You’ll wander Bruges’ medieval lanes with a Dutch guide, taste five different Belgian beers (including at Bourgogne des Flandres Brewery), chat with locals in cozy pubs, and take home an official BeerWalk glass. Expect stories, laughter, and little surprises along the way—it’s less a tour, more like joining friends for an afternoon out.
You taste 5 different Belgian beers during the tour.
Yes, a Dutch-speaking local guide leads the BeerWalk Bruges tour.
Yes, you visit several breweries and pubs including Bourgogne des Flandres Brewery.
The tour lasts approximately three hours.
Yes, you receive an official BeerWalk glass as part of your booking.
Bottled water is included; coffee or tea may also be available at some stops.
The minimum drinking age is 18 years old.
No hotel pickup is mentioned; public transport options are nearby.
Yes, service animals are allowed on the BeerWalk Bruges tour.
Your day covers all taxes and handling fees plus five Belgian beer tastings (with bottled water alongside), coffee or tea if you want it, and an official BeerWalk glass to keep as a souvenir before heading back into Bruges’ winding streets on your own.
We’d just finished our first pour at the Beer Museum—something malty that left a sweet aftertaste clinging to my tongue—when our guide, Pieter, grinned and asked if we could guess how old the oldest brewery in Bruges was. Someone said “a hundred years?” and he laughed so hard he nearly spilled his glass. The place smelled faintly of toasted grains and there was this low hum from a group of locals debating football near the bar. I didn’t expect to learn so much about monks and brewing tricks before noon, but here we were, already on our second beer.
Bourgogne des Flandres Brewery came next—Pieter called it “the heart of Bruges in a glass.” The red-brown beer had this creamy finish that made me pause (I’m not usually a slow drinker). We watched the canal outside shift colors as clouds moved over; someone’s dog barked somewhere close by. At ‘t Brugs Beertje, shelves stacked with bottles lined the walls like some kind of library. I tried saying the name out loud—Li laughed when I butchered it—and then handed me something fruity but not too sweet. There’s this thing about Belgian beer: every sip feels like a tiny story.
By the fourth stop—a pub with old wood tables and more beer options than I could count—I realized I’d lost track of time. My notes from here are just doodles of glasses and half-remembered names. Pieter told us about how each pub has its own regulars and rituals; you could feel it in the way people nodded at each other or argued gently about which brew was best for rainy weather. The last taphouse was louder, bright lights bouncing off shiny taps, but honestly by then I was just enjoying watching everyone relax together. Still think about that creamy red-brown one sometimes.

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