From the bustling port of Rotterdam, I went next to the quiet, picturesque town of Bruges in Belgium. Bruges was not my original destination, preferring to go to the city of Antwerp, but I discovered a few nights before that hostels in Belgium book up quickly, and the only available hostel in Western Belgium was in Bruges, where there was an excellent looking hostel with vacancy. As it turns out, train travel isn’t cheap across borders, and to avoid a ticket at least €30 from Rotterdam to Bruges, I got up and walked to the main onramp to the highway leaving Rotterdam West for Belgium. 
Determined to make hitchhiking work this time, I had only to stand at the ramp for around 20 minutes before a friendly guy picked me up, agreeing to take me 20 minutes away from the city where traffic would be more focused towards Belgium. The fun part of hitchhiking is the wide variety of people you meet in the journey. Weird people, fun people, scary people (haven’t met any of these yet), and just plain friendly people are all on the road to wherever you are going. This man was of French origin, speaking a small amount of English. After much conversation I learned that he lives in Breda, some 50km out of Rotterdam but has an apartment in Rotterdam for the ladies he enjoys entertaining in the city. I didn’t inquire further, noting the wedding ring on the finger, and child seat in the back. He dropped me off at a rest stop where I was doomed to wait over an hour for my next ride. Unfamiliar with European hitchhiking, I stood at the exit of the rest stop with my sign to Antwerp (a stop on the way to Bruges) clueless to the fact that the best hitchhiking is in the rest stop itself. Getting blasted by wind, I was getting cold and a little worried, until an ambulance stopped beside me. Asking me where I was going, they were sorry to tell me they were not going to Antwerp. They pulled away and I focused my attention back on the road. Not too long after I heard the sound of a large vehicle backing up, and am treated by the sight of an ambulance reversing towards me. They inform me they know a good rest stop a ways down the road and can take me a further 20 minutes. I gladly hop into the back of the ambulance, and after fussing with the heater for a while (concerned that I am warm enough) we start down the highway. No communication is possible as the only connection between the cab and the back is a tiny window between the two. Trying to get my bearings, I frequently peer through the port trying to catch a glimpse of road signs, only earning suspicious glances from the driver in the rear view mirror. Granted, if I were a druggie I would be in heaven left unattended with copious amounts of drugs and equipment in the back. From there things went more smoothly. 
I was picked up and taken a good distance by younger guy who was the project manager for a company installing solar panels. His is a busy job at the moment, and he took me all the way to Antwerp, dropping me off on the other side of the city towards Ghent, another stop on the way to Bruges. From there a toy representative took me as far as Ghent, sharing baby biscuits made by his company and stories from his days of travelling. Dropping me off on the other side of Ghent, I quickly got a ride the rest of the way to Bruges with a teacher in adult learning who let me off in the city of Bruges before turning around and heading to his actual destination some 20km back on the road. I have always known that there are good people in the world, but meeting them on the road like this truly drives the point home. Sure, you’re going my direction anyway, but you don’t HAVE to stop for me. I could be dangerous, I could be stinky, I could be awkward; but people not only take me along but go out of their way to put me somewhere which will be advantageous to the rest of my journey. It leaves you with a warm feeling. Also leaving me with a warm feeling is going 200km in six hours for free. Yes it was slower than the train, but in saving at least €30, I was pretty happy with my use of the day. Using a rough compass bearing, and advice from locals, I made my way to the Snuffle Hostel where I was greeted warmly by the friendly receptionist/bartender. After a shower, I headed back down to the bar with my computer to be introduced into one of Belgium’s delicacies, beer. Here I also met two friendly Canadian guys doing the same sort of trip as me. We had a great time sharing stories from our travels and enjoying the local beer.
