Europe's Best Kept Secret

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We thought a 1000 leave-time would help us avoid traffic on the road out of Paris but were horribly wrong. We initially engaged the GPS on the VW to help us out but it immediately sent us 20 minutes around the circular road around the outskirts of Paris before suggesting we do a U-turn and head back to where we came from. Nik and I tried to figure it out but every time we came across a road we were meant to be on, it turned out to be a road going either over or under the road we wanted to be on and there were no on-ramps. It tool almost two hours to get out of the city and we were on the outside of it to begin with!

I began to relax the moment we entered into Belgium and within 30 minutes or so we arrived at the Memorial Museum Passchendale 1917 which, curiously, in located in Zonnebeke not Passchendale. The museum was split into several parts and included recreations of trenches and underground bunkers. The audio guides were excellent and very detailed. Given our extended exit time from Paris, a slightly shorter overview would have been the order of the day but the stop was still well worth while. The video presentation showing the ground made up by the Allied Forces was the educational highlight, giving details of the massive number of casualties (over 450,000 across both sides) taken during what was one of the bloodiest campaigns NZ troops have ever been involved in.

Just a few kilometres away was Tyne Cot Cemetery where many NZ troops are buried. It is the largest Commonwealth War Grave in the world and was beautifully maintained. We spent half an hour walking amongst the graves reading notes that had been left there after the 70th Anniversary of the D-Day Landings just a few weeks prior. In the Visitors Centre, each of the known names in the Cemetery are read out in a loop as pictures of the soldiers come up on the screens. Putting names and faces to the graves made the whole experience a lot more personal even though neither Jo and I had relatives fighting in the region.

The New Zealand Memorial was a three minute drive away from Tyne Cot so we stopped there as well. New Zealand is a very new country with little history (at least nothing like the history of the regions we'd been travelling in on this trip but it was nice to know that what we have done as a country is recognised all the way over the other side of the world.

The Passchendale Pub seemed like a nice place to stop before heading into Ghent for the night so we ordered a few Passchendale beers and took the chance to get off the road for a little while. The beer was a top fermented local ale and was really worth a look.

It only took another hour to find our way to our accommodation on the outskirts of Ghent where we unpacked and caught a taxi into town.

The head of the Ghent Tourist Board needs to be fired as soon as possible. Ghent is a gem of a place with everything you could possibly want in a European town and NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT IT!!!

Our interest was perked a few minutes into the taxi trip when a bar drove past us on the other side of the road with eight students pedalling it. It was basically a table on four wheels and was pedal powered, the students helping themselves to the tap beer in the middle of the table while pedalling to, I'm picking, another bar.

The city centre is located on a small river with cobbled streets, bridges, churches and a castle. Bars and cafes lined the riverfront but the mainly student population were content with bringing their own beer and sitting in groups by the waters edge.

We ate at a nice restaurant just off the river where Jo had I shared a couple of local dishes - chicken and beef casserole. Both were absolutely divine and improved by an assortment off Belgian Beers. The prices were roughly the same as in the tourist traps in Paris but this was the real thing - a quality restaurant in a lovely location with friendly staff. Jo tried to pour her beer from bottle to glass once but our waiter would not have it, apparently her method was not up to scratch for the perfect pour.

We walked the streets for an hour or so and dropped into a few of the pubs to try the local beers. One place had an area under the street where students were singing traditional songs at the tops of their voices and each pub had incredible atmosphere for a Wednesday night... I can only imagine what Friday nights in Ghent must be like.

Jo, Elin and Klara headed off around 2200 but Nik, Emil and I stayed out until almost 0300, spending most of our time at an Irish bar talking rubbish with some Scots.

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