The mean canals of Ghent are full of mass f(ish|rog) murderers at night.
Being in Belgium, we stopped for beer. Above us suspicious windows appeared to have a significant degree of unflatitude. The rolling hills of leaded glass if you will.
August 31st we had to catch an early afternoon train to Brussels to meet a friend and a family. But first it was castle time!
Even the inside is very castley.
There is something awesome about looking over the battlements at an ancient (to us New Worldians) church. And if you get a cathedral and perhaps a clock tower ... well, that's just building porn.
If the enemy comes by small brightly colored boat we'll shell them from the walls!
Inside the castle there is a museum of torture.
The poorly played harp may not seem bad but after hours and hours ... it'll drive you slightly irritable.
Slightly worse is a good thumbscrewing. Right on the joint, naturally. You'll confess you are a witch in no time. Heck, a good torturer could probably get half a dozen confessions to the same crime by evening.
Also fun, standing up in a spiky leather necklace that is secured to the walls. Make a move and get filled up with holes.
If you are lucky you just get industrially straight jacketed.
Just in case the descriptions weren't clear, models!
A new twist for the rack: stretch you a bit then pour water directly into your stomach via a funnel.
Sitting on a sharp edge too easy? Try it with weights.
King for a day!
Outside, things are falling apart in some places.
A doubtless charming - by ye olde standards - storage chamber.
After all those musty dungeons and torture exhibits a coffee seemed in order.
Next we took a stroll and stopped for our last Ghentian beer (or so we thought!). As we sat enjoying the beer and the view of canal, fancy building facades, and so on we observed that the soup of the day looked pretty darn good, was very popular, and quite cheap (4 EUR). Turns out soup of the day (Dagsoep) is very good in Europe.
Dragons and witches were about.
And with that it was time to head for Brussels. A daunting 30 minute train away.