Going to Gent

I nearly didn't come to Gent.
I'd ummed and ahhhed. Though about coming just for the day. Thought about not coming at all. Finally I made a decision. There was a reasonably priced bus leaving from Gent on Monday morning to Paris. Instead of getting up super early for the train from Bruges, I decided to go up on Sunday and spend the night.
Thanks to a post in the last-minute group I found a CouchSurfing host, the bus ticket was booked. I was going to Gent.

I arrived about 10.30am and stored my luggage at the train station. I'd had to remind myself that while the pictures I'd seen looked a lot like Brugge, this time I was in a proper city. Meaning the distance from where I was and where I wanted to get was more than walking distance. I was also without a map (there were none at the train station???) but I took a chance and jumped on a train heading (hopefully) into the centre.

I didn't know much about Gent, so I turned to a post by one of my favourite travel bloggers, Matt, from Landlopers. He was here recently and posted an article called 42 Things I Love About Gent. I picked out a few things that interested me and off I went.

My first stop was the Sunday flower market. Apparently this is a very local thing to visit, although probably not anymore since Matt's site gets thousands and thousands of hits. I strolled through the stalls and wished I could have bought some flowers. Then I had a hot chocolate and piece of cake (the cake was free!!) at a small espresso stand. This is what one does when one arrives at the flower market. Then I continued into town, walked around and found the tourist information. It was one of the best tourist information centres I've ever seen. There was a great selection of free maps and the people at the desk were asking the most basic of questions (always a good sign). I asked for directions to a great waffle place Matt had written about and headed that way, only to learn the waffles aren't served until 2pm.

I went in search of a chocolate place, but that was closed and found myself back at the flower market. This time a second trailer cafe was open - this one serving oysters and champagne. (Apparently this is what one does after they have finished buying their flowers). I was tempted to join in but at nearly 8 euro for half-dozen oysters, I gave it a miss.

I bought some "Gent noses" (proper Dutch name is neuzen) from a street stall. It's a cone-shaped confectionery which the seller described as the diamonds of gent. I was told, after I bought some, that my life was now saved. As I munched on a bread roll and some Griekse Brood (Greek bread) I stumbled across the Graffiti Street. There isn't much graffiti in the city - it all seems be in this one alley. It looked like it belonged in San Francisco or Berlin. Certainly not Gent.

I ate my neuzens by the canal and counted down until 2pm. With time to kill I headed to St Bravos - one of the many many churches in Gent. But this one is home to a "must see" - the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb. This was painted by two Belgium brothers in the early 15th century. My visitors guide compared it to the Mona Lisa. I figured at a cost of only 4 euro and with no lines, I could see what the fuss was all about. The entry fee includes an audio guide, which made the viewing much more interesting. And I was definitely impressed, but it's not really my thing. The Church itself is also beautiful, but I spent most of my time in there giving dirty looks to people ignoring the "No photography" sign. People were not being subtle at all. The lack of respect always frustrates me.

Then it was waffle time!!! Max's supposedly has the best waffles in Gent. Perhaps even in Belgium. The lady at the tourist information said she takes her children there once a year. I ordered a waffled with ice cream, fruit and chocolate. It was yummy but was it worth the 15 euro? I'll be writing a post on it later so you can find out then.

Absolutely stuffed I finally found the energy to walk some more, this time exploring the Patershol, one of the oldest areas of the city. The literal translation of the name Patershol is "Monk's Arse". There was a monastery at the end of the neighbourhood and the sewerage from that flowed into this area, which was were the town's poorest lived. The area now is much nicer and full of lots of restaurants and bars. I spent a while walking around and eventually found a canal to follow round to the port. I kept walking, crossed back over the city centre and started exploring along the other side, eventually coming back to the centre. Every time I find myself back in the main square, I'm always surprise. I'm never where I think I am.

A little tired from walking and still with a couple of hours to kill before meeting my host, I tried to visit the castle, but it was only an hour from closing and they'd stopped letting people in. So I went to the Design Museum, which was probably more up my alley anyway.

I came out and it was nearly dark. I had just enough time to catch the tram back to the station, pick up my bag and ride the tram back into the city. I spent half an hour photographing the city at night before meeting Otto, my CS host.

