Ghent. Or Gent. Depends where you’re standing and which sign you’re looking at. It’s in Belgium – a fact that I learned hours before embarking on another adventure. For some days I had thought Ghent lived in The Netherlands. Oops. My geography isn’t so good, which isn’t very surprising when you consider from which nation I originated.
And so. The days went splendidly. They mostly circled around jaunts up and down cobbled streets, drinking Bavik, eating Frituurs of many sauces supplied by Josef, sifting through indie clothes stores, and eating Belgium chocolate. Is there really anything else worth doing when one is surrounded by all these pleasant things?
Although Ghent in itself is super fabulous to visit, our journey took us to the Brooderie, where Jimmy’s pop up exhibition was coming to a close. The tale of how this exhibition came about is a wonderful story; one which I’m not going to tell here as I feel it is up to the artist to weave his/her own interesting tales. This is the artist’s display on the fine walls of that splendid establishment:
Our visit happily coincided (without plan and love it when that happens) with the Ghent Film Festival. The strand of many days and nights showing films galore ended with ‘The Sound of Belgium,’ a short trailor of which you can see by clicking on the word: technofabulous.
The story unfolded with a very concise history-of-s0rts of Belgium and its changing names and borders throughout the years before it finally latched onto its current name and dimensions in 18, uhm, 30-something. A European country younger than the states?! I’m astonished. *Note – I barely passed History, so if there are several more countries of this description, please just pass over the previous statement and pretend it never happened.
The video was screened in the Vooruit, which is this gorgeous monster of a building, standing tall on a hill, looking down at the side streets and shops and possibly thinking ‘Yeah, whatevers. I’m so much cooler than you.’ The Vooruit is also within striking range of the Book Tower. Look on and be amazed!
As for our digs, we stayed in a furniture store. This wasn’t just any furniture store – this was a furniture store with a difference. Big, broad wooden floorboards lead into three different levels. The banister must have been hundreds of years old as it felt smooth and warn and was at one point braced for stability with the use of a medal rod. The offerings in-store were of a sought after vintage variety. Popping red upholstery on beautifully made wooden chairs. Massive posters in frames. Lamps for floors and ceilings. It was brilliant. I was taken back to my childhood as I grew up in my parents’ furniture store. My fondest memories involve me drawing inside a refrigerator box. Said boxes are massive when you are ten and have crayons and time on your hands.
There is so much more to say and show. I think it is certainly worth exploring for yourself.
This is your happy little travel guide signing off.