It is 9.45am and I am exhausted. I left for Belgium on Christmas morning. After 15 hours of flying, 2.5 forgettable in-flight movies and an equally forgettable plate of soggy noodles served on board, I landed at Zaventem Airport in Brussels. Eric was running late driving down from Amsterdam so I took a local train to meet him at Brussels-Midi Station which is located close to our hotel. After meeting me at the train station, Eric had multiple challenges trying to find an entrance to the parking structure where he had parked his Volkswagon and using the automated machine to pay for his spot.
"Do you know where the hotel is located?", I ask.
"Yep, it is just right down this road.", he assures me but plugs the address into his GPS anyway. The little screen springs to life and a sultry voice says, "Da 300 metre, rechts afslaan!"
I look at him with glazed eyes. GPS in Dutch? Seriously?
"Can't you program your GPS to instruct in English?"
"Oh yeah I can but this way, I can improve my fluency in Dutch", Eric replies with a tinge of pride followed by a loud grin."We should be at the hotel in a few minutes although I don't think they'll let us check in. Check in is not until 3pm. We cannot occupy before that."Loud grin.
"That's nonsense.", I reply." I am sure they'll let us check in sooner than that. Not everyone can wait until 3pm and certainly not me after having flown for 14 hours."
"I checked at the hotel and they said they won't let us check in sooner.", Eric mumbles.Loud grin again. The grin accompanies every sentence, funny or otherwise.
"So we will ask one more time. What's to lose? If we get in, we get in. If we don't, well atleast we tried. Let's atleast give it a shot first."
Our GPS girl (I've chosen to call her Helga) guides us to our hotel and we stumble into the bustling lobby with our bags.
"While you wait in line...I am going to ...uh, use the 'Vay-Say'!"
Super loud grin.
"Umm..ok", I comment and then understand that he was referring to the toilet (WC). I wonder if he is trying to impress me with his knowledge of Dutch. My own vocabulary count currently stands at 3, thanks to Helga.
Eric returns just as I get my turn to approach the Reception desk.
Before I can say a word, Eric opens,"We have a reservation for 2 people for 2 nights and we know you have a policy that you won't allow guests to check in bef..."
"No problem, you can check in now", the concierge silences him with a wave of his hand.
"Oh, we CAN check in? Excellent, that is excellent..", Eric manages as I throw him a 'See-I-told-you-so' look.
The room is small but adequate. The beds are almost as squishy as waterbeds while the door to the bathroom does not have a lock. The bath tub is almost 3ft high and I feel like I'll literally have to jump into the shower.
We freshen up quickly and hurry downstairs to meet Mr.Galoppo and his family. Jorge Galoppo is the father of my friend Nico, a Brussels native who now lives in Portland. Jorge has come with Nico's sisters to collect the gifts Nico had passed on through me.
Pleasantries are exchanged and I take an immediate liking to Mr.G and his daughters, Erika and Karoline.
"So, what would you like to do first in Brussels?", asks Mr.G.
"Eat waffles!", I reply unabashedly. I am starving and I have heard legends about Belgium's waffles.
The family discusses in rapid Flemish and then decide to take us to Dandoy, a local favourite. They also declare that they are going to spend the entire day showing us around town. I am quite humbled by this generous offer.
Eric and I follow the family down narrow,cobble-stoned streets. Mr.G leads the way with a cigarette on his lips and a walking stick. As we make our way, I take in the sights and sounds around me. Nestled comfortably between France and the Netherlands, Belgium speaks French and Dutch while its culture is an interesting combination of French opulence and Dutch joie de vivre. The capital city of Brussels is the center of government for the European Union. The city is divided into the compact and congested Lower Town (where we are currently) and Upper Town(which is larger and filled with palaces and broad boulevards. The division is made by elevation and I am reminded of Hong Kong's geography where again, different neighbourhoods are at different elevations. Lower Town Brussels is downright charming with its narrow streets filled with pedestrians, food carts, novelty stores and tall, gabled houses.
Soon we pile into Dandoy ('Dan-dua'), an oasis of sugary delights. With over a dozen variety of waffles, the menu is practically screaming out to me. As my eyes turn giddy with excitement, Erika tells us more about these waffles. While belgian waffles or brussels waffles originated in the town of Ghent, liege ('lee-age') waffles come from the city of Liege. The former is lighter and rectangular while the latter is smaller, richer and denser. Liege waffles have chunks of sugar inside, which caramelize on the outside when baked. Both varieties of waffles are traditionally consumed without toppings as a snack in the afternoon. Serving them with whipped cream and chocolate sauce is the American way and largely considered unauthentic.
A waiter goes around our table collecting orders. Eric starts ordering in Dutch and stops midway when the waiter's eyes glaze over. Erika jumps in and places Eric's order in fluent French.
"In Brussels, more people speak French than Dutch.", she explains."French-speakers don't try to learn Dutch though. That waiter did not understand what you were saying."
Our waffles arrive and I have now died and gone to heaven. My liege waffle is dripping with chocolate and a scoop of icecream sits on it. I am all for immersing in local tradition but I cannot deny myself this 'unauthentic' delight'.
Thousands of calories later, we step out of Dandoy and land in a massive town square-ish place. The Grand Place (or 'Grote Markt' in Flemish) teems with cobblestones, tourists and Baroque-style buildings. Trade happened in open-air markets as early as the 11th century here.
