Ghent
We took a very early train to Ghent and first things first, locked up our stuff in the train station lockers. This will become our M.O.Ack, I’m already getting tired just writing about this day. Let me tell you, we were both exhausted from the get-go and probably planned too much in too short a time. There was very little conversation. I think we were both saving our energy for moving our feet and blinking.
Ghent is another little Belgium city with cobblestone streets and pretty cathedrals. From the train station, we took a tram into the center of town. Ghent boasts not one, not two, but THREE large and beautiful churches. We saw two of them but only one was memorable because the ceiling was entirely laid with brick. Red brick. It seems a little wrong to me. Like, isn’t the brick is too heavy and small and won’t it just fall out of its mortar and onto the head of an innocent Catholic? Also, isn’t red brick too ordinary for an ornate, Gothic church?
While I pondered these thoughts and chewed European strawberry Mentos, we climbed to the top of a bell tower. By “climbed, “I mean “took the elevator.” There was no way either of us were going to expend energy or muscles on an experience we did yesterday. This bell tower was altogether quite similar to the one in Brugge, only shorter and less full of tourists. Also, it started raining hard while we were up there, so the view was very gray and foreboding. Perfect for our next stop at a medieval castle.
Oh, but first we stopped and got pastries, because what is traveling without eating chocolate-stuffed pastries for breakfast/lunch/dinner/snack?
Gravensteen Castle was pretty much in the middle of town, right in between some pretty old guildes’ gables and a lace store. It was made of stone, as castles are, featured a moat and some turrets, and apparently was used as a torturing chamber for many generations. I kid you not, in every single room there was an explanation for a different kind of cruel punishment. Here they did water torture, here they did stretching, here they did public burnings, here they did private burnings, here they did secret burnings, and here are the toilets. (Not as thrilling as our castle hostel, to be quite honest.)
Antwerp
For some reason, I have this notion that Antwerp is a big, Europeanish city with famous things and a rich history, somewhat on the same level as Athens or London or Moscow. For reals, it is the center of the diamond industry, has a huge black hat Chasidic community, was home to Peter Paul Rubens, and boasts the second largest port in Europe. (Rotterdam in the Nederlands is the first.) HOWEVER, no one sets their wall clock to "Antwerp" time. But I just can't shake the feeling that I am in Paris. (I have never been to Paris.)We walked around the center of Antwerp, past a lot of diamond stores, past two more Black Hats, past the Vlaamse Fritas stand Jabba Dabba Doo that no longer exists. (Sad Day.) We lunch (Parisians "lunch" as a verb) at a fantastic health food restaurant. I get a delicious, creamy pumpkin soup and my mom gets a "delicious" leek soup.
We don't actually do much in Antwerp, because it is Monday and that is the day all of the museums are closed. All of the famous art and architecture museums I was so looking forward to seeing. Instead we see another Rubens-filled cathedral, the central market square which is lined with medieval and Gothic guild houses, and lots of tourists.
The train station is lovely, a beautiful Art Deco / Classical colorful facade. Also, our train conductor has a very serious mullet, that is pretty fucking awesome. On our way to Rotterdam, we woefully outnumber the seats on the train. I sit on the floor and gaze at the American guy sitting on his suitcase right next to me. For pretty much the whole time.
ohmigod, I am exhausted.
Stayok Rotterdam
Rotterdam is kind of an ugly city. It was all bombed during WWII, on account of their huge port, so there aren't any Renaissancey or Gothicy buildings. The streets are paved with asphalt and there are many boxy, unadorned high-rises. It's like Los Angeles.But Los Angeles doesn't have a Stayok hostel, which is a fab place to be if you are in Rotterdam for the evening. This Stayok is related to our castle Stayok, although there is no moat and no coat of arms. We manage.
FIRST, we claim beds and lie staring at the ceiling for several minutes, catching our respective breaths and enjoying the uniquely comfortable Stayok mattresses. NEXT, we take bets on whether or not our roommates are Asian. (They are.) THEN, we separate and my mom drinks tea in the "kitchen" while I stuff my face with Belgium chocolate in the TV lounge. TV!!! I believe I intended on reading my book about the Dutch girl on a pirate ship but was sucked into Wimbledon on the boob tube. I have never been interested in tennis, but I AM interested in Serena William's fashion decisions, and thus watched several games (or matches? or sets?) between her and some skinny blondish chick. And then the men's game got rained out. Boo hoo. At some point, my mom came in and we planned our next day. LAST, we fell asleep to the gentle pitter-pat of the Dutch rain on the window.
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