His home is a beautiful high-ceilinged studio just one street away from the castle. His house is older than Australia and used to be a brothel.

Paris tomorrow.

Day 2 in Brugge

It's February in Europe, so I didn't have high expectations for the weather here. I bought gloves, a beanie, umbrella, waterproof jacket and waterproof shoes. But I've been very lucky so far - despite some poor forecasts for earlier in the week.
Today when I woke up the skies were blue.
I didn't waste much time.
I ran over to the supermarket to get some fresh bread for breakfast. It's something I love doing in Europe. It's not quite the same anywhere else.
I left a note for Marcel (who'd warned me he was likely to sleep into the afternoon as he was two night shifts coming up). Today I was going to be a tourist. Sometimes it's just got to be done. So I started with a walk up the Belfry (yep the one in In Bruges).
The view was awesome. Although just beyond the city there's a lot of industry, which looks strange but I guess it's got to be somewhere. It's 366 steps to the top. Some creative license was taken in the movie because there is wire across the balcony, which you'd expect at this height. So no gangster could throw himself off it.
I resumed my walking in the sun, stopping on a bench to eat my chocolates form Dumon (yesterday's - I didn't buy more!!). More walking. Around some street somewhere (I was just walking with no map, no idea) I saw a cafe called Books and Brunch. Two of my favourite things. I took it as a sign as went in for lunch. The care is lined with books (new and secondhand) which you can buy. A note in the menu said customers are free to read them in the store and don't even have to buy anything...just sit in one of the seating areas and read away. I had some broccoli soup (something to wash the sugar down) and a cup of tea.

I decided to do a cruise on the canal. It's only 8 euro here compared to 70 euro in Venice. The boat trip took 30 minutes and it was good fun. It's nice to look up at the buildings a bit. When walking I tend to keep my eyes at shop level.

I bought my tea cup on this trip (It didn't go to Berlin or London - my two most recent trips) so a Teacup Tale was overdue. I took some photos and walking around a bit more. Belgium is famous for its fries - apparently they were named French Fries because American soldiers mistook Belgium Army staff for French. So it seemed fitting to visit the fries museum here. The museum went through the history of potatoes and their introduction in Europe and Belgium, and then the development of fries. There was a lot of conflicting theories, but Belgium is happy to claim they originated here. They have a fry shop in the basement so I tried fries for the first time. Good, but not sure they are worth all the fuss. How good can fries really be?

In need of a cup of tea I found a tea shop and read my book for a while. When I ordered a scone I was told there would be a 15-20 minute wait because they bake them fresh. Totally OK with me!

Then, more walking and tea cup shops before walking back to Marcel's. He cooked dinner (meat balls in a celery sauce and mashed potato...I'm getting very spoilt by my hosts on this trip) and we spent the evening listening to music. He's a fan of some Australian artists so it was nice to listen to some songs I haven't heard for ages. I also watched the Belgium version of The Voice. Some poor decisions were made. What were the judges thinking???

Day 1 in Brugge

Lucie's dad drove me to the train station today.
We were driving along the road and came to what I first thought were abandoned toll booths. Perhaps a new road was built and they no longer charge tolls for this.
Nope.
The Belgium border.
Just like that I was in another country.
It's an experience I've had a few times in the last 18 or so months, but it still amazes me. This just isn't possible in Australia. Drive for days on end and you're still in Australia or in the ocean.
The train from Lille to Brugge would have cost about 40euro, because it would have been the international TGV train. Catching local trains is much cheaper so I'd planned to go from Lille across the border to Kortrijk and then from Kortrijk to Brugge. It would have cost about 15 euro, but Lucie's dad (I realise now I never got her parent's names) offered to drive me to Kortrijkto save me changing trains. My train was then 7euro...a big difference from 40. It always pays to do your research.

My CouchSurfing host had given me directions to catch the bus from the train station in Brugge to his place, but the weather was fine and it didn't look that far so I walked instead. It took me about 40 minutes along the canal. Marcel lives a street or two outside the centre of the city, but it's not a big place so it's still only 10 minutes or so from the centre of the old town.

I spent an hour or so chatting to Marcel before venturing into the old town for a walk around. Brugge is nicknamed Venice of the North (although the people here prefer to call Venice the Brugge of the South). Both cities have canals and lots of twisty, narrow streets but that's where the similarities end as far as I can see.

