Brugge was a fairy tale and ended on a high note. Fresh Belgian waffles, a climb up the belfry tower, and last minute shopping in various chocolate shops and hole-in-the-wall places.
The train ride from Brugge to Brussels was about an hour, and once off the train, the difference between Brugge and Brussels was uncanny. Brussels was a busy city, fuming with antiquity. There was a "march of the dead," as it appeared, with thousands of people dressed as zombies crowding the streets. It was a different kind of experience. Brussels was a short stay and after taking in everything in the city, it was on to Frankfurt.
Arrival in Frankfurt was after dinner sometime. Fortunately, the Frankfurt hostel was only 100 meters from the central station; unfortunately, it was also situated at the beginning of Frankfurt's red light district. Compared to Belgium, Frankfurt seemed to be a whole new experience in itself. The people at the hostel were easy to talk to, and it helped ease the intimidation of the city.
From Frankfurt, it was back to Vienna, where a familiar bed and private shower were welcomed with open, dirty arms.