The B&B didn't have a room available for the remaining 2 nights I wanted to stay in Brugge, so I headed out in search of a couple hotels nearby that were closer to my price range anyway.
I checked into Hotel Nicolas, just off of Market Square, the most tourist-heavy part of Brugge. For 50 euros a night, I ended up with a king size bed (free upgrade because of a carpet shampooing incident in my original room) and some pretty nice accommodations.
The hotel is run by a young couple that always say "See you later," when I'm done talking to them or just passing through to get to my room. It makes me smile. This is also where they live, so it feels a lot like being a guest in their home.
Later in the evening, I had brought a bottle of wine back to the hotel, and had been drinking it out of a plastic cup. After they had been through to make the bed today, they replaced it with a real wine glass. Maybe that's normal, but it seemed like a really thoughtful gesture to me.
Later in the morning, I climbed the bell tower up some very narrow spiral staircases. Luckily, every 100 steps or so, there was a landing where I could gasp for breath and pretend to look at the mechanics of the bell tower on display.
At the top, I enjoyed several minutes of the view of Brugge and the carillon playing, until 50 Dutch school children in navy jackets, pants and jumpers packed me against a wall, furthest from the exit. Their assignment appeared to be locate all of the historic monuments in Brugge and generally see how uncomfortable you can make the tourists.
After squeezing a path through 50 heads a foot shorter than mine, I made it to the exit and began the perilous spiral decent. Apparently taking me as their leader, I was soon joined by 50 school children following in a single file line behind me, marching down the stairs, swinging their arms, and singing an ominous "DUN. da DUN. da DUN duh dah DAH DAHHH!" and other times a more light-hearted circus theme song "Doo doodle ooo do do doo doooo."
I assumed this was normal for Dutch school children to do and had nothing whatsoever to do with me slowly and cautiously picking my way down the stairs, so that I don't accidentally pitch forward and sumerssault down the remainder of the 366 steps, likely taking out several other tourists presently on their way up.
Just outside the bell tower are a couple of frites (fries) stands, where I ordered Frites Speciaal, which comes with ketchup, mayo and onions on top. This is a mess. And totally disgusting if you meditate on what it is exactly that you're putting into your body when you eat this. But when in Belgium... eat as the Belgians do.
I was joined on a bench by 3 men from Brussels (also ingesting equally disgusting concoctions of frites and "sauce"). They were very nice, and spoke excellent English, as everyone in Belgium seems to do. Although, one guy did all the talking and translating because the others felt their English was too poor, even though they were more understandable than most American citizens.
They invited me to drive to Amsterdam with them and their friend from Moscow, who was presently checking out the Dali exhibit next door. I declined politely, letting them know that I wouldn't be headed there for another few days. I can't even begin to imagine what that road trip would be like or what I would do in Amsterdam with 3, make that 4, older men. I was tempted to find out. But, don't worry, Mom and Dad. I wouldn't in a million years get in a car with 3 strange men and a Russian.
I spent most of the rest of the day just wandering around town, generally by the canals. I fed some swans the last of my horde of yummy ginger cookies that I took from breakfast. And later found a dozen more swans.
I picked up some fresh strawberries and raspberries in the market that sets up in Market Square on Wednesdays. I ate them by the canal, and watched boats packed with tourists drive by. The strawberries were perfect. All I had to do was pop of the top.
Lastly, I quite literally had a Forrest Gump moment, where I found myself sitting alone at the end of a green bench, feet planted on the gravelly ground, and eating a box of assorted chocolates that I held in my lap. When I realized this, I laughed out loud, and startled some tourists who must have thought me insane.
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