We were in transit all damn day today:
Toronto > Amsterdam
Amsterdam > Ghent
That's... what, twelve straight hours of travel? After one plane ride, three train rides, and one crowded tram, we arrived at our hostel to see this taped to the front door:
"CALL ME WHEN YOU ARRIVE AND I WILL OPEN THE DOOR FOR YOU"
This is an ordeal. We can barely find payphones at home, let alone in a brand-new city where we don't speak the language. I kept an eye on my luggage while A. hunted down a phone to repeatedly call this guy. No answer. He went hunting for another hostel instead. Me? I got some decent pics of the area surrounding my park bench. Considering that we got stood up by our hostel, it could have been much worse.
This is Ghent; every street is lined with charming stone buildings, and each street seems to end in a tower, a sprawling public square or a canal. After checking in to the new place and taking a long, monstrous nap (read: blacked out), it's nighttime when we get up. Dinner is at a place called t'klok kuis
It's 11pm when we get back, and as expected, the sleep that came so easily when checked in isn't coming so easy now.