Why should I go? For hippie-kitsch shopping, torture implements and
nights on the lash. No need for a double take — yes, this is Belgium. Ghent
is an anomaly: on the surface it could easily be Bruges, all fairy-lit
canals, gilded guildhouses and jingle-jangle carillon concerts. And very
lovely too. But underneath, all is anarchy, rebellion and techno music.
Ghenters are nicknamed the stroppendragers — “noose-wearers” — because
of their long history of civil uprisings and rope-based reprisals. Today,
that free-spiritedness survives, thanks to an excitable student cohort
(50,000 out of 230,000 citizens); a vivid nightlife played out in the poky
pubs of Groentenmarkt and the music clubs of Vlasmarkt; and the Ghent
festival (July 14-23, www.gentsefeesten.be),
10 straight (and gay) days of hard house, electro, rock, jazz and, er,
puppetry. When it comes to noisy, boozy European street parties, only Fallas
and Oktoberfest are bigger.
Belgians will tell you Ghent is friendly, bohemian and just a smidge
eccentric, and you can tap into this personality all over the city: at the
Dulle Griet bar, where drinkers knock back yards of ale while wearing only
one shoe; among the postmodern bric-a-brac at the St Jacob’s flea market; or
at SMAK, the city’s fine contemporary art museum, where you’ll find a chap
on the roof, measuring the clouds.
What should I do? Start with some quintessential Flemish quaintness.
This was once Europe’s biggest city after Paris, a sort of medieval
Manchester grown rich on cloth-making. What remains are the three towers of
Ghent: the Belfort, where you can climb 256 steps to view the city and get
deafened by the carillon bells; St Niklaaskerk, begun in the 13th century
and not quite finished even now; and St Bavo’s Cathedral, home to a
masterpiece altarpiece, Van Eyck’s Adoration of the Mystic Lamb.
However, none of these landmarks stirs the blood like the Gravensteen, the
“castle of the counts”, a Hammer horror fortress plonked right in the town
centre in 1180. It’s worth the £4 admission just to see its lip-smacking
array of dark-ages torture hardware.
After you’ve flexed your brain cells with some history, blast a few to
smithereens in the cubbyhole taverns around Groentenmarkt. At ’t Dreupelkot
(Groentenmarkt 12), an off-duty Santa Claus named Pol Rysenaer dispenses 200
kinds of genever, the Flemish gin, including his home-brewed pepper
flavour. At Dulle Griet (Vrijdagmarkt 50), the ale comes in wooden vases so
elaborate that you have to hand over a shoe as collateral. Even more curious
is the junkyard bar ’t Velootje (Kalversteeg 2-4), where the Fagin-like
proprietor stokes the fire as you squat among rusty bicycles and discarded
religious icons, praying there won’t be a stray spark.
Then make for Vlasmarkt, epicentre of after-hours Ghent. The Charlatan bar
tops the bill for gigs and DJs, backed by a host of dance-till-dawn venues:
current hotties include Kinky Star and ’t Begin van ’t Einde.
Where should I stay? The city’s best-placed beds are at Hotel Harmony
(00 32-9 324 2680, www.hotel-harmony.be),
in the charismatic Patershol district. This is a cracking place, decorated
with bold minimalist strokes and warmed with deep bathtubs and
remote-control fires. Ask for a double overlooking the river; £115, B&B.
Erasmus (9 224 2195, www.erasmushotel.be)
is more olde Flemish — just 11 rooms in a converted 16th-century mansion
with lofty ceilings, courtyard garden and a suit of armour in the breakfast
room. The bathrooms are antique in a bad way, but you get bags of atmosphere
for £67 a double. Or there’s the Guild of Guesthouses, a nifty gathering of B&B
owners: rooms from £13, descriptions at www.bedandbreakfast-gent.be.
Where should I eat? Ghentian cuisine is hairs-on-your-chest stuff: carbonade
flamande, a sticky beef casserole with brown ale; waterzooi,
chicken in (what could be) wallpaper paste; and stewed eel with challenging
sauces.
Unconvinced? You need to try them at ’t Klokhuis (Corduwanierstraat 65; 9 223
4241), hop-hung and improbably positioned among the kitschy boutiques of the
Patershol quarter; mains from £8.
If you’ve a head for gastronomic heights, try Tete a Tete (Jan Breydelstraat
32; 9 233 9500), with soft lighting and lightly turned French classics — its magret
de canard lives long in the memory. For a late-night digestif, it’s
Rococo (Corduwanierstraat 57; 9 224 3035), where the hostess, a chanteuse
named Betty, sometimes croons beside the candlelit piano.
How do I get there? Eurostar (0870 518 6186, www.eurostar.com)
runs from Waterloo to Brussels from £59 return; tickets include travel on to
Ghent (one hour, www.b-rail.be).
Brussels Airlines (www.brusselsairlines.co.uk)
flies to Brussels from six UK airports from £60; the connecting train to
Ghent is £11.70 return. Or try BMI (0870 607 0555, www.flybmi.com)
or Eastern Airways (0870 366 9100, www.easternairways.com).
Vincent Crump was a guest of Brussels Airlines
