I say "Bruges" the way Michael Barnes says "Brugge"

Each second I spent on the bus to Belgium I felt increasingly joyous, because I was another hundred meters away from the ghettos of Clichy. By the time I got to Bruges I was over the moon.

I was back among my favourite Europeans, the Germans (well, close enough to Germans). I dropped off my gear at the trendy little Hostel and did a quick exploration of the town on foot, I covered the whole thing in a couple of hours.

At 7pm there was a free walking tour to some of the lesser known parts of Bruges, so I did that as well. The tour was really interesting, and not just because our guide sounded like the swedish chef from the muppets that said "bork bork bork".

We got back to the Hostel in time for Happy Hour, and thats when I realised I had a problem. All my wandering around so far had been done solo, so I hadnt gotten the chace to meet anyone. No friends means no drinking partner, and drinking alone is only one step above being homeless.

I was feeling a bit like Johnny No-Mates, so I retired early to my bunk in a room full of giggling Mexican chicks.

The next morning I went exploring again, this time armed with my lonely planet book. I checked out the Belfry tower, which is a huge tower in Markt square with a spiral staircase that is a lawsuit waiting to happen. For reference, take a step machine into your closet with 5 other people and do a workout.

I then browsed some market stalls, churches, shops etc, but eventually went back to the Hostel to get my head straight.

This business of having no buddies just wouldnt do, but fortunately I had an ace up my sleeve (apart from being charming). The bar wench told me earlier in the day that there was a free concert happening in a park towards the south end of town, so I got chatting with this kiwi chick Id spoken to the day before and asked if she was going. Turns out the concert was news to her, and she immediately rounded up everyone else at the bar (friend or otherwise) and told them we were all going.

Like sunshine breaking through this bleak European weather, I suddenly had a bunch of mates and a party to go to. Just for a bit of overkill, one of the mexican chicks started hitting on me. I think she was trying to be subtle but her rudimentay grasp of the English language gave her away.

I managed to talk my way out of a night out with her friends, while still sounding like I was a totally cool guy, then headed off with my new best mates. There was Kate the Kiwi, Tizz the Aussie, Pablo the Spaniard, and Matt and Brian from Wales (or somewhere like that).

We grabbed a bottle of el-cheapo vodka from the local then headed to the park around 10pm. There was some really cool reggae playing and heaps of people, so we pulled up a square of grass under some trees and got into it. It rained on us a couple of times, but it was a really really good night out.

My self confidence was back in full swing. No more of this getting dressed under my quilt and shaving in the mens room. I woke up this morning and gave my all female dorm a free and unscheduled visit to the Gun Show then headed into the town square one last time. In a lovely coincidence, there was a Ferrari meet going on, and the almighty Testarossa was in the majority.

So to summarize; Belgium was great. Really really great. My tour has begun again.