Les mecs à Brugge

Les mecs, ils arrivent.
We made it to the train station and hopped in the 5 o’clock train, an old friend of mine who brought me from Switzerland twice, le EC90 “Vauban”. After 4 painful hours of train, including a 10 minutes break in the dodgy train station in Brussels, we finally arrived in Brugge.

At this point, the guyz decided to be really lazy and looking at the map before they were completely lost, so we strolled around the city inadvertently, saw some canals and boats, whistling three different melodies, composing an original modern Flemish nightmarish cacophony. (My melodies were quite national; some of you might recognize them: O Homem das Castanhas, Os Putos, Barcos Negros,...)

Les mecs, ils survivrent.
I always travel with a purpose, a borderline perfectly drawn - although the way to get there is not - and this weekend it was the sea. I never had been before the North Sea and, as unattractive as it might seem in January, I was eager to see some water in the horizon and have some sand in my feet. What a hangover… the honey at breakfast were not enough to heal our punished livers, the seaside breeze was certainly more effective.

At this point, the guyz decided to finally see some sights in Brugge. Of course, the stairs in one of the main square’s buildings fit perfectly the definition of sightseeing and a nap in the sun can be warm even in these latitudes. After that, there was just one thing left to do: buy some chocolate and sleep.

Les mecs, ils boivent, ils boivent, ils boivent, ils boivent
I supposed that anybody would do the same, c’mon, it was a bar with 300 different beers, we definitely have to go back there, I think the guyz only had like 5 or 9 or 13 so… that’s really worth a trip back.

The hostel we had reserved deserves completely the fame of being the funkiest place in town; the reception is in the bar and breakfast is served there as well. We really thought that we were heading to a quite and peaceful night of sleep, but that’s not allowed in that hostel, the bar turns into a kind of disco and it is for sure one of the most crowded places around, people from all over the world; we even met an hair-waving Eskimo!

Les mecs, ils rient
It wasn’t planned but the guyz thought it would be nice to stroll around Ghent a bit, just enough to look at three towers in the medieval centre, to find an interesting graffiti alley and to look to one of the most ancient paintings there’s record of. For free, quite a bargain.

The laughter you observe in this picture isn’t about the city, was not motivated by pure and spontaneous happiness nor naturally offered to the Belgians passing by. The guy who took us the picture thought it would be much entertaining to press first on the on/off button so, while we were waiting with our grey grins for the flash to come, the lens just shrunk like if it was hiding from the cold. He probably did it on purpose when he saw us with the tired, hangover and bored faces.

The simple things are the best ones to remember. And laugh about.

NEW: falamos Português; on parle Français; hablamos Español; wir sprechen Deutsch