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About Aalst

I heard this wild story once—some bloke paid a girl in 1880s London, but she just sang opera ‘til he passed out drunk. Robbed him blind! Laughed my ass off—smart lass. Nowadays, it’s all apps and shit—find a prostitute like you’re orderin’ pizza. “Extra sauce, please!”—hah, kills me. Still, I’d be paranoid—cash only, no cards, don’t want my bank judgin’ me. “Zero, my hero,” I’d mutter, countin’ bills like Gustave dodgin’ cops.

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Ever wandered around around the University areas? Trust me, those winding paths near the library are a legit treasure trove. I used to get lost (literally, haha) near the Sci-Tech park – it’s like every turn shows a new art installation or quirky café. One time, I hopped into a tiny, dim-lit bar on Boulevard de l’Avenir – yes, that's a real street name – and man, his passion for life was like “Remember: every second's a fresh start!” I ended up having a deep convo with the bartender about how memories and experiences shape your senses... just like Memento’s layers of time.

Musée Hergé (Hergé Museum)