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lupestripeWe decided to walk from Brewdog to our hotel, which was effectively just one station down the line at Brussels Midi. With the ability to use Google Maps as we do at home for no extra charge, navigating around the city was incredibly easy and we noticed that it was only a twenty mintue walk to where we were staying. As such, once we had found our bearings outside the bar, we walked pretty much straight there down a single road, spotting a number of interesting churches and statues on our way. Alas, we didn't have much time to look at them as we were due in Ghent at 6pm to meet Mr Evans, meaning we had to get something of a move on if we were to get there on time. As we walked closer to Midi, the neighbourhood got more gritty and urban, with a number of ethnic food shops lining the fantastically named Avenue de Stalingrad. At the end of this road, there was a funfair set up, with a large number of people milling around enjoying the atmosphere. It was certainly quite packed, which wasn't particularly great in a rush, but we successfully managed to navigate our way through it and emerge outside the station. The hotel was directly opposite, so we swiftly checked ourselves in, freshened up and were back outside in about fifteen minutes.
It was fortunate that our train to Ghent departed from that very station, so finding it proved to be exceptionally convenient. And with a vast number of trains making the thirty minute journey, we were soon on our way. The countryside was not too dissimilar to that of the UK, while the train itself was a largely standard affair, but what I did find amazing was how small Belgium was as a country. Indeed, in such a short ride, we had already crossed a significant part of it and I was surprised to find just how close everything was here. Upon arriving in Ghent, we came upon a station undergoing significant renovation work, with us entering on the farthest platform from the main station entrance. This meant we got a good look at the station as we made our way towards the ticket hall, where Mr Evans had agreed to meet us. We were about ten minutes late, but he was there as planned, with us not having met since Eurofurence last year. It was great to see him again and he was so accommodating in showing us around his city - a place I probably would not have visited on this trip had he not suggested it. He had booked a meal in a restaurant for 7:30pm, giving us a little time to explore, with the tour beginning in the station itself as we observed the fantastically painted murals high up on the walls detailing all of the places to which you could get a train from that station. After absorbing ourselves in this for a short while, we headed outside to catch a number four tram as Mr Evans wanted to drop off his work shoes at his home before we embarked into the city centre.
What surprised me was just how far the station is from the heart of the city, and how close Mr Evans lives to the centre of the metropolis. His house was a pleasant terraced affair on a residential street, and we did not have to wait too long outside it as he unloaded his work baggage before guiding us around his city. Our first port of call was pretty much over the road as there was a neatly ordered collection of red bricked buildings which once formed part of a Carmelite Convent. These were where pious women could live together, but women who did not want to go the full hog with the solitude and chastity of a monk or nun. There was a strong sense of community here, with an imposing church at its very centre, with the buildings traditionally lying within walled grounds. The walls have since been removed, with only a metal arch outlining where the gates into the complex once stood, but even in the heart of the city, it did feel like a comfortable oasis away from the hustle and bustle of every day life.
The similarities in architecture in this Dutch-speaking part of Belgium and the Netherlands came as no surprise, with a large number of tall buildings squeezed together in the Dutch style. The main river flowing through the centre of the city with a picture postcard row of such buildings came as no surprise either, but what was truly wonderous was the sheer number of different imposing constructions dotted throughout the city. Gravensteen Castle, which was pretty much straight out of a Medieval fairytale, was a huge surprise as its ramparts pretty much snuck up on you and while much of the building was restored rather than original, this did not mean that it lost any authenticity. Indeed, with the flag of East Flanders flying majestically above its turrets, it seemed a very faithful recreation, even if it had been restored as late as 1893. Mr Evans told us about a torture museum that is housed within its walls, which certainly would have been interesting, but alas this was only an evening visit and thus everywhere of that nature was closed.
If the Castle is somewhat hidden, there are a number of towers which dominate the skyline. Saint Bavo Cathedral is probably the most striking, while the golden-faced belfry was probably my favourite. Strolling alongside the riverbank, parallel to the neat houses with these two huge buildings in the background was one of those beautiful historical scenes that only travelling can deliver. It was truly magical and even though in the main cobble square, the authorities had erected a giant metal steel bar that changes colour for some reason, which looked quite out of place, this scene was very much perfect. There was also a weird barn-like structure in the main square for no reason whatsoever, it looked completely out of place. Later in the evening, the city hall with its myriad of styles - not least its classical architecture on one wall and its more modern architecture on the other due to the times at which the building was constructed - was another jaw dropping example of the eclectic nature of this city.
