It's a long way to Bruges.

We were meant to be meeting Hans, the owner of our next stop, at the apartment at 5pm. So we said goodbye to Ghent and clambered our way onto a crowded train, rucksacks half our own body weight in tow, and headed for Bruges. 

A text came through on my phone. It's was Han's. He wasn't going to meet us at the apartment, he's busy. Instead he left the key inside a box and we were to just leave the money on the table. It didn't sound right. Who lets two strangers enter an apartment alone, and trusts them to leave the cash on the side? Either he was an idiot, or we were. Un-nerved feelings were starting to brew. The apartment in Brussels hadn't been great. The windows had shook under the weight from the footsteps in the flat above, the dishwasher was crusted in more mould than a powerball ever sees in its life, and the bed bugs had loved a nibble on English skin. But at least there has been a person, with a key, to let us in. People knew we were they, we had signed a bit of paper and there was a trail for the police, in case a highly unlikely, and completely unsupported cliché backpacker murder did occur. 

We eventually arrived. Bruges train station looked like a scene from West Side Story. Except the Puerto Ricans were well-armed police, and the Italians were a drunken group of homeless men, spoiling for a fight. Perhaps I had made a mistake, because not only were we going to have to walk through the middle of the welcoming standoff to get out of the station, we were going to have to live in it for the next couple of days. Our apartment was located directly above. 

We considered just heading straight for the main town and finding a hotel in the centre. It would be costly, but, we though, at least we would be out of the middle of the clash and we'd know that we were going to be somewhere habitable. 

Just to have a check, before we completely abandoned the area, we decided to have a look at the apartment. Walking up the steps into the towering apartment blocks that were sat on top of the station, we were met with the entrance of an Ibis Budget. The photos of the apartment, when I had booked it on booking.com, did seem a little too good to be true for the price. And that feeling hit me hard there and then. 

We found the key inside the mail box, and made our way to the elevator. As we opened the door to the apartment, we expected the worse. 

We couldn't have been more wrong. As we swung the door open, we were met by a beautiful, modern apartment. A lounge bigger than my University flat, two fantastic, double bedrooms, a great kitchen, huge sofas, TV. It was fantastic, and I cannot recommend it enough. 

By the time we had put our bags away, had a shower and explored the flat, it was dark. We decided to pop to the shop downstairs, grab a few bottles of beer and have a relaxing evening in. 

Of course, our couple of bottle of beers turned swiftly into trying one of each (averaging at €1.50 a bottle, we couldn't say no), and a rather drunken night in. However, we were in a fantastic apartment, in Belgium, drinking the best beers in the world, having spent the day in a stunning city, and the next day we were going to find a whole new one. 

You can find Hans' apartment here, and I honestly can't recommend a better stay in the city.