To the Castle!

My sister Hannah suggested we go to Gent and see a medieval castle for her March 2020 visit. Unfortunately, her visit went the way of all things Spring 2020. Over two months later, coronavirus lockdown relaxed enough for us to finally make reservations to tour the castle on my niece, Jane’s, birthday. The whole time we were there I felt sad my sis and her family were not there. I even felt a little bad about texting them about how cool it was.

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Oh but it was so cool. There was almost no one else there, and it’s really all you want in a medieval castle—moat, turrets, chain mail, armor, a dungeon, spiral stone staircases, crusaders, weaponry, a love story, etc etc.

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We walked slowly through Gent, stopping for ice cream and coffee, making our way over to the Belfort. The bell tower is attached to the trading house where the once ridiculously wealthy Gent, on par with the Paris of the age, traded its money crop—cloth. The ticket man told us that before coronavirus he saw 500-800 people come through the bell tower daily. Monday, including us? SIX. I mean, it’s a really enjoyable way for us to experience Gent but of course our touring comfort is not worth the cost to the bell tower people! Yikes! The kids got to smack all the display bells with rubber mallets. Up at the top, endless sunshine lit up the city—the castle and the river, windmills, fast-moving trams, a cathedral, red-orange rooftops, ornamented facades, bikers, masked shoppers on winding shopping streets freshly labeled with one-way pedestrian directions. The clock stuck the hour directly overhead. A baby pigeon stretched it’s tiny wings near its mama. The bells chimed.

I hate climbing down bell towers with worried five and eight year olds. Every time we do it I say it’s the last time. We fall down our own stairs all the time. This is the most dangerous part of any excursion for us. Why do we always climb all the way up? I do not know. But how can you not, right?

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After that it was time to go home, but we were really enjoying Gent so we set out to find some frites instead. These we enjoyed along with a Belgian beer of course, parked contentedly on a dock that usually holds lines for boat tours. We ate all the frites we could while people rowed by in kayaks and inflatable rowboats.

We bought the kids each a slingshot at the castle and they put these to good use flinging extra frites into the air over the water for the ducks to enjoy. This was very entertaining. Eloise was ramping up toward mania for some reason and bellowed out “FRENCH FLIES!!!” every time she fired off a frite. This was particularly amusing because a few weeks ago she said she wanted a pet fly so she could name him French. I was like, “French…Fly…?” and she ran away and wouldn’t talk about French anymore. Eh, maybe you had to be there. Our threshold for quarantine humor is low.

Anyway, the day seemed to go on forever (in a good way, not in the quarantine way of stretching on forever) and we still got home two hours before dark!

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Note: I realize it looks like we’re not wearing masks. Here in Belgium, it is compulsory inside shops and museums, as well as outdoor town centers, and farmers markets unless you’re eating or socially distanced to the point of being literally the only people in the entire bell tower. It’s not a political issue here at all. Literally everyone just wears masks. Optional for kids under 12 but most wear them anyway. Chris’ mask has the Belgian flag on it so people think he’s a soccer fan.