All Bruged Up

I need to apologize to all of you. Every last one of you. All 27 (and counting..) of my special little followers, rather, my disciples. Too long it's been since I've tapped the tips of my fingers across the keyboard, whimsically weaving stories for you about my European adventures. And how I've missed brightening your tiny little lives of dim lights with the sunshine that is mine.

Having mastered the art of blog: -type something super-informative here! -insert hilarious joke there! -upload amazing photograph! I felt I had nothing to prove anymore, no new heights to bring you to, nothing left to reveal. What you must know tho, which surely you don't, is that with great fame comes great responsibility, and with great responsibility comes great stress, and with great stress comes heart attacks. So in lieu of my recent (expected, of course) success as a Blogger, I decided I wanted to avoid the heart attack and take some time off.

That meant taking a sabbatical from the process, removing myself from the accolades, and going somewhere I had never gone before. Somewhere I could re-invent myself. Somewhere I could escape from anything I'd ever known. Somewhere I could just be....So I went to Bruges.


"If I had grown up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me but I didn't, so it doesn't", is not the quote I would use to describe this little movie-set of-a-town, but Bruges will always, and forever have a "special" place in my heart. That's for sure.

Sometimes referred to as the "Venice of the North", Bruges was at one time the "chief commercial city" of the world. Now tho, unbeknownst to most -including the citizens, it is (un)Officially the Rave capital of the Universe; if ever there was a King of Bruge, Techno Reigns Supreme now.


Upon arrival, Anna and I were greeted with what I believed to be their daily parade, but quickly came to understand that it was actually an initiation ceremony to welcome newcomers into their city. Tourists were quickly hustled around and made to choose whether we wanted to be part of the Penguin Platoon, and spend the rest of our days on a hazy search for the Arctic,


join the Ronald MacDonald tribe in forever terrifying children into eating their vegetables,
or unite with the Uncle Sams who's mission it was to spread true American values around the world using only the forces of poker, Coca-Cola & strippers. A tough decision to make with the deafening sound of Drum and Bass piercing our ears at 180 beats per minute. And all this, even before we had eaten lunch.






But not everyday is a party in Bruge (only every night). By day, this quaint canal-based city, is home to many chocolate boutiques, medieval architecture, theaters and museums (I'd say skip out on the "famous" diamond museum, definitely still in the "rough"). Traveling by horse and carriage is the preferable mode of transport, however, make sure you've been very clear with your girlfriend that this is the one and only time you will do it because it is VERY expensive* (*Anna paid).

All in all, Bruges is a lovely place to visit (when you reach the age of retirement or feel like going on a bad acid trip). It's the kind of place where everyone is nice and accommodating -so polite that there's actually no difference between saying "please", "thank you" or "your welcome", -everybody wins!!! But be forewarned, when the lights go down in Bruges, be ready. The culture's tameness by day is definitely made-up for by the hard-core techno they play in every bar at night. I'll be honest, I was scared to walk into some places for fear that I would end-up in some sort of masochistic dungeon where the halls were lit only by glow-sticks and the closest thing to sustenance would be Red-Bull. But if that's what you're into, well, Bruges would certainly be a dungeon away from home.