Holiday in Brussels, Belgium

I've taken so long to post the last instalment of this series that I might have aged a little. Nonetheless, here it is.

The first city I visited in Belgium was big bustling Brussels. Our motley crew was on its own for most of the day because of an unfortunate incident that occurred with one of us. Like when in any big city, guard your belongings with your life here.

I felt at home in Brussels because like my city, Bombay, it too has high BP. The pulse of the city is amazing, and there’s really no end to how much you can explore. I wrote about it for Bombay Gymkhana’s monthly, Black & Gold, recently.  

The heart of Belgium

Being a tourist outside our hotel in Brussels.

Soon after we were introduced to Marleen, our guide for the day, she made an interesting point: “Brussels is a city of extremes”. She patiently waited as we decided to play the annoying tourists, fresh off the plane, and snap each other, before leading us to our first destination. I ambled behind her and noticed two peculiar-looking buildings across the road while trying to navigate pedestrian traffic on the busy street. Juxtaposed with an unimaginatively constructed, plain-old glass building was a 19^th century palace-like edifice.

Old-world charm

I stuffed my hands deep into my jacket’s pockets and tried to stay in the winter sun as we entered Galeries Saint-Hubert. I had to stick to a stone wall at its entrance, allowing enthusiastic shoppers pass, to register what lay ahead. Sunlight streamed in from the transparent glass roof, making the avenue of shops glitter on both sides, for as far as I could see.

This oldest gallery in Europe has everything Belgium has to offer under its majestic façade roof. After all the girls were dragged away from the fifth bags’ store, Marleen took us to Neuhaus, the birthplace of praline chocolate—small pieces of chocolate with varied soft fillings. We were like kids in a chocolate store. The friendly Belgian behind the counter offered us paper bags full of chocolates that we shamelessly chomped down. 

Fuzzy from all the decadent dessert and with no doubt why Brussels is considered the chocolate capital of the world, we walked towards the end of the gallery, passing Saint-Hubert’s numerous lace stores, open air cafés, comic shops, beer pubs and even a champagnotheque—just like a discothèque but for sampling more than 150 types of champagnes.

Belgian royalty

We crossed the street and entered a narrow lane, catching a glimpse of a gypsy fair on our right, on the way to the heart of Brussels—The Grand Place. This UNESCO World Heritage Site is an opulent testament to the country’s diverse culture, economic well-being in the days of yore, and breath-taking architecture skills. We stood right in the centre of numerous royal-looking buildings—between artists sketching the hustle-bustle around us and small flower shops—for our lesson on the square’s history.

Brussels’ 15^th century Town Hall (essentially a court of law), with its high tower right in the centre, dominates The Grand Place. Various intricately designed sculptures adorn the façades of this city’s crowning glory. A team of workers were dismantling a make-shift stage across from where we stood, and right in front of what immediately became my favourite building on the square.

Natasha and Eva, the cuties posing pretty with the Town Hall in the back at the lively Grand Place.

La Maison du Roi (The King’s House) was a 16^th century bread hall before the present 19^th century building was made in its full gothic glory, black spires reaching for the sky and all. Apart from its mesmerising and intriguing exterior, it houses the city’s museum that includes the wardrobe—comprising about 840-odd costumes—of the celebrity statue and city’s symbol Manneken-Pis (literally Little Peeing Man, colloquially The Pissing Boy).

La Maison du Roi and me.

I clicked away at the four distinct styles of architecture around me, completely in love with the hotch-potch of gothic, opulent baroque, neo-classic and neo-gothic tastefully created wonders.

Fun on the streets

Brussels is also the birthplace of one of the finest comic characters of all time, Tintin, with a museum and souvenir store dedicated to this Belgian journalist and his friends. We bid goodbye to Marleen, before she mapped the way for us to see the pissing boy, and set out to explore the narrow, cobbled streets of the city.

Guess who.

Every few meters, I stood at a traffic signal or next to a lamppost to get a good shot of one of the countless comical wall murals and frescos on buildings or boundary walls. We walked past large groups bantering over coffee or beer, street musicians on their guitars and a number of cycle rental places.

Two of the many wall murals I spotted in the city.

As the sun started to disappear and the wind got cooler, we sat on a bench next to a water fountain at a roundabout. As soon as we were ready to call it a day, our senses were suddenly flooded by the whiff of freshly baked waffles that floated towards us.

The hypnotising aroma of Belgium’s staple dessert carried us to Dandoy’s waffle house where we decided to camp for rest of the evening, indulging in sinfully delicious, ice cream-smeared, waffles slabs.   

Waffle makers and a bucket full of chocolate at Dandoy's.

If you’re travelling from India, like we were, Brussels is most likely where you will land in Belgium. If you’re travelling anywhere from Europe, the Eurostar should be your best friend.

(L-R) Me, Natasha, Eva, Rosella, Dheera and Dustin dining in Brussels.