Delfine

Delfine wasn’t always called Delfine. It sounds like the start of a romantic airport novel, but that doesn’t make it any less true. The inland vessel once went by the name ‘Claire De Lune’. She’s over a hundred years old and has seen her fair share of history (once even smuggling supplies to the Allied forces during WWII). The client went to retrieve her. In France. Through rivers, locks and canals, all the way to the port of Ghent. It’s here that she became Delfine. Her cargo: culture-seeking passengers, travelling from far and wide to sail from Ghent to Bruges and Ypres, soaking in an abundant cultural offer along the way.

The boat accommodates just four passengers. She values quality, not quantity. This called for an extensive renovation. Like a house, but floating, and curved in every direction. Windows are rounded, walls are solid steel. A little different, to say the least. It became an exercise in luxurious compactness. Making every square metre count.

Two rooms, each with their own bathroom, and shared living spaces. The bed is the heart of every hotel room. A clever, compact piece of furniture forms a generous and friendly landing place: part dresser, part bedside table, part bedframe. Cabinets may appear simple, but are designed to absorb curvature in multiple dimensions. The bathrooms nest into each other. Pink cocoons. Thanks to intense integration and material clarity, the result is a comforting sense of space despite the small footprint. Luxury, with a wink.

In the shared areas, it’s the furniture that divides the space, not the walls. Walls are too strict anyway. A sitting corner wraps itself around and beneath the stairs. Board games. Late-night conversations over a whiskey. The handrail mirrors itself and becomes a handrail again: a dining booth one level up. Round and soft; you slide in, together with the other guests, the captain and the cook. The open kitchen invites dialogue. Someone’s cooking becomes the new campfire. People gather, and they talk. They share: food, stories. The stairs lead to the deck. Bicycles and solar panels. The wheelhouse, its black wheel and dark timber still visible. The deck chairs are laid flat. We’re far from the city, and the stars are plentiful. A bat passes overhead. Tomorrow, someone will come aboard to make chocolate.