I swear half my travel plans come from random conversations in hostels, and Bruges is the perfect example. I never would’ve ended up there if it weren’t for a girl I met in my Milan hostel the week before. We were both half-asleep, half-talking, and she hit me with, “You have to go. Brussels is great, but Bruges is amazing.” She said it like she was delivering a prophecy, so of course I listened. And honestly… thank God, because it ended up being my favorite part of the whole trip.
I arrived early on a Sunday morning, around 8:30, and Bruges was still stretching its arms. Cloudy sky, light drizzle, cobblestones shining like they’d been polished overnight. Crows were calling out to each other like they were narrating my entrance. It felt like I had walked straight into a medieval film set where someone forgot to yell “action,” so everything just played out naturally around me.
Nothing opens before 10, so I wandered in total peace. No rush. No noise. Just me and streets that haven’t changed in centuries. When I reached the main plaza, the giant Belfry above started ringing out of nowhere. The whole square echoed. I just stood there thinking, “Is this real life or am I in the intro scene of a fantasy movie?”
Here’s a fun fact: Bruges is sometimes called “The Venice of the North,” thanks to its canals. And honestly, after seeing the boats glide by with zero urgency, I get it. Also, a fun fact: Bruges is one of the best-preserved medieval towns in Europe, which explains why nothing about it feels modern. At all. Not even a little.
The gift shops were adorable, the kind where you actually want to buy things instead of just pretending to look interested. Lace kept popping up everywhere, and apparently, it’s a Bruges specialty, so naturally, every souvenir I bought had lace on it. Who knew lace would become part of my personality for a day?
After strolling around, I slipped into a café for a waffle and tea. Between the cold air outside, the Christmas decorations, and the soft chatter of people easing into their morning, everything felt warm in that quiet, comforting way.
Later, I tried to visit the Groeningemuseum I’d heard about, but when I got there, the gate looked closed. Two other women arrived at the same time, just as confused, and we ended up chatting since we all spoke English. They told me they were from Brazil but living in London, and I told them I was headed to London in January. One of them, Vitoria, handed me her contact so we could meet for coffee or swap recommendations when I’m there.
That’s the thing about travel, when you stay open. You meet people. You meet kindness. You meet these tiny, seven-minute encounters that end up giving you a new friend in another country. You can’t plan that. You just say yes when the moment happens.
So, a huge thank you to the girl from my Milan hostel who casually changed my entire trip with one sentence.
Bruges, I seriously love you. You were the fairy-tale detour I didn’t even know I needed.
Love always,
American Girl Meets World
