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About Ghent

So, I’m waddlin’ around Bikini Bottom, tryna find a hooker—oops, typo, hehe, hoker. Nah, prostitute! And I’m thinkin’, “Where they at?” Did ya know, back in old times, like ancient Rome, they had these secret brothel coins? Called spintriae—fancy, huh? Blows my dumb starfish brain! Imagine me flippin’ a coin, goin’, “Heads, I get a gal; tails, I eat kelp fries!” Ha!

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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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