Determined to make hitchhiking work this time, I had only to stand at the ramp for around 20 minutes before a friendly guy picked me up, agreeing to take me 20 minutes away from the city where traffic would be more focused towards Belgium. The fun part of hitchhiking is the wide variety of people you meet in the journey. Weird people, fun people, scary people (haven’t met any of these yet), and just plain friendly people are all on the road to wherever you are going. This man was of French origin, speaking a small amount of English. After much conversation I learned that he lives in Breda, some 50km out of Rotterdam but has an apartment in Rotterdam for the ladies he enjoys entertaining in the city. I didn’t inquire further, noting the wedding ring on the finger, and child seat in the back. He dropped me off at a rest stop where I was doomed to wait over an hour for my next ride. Unfamiliar with European hitchhiking, I stood at the exit of the rest stop with my sign to Antwerp (a stop on the way to Bruges) clueless to the fact that the best hitchhiking is in the rest stop itself. Getting blasted by wind, I was getting cold and a little worried, until an ambulance stopped beside me. Asking me where I was going, they were sorry to tell me they were not going to Antwerp. They pulled away and I focused my attention back on the road. Not too long after I heard the sound of a large vehicle backing up, and am treated by the sight of an ambulance reversing towards me. They inform me they know a good rest stop a ways down the road and can take me a further 20 minutes. I gladly hop into the back of the ambulance, and after fussing with the heater for a while (concerned that I am warm enough) we start down the highway. No communication is possible as the only connection between the cab and the back is a tiny window between the two. Trying to get my bearings, I frequently peer through the port trying to catch a glimpse of road signs, only earning suspicious glances from the driver in the rear view mirror. Granted, if I were a druggie I would be in heaven left unattended with copious amounts of drugs and equipment in the back. From there things went more smoothly. 
I was picked up and taken a good distance by younger guy who was the project manager for a company installing solar panels. His is a busy job at the moment, and he took me all the way to Antwerp, dropping me off on the other side of the city towards Ghent, another stop on the way to Bruges. From there a toy representative took me as far as Ghent, sharing baby biscuits made by his company and stories from his days of travelling. Dropping me off on the other side of Ghent, I quickly got a ride the rest of the way to Bruges with a teacher in adult learning who let me off in the city of Bruges before turning around and heading to his actual destination some 20km back on the road. I have always known that there are good people in the world, but meeting them on the road like this truly drives the point home. Sure, you’re going my direction anyway, but you don’t HAVE to stop for me. I could be dangerous, I could be stinky, I could be awkward; but people not only take me along but go out of their way to put me somewhere which will be advantageous to the rest of my journey. It leaves you with a warm feeling. Also leaving me with a warm feeling is going 200km in six hours for free. Yes it was slower than the train, but in saving at least €30, I was pretty happy with my use of the day. Using a rough compass bearing, and advice from locals, I made my way to the Snuffle Hostel where I was greeted warmly by the friendly receptionist/bartender. After a shower, I headed back down to the bar with my computer to be introduced into one of Belgium’s delicacies, beer. Here I also met two friendly Canadian guys doing the same sort of trip as me. We had a great time sharing stories from our travels and enjoying the local beer.Bruges is a town famous for its medieval architecture, and as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it gets lots of publicity. Tourism isn’t just an industry in Bruges, it is THE industry. Formerly a city big in the textiles trade, it is now exclusively dependant on tourism. Wandering the city one quickly understands why tourists flock here to see the architecture, but the attitudes of the locals leave some to be desired. In the off season, the locals seem to want some peace and quiet. The reason for the attitude became apparent later in a discussion with a local who explained that the city is spending fortunes on promoting tourism, but very little on more local concerns. Tourists don’t see the strife of the local who just wants some attention from their City Council. I decided to see the town by bike, a 
good choice considering my plans only allowed one full day in Bruges. The town IS beautiful, and looking out over the canals where no vehicles pollute the ambiance, one can almost imagine being in the 15th century, standing on the bridge, looking over the canal as boats pass under, busy moving wool and textiles around. I made use of the “Use-It” guide map produced by the same company, a map created by locals with all sorts of great local tips. Especially for tips on cheap food, I wish I had the map for my other destinations. Lunch was a €2.95 “coronetto” of pasta, followed by delicious Belgian chocolate from the city’s oldest candy store, run by an 80 something lady who has to get to the store from
her living room whenever someone enters the store. Speaking no English or French, she indicated to me one bar of chocolate in particular, telling me, “best chocolate!” I obliged, and enjoyed a truly delicious treat. After taking in the view of the city from the new opera hall, it’s newest (and some would say ugliest) landmark, I went to the oldest bar in the city (founded in the 1500’s) for a pint before hitting up the local brewery for a tour of the facilities. After my tour, I decided supper would be a true Belgian delicacy, french fries. French not being a reference to either the country of origin or the language of the creators, the name comes from the culinary technique of frenching, which is to cut into narrow strips. Invented and perfected in Belgium, fries will never be the same for me again anywhere else. I had a medium deluxe serving of fries from a proper fry wagon, topped with mayonnaise, ketchup (although ketchup is rarely used on its own) and onions. I felt sick by the time I had consumed all the calories and fat in the tray, but thoroughly enjoyed the fries enough to have another go at it later.