Changing tack slightly, Mr Evans then decided to show us one of the alleyways in Ghent where graffiti is allowed. These always tend to be hit-and-miss as you can see some top quality artwork while you can also see people just tagging the wall, which has no skill to it whatsoever. This sinuous alley was something of a mixture, with a few animal characters including a rather emasciated Pikachu being amongst my favourites. It was certainly an incredible area of colour which lit up a dark and moody passage quite considerably, but there was perhaps less artwork than I would have liked to see. Boosting my mood, upon leaving the passageway, we did stumble across a cleaners whose mascot was a rather smug looking raccoon with a sparkly house, which provided some amusement amongst my raccoon friends on Twitter at least.
Mr Evans had booked a table at T' Voksen, meaning Small Fox in Dutch, a restaurant specialising in local cuisine directly opposite the Cathedral. This afforded a great view but unfortunately it had started to rain so we opted to sit inside. Mr Evans suggested a few regional dishes before opting for the classic moulles frites, while I decided to go with North Sea Fish Waterzooi, which is effectively a creamy fish stew filled with vegetables. It was absolutely delicious, one of the finest meals I have ever tasted, and I am not someone who usually opts for piscine dishes. There were even prawns in there, which I could tolerate, as I am not usually a fan of this type of food. Despite the filling nature of it though, I was very tempted by my friend's frites and couldn't stop picking at them long after he had had his fill. They were incredibly tasty and the whole meal was one of the best I have had this year, marking a really good choice of restaurant. We certainly left full and happy.
The rest of the evening saw us wander around the city centre some more, checking out the main square with its statue of Jacob van Arteuelde in the shadow of the imposing headquarters of the Socialist Party. It turns out that Ghent is an incredibly left-wing city and there were many rainbow flags flying to show solidarity after an incident of gay bashing had taken place earlier in the week. Indeed, we saw a protest rally against such intolerance during our walk around, with passions clearly invoked by this cowardly act. We also walked alongside the river - both beside a dredging project that was being undertaken to restore its former course after they had previously built a car park over it and next to an actual waterway, which stretched out to the port of Ghent, which is surprising considering the city is quite inland. The evening was getting quite dark now, with the sky turning moody, so we decided to head to a bar. Along the way, we noticed there was a small street festival going on, but Mr Evans wanted to take us to a Jenever of which he is quite fond called 'T Dreupelkot. Jenever is very similar to our gin, except it's quite often flavoured. This place had about forty-five different varieties to try and after I had bought dinner, our friend was quite determined for us to sample a few. Next to this bar there was also a beer bar with a communal set of tables, so we ordered a local Belgian beer which we could drink as we sampled the different gins. I was a little circumspect as I struggle to drink spirits neat, but these were only within the 15-30% strength range so my usual stomach issues did not flare up. And indeed the differen Jenevers were quite nice. We sampled an original one first, which tasted a little like alcohol really, before we decided to mix it up with a Bounty themed one and then a lemon one. The former tasted very much like Baileys while the latter had a sharpness to it which really cut across the alcohol. Both worked really well and I did really get into the swing of sampling them, with the sipping rather than downing option much preferred. Mr Evans told us about his history with the bar, how he knew the owner and how he used to come here with a group of friends he had. He admitted he hadn't been back in a while, so it was great for him to revisit, and sat by the riverside with the old Dutch-style terraced houses on the opposite bank, it was an incredible evening, only punctuated by a British prick who tried to explain to some strangers he was from Wiltshire through the referencing of Novichok.
As we were drinking, Wolfie realised that his sunglasses were missing, and he decided to go back to the restaurant to see if they had them. Alas, they did not, meaning he must have dropped them on our wander around the city. This was a shame but as they were only £8, he wasn't too distraught about losing them, but me as a pantheist was. Still, we were having a good time, but the trevails of the day started to catch up with us and we started to feel rather sleepy. With an hour to go until our train back to Brussels, our last of the night, the tiredness was starting to become imposing and Mr Evans told us, erroneously as it turned out, that the trams had now stopped for the night. This meant we had to either get a taxi or walk back to the railway station, some 2km away. Seeing an opportunity to see more of the city, we decided on the latter, not accounting for the fact that it was intermittently raining pretty heavily, thus drenching all of us. We had one umbrella between three and we didn't seen an awful lot that was new, only really gaining an apprecation of the size of the city as we walked. Seeing trams whizz pass on our approach to the station was a little galling but at least we had the wonderful view of its tall thin clock tower as it loomed into view. With the station lit up, it was quite the oasis in the torrential downpour, which by this point had soaked us to the bone. Still, we had gotten to the station with about twenty minutes to spare, leaving us with a quiet final chat with our friend before we had to leave. He had shown great generosity to spend the evening with us and show us around his city, and I feel fortunate to have gotten the opportunity to experience just how magical Ghent is. We left the city very happy and looking forward to seeing him at Eurofurence next week, while our lethargy and soddenness meant instead of hitting the bars in Brussels we hit our beds instead, despite us promising the Brewdog barlady that we would be back later on. It had been a truly great day.
