Across a Blue Blanket: Fuckin' Bruges, man

After 3 days and nights of non-stop sightseeing, cheese and crepe eating, jam sessions and a bitchfight with a ticket taker at Gare du Nord, I managed to find my way out of Paris and on a train bound for Bruges/Brugge, Belgium. My first moments in town were a little bit stressful because I still had no phone. My first two hours in town were spent looking for a free phone to use, getting a little bit lost, and--considering my short attention span--stopping to take pictures.

Really, one look at this idyllic town convinces a traveller why Colin Farell and Ralph Fiennes signed up to shoot a film about it. Granted, I had heard about Brugge ages before, described as the Venice of the North. On the other hand, I had also loved the film and seeing moving pictures of the town motivated me to make a trip during my semester in Spain.

The tower where THAT scene occurs in In Bruges

Belgium itself looks like a fairy tale. Green meadows, fat baby animals skipping, brown brick houses that look like giant bars of chocolate. And let's not forget the chocolate. And the Belgian fries. And the beer. And of course, my wonderful host family.

I stayed in Brugge with a wonderful woman called Erika, and her two sons Samuel and Elias. My days in Brugge with their family left me with a sense of home I had never felt. Every morning, I would leave the house to explore town and come back around 7 or 8 for dinner. I helped set the table, and then sat down with the family for some of Erika's wonderful vegetarian cooking. After we all helped to clean up, we'd sit around the table and talk while Erika fed us chocolate. And I would tell them about my day. My days in Belgium looked like this:

Wake up in the mornin' feelin' like having chocolate.