good choice considering my plans only allowed one full day in Bruges. The town IS beautiful, and looking out over the canals where no vehicles pollute the ambiance, one can almost imagine being in the 15th century, standing on the bridge, looking over the canal as boats pass under, busy moving wool and textiles around. I made use of the “Use-It” guide map produced by the same company, a map created by locals with all sorts of great local tips. Especially for tips on cheap food, I wish I had the map for my other destinations. Lunch was a €2.95 “coronetto” of pasta, followed by delicious Belgian chocolate from the city’s oldest candy store, run by an 80 something lady who has to get to the store from
her living room whenever someone enters the store. Speaking no English or French, she indicated to me one bar of chocolate in particular, telling me, “best chocolate!” I obliged, and enjoyed a truly delicious treat. After taking in the view of the city from the new opera hall, it’s newest (and some would say ugliest) landmark, I went to the oldest bar in the city (founded in the 1500’s) for a pint before hitting up the local brewery for a tour of the facilities. After my tour, I decided supper would be a true Belgian delicacy, french fries. French not being a reference to either the country of origin or the language of the creators, the name comes from the culinary technique of frenching, which is to cut into narrow strips. Invented and perfected in Belgium, fries will never be the same for me again anywhere else. I had a medium deluxe serving of fries from a proper fry wagon, topped with mayonnaise, ketchup (although ketchup is rarely used on its own) and onions. I felt sick by the time I had consumed all the calories and fat in the tray, but thoroughly enjoyed the fries enough to have another go at it later.The next day I woke for the included breakfast, and enjoyed toast and orange juice with my new Canadian friends. I wandered the city for the morning, enjoying a delicious lunch of (you guessed it) fries before catching the train the short distance to Oostende (and only €3.70) where I met a friend of a friend, Rudy. A member of the Belgian Navy, he is a frequent visitor to Halifax, coming every year to Tattoo either with a Belgian group as liaison, or on his own. He agreed to show me around Flanders by car, taking me to the major sites important to Canada and its history in 
Belgium in World War One. We drove around until early evening, ending our tour in Ypres where we would later see the Last Post ceremony. Before the ceremony, we headed to a bar owned by a friend of his. Here, he and his friend introduced me to many local beers, all the while telling me about the world’s best beer, the Trappist Monk beer, Westvleteren. He explained how it is not available anywhere except AT the monastery where it is brewed, and not legal for resale. His friend surprised us both by magically producing two bottles of the elixir, and I proudly drank the world’s best beer in a local tavern. Impressions? The Westvleteren 12 is a very strong beer, very dark, and full of flavour. At 10% ABV, it packs a punch, but the most immediate impression is the amazing flavour. I guess if there’s one thing these monks can do well, it’s make beer! If you ever get your hand on a bottle of Westvleteren 12, worship it, serve it properly, and enjoy. But chances are you will have to be in Belgium to do so as it is not legally exported. The beer Rudy and I enjoyed was a gift from Rudy’s friend, not a product for sale. 
Beer drinking behind us, we went to the solemn Last Post ceremony at the Menin Gate in the city of Ypres. This ceremony has been performed here since the end of WWI, and even in WWII the ceremony was performed in England as a substitute. As Ypres was being taken back by the Nazi occupiers, as battle was waged on one side of town, the ceremony was once again taking place at the gate. The history of WWI is rich all throughout Flanders and there are many excellent museums to commemorate the lives lost fighting over this territory by Belgian forces, British and Commonwealth forces, and others. Tours of the sites are available in groups, but if you can meet with a local who is conscious of the history of the area, it provides great insight into the gravity of the history with the locals, and more information than a tour guide could ever hope to provide. Rudy dropped me off at the train station back in Oostende and I caught the next train to Bruges. Unfortunately I fell asleep on the train and slept through my stop. A friendly ticket inspector issued me another ticket in the opposite direction (free) after waking me up two stops down the line, and forgiving me for being a clueless tourist. Oops!