Brugge, of course, is known for it's chocolate. There are more than 50 chocolate shops here. A few names have cropped up repeatedly in my research so I planned to visit them. I found The Chocolate Line, which a couchsurfer who couldn't host me had suggested I visit. With Valentines Day a week away there's a definite theme in the window displays. I chose some chocolates - you buy them in little boxes, so three for 3.90, or five for whatever, and eight and so on. I chose two and then asked the sales assistant to put in her favourite.

Barely 50 metres down the street I came across Dumon; this one had come up in a lot of guidebooks. I stopped in here for a hot chocolate and got two free chocolates with that. Not bad for 2.50euro. I chose another box of three and decided I better do some walking. I only ate one of the chocolates I bought - a melocake from The Chocolate Line. Marshmellow covered in chocolate with this surprise little biscuit base. Oh my god it was amazing. I knew there was crap chocolate, better chocolate and fancy chocolate but this was a whole other level. I could feel it in my body like a drug and I immediately wanted another. I walked in the opposite direction to the shop.

I spent the next few hours walking down any street that looked interesting. I rarely knew where I was, but when I thought I should start heading back I just looked for the Belfry and walked towards that.

I cooked dinner for Marcel and then we headed out to see the city at night - it's his favourite time to be in the city. There are tourists here all year round. Although the Markt Square was pretty bare, there were still plenty of camera-totting visitors around. Even in the rain. So Marcel prefers to head out after they've all called it a night.

I had my own tour guide as we walked along the canal. We stopped in at a bar where some of his friends work for a quick drink and then continued on walking. We covered A LOT of the city and Marcel pointed out a few things I'll go back and visit. It was 11pm when we walked passed a bar he frequents. We walked straight by but we were just out of view when his phone rang. A mate in the bar had spotted him so we went in for a drink. The bar was only steps from the Markt and I thought that would have made it a prime "tourist trap" but apparently it's really popular with locals. You never can tell.

After about three hours of walking, we called it a night.

CouchSurfing and party crashing in Quebec

I'm a big advocate of CouchSurfing and this little recount of my weekend in Quebec explains why. The generousity and hospitality I received from not just my host, but complete strangers, was incredible. And lots of fun.

In Quebec I'm staying with Juan and his lovely pointing griffon Kelvin. Seriously - best behaved dog ever. On Saturday afternoon I met Juan at his place to head to his friend's birthday. I asked what I should take and he warns me we might not be coming back that night. I ask if we need to get any food or anything to drink and the reply is nope, it's all waiting for us. We pick up some people on the way - one has to ride in the back with Kelvin - and drive about 40-minutes out of the city.

We arrive at this house in god-knows-where. Honestly, I have no idea where we were. But it was a big house, with a huge block backing onto woods. And the party is in full swing. There's food out, kids are running around and randomly Britney Spears is playing on the CD player. I'm not the only ring-in: Juan has some friends up from Montreal and another workmate has brought his girlfriend, who doesn't know anyone either. But regardless we are welcomed with open arms and fed lobster. Lots and lots of lobster. I met so many great people, understood more conversation than usual because a lot was in English, and had a fabulous time.

As the night winds up around a fire we are shown into the basement where our hosts help us set up camping mattresses and sleeping bags. I'm ashamed to say I can't even remember the names of the people we were staying with. Just too many new faces. But when one asks who the CouchSurfer is I put up my hand and he returns with the cushions off the couch for me to sleep on. Very sweet.

In the morning we wake up to breakfast: bread and spreads and cereal and juice all waiting for us. We eat out on the deck in the sun before heading off around mid-morning.

Of the ones who stayed, about half had never met our hosts before. And for me, well I was just some random who had no connection to anyone. But regardless, we were treated like family and it was wonderful.

Back in Quebec City, we head out for Columbian for lunch (there are three Columbians in our group) and then walk through the Old City before relaxing in a park until it gets a bit chilly for us.

To have Juan, my host, agree to have me stay and then include me in this (it was his birthday too last week so the party was a bit of a joint celebration) was really sweet. And then to have these strangers welcome me, feed me and take me in for the night was incredibly generous.

It just goes to show there are some really wonderful people out there and this weekend I felt really lucky to meet some of them.