables in front of their boutiques and vendors from beyond Mechelen sell at scattered stalls. It was still early, about 10 a.m., so vendors were just arranging tables full of hand-knitted hats and scarves, piles of cheese, antiques, and beautiful lacework for which Belgium is so famous. 

We wandered by shops, one Gothic or baroque church after the next, and the 13th-century De Brusselpoort, the last remaining of the city’s 12 castle-like gateways. Beyond unfurled the vast, pedestrian-only Grote Markt, Mechelen’s large market square that has held open-air markets since the 1200s. Overshadowing the square, the Gothic St. Rumbold’s Cathedral was built between 1200 and 1520 to house the remains of local saint Rumbold, who, in the sixth century, converted pagan German tribes to Christianity. St. Rumbold’s was destined to be the world’s tallest church until funds ran dry before a 252-foot spire could be completed. The current one soars “only” 319 feet.

The Town Hall, used as a cloth hall in the 14th century, stands opposite, while 18th-century Renaissance and Rococo buildings, many looking picturesque with their step-gabled Belgian roofs, round out the impressive architectural display. But it’s not all about history: Several cafés ring the square, where people were hanging out, enjoying the rare sunny September day.

“Let’s get coffee,” David said.

“Not here,” said Anne. “Follow me.”

We crossed the street opposite the church, and Anne led us to a tucked-away, indoor-outdoor café called Kuub. We sipped cappuccinos and shared a “Plankje met Brouwerskaas & Gouda” (board with brewer’s cheese and gouda) — essentially two huge hunks of Dutch-style cheese that, for this cheese lover, was a taste of heaven.

Next destination: Het Anker brewery, one of Belgium’s most storied brewers. On the go again, we meandered by the main entrance to St. Rumbold’s, cordoned off by security guards. A well-dressed crowd gathered before the church’s grand but closed doors.

“What’s happening?” Anne asked one of the sentinels in Flemish.

 “The new archbishop is being ordained,” he said.

That explains the priests on the train, though, at the time, we didn’t realize what a big deal it was. Later, I read that Belgium’s King Philippe and Queen Mathilde were present for the ordination of the new archbishop of the Archdiocese of Mechelen-Brussels, Luc Terlinden, who had been selected by Pope Francis himself. 

We were not getting into the church to climb its winding staircase of 500-something steps to a stunning skywalk offering 360-degree views, much less to view the ordination. We strolled down more cobblestone streets, where, on Merodestraat, we came across the ancient Major Seminary (now the Diocesan Pastoral Center). Swarms of priests decked out in shimmery gold and cream robes, fancy miters, and headdresses poured out of the double doors and paraded down the street. They smiled and waved to us as they made their way to the ordination as invited guests.

We entered a quarter of even tinier cobbled lanes, ancient shuttered houses, and flowery courtyards — the Groot Begijnhof (Grand Beguinage), Anne said. It’s where lay religious women lived in the community without taking vows. They were self-sufficient, with bakeries, care centers, and churches. Today, the picturesque homes are privately owned by lucky residents who maintain beautiful gardens of roses and geraniums. 

Beyond the Grand Beguinage, we found Het Anker, dating back to 1369 and presumably established by monks like many of Belgium’s breweries. Their famous Goudon Carolus beer is named after Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, who spent his formative years in Mechelen. David decided to take the full 90-minute brewery tour (never mind it was in Flemish, which he does not speak; they offer English tours, just not today), while Anne and I wandered some more, catching up.

The scenery became more Bruges-like as we crossed a bridge over the picturesque Dijle River and walked along the Haverwerf (Oats Wharf), where grains were traded as far back as the 14th century. Three stunning facades of medieval trading houses remain; the center one, called the Little Devils (you can make out carvings of little demons), is a rare survivor of 16th-century wood-fronted architecture. 

Across another bridge and down another ancient street, Anne ducked into the Art Deco façade of De Gouden Vis (the Golden Fish). I followed, taking in the light-wood bar and panoramic windows of this bustling café, drawn to the sublime deck out back overlooking the Dijle.

We sat down for an apéritif — both ordering Kriek Lindemans, a cherry-rich, low-alcohol fruit beer the Belgians do so well, accompanied by potato chips (so much for lunch). We hung out for an hour, an hour and a half — who knows? Time was irrelevant in this timeless setting, the sun beaming, paddleboarders and excursion boats gliding past, and Flemish words floating all around.

Eventually we made our way back to Het Anker to meet up with David and Anne’s partner — and, finally, some beer tasting. I sampled the “Belgian Flag,” 5-ounce pours of three varieties of Gouden Carolus that represented the flag’s colors: dark Classic, golden Tripel, and reddish Ambrio. Just as the first sip of the caramel-imbued Classic tantalized me, David joined us, excited. He said he didn’t understand much of the tour, though he had learned one thing: The beer hadn’t been brewed by monks but by nuns! 

Nuns from a Mechelen convent set up the Hospice de Beaune in 1596, brewing beer to treat their patients (since local water was too unsafe). Louis van Breedom, Het Anker’s founder, bought the building from the nuns in 1865, naming the brewery after Jan in Den Anker, Mechelen’s first maltster, and for the role his beers played in “anchoring the soul.”

For dinner, the four of us made our way to the old Vismarkt (fish market), a historic square that Anne and I had scoped out earlier, where several open-air restaurants beckoned with moselen (mussels), frietjes (“French” fries — which were invented in Belgium, by the way), and waterside views. We chose Local Table and Tap, settling into a table right on the square. As we shared a toast, our glasses rattling in the delight of discovering this under-the-radar Flanders jewel, I realized we hadn’t even reached Mechelen’s many museums, parks, or famous public library, occupying a baroque monastery ruin. Next time!