Hall pass in hand we boarded the correct train and managed to get off at the correct stop this time… actually in Bruges. It was only a short walk from the train station to Old Town Bruges and it was astounding how many medieval buildings were concentrated in one small area. This area is a UNESCO World Heritage site and it was easy to see why it has earned that classification.
After a quick frite-stop, we strolled around admiring the fairytale-esque town and saw many of the highlights such as: the Belfry of Bruges, Quay of the Rosary, Minnewater Lake, the Basilica of the Holy Blood, and Saint Salvator’s Cathedral. We made it to the main plaza of the city, Burg Square, and were mesmerized by the medieval era Bruges City Hall (built in the 12th century). While Scott was busy taking in all of the “castley-shit” I was busy taking in all of the carriage horses and ponies that were busy taking tourists on sight-seeing treks around the old city. (They all looked sound, fit, happy, and confident navigating the hustle and bustle- the equines, not necessarily the tourists who all just looked full of waffles and frites.)
Fun fact #1: Bruges was where, after I had to physically and forcibly drag Scott out of a road because of an oncoming car (or in this case, horse drawn buggy) for the umpeenth time, he revealed to me that he “doesn’t take cobblestones as a road very seriously.” So while this was helpful information to have, it made me even more vigilant about making sure he wasn’t going to get run over on our vacation. I had to explain to him that although Bruges did indeed look like a fairytale town, it was in fact, actually a real town, and not Disneyworld or Colonial Williamsburg, and that we did actually need to look out for traffic. And as a general rule the taxi drivers we encountered on our trip were ruthless and seemingly out for blood and carnage. I kept my head on a swivel. In his defense, in some of the cities and towns we encountered, cobblestone sidewalks blended nearly imperceptibly into cobblestone roadways. For the record, I did return him alive to the US.
Fun fact #2: Bruges is where Scott “took a pee.” Meaning, he stole it. From the McDonalds. He was tired of hearing me complain about the lack of free toilet facilities thus far and he was guessing that you could pee for free at a McDonalds, so he went to test out his theory. He strolled up to the third floor of the medieval building that housed the Mickey D’s, and waltzed right into the bathroom right as another patron was vacating it, and went about his business. Only when he was leaving did he notice the previously vacant, but now manned, station of Monsieur Pee-Pee, whose job it was to police the potty and collect potty payment. Oops! Having stolen the pee, he waltzed back out to me, a free pee having been scored.
After the pee theft, and our walk around the highlights of the town, we took a break and went to the Duvelorium, a bar devoted to just Duvel beer, located in a stunningly beautiful medieval building, overlooking the market square. The outdoor balcony offered incredible panoramic views and the vantage point made for extraordinary people watching. The beer, like most Belgian beers, was simply divine; strong but smooth. We got a flight of beers and I tried hard not to take more than my fair share but I’m not sure how well that played out.
Thoroughly beered, our next adventure was a boat ride on the canals that Bruges is so famous for. It was fairly inexpensive and had unusual seating- the small boats had standard bench seating on both sides that faced inwards but had a row running down the middle only one person’s width that faced forwards. Scott and I got seated in this unusual middle row but it turned out to be ideal because we had great views. The tour guide gave information about notable sights and bridges that we passed. We both agreed that this was a better boat and canal tour than the one in Amsterdam and this method of sightseeing provided some of the best views of the “Venice of the North.”
We were thirsty again after the canal tour so stopped into a local beer shop that had hundreds, if not thousands of different varieties and brands of bottled European beers. Imagine a highly concentrated Total Wine devoted entirely to beer from small breweries located in a small store inside a medieval building in a medieval town. They also had about ten beers on tap so we sat down to enjoy another one. Scott discovered earlier in our trip that he liked a Belgian beer called Delirium Red, a strong but fruity and slightly sour beer, and they had it on tap here. We sat out front of the store and watched the foot traffic, as well as the occasional car and horse drawn buggy traffic that tried to plow over the foot traffic, because evidently many people are in the same boat as Scott, and don’t take cobblestones as a road very seriously. After we finished our beers we walked around the town some more and popped into a grocery store where I bought more Delirium beer for both of us- heavy bottled beer, and we took turns carrying it for the next several hours.
Thoroughly frited, beered, and having reached our “castley-shit” quota for the day, we decided to head back home, confident that we wouldn’t botch our return train trip. We made it into Ghent, very confidently jumped off the train at the Ghent station, high-fived each other because of our navigational success, walked down the stairs, and… Wait. Why is there construction? There wasn’t construction going on this morning when we left. Hmm. That’s weird. Well, whatever, let’s try another exit, maybe we’re turned around. And that is when we realized that we were at the first of the three Ghent stations, rather than the third that we should have gotten off at. Not wanting to potentially screw it up again we decided to just make the 5k walk back to our apartment. The bag holding the beer started to feel heavier and heavier as we walked the long way home but we got to see parts of Ghent that we hadn’t seen yet at least. (Our first impression of Ghent was that it was a tiny little village but in daylight, and from the central train station we realized we had grossly underestimated the size and scope of… Belgium’s third largest city.) It was on this long walk, with the heavy bag of beer, that the mighty Gravensteen Castle came into view. It turns out that our apartment was only a block away from this historic and notable sight but because of the way we kept getting to and from it, we had no idea it was virtually at the doorstep of the Gravensteen.
Our Oostende oopsie earlier in the day meant that we got back too late to make the meet and greet cocktail hour that the DePape family was hosting that evening which was sad. When we got closer to our apartment we stopped in to a local restaurant for dinner and we both had the famous Flemish stew with the obligatory side of frites. Our server was curious about where we were from (he originally guessed England which I found hilarious since I have a southern accent) and generously jotted down some places for us to check out when we were in Ghent. When we finally made it home we were ready for bed having had an enjoyable day wandering around both East and West Flanders.