In the 15th century, the Hotel de Ville (town hall) was the first building to be constructed here and pretty soon, trade guilds built their own halls. After French bombing destroyed most of these buildings in 1695, the guilds rebuilt their halls in fine 17th century Flemish architecture which stand majestic to this day.What adds to the grandeur of this place is Chocolate-Row, a selection of Belgium's finest chocolate stores-Leonidas, Neuhaus, Galler and ofcourse, Godiva.
After picking up treats and gifts,we stroll through rows of gift shops and novelty stores. Lace work stores spring between chocolate shops."You should go to Bruges to see real lace work.", Karoline tells me. "That is the home of lace work. You get better gifts there."
The streets lead us to a lovely Greek-ish building with Corinthian columns. St.Catherine's Square apparently used to be a fish market back in the day.Today it is filled with the city's finest seafood restaurants. For the holiday season, the area is occupied by a Christmas Market and a massive ice-skating rink.
The scene is similar to any market place in India. Food, handicrafts, art and toys are all on sale. Crowds of locals and tourists trudge around slowly while groups stop to enjoy hot chocolate or a beer. Warm chestnuts and fresh bread send out inviting aromas. 
On the way, I notice a unique sight. What's left of an old construction stands proudly in the midst of a modern condominium complex. I think of the many regal mansions in my hometown of Chennai which couldn't be saved in the rush to erect gaudy multi-storeyed apartment complexes. I stop to click a picture.
"It's funny how you never notice these sights in your own city until you show a visitor around!", says Erika.
As I take in the elegance of the city which exudes in its every alley, the Galoppos bring us to a shopping center of sorts. A vaulted glass ceiling houses every top designer label in the world while decorations in gold line the fine architecture I see in front of me.
"This is the Galeries St.Hubert.", mentions Erika."Europe's first shopping arcade!", I add with excitement. This is news to the Galoppos and I'm congratulating myself for picking up a DK Eyewitness Guide to Brussels from Multnomah Central Library.
The shopping arcade was opened in 1847 by King Leopold I. In the middle of the 19th century, a it quickly turned into a fashionable meeting place for the likes of Alexander Dumas and Victor Hugo.
So far, the sights and sounds of Brussels have been delightful to say the least. That's not to say the smells fall short either. Every street in this city of chocolate tempts you with the decadent smell of pralines (Belgian pralines are different from French pralines in that they are actual chocolate treats), liege waffles, chocolate sauce and hot drinking chocolate. In a way, you could say that the city itself is a piece of fine praline- decadent with wealth, intoxicating with its ale, rich in culture but not too imposing in size.
Walking around town has exhausted us and we stop for espresso. Ok, I personally stopped for another liege waffle but give me a break, you don't find waffles like this stateside! I might as well stock up...er stuff myself up.
Waffles, lattes and cappucinos later, we file out of the coffee shop and head towards a
n imposing church at a busy intersection. This is the Cathedrale Sts.Michel et Gudule. Work began on the church in 1225 AD and it took nearly 300 years to complete this masterpiece of Brabant Gothic architecture. The church is now the national church of Belgium.
Brussels appears to be manageable in a day yet it has tons of sights to fill an entire week. Close to C
athedrale S
t.Michel is the Federal Parliament building, across from which are the sprawling gardens of the Parc du Bruxelles and the Palais du Roi, the King's official residence. An utterly magnificent structure, the palace now serves as the King's office. The royal flag is visible when he is in town.It is just my luck that we are unable to check out the new Magritte Museum, dedicated to the works of Rene Magritte, the famed surrealist artist. Nor are we able to visit the Royal Museums of Fine Arts, supposedly one of the finest in Europe. However, I am not sure how much more I can handle in a day!
I suppose I could handle...in fact I SHOULD handle one more attraction before we call it a night. Mr.Galoppo has been saving Brussels' most famous attraction to the end of our day. I have read so much about this sight, probably a little too much for I know what's surprising about it as well. Weaving our way through cobblestone streets and alleys again, we follow him around corners until we arrive at a large gathering. Cameras flash away as we look up to see.....a boy pissing.
The famed Mannekin Pis. A 61cm-tall statue made out of bronze with no sculptural ingenuity whatsoever. Just a boy pissing happily. That's all.
The little brat seems to have inspired dozens of stories through the ages though. Some say the statue was erected after Brussels troops won a battle when their Lord (then a 2yr old boy) peed on the enemy from a basket suspended from a tree. Others claim a wealthy merchant donated the statue to the city when his boy went missing and was later found...pissing. Yet another story claims that the boy was able to put out a fire in the king's castle by simply peeing on it. I think I like that one the best but it is pretty obvious that the Belgians had a little too much ale to drink when debating about all this. The statue is so famous that it has been repeatedly stolen over several centuries. The current statue is about 50 years old.
What may be older than the current statue is the wardrobe that the boy owns. Costumes are fitted on the boy frequently and the collection runs to several hundred...including costumes from around the world. Most of these are housed in a museum nearby. But the boy is happy to stand naked in the middle of the street...and pee :)
In a way, the statue captures the spirit of Brussels. This may be the seat of political power in Europe and home of some of the greatest artists, kings and noblemen in history. Its chocolates are one of the finest in the world and its palaces boast of opulence. Yet, at the end of the day, its people are happy to forget all airs, drink plenty of ale and go pee in the street.
