Town Hall at Grand Place

Guildhalls on the Grand Place

Grand Place (French) or Grote Markt (Dutch); central square of Brussels

Each place is imbued with its respective characteristics, and there are aspects that I appreciated dearly about every city I visited, be it its fine architecture and historical artifacts, the local food and people, or the overarching feeling of belonging and oneness that I experienced. While I spent the least amount of time in Brussels, my experience there was a colourful one. It was simultaneously the city where I’d experienced the greatest sense of unease, and the city that had armed me with unparalleled emotional comfort.

When I arrived in Brussels, I felt spiritually nauseous. It might’ve been because the sky was dark and gloomy (I was also sheepishly sick with a raging cold), but it was also much deeper than that — an overall feeling that I couldn’t pinpoint or articulate in words. It was when I arrived at my hostel and met my roommates, that I learned that there had been a few incidents the day prior. Thus I understood why armed soldiers were roaming metro stations, and why there were military vehicles lining the street a short distance from my abode. Of course, this sight wasn’t new to me; I had seen it in Paris. However, if I was aware of the slight chance of any incident happening in Paris, then I was also aware of it in Brussels — and tenfold.

I didn’t like that eerie awareness. I didn’t like that my mind was being inundated with suggestive imageries and programmed into fear. I knew, statistically speaking, that the chances of anything occurring were much lower than the chances of crimes happening back at home and dying in motor vehicle accidents. Being a skeptical person, I was also careful not to allow my private sphere of thought to be proliferated and my psyche to be governed, and to fall into the trap of collective neurosis and fear. At the same time, that’s not to say that I wasn’t alert or cautious every breath I took — I was. Yet I was bent to enjoy my time there and everywhere I went, because to live in a state of fear is crippling.

On the other hand, I thought I was alone in experiencing an off-putting vibe in the cities I visited — until I met my roommate, Y. She, too, had just left Paris, and meeting her felt as though I was meeting a twin — similar in thought and character and life experiences. Like myself, she had experienced a magnetic pull towards certain cities, only to be greeted with the harsh realities of these places; and it was in her experiences that I found solace and comfort. There was also N, another roommate, whose hobbies and interests mirrored mine almost completely. (Geeks can easily recognize other geeks.) I have these two lovely individuals to thank, for they were the catalysts behind me having such an exciting and heartfelt time in Brussels. (After Brussels, N and I even met again in Paris, where I had returned to for the nth time.)

It’s an enticing thought, in retrospect, how travel can fuel synchronistic events such that you end up meeting similar souls (and starkly different ones) along the way, that would serve as catalysts along your journey of evolution and growth. It reminded me of a man I’d met at a laundromat in Paris (I’d like to remember him as the lone artist philosopher), and J, another friend I’d spent much time with, whose personality was uncannily similar to someone that was once part of my life. There was also the hostel receptionist in Paris, whose friendly and bright disposition made me understand why I’d subconsciously done the things I’d done in the past — and why, in the final analysis, it was for the best. For that brief moment in time, their mark on me was profound: I learned that I’d healed and was capable of opening my heart again.

Carbonnades Flamandes à la Leffe Brune, Frites

Strawberry waffle from Mokafé

Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert

The Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert is a very old and classic shopping strip built in the mid-nineteenth century. You can find boutiques selling luxurious items such as fashionable clothes, hats and gloves, jewellery, and chocolates. There were a few notable chocolate shops, one of them being Neuhaus, founded in 1857 by Jean Neuhaus, who had apparently created the praline. I purchased a few boxes to bring home and a customized bag for myself to enjoy that day. The chocolates were absolutely divine. Brace yourself though, because the infinite flavours and selections can be at once heavenly and overwhelming.

You can also find classic cafes at the Galeries, one of them being the widely visited Mokafé, known for its delicious authentic Belgian waffles, which the three of us tried together. I had a regular waffle topped with powdered sugar and strawberries, which I didn’t find special — I found it too crispy and rather flat in taste. I shall give the cafe a benefit of a doubt, but perhaps it was because they were in a rush to serve customers and were short on staff, with only one server that day. It was a Saturday and the cafe was full to the brim, and people left because they were waiting too long to be served. But I felt for the server; he was a nice guy who was running to and fro. Kudos to him, he deserved a cape.

During my time in Brussels, I also visited Maison Dandoy, a very old sweets shop created in 1829 by Jean-Baptiste Dandoy. They specialize in biscuits and are known for their speculoos cookies. I purchased a package of speculoos biscuits from one of their quaint biscuit shops, and after finishing the package, I wish I’d bought more. (I wish I’d also taken a photo of the shop.) There are a few Maison Dandoy shops around Brussels as well as tea rooms. Apparently, they also make fine Belgian waffles.

My time in Brussels was short and I regret having spent the least amount of time there, for there were activities that I wish I’d had the time to do, such as going to the Belgian Comic Strip Center and the Musée Hergé, and simply walking around exploring Brussels’ comics-based street art murals, which I really looked forward to. Brussels is the hub of comics, and if you grew up with older siblings who read Belgian comic books like the infamous Les Aventures de Tintin, then you’d have an appreciation for them, too.