Our visit to Ghent, in Belgium started out as an afterthought – a city that sounded okay to check out on our way between Brussels and Bruges – but it ended up being a wonderful surprise. I knew that way back in the Middle Ages it had once been a powerhouse commercial wool and textile center, and the Treaty of Ghent ended the War of 1812, but it was still pretty much an unknown quantity in my mind.
Our luck with the weather continued to hold. The high pressure system over Northern Europe showed no signs of leaving and that meant warm, sunny days. Each day in Ghent hit a high of about 80 degrees and the locals were hanging out along the canals and basking in the warmth. They are used to cool rainy days in the spring, so the nice weather brought everyone out in droves.
Ghent is essentially a modern working town wrapped around a Medieval city dating back to the 1400s, like fine chocolate encasing a tangy raspberry center.
It was a forty minute train ride from Brussels through the lovely farmland of Belgium but the Old City where we were staying was a few miles from the Centraal Train Station, so we caught a cab to the Ghent Marriott Hotel in the heart of the Medieval City. We were within walking distance of all the interesting sites and ended up walking about five miles that first day, checking out the amazing buildings and museums. The Marriott sits on the city’s main canal and is old on the outside – it used to be the favorite whore house for the rich and famous back in the day – and like a modern art museum on the inside with colored lasers and curved glass walls.
Ghent is a very walkable city and you can easily see everything of interest in a couple of days, though we wished we had longer to stay because the town has a really cool vibe.
We happened to arrive on the first day of a Food Truck Festival and the city was pumped for a weekend of revelry and good food. The festival was centered around Korenmarkt Square, the old Corn Market, and encircled St. Nicholas Church like a wall of voodoo food.
There was an insane mix of eclectic food trucks from Northern Europe, offering a wild assortment of world cuisines.
We especially liked the Beet truck from Amsterdam, serving some incredible fish tacos.
As usual, we did the Viva’s Daily Free Walking Tour Ghent around the heart of the Old City and we learned a lot about Ghent’s past, present, and future.
Most of the old buildings are within a one miles radius, so we pretty much saw everything there was to see (at least from the outside) in about two hours. Later on, we went back and visited the places that caught our fancy when we passed by on the tour.
The Mason’s Guild Hall is now an upscale shopping center that served an amazing breakfast. The city’s cute little trolleys all converged in front of this happening part of the central core.
Ghent is most renowned for two buildings. The first is the Belfry (Belfort), a grey rocket ship tower that was originally built in the mid-1300s to guard the city’s special papers and serve as a lookout tower. It houses a big clock and a thirty ton carillon with 53 bells that chimes on the hour and can be heard all over town. The Belfry is crowned with a golden dragon that the Ghent militia stole from atop a similar tower in nearby Bruges in 1380, and they have never given it back. The people in Bruges are still pissed about it.
The second, even more spectacular structure, is St. Bavo’s Cathedral. You will be excused if you have never heard of St. Bavo. I’m guessing that no one outside Belgium has. But his cathedral is something to see. According to legend, Bavo (like a Brazilian soccer player, he apparently had no first name) was born into nobility and lived the life of a wild man until he converted to Christianity when his wife died. After that, he gave away all of his worldly possessions, renounced his past transgressions, and lived the life of a monk in a hollowed out tree where the Cathedral now stands.
We especially liked the Torturer’s Tool Chest in one of the side chapels.
And a casual St. Bavo just chillin’ was probably the most realistic rendering of a Catholic priest that I have ever seen in any church. He was probably watching some people being tortured.
Almost every large city in Belgium has some canals, and where there are canals, you will always find boat tours. It was hot, and the boats were crammed like sardine cans, so we decided to just walk around instead. The one curious thing we noticed was that the tours stop at six in every town. I’m not sure why. I suppose it has something to do with noise, though they seemed to be pretty quiet. The people making a lot of racket are the private boaters, and they don’t come out until dark as a general rule. So, go figure.
The water in all of these picturesque canals invariably looks like it came from a toilet. During our two week visit to Belgium and Amsterdam, we never saw a person even stick a foot into the water.
There was a kayak launch right in the center of town where people were launching and paddling around day and night.
I decided to finally get serious about the Belgian beer. Our trip was half way over and I had sampled a mere handful of their nation’s pride and the toast of the world. I’m not a big fan of wheat beers, so I had to force myself. Give me a Pacifico any day. But in the interest of science, I did my best to sample as many beers as possible and still stay upright. It was a daunting task indeed. I mean, check out the beers in the window of this one store and you get a sense of just how many beers there are to try.
The Belgians take the beer thing very, very seriously.
After checking out the Castle of the Counts (Gravensteen), I started downing a beer at every stop. We heard there wasn’t much to see inside the old fortress, so we walked around the outside and then opted for beer.
The castle was erected in 1180, and unlike most castles that were built to protect the city from outsiders, this one was built to protect the nobility from the angry villagers with their pitchforks. The castle was recently attacked by some students from the local university who stole the flags.
And right in front of the castle is a street lamp that lights up every time a baby is born in Ghent.
The old Meat Market, dating back to Medieval times, has windows shaped like the eyes of a skull, and inside it’s now an art market.
We were endlessly amused how the Belgians deal with graffiti. Each town seems to have a different approach, but they are always encouraging. In Ghent, they have set aside a whole street for artists to do the thing with their spray paint, constantly covering over old works and replacing them with new.
As with all the major Belgian towns, you want to avoid the main squares if you’re looking for the best (and cheapest) places to dine. The concierge in our hotel suggested we check out the Patershol area which has become THE place to eat these days in Ghent. You couldn’t swing a cat without hitting a nice restaurant with an outdoor cafe. And every establishment was packed with locals. The tourons were all down in the main square or at the Food Truck Festival. We ended up at Restaurant Ornek, a Turkish joint that served outstanding kebabs. A very friendly Turkish family owns the place and lives above the restaurant. They absolutely loved Inna and kept bringing us free drinks and fancy deserts. We ate and drank for three hours and when the bill came it was only 37 euro. When it finally came time to leave, the owner kissed us both. His brother kissed us. And his cousin kissed us. Apparently their mom and dad had gone to bed or they would have undoubtedly given us a goodnight kiss. It is this sort of chance encounter that makes travelling so magical.
It didn’t get dark until after ten, and there were street musicians on every corner and bridge. Most of them were better than most bands you pay to hear in clubs back in the Annapolis.
Check out this little video that Inna took of some amazing musicians on the Grasbrug Bridge. This was a pickup band comprised of Froggy on the tuba and banjo; David on guitar, dobro, trombone, trumpet, and clarinet; and the unknown guitar man singing some amazing Nawlens blues like “St. James Infirmary”. The guy playing the banjo was playing the tuba with his right leg. That’s me, the dark silhouette that’s dancing to the left of the band. We listened to these guys for over an hour and they were enchanting.
Inna went to bed around eleven, but I bought another beer and hung out by the canal. A group of kids from the university pulled up in a boat, piled out with cushions and their frosty beverages, and set up their living room.
An odd thing happened at midnight. All of the church bells started ringing and when the last one sounded, all the lights went out. Including the one in my head.
