I went to skyscanner.com and typed into the search fields "Venice" and in the place of destination "everywhere". That is how I ended up in Belgium. I then turned to my friends in the computer lab and asked, "Who wants to come to Brussels with me?" Kim looked up from her computer and asked, "Jenn, what's in Brussels?" "WE will be in Brussels" I responded.
"BOOK IT" she replied. And that is how 5 of my friends ended up in Belgium.
After taking a bus to the plane to the bus to the metro to the brisk walk at midnight, we found the Hotel Fredriksborg. Of course the concierge told us obscure street names, but neglected to mention that is directly next to a gigantic, beautifully lit up dome on a spectacular church, on a grand, tree-lined path straight from the metro.
The next morning we woke up and asked the concierge (nicest man alive) where to find the best waffles in town. Call us typical tourists with little knowledge about Belgium beyond waffles and beer-- you would be correct. Instead of focusing on sites (of which we knew none), we decided to make this trip a gastronomical adventure. Thus we followed our howling stomachs to the old city center. Attempting to locate the tiny waffle house, we inadvertently stumbled onto some of the most intricately detailed buildings I've seen in Europe. Stopping to "oooo" and "awwww" and take some embarassing, self-timed jumping pictures, we finally partook in some delicious goffres with whipped cream and strawberries. Bliss. That's all I'm saying.
Contentedly full and but now problematically aimless, we did the only thing we could. Jumped on a hop-on hop-off site-seeing bus. We toured the city, on a strangely beautiful half cloudy half rainy, half sunny day, started from the old city center and ending up at the Atomium-- a giant jack looking structure that overlooks the city that was build for a worlds' fair. From there we trekked back into the city to pick up a friend from BC, studying in Florence, who had the itch to travel-- the grand Margaret Galiani. Back to the hotel, a quick nap and a raspberry beer, then an almost midnight dinner of steak and fries. The taste adventure continues.
The next day we hopped a bus to Bruges, nicknamed the Venice of the north. While Bruge had nothing on my Venice, it was quaint and quiet and delicious. Another goffre with whip cream and chocolate sauce, and a jaunt into a dafodill filled cloister and I realized, I'm not in Kansas anymore. Bruges has everything you'd want in a tiny medieval town, including a perfect square lined in cafes and perfect, vividly painted shops- all advertising Calsberg of course- and a narrow stone tower, so narrow that the stairwell needs a rope up the spiral steps. Only one person can go at a time. About every ten mintues, one of our travel group would stand with outstretched arms and shout, "I LOVE BRUGES" or "I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH FUN I'M HAVING IN BRUSSELS!". When faced with the prospect of a Belgian weekend, all I can say is book it. You won't regret it.
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