In Bruges

In my wanderings around Belgium, I of course stopped off at perhaps its most famous city: Bruges. I even set aside more time for it, anticipating there’d be more to see and was right to do so. Not only are there plenty of attractions, churches and spires to visit, Bruges itself is just a pleasant and pretty place to walk around. The canals offer an air of tranquillity to the place, and the little cobbled streets were a joy to explore. I had to stop myself from taking pictures of all the houses I saw, interesting and quaint as they were.

I will point out two things that work against Bruges’ favour though. The first was that it’s perhaps too well known, too beautiful, as there were throngs of likeminded tourists everywhere. The line to get into the Belfry was insanely long, although it did move quite quickly, but the crowds were enough to make me uncomfortable. Alright, that doesn’t take much but trust me, there were a lot of people there. The second was a more unexpected and disturbing problem that I encountered during my stay.

The hostel was fine. The room I stayed in was a bit packed in with four bunkbeds and not much floor space left over, yet overall it did the job. But there were mosquitoes. Everywhere. They hung from the ceiling, coated the walls, flew in my face and plagued my time in Bruges with all the efficiency of a biblical curse. Every night was the same, lying in peaceful darkness and waiting for sleep, when…bzzzz!

One of the little demons would land on me, poised and ready to suck a portion of my life away. The noise never fails to make me convulse and slap at my own face in a desperate attempt to get the creature off me. They had no common decency, those mosquitoes, they bit my face. My face! Every morning I woke up with yet more bites, and I ended up looking like I suffered from a terrible case of acne. At the end of my stay in Bruges, I looked like the Elephant Man’s sister with pustules swelling up on the end of my nose, my forehead, chin, cheeks and even my earlobes. Yes, that’s right. I had a mosquito bite on my earlobe.

What made it all worse was that my surreptitious scratching of said bites turned them into blisters. Some I couldn’t help, like those on my lower legs that were irritated by my hiking shoes. But for the rest of the Belgium trip, mostly during my time in Ypres and Liege, I had to put up with these blisters randomly bursting and seeping clear, glistening effluence into my hair or leak over my arms. I was quite frankly, disgusting.

So yes, I recommend Bruges for it picturesque architecture and rich history, but learn from my mistake and avoid the Spring/Summer months. Because those mozzies are just waiting to turn you into a grotesque malformation of pus and misery.