Longitude

We were handed the coordinates of nine supposedly “special” places in and around Ghent. The mission sounded simple enough: drive to the exact GPS point, plant your feet on that sacred spot, and make one single photograph. Since I’m not originally from the Ghent region, the whole thing felt like a treasure hunt designed by someone who enjoys watching photographers sweat.

Very quickly I learned that in Ghent you don’t just cross water by bridge like a normal person, no, you can also drift across on a tiny ferry that looks like it escaped from a children’s story. That discovery alone made the assignment feel like a small adventure.

At first I assumed we’d all end up with roughly the same images. Same coordinates, same view, same everything. But Ghent has a habit of shifting its face depending on who’s looking, so in this series you’re getting a few extra shots, because apparently the city refuses to behave predictably.

The places themselves were a delightful mix of charm, chaos, and “why am I here again?” There were the community gardens where vegetables and gossip grow side by side. The Moskou Bridge, which sounds glamorous but isn’t. A patch of nature somewhere near the Leie that felt like it was hiding from civilization. A marina full of boats dreaming of sunnier countries. The ferry, my new favorite mode of transport. The Houtdok, now reborn as Kapitein Zeppos Park, because Ghent loves a dramatic makeover. The beguinage, or rather a beguinage, because apparently Ghent collects them like rare trading cards. And finally, a roundabout next to the R4 where absolutely nothing was happening, which made it strangely philosophical. A roundabout of pure existentialism.

Oh, and this was also the very first time we finished our photos in color, which made the whole adventure feel even more like stepping into a new world.

So yes, I did my best. And I kept it a little funny, because the city itself clearly enjoys a joke.