Gravensteen Castle is an old count's castle from the 1100s. That's old as shit, you guys. It's situated right in the middle of Ghent, moat and all.
No, really. They built the town around it.
The minute we walked into the place, I could tell Mitch was on the verge of pissing his pants with excitement. I handed him the camera, which is why the rest of our photos look like this:
I mean, it's nice and ceiling-y and all, but how many photos does one need of arches and architectural details? And did he take even ONE photo of the tower crappers where the toilet holes were open directly to the moat? Nope. And I know that's all anyone really cares about. Except torture!
The torture museum was the shizz, although we mostly just have pics of the ceiling and no pictures of the vast displays of thousand-year-old weapons. He did take a few snaps of the guillotine and the rack.
And he got one from the top of the castle, although I suspect that was just an excuse to capture more architecture.
The rest of Ghent was quaint as could be and we found a sweet little restaurant along the canal for lunch. Henry and I took over camera duties after that.
|My Valentine. Awwwww.|
|I call this piece, "Bridge with Kids in Front of it."|
|The title of this piece is, "Canal that People Used to Poop into and Old-Ass Buildings and Some Kids that Came Out of Me."|
|Mitch got the camera back.|
|This is right after my tiny baby twins each consumed a side of beef with frites. Because everything comes with frites in Belgium. And beer, so that's good.|
We wrapped up our Valentine's Day with a viewing of slasher movies. Because that's how we roll.