Ghent, Belgium

I booked a couple nights in Ghent on the suggestion of a guide book stating that there one could catch the flash of a historic Belgium city without being swamped by ogling tourists.  Let me say that there were plenty of those mingling with the locals and university students in the streets and cafes. Ghent certainly has what we all came to see: gothic cathedrals, neauveau architecture, step gables, even a few canals, not to mention a variety of museums. I was there for no other reason than to walk among those spires and towers. I love to look for the little touches, the ornate door handles, shrines, and sculptural details that might give a hint about the lives of those who once lived there.

  

A vendor sells cuberdons to tourists.

                                       









 

On the second day I wandered into residential neighborhoods and there I found the Sunday markets. The first, in an intersection with some open area, vendors set up tables and spread out blankets to sell antiques and collectibles, used clothing and household utensels. Another featured caged songbirds, chickens, rabbits, goldfish and displays of feed and seed. At a large square near my hostel workhorses were being poked, prodded, paraded and purchased.

Being a big fan of graffiti, I set out one day with a map featuring tiny spray can symbols that I intended to follow. Graffiti has become a fine art and I suspect much of it is invitational as some work is quite professional and signed. An abandoned set of silos across a river lined with old barges converted to house boats was my objective. This location is where anyone can paint and they do, creating a hodge-podge of styles and colors without regard to what was there before.

This building was decorated with such a funky array of art I had to include it.

Dragging my wheelie down busy streets, through a park chock full of chained bicycles, finally to the arched and muraled train station, I am leaving Ghent. I could have easily stayed longer.