Tongeren calls itself the oldest town in Belgium, and it has a Roman name, a Gallic hero and a weekly antiques market to back up the claim. Under the Romans it was Atuatuca Tungrorum, and in the main square stands a romantic nineteenth-century statue of Ambiorix, the chieftain who gave Julius Caesar a very bad winter. A few minutes' walk from all that pomp lies the béguinage, a quiet quarter of low brick houses, cobbled lanes and small gardens that once housed communities of beguines, religious women who lived a semi-independent life without taking the full vows of nuns.
The Flemish béguinages were listed together by UNESCO in 1998, and Tongeren's is one of the more lived-in examples: people still occupy the houses, and the atmosphere is calm rather than museum-like. Look for the church, the little pump, the way the houses huddle round the courtyards. It is easy to imagine the women who lived here working, praying and running their own affairs in an age when that was far from common.
Riding in, you cross the Haspengouw, the gently rolling fruit country of Belgian Limburg, where orchards of apples, pears and cherries line the lanes and spring blossom turns everything white and pink. The roads are mostly smooth, with long views and few real corners; the Jeker valley to the south and the Voeren enclave to the east offer more relief and some proper small-road fun. Watch for cobbled stretches in the old town, tractors at harvest time and the usual Belgian habit of cyclists appearing from nowhere.
Tongeren is a town of thirty thousand people, so food, coffee and petrol are all easy. Sunday mornings bring the antiques and flea market, which fills the streets and makes parking a bike a creative exercise. The Gallo-Roman Museum is excellent if you want context, and the Basilica of Our Lady towers over the centre.
For something local, try a Limburg fruit tart, a vlaai, or a glass of syrup made from the region's apples and pears on a slice of bread. Then walk back through the béguinage at the end of the day, when the light falls low over the red brick and the only sound is a bicycle bell somewhere beyond the wall.