It was fortunate that our train to Ghent departed from that very station, so finding it proved to be exceptionally convenient. And with a vast number of trains making the thirty minute journey, we were soon on our way. The countryside was not too dissimilar to that of the UK, while the train itself was a largely standard affair, but what I did find amazing was how small Belgium was as a country. Indeed, in such a short ride, we had already crossed a significant part of it and I was surprised to find just how close everything was here. Upon arriving in Ghent, we came upon a station undergoing significant renovation work, with us entering on the farthest platform from the main station entrance. This meant we got a good look at the station as we made our way towards the ticket hall, where Mr Evans had agreed to meet us. We were about ten minutes late, but he was there as planned, with us not having met since Eurofurence last year. It was great to see him again and he was so accommodating in showing us around his city - a place I probably would not have visited on this trip had he not suggested it. He had booked a meal in a restaurant for 7:30pm, giving us a little time to explore, with the tour beginning in the station itself as we observed the fantastically painted murals high up on the walls detailing all of the places to which you could get a train from that station. After absorbing ourselves in this for a short while, we headed outside to catch a number four tram as Mr Evans wanted to drop off his work shoes at his home before we embarked into the city centre.
What surprised me was just how far the station is from the heart of the city, and how close Mr Evans lives to the centre of the metropolis. His house was a pleasant terraced affair on a residential street, and we did not have to wait too long outside it as he unloaded his work baggage before guiding us around his city. Our first port of call was pretty much over the road as there was a neatly ordered collection of red bricked buildings which once formed part of a Carmelite Convent. These were where pious women could live together, but women who did not want to go the full hog with the solitude and chastity of a monk or nun. There was a strong sense of community here, with an imposing church at its very centre, with the buildings traditionally lying within walled grounds. The walls have since been removed, with only a metal arch outlining where the gates into the complex once stood, but even in the heart of the city, it did feel like a comfortable oasis away from the hustle and bustle of every day life.
The similarities in architecture in this Dutch-speaking part of Belgium and the Netherlands came as no surprise, with a large number of tall buildings squeezed together in the Dutch style. The main river flowing through the centre of the city with a picture postcard row of such buildings came as no surprise either, but what was truly wonderous was the sheer number of different imposing constructions dotted throughout the city. Gravensteen Castle, which was pretty much straight out of a Medieval fairytale, was a huge surprise as its ramparts pretty much snuck up on you and while much of the building was restored rather than original, this did not mean that it lost any authenticity. Indeed, with the flag of East Flanders flying majestically above its turrets, it seemed a very faithful recreation, even if it had been restored as late as 1893. Mr Evans told us about a torture museum that is housed within its walls, which certainly would have been interesting, but alas this was only an evening visit and thus everywhere of that nature was closed.
If the Castle is somewhat hidden, there are a number of towers which dominate the skyline. Saint Bavo Cathedral is probably the most striking, while the golden-faced belfry was probably my favourite. Strolling alongside the riverbank, parallel to the neat houses with these two huge buildings in the background was one of those beautiful historical scenes that only travelling can deliver. It was truly magical and even though in the main cobble square, the authorities had erected a giant metal steel bar that changes colour for some reason, which looked quite out of place, this scene was very much perfect. There was also a weird barn-like structure in the main square for no reason whatsoever, it looked completely out of place. Later in the evening, the city hall with its myriad of styles - not least its classical architecture on one wall and its more modern architecture on the other due to the times at which the building was constructed - was another jaw dropping example of the eclectic nature of this city.
Changing tack slightly, Mr Evans then decided to show us one of the alleyways in Ghent where graffiti is allowed. These always tend to be hit-and-miss as you can see some top quality artwork while you can also see people just tagging the wall, which has no skill to it whatsoever. This sinuous alley was something of a mixture, with a few animal characters including a rather emasciated Pikachu being amongst my favourites. It was certainly an incredible area of colour which lit up a dark and moody passage quite considerably, but there was perhaps less artwork than I would have liked to see. Boosting my mood, upon leaving the passageway, we did stumble across a cleaners whose mascot was a rather smug looking raccoon with a sparkly house, which provided some amusement amongst my raccoon friends on Twitter at least.
