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About Aalst

Once, I nearly tripped over this gal—heels like stilts, skirt barely hangin’ on. “Gandalf, you old git,” I thinks, “keep walkin’!” She’s laughin’, callin’ me “greybeard”—cheeky mare! Loved that, tho—proper spirit. But yeah, it’s a hustle, a grind, and half the time I’m like, “Why bother?” Then I remember—some folks just need a chat, others… well, y’know.

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The town center is magic, sorta. There's this charming square, Marktplein, where locals gather. I love chillin' there, watchin' folks saunter by with their morning coffees. Streets are narrow sometimes, but meh—it feels intimate. And oh, the park! Oeverbos Park is my secret spot. So serene, you can almost hear whispers of old legends. People talk about the river ‘De Merks’ snaking along the edge. Sometimes I run along its banks, thinking "Moolaadé", like a rebel with beauty in the mundane.

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