Last day in Bruges. Or so I thought while packing my belongings for the next location. I was meeting friends and staying on their sofa for 4 nights. A break from the constant isolation. Needed, I think. Balance things.
I packed everything and walked it over to Bruges Station. Took the train into Brussels-Midi station for a Eurostar train transfer, however, winging it has bit me in the ass in this instance. My mistake was careless. I didn’t book anything in advance. It was easy traveling between Netherlands and Belgium but my next location required more forethought. I only gleamed over the prices. Kept them in mind. The prices didn’t appear too outrageous the night before…
When I told the gentleman behind the counter where I wanted to go, his fingers hit a series of keys and he wrote something down on a piece of paper. Slid it in my direction:
“275 Euro to get here. Then another 175 to get to your final destination.” My jaw was on the floor. Tried everything with him to find something cheaper but there was nothing. Even the customer service rep practically said, “Fuck that.” He told me to try KLM or Air France around the corner. I checked their prices but the expense was either astronomically higher or equal to that of the Eurostar.
“A great day this has turned out to be. I'm suicidal, me mate tries to kill me, me gun gets nicked and we're still in fucking Bruges.”
- Ray, In Bruges
Fucking Bruges. “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” The chanting Netherlanders and their antics proved a blessing in disguise after all. I wouldn’t have had a place to stay if they’d been courteous of others. Dragged my shit back into Bruges but reunited with the giant, wonderful jacuzzi in my room. Could be worse.
I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!