Grand Hotel Du Sablon
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TripAdvisor Reviews Grand Hotel Du Sablon Brugge
Travel Blogs from Brugge
After saying 'up yours' to the Paris train system we achieved a moral victory by spending the whole day travelling to Brugge by super slow regional trains, with about 6 connections and taking 5 hours longer BUT... We did save a ton of money by avoiding reservations on the fast trains, yay! As we were walking to our B&B ( camellias ) Cal, as he has done the whole trip, continued to walk in the designated bike lane ( which does look like a foot path I ...
Happy Belgium day from... Belgium! Not quite sure if that's what its called, but the streets are swamped with patriotic supporters and even Belgian royalty! While standing in the the crowd at the parade, my dad was acknowledged and specifically waved to by the official princess of Belgium so that was pretty legit.
In the late morning and after a few of the festivities we decided it would be time for breakfast and naturally we were quite hungry. So we went to the ...
... class, and for some reason, they've put us all in seats that are facing the wrong way. Really. The half of the car facing the right way is empty. Anyway, it's nauseating. The first class attendant is very cute though. And there is an Asian dude across from me snoring loudly in what can only be described as the ugliest shoes ever created. They're red sued deck shoes with silver **** glued all over them. And as he's in first class, I imagine they were ...
I got up and had a nice breakfast at the hotel. From there I headed to the Markt and stopped by the Historium. It was an incredibly cheesy video in which we walked from room to room and were told an overly dramatized romance story. After the Historium I stopped by the Belfort tower. I climbed to the top and was treated to great views of the city. At the base of the tower is a small Salvador Dali museum which I paid a brief visit to. I don't really understand ...
... br> Despite my polite refusal and gentle acknowledgement of the time, he carried on and a fresh can was plucked from his rucksack. As the gas on the ring pull hissed for the umpteenth time of his morning, he began to unravel.
“Where are you going?” he enquired.
A puzzled face glared back at me.
“Belgium?”. The penny dropped and he moved on with haste. “I’m off to ...