Belgium in World War One. We drove around until early evening, ending our tour in Ypres where we would later see the Last Post ceremony. Before the ceremony, we headed to a bar owned by a friend of his. Here, he and his friend introduced me to many local beers, all the while telling me about the world’s best beer, the Trappist Monk beer, Westvleteren. He explained how it is not available anywhere except AT the monastery where it is brewed, and not legal for resale. His friend surprised us both by magically producing two bottles of the elixir, and I proudly drank the world’s best beer in a local tavern. Impressions? The Westvleteren 12 is a very strong beer, very dark, and full of flavour. At 10% ABV, it packs a punch, but the most immediate impression is the amazing flavour. I guess if there’s one thing these monks can do well, it’s make beer! If you ever get your hand on a bottle of Westvleteren 12, worship it, serve it properly, and enjoy. But chances are you will have to be in Belgium to do so as it is not legally exported. The beer Rudy and I enjoyed was a gift from Rudy’s friend, not a product for sale. 
Beer drinking behind us, we went to the solemn Last Post ceremony at the Menin Gate in the city of Ypres. This ceremony has been performed here since the end of WWI, and even in WWII the ceremony was performed in England as a substitute. As Ypres was being taken back by the Nazi occupiers, as battle was waged on one side of town, the ceremony was once again taking place at the gate. The history of WWI is rich all throughout Flanders and there are many excellent museums to commemorate the lives lost fighting over this territory by Belgian forces, British and Commonwealth forces, and others. Tours of the sites are available in groups, but if you can meet with a local who is conscious of the history of the area, it provides great insight into the gravity of the history with the locals, and more information than a tour guide could ever hope to provide. Rudy dropped me off at the train station back in Oostende and I caught the next train to Bruges. Unfortunately I fell asleep on the train and slept through my stop. A friendly ticket inspector issued me another ticket in the opposite direction (free) after waking me up two stops down the line, and forgiving me for being a clueless tourist. Oops!On the 20th I hung out with my Canadian friends all morning, seeing more of the city and exploring out of the city to a campground on the edge of the old city where they were staying the night. After grabbing lunch with them (you guessed it, fries again!), I made my way to the train station all packed up, and departed Bruges for Oostende, this time more permanently, and with more gear.
So ended my time in Bruges; short but sweet. In a city which houses just over 100,000 people and sees over a million tourists a year, it’s hard to escape the touristy side of things. I did experience my first European Christmas market here, set up in the centre of town and was charmed by its sparkling lights and the smells of waffles, crepes and hot drinks. I was glad to have decided on a short stay in Bruges. While the city has a lot of charming side streets to wander down, I was able to see many of these in just a day. Bruges was the setting of a recent film called “In Bruges”, where two Irish hit men end up in Bruges to cool down after a job. While one loves the city’s charm, the other hates it and says many insulting things about the city. This wouldn’t be the first time the city has been insulted, the tourist industry starting hundreds of years ago when a man who wrote what a seething cesspool of filth and grim it was sparked an explosion of tourists from all over Europe exploring the town which quickly cleaned up its act and rebuilt its image. It is a great stop on any trip, and stepping into the shoes of a typical tourist, there is lots of fun to be had in this city, just try to either avoid the locals, or get really friendly with them.
So ended my time in Bruges; short but sweet. In a city which houses just over 100,000 people and sees over a million tourists a year, it’s hard to escape the touristy side of things. I did experience my first European Christmas market here, set up in the centre of town and was charmed by its sparkling lights and the smells of waffles, crepes and hot drinks. I was glad to have decided on a short stay in Bruges. While the city has a lot of charming side streets to wander down, I was able to see many of these in just a day. Bruges was the setting of a recent film called “In Bruges”, where two Irish hit men end up in Bruges to cool down after a job. While one loves the city’s charm, the other hates it and says many insulting things about the city. This wouldn’t be the first time the city has been insulted, the tourist industry starting hundreds of years ago when a man who wrote what a seething cesspool of filth and grim it was sparked an explosion of tourists from all over Europe exploring the town which quickly cleaned up its act and rebuilt its image. It is a great stop on any trip, and stepping into the shoes of a typical tourist, there is lots of fun to be had in this city, just try to either avoid the locals, or get really friendly with them.
