Brugge, Belgium

(June 3-6) Our backpacks seem to get heavier each time we hoist them to our backs. You would think they get lighter as the days and weeks go by but such is not the case. We stood out in the small sleepy streets of Brugge as we lugged our gear to the hostel. I had called a few nights earlier to make a reservation at the Snuffle Hostel but when we arrived, a few hours past the time I had told them we´d arrive, we were met with confused faces and a blank reservation. Lucky for us they had two roll out beds in emergency situations like this. Matt and I got to push our rolly beds together and sleep in a room filled with 6 other bunks. We were grateful to have a bed and not have to trek to another hostel at the opposite end of town.

The Snuffle was alot more down key than the previous hostel in Amsterdam. There was a bar right when you walked in but it had windows to allow circulation of the plumes of cigarette smoke. In general it was alot more open with an outdoor patio than the honeycombs of the previous hostel. Plus it had a kitchen we could cook our own food in which we are finding to be a real bonus.

Brugge is a romantic town. Sure there's the lure of quality Belgium chocolate and good Belgium beer but there's so much more packaged in such a small radius. Our first morning walk we were serenaded by the Church bells of Wit Sunday as we strolled along the canals watching the swans, almost if on que, glide past in the calm waters. There are trees that dangle over the canals like waterfalls frozen in time. The houses are cute out of fairy tale books with the front roof lines look like steps to heaven. There are enormous front doors in vibrant primary colors. Door nobs are often a bronze hand of a woman and the door bells are the tounges of a lion's mouth.

Our days in Brugge were our laziest yet. Since we practically walked the town the first night we knew we didn't have to push ourselves to see all there was to see. Instead we lounged, we napped, we saw windmills, and we sampled the beers. One night I even got to speak alittle of the old Wolof from my Peace Corps days at a bar run by a Senegalese soccer player. Brugge with it´s waffles drenched in hot liquid chocolate was a vacation within a vacation.