Day 2: Brussels, the City of Waffles, Chocolate, and Little Peeing Boys

It's fascinating coming back here after twelve years. Though I don't recognize much of the city itself (it appears to have been much modernized in recent years), the Grand Place and the surrounding area are exactly as I remember them. It's a vibrant contradiction: new versus old, discovery versus nostalgia, the memory of childhood versus the experience in adulthood.

In a way everything does seem smaller; after all, I was probably barely four feet tall when I left. But on the other hand, the city seems so much more than I remembered, so much more full and bustling and tall. It's probably because of where we lived, but I don't remember Brussels as, you know, a huge city like London or Paris or New York. I don't remember that feeling of confinement and bustle and humanity.

Either way, today was an interesting one. We walked to the Grand Place, and I got a waffle along the way - the first REAL waffle I've had in twelve years, and I must say, it was divine. No one can make Belgian waffles like the Belgian, which should go without saying, but people everywhere always try so hard, always label anything that comes out of a waffle iron a "Belgian" waffle, but they always always fail. Seriously, you can't beat a true Belgian gaufre made with whatever secret ingredient makes it so addicting, glazed in sugar with little sugar chunks, and smelling like a very specific kind of heaven all the way down the street. You just can't beat that anywhere but here.

After the Waffle Experience, we saw the most beautiful square in the world, smack in the middle of Europe, the Grand Place. Oh, it's gorgeous! So old and yet still so alive. It was exactly as it was in my childhood. :)

Then we tromped down the streets to the Menneken Pis - the peeing boy - one of the most beloved symbols of this city and a perfect example of Belgian humor. Sometimes he eveN wears clothes! And he's almost 400 years old. Also, he is my favorite statue. :)

After that we went to dinner at a place called Léon something-something after being mercilessly solicited by the door men of the many famed seafood restaurants along this particular road. One even grabbed me and tried to "subtly" block our path anywhere but into his restaurant. But I really don't like seafood and my grandfather's a vegetarian, so we got by with some arguing and instead I enjoyed a meal of a ham and cheese omelet and pommes frites (the original French Fries) before we stopped by a chocolatier known as Belgian Gourmand and got truffles.

Now I am stuffed and exhausted and so thankful for the concierge who sorted out the lack-of-hot-water situation in my hotel room. To bed!