Arriving in Oostende, I found my way to the YHA Hostel, only to be disappointed that it’s reception was closed until the evening. I called my friend Rudy, and we agreed to meet downtown. On my way I indulged in Oostende’s local delicacy, seafood! A small city on the ocean, Oostende has a bustling tourism industry focused around its beachside real estate. 
Rudy took me to his house where I was able to drop off my bag, meeting his two children, before we went for a drive around the outskirts of Oostende. Arriving back in Oostende, we went to his favourite local pub where we enjoyed good drink and good conversation. We went back to Rudy’s house and he treated me to his famous cooking for dinner. He drove me back to my hostel where I caught up with friends and family back home before another night of great sleep. I have found that since I started travelling, sleep comes easier, and is more restful. Little things no longer wake me, and I wake up generally feeling more refreshed. Maybe it’s the excitement of doing something new more or less every day, or maybe it’s all the walking I do, but I thoroughly enjoy my newfound ability to sleep anytime, almost anywhere.
Rudy took me to his house where I was able to drop off my bag, meeting his two children, before we went for a drive around the outskirts of Oostende. Arriving back in Oostende, we went to his favourite local pub where we enjoyed good drink and good conversation. We went back to Rudy’s house and he treated me to his famous cooking for dinner. He drove me back to my hostel where I caught up with friends and family back home before another night of great sleep. I have found that since I started travelling, sleep comes easier, and is more restful. Little things no longer wake me, and I wake up generally feeling more refreshed. Maybe it’s the excitement of doing something new more or less every day, or maybe it’s all the walking I do, but I thoroughly enjoy my newfound ability to sleep anytime, almost anywhere.The 21st was my day to wander and get to know Oostende. I walked across town to a bike rental facility set up by the city, where you can rent a bike for FREE. That’s right, for free; you can borrow a bike from the city. Their condition isn’t fantastic, but the pedals work, as do the brakes, and the gears. I biked through the town to the waterfront and attempted biking as far as I could on the ocean front boardwalk. Before long I was fighting 
strong headwinds, barely making any headway. I gave up, and my nose full of sand, I turned around and enjoyed the leisurely return bike ride with the wind at my back. I enjoyed a lunch of fresh seafood before heading back to the hostel, and boy, my timing couldn’t have been better. Not 20 minutes inside, the skies go from blue to dark grey in 10 minutes and the heavens open with a torrential downpour. Feeling rather dry, inside the hostel, I made plans for the rest of my time in Belgium. I briefly popped outside to do some laundry and pick up some supper (you guessed it, chips), but generally enjoyed a quiet, relaxing evening to myself.
strong headwinds, barely making any headway. I gave up, and my nose full of sand, I turned around and enjoyed the leisurely return bike ride with the wind at my back. I enjoyed a lunch of fresh seafood before heading back to the hostel, and boy, my timing couldn’t have been better. Not 20 minutes inside, the skies go from blue to dark grey in 10 minutes and the heavens open with a torrential downpour. Feeling rather dry, inside the hostel, I made plans for the rest of my time in Belgium. I briefly popped outside to do some laundry and pick up some supper (you guessed it, chips), but generally enjoyed a quiet, relaxing evening to myself. Oostende is a quiet town this time of the year, one I would certainly be interested in visiting when things are a little more lively and warm. The best part of my visit to Oostende was having a local to show me around, introduce me to local cuisine and traditions, and share the warmth of his family and home. While I can’t recommend everyone visit Rudy (he does need a life of his own after all) I seriously think he should write a book on the area. Perhaps he will someday write his memoires and he will include a section on touring Flanders. The end of my time near the sea, I head next to the student city of Ghent, which claims to rival Bruges in architecture and ambiance.
AAgh, Antwerpen... the only place where I have ever seen a guy drive a Ferrari into a canal, get out, swim away, and walk up a landing as if nothing had ever happened. What a waste of a great car. You're right about the good beer and even better chocolate, although the two don't go well together.
ReplyDeleteHey, your mother's dinner party got snow-cancelled tonigth. Too bad, as they are always alot of fun. Tuesday is the rain date, looking foward to it.
Travel safe, and have a good flight down-under. Best to your sister from us.
DW
Truly a waste of a Ferrari... Flight down under was long, but safe. Christmas with Jenny and Paul was wonderful. I'll try my best over the next days to get caught up! Give my best to your fam.
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