Mr Evans had booked a table at T' Voksen, meaning Small Fox in Dutch, a restaurant specialising in local cuisine directly opposite the Cathedral. This afforded a great view but unfortunately it had started to rain so we opted to sit inside. Mr Evans suggested a few regional dishes before opting for the classic moulles frites, while I decided to go with North Sea Fish Waterzooi, which is effectively a creamy fish stew filled with vegetables. It was absolutely delicious, one of the finest meals I have ever tasted, and I am not someone who usually opts for piscine dishes. There were even prawns in there, which I could tolerate, as I am not usually a fan of this type of food. Despite the filling nature of it though, I was very tempted by my friend's frites and couldn't stop picking at them long after he had had his fill. They were incredibly tasty and the whole meal was one of the best I have had this year, marking a really good choice of restaurant. We certainly left full and happy.
The rest of the evening saw us wander around the city centre some more, checking out the main square with its statue of Jacob van Arteuelde in the shadow of the imposing headquarters of the Socialist Party. It turns out that Ghent is an incredibly left-wing city and there were many rainbow flags flying to show solidarity after an incident of gay bashing had taken place earlier in the week. Indeed, we saw a protest rally against such intolerance during our walk around, with passions clearly invoked by this cowardly act. We also walked alongside the river - both beside a dredging project that was being undertaken to restore its former course after they had previously built a car park over it and next to an actual waterway, which stretched out to the port of Ghent, which is surprising considering the city is quite inland. The evening was getting quite dark now, with the sky turning moody, so we decided to head to a bar. Along the way, we noticed there was a small street festival going on, but Mr Evans wanted to take us to a Jenever of which he is quite fond called 'T Dreupelkot. Jenever is very similar to our gin, except it's quite often flavoured. This place had about forty-five different varieties to try and after I had bought dinner, our friend was quite determined for us to sample a few. Next to this bar there was also a beer bar with a communal set of tables, so we ordered a local Belgian beer which we could drink as we sampled the different gins. I was a little circumspect as I struggle to drink spirits neat, but these were only within the 15-30% strength range so my usual stomach issues did not flare up. And indeed the differen Jenevers were quite nice. We sampled an original one first, which tasted a little like alcohol really, before we decided to mix it up with a Bounty themed one and then a lemon one. The former tasted very much like Baileys while the latter had a sharpness to it which really cut across the alcohol. Both worked really well and I did really get into the swing of sampling them, with the sipping rather than downing option much preferred. Mr Evans told us about his history with the bar, how he knew the owner and how he used to come here with a group of friends he had. He admitted he hadn't been back in a while, so it was great for him to revisit, and sat by the riverside with the old Dutch-style terraced houses on the opposite bank, it was an incredible evening, only punctuated by a British prick who tried to explain to some strangers he was from Wiltshire through the referencing of Novichok.
As we were drinking, Wolfie realised that his sunglasses were missing, and he decided to go back to the restaurant to see if they had them. Alas, they did not, meaning he must have dropped them on our wander around the city. This was a shame but as they were only £8, he wasn't too distraught about losing them, but me as a pantheist was. Still, we were having a good time, but the trevails of the day started to catch up with us and we started to feel rather sleepy. With an hour to go until our train back to Brussels, our last of the night, the tiredness was starting to become imposing and Mr Evans told us, erroneously as it turned out, that the trams had now stopped for the night. This meant we had to either get a taxi or walk back to the railway station, some 2km away. Seeing an opportunity to see more of the city, we decided on the latter, not accounting for the fact that it was intermittently raining pretty heavily, thus drenching all of us. We had one umbrella between three and we didn't seen an awful lot that was new, only really gaining an apprecation of the size of the city as we walked. Seeing trams whizz pass on our approach to the station was a little galling but at least we had the wonderful view of its tall thin clock tower as it loomed into view. With the station lit up, it was quite the oasis in the torrential downpour, which by this point had soaked us to the bone. Still, we had gotten to the station with about twenty minutes to spare, leaving us with a quiet final chat with our friend before we had to leave. He had shown great generosity to spend the evening with us and show us around his city, and I feel fortunate to have gotten the opportunity to experience just how magical Ghent is. We left the city very happy and looking forward to seeing him at Eurofurence next week, while our lethargy and soddenness meant instead of hitting the bars in Brussels we hit our beds instead, despite us promising the Brewdog barlady that we would be back later on. It had been a truly great day.
