Belgium is a country I have never before considered going to. In fact, prior to my trip there last week, I lived in a state of blissful ignorance with regards to all things Flemish. The reason for the trip then was absolutely nothing to do with me, but it turned out to be a highly fulfilling experience. The architect of this little week-long adventure was my good friend Lawrence ‘Slutty’ Mason (a well-earned if slightly ironic nickname). For a while my friends from school and I have wanted to go on holiday together, partly because we were getting sick of London, but also somewhat because of desires to emulate other people of our own age who have been going on ‘lad’s tours’ since they were 15. We decided it was time to break loose from our self-imposed chains and actually attempt to do something fun in someplace other than our well-traversed small section of South East London. Whilst most people our age are heading to Ibiza, Magaluf and other such Brit-friendly destinations, it was decided almost immediately that Belgium was to be the location of our holiday. The ultimate aim of our journey was to reach a music festival with the catchy title of Pukkelpop, but Belgium was also an obvious choice because Slutty’s mother is Belgian, and his dad handily happens to write tourist guides on the country.
Before the festival we decided to spend a night in Bruges. This, it has to be said, was almost entirely due to our love of the film ‘In Bruges’, but it nevertheless happened to be a wise choice. Arriving at the train station it is apparent from the start that Bruges is very touristy, but is also a city with an incredibly relaxed feel. Furthermore, if you venture anywhere outside the immediate centre (around the Markt and the Burg squares) you are hard-pushed to find anyone other than a few gently strolling locals and the odd swan. It was safe to say we were impressed from the start.
After dropping our belongings at the youth hostel we had booked (the American-themed ‘Charlie Rockets’) we set out into the heart of the town accompanied by our pocket student guide and an eastender named James who was staying in our room (he had been abandoned by his travel companion in favour of a visit to a girl in Rotterdam). After the journey from London we were all fairly tired and so decided to leave to majority of the sightseeing for the next day whilst we sampled that famous Belgian speciality – beer. We visited several recommended bars and pubs (including De Garre, which made its own 9% beer), had some 3 Euros spaghetti and eventually settled in Brugs Beertje, a pub with 300 different types of Belgian beer. The night progressed so well that at one point we were having a heated discussion with some English ex-pats who lived in Cyprus about the merits of various beers, including ‘Kwak’, a strange-concoction that came in a weird test tube-like glass. This was absolutely ludicrous considering normally I find it hard to distinguish between a Carlsberg and a Guinness, but it was most definitely a lot of fun. I can however now refute the laughable promises that Belgian beer doesn’t result in a hangover.
Before we had to get the train to Hasselt for the festival I made three crucial observations about Bruges that would prove, mostly, to also account for Belgian as a whole. Firstly Belgian beer is not anything like English beer. It comes in much smaller glasses, but it is far stronger than anything I had tasted back home (with the exception of Special Brew). At one horrific point we found ourselves drinking an 11% concoction. Secondly, like the Netherlands, everyone speaks fantastic English. This was helpful for us, but did leave me feeling a little guilty at our own feeble grasp of foreign languages as a country. The third, and most important observation, was that Bruges was full of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I was also surprised by how well-dressed they were, characteristics I would normally associate with the French or the Italians. Sitting in the train station resembled being at a fashion show, as beauty after beauty sidled past us. I realise this may sound a bit desperate and perverted, but it honestly was shocking to see so many pretty people in one place. Linked to this observation can be made the point that if you see a woman on a bicycle in Bruges she will, by definition, take your breath away.
Lawrence and I later returned to Bruges after the festival when we explored the medieval city to a greater extent. Whilst the main attractions (the ones that were also visited in the film) such as climbing the Belfry and seeing the relic of the Holy Blood were interesting, we were both in agreement that simply wondering around the canals was the most fulfilling way of spending our time. The area to the south of Bruges around Minnewater was the most scenic. Beautiful parks, a range of different bridges and stunning buildings assault your senses from every direction. The beauty of Bruges is also that it is quite small, so these attractions were a mere ten minute walk from the centre of town. Compared to the hustle and bustle of Ghent, Bruges is a far more relaxing and aesthetically-pleasing city with arguably more on offer to see than its larger sibling. Its size does however limit the amount of time required to make the most of it, but means that as a weekend-break destination it is hard to beat.
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