36 Hours in Brussels

"Hey, look! It's ..."

"Bela Delosi."

"Uh, no. I was thinking of Salvador Dali, actually. And his name's not 'Bela Delosi'--it's 'Bela Lugosi.' Sheesh! I guess you weren't a Bauhaus fan, huh?"

"That moustache was drawn on afterward. That's not Dali."

And so went one of many squabbles hashed out over street art in colorful, graffiti-filled Brussels. In 36 hours, we squeezed in a lot more than simple, inane conversation. Over the course of a day and a half, we:

• drank tangy, slightly vinegar-y Lambic ale at a bustling beer joint
  



• got invited to a party by a Rockabilly-styled, vintage-store-owning Scottish transplant
• admired 20th century sculpture in a public garden



• communed with a banded pigeon



• rode public Villo bikes to a grand park inhabited by wild parakeets



• ate really lousy falafel sandwiches at a kebab place just before discovering a veg falafel place around the corner



• wandered around slippery cobbled alleyways without falling even once
  
• scored treasures at the flea market in the Ixelles district



• munched mediocre frites with the one vegan sauce out of 20 they had available: ketchup
• pricked up our ears for street musicians playing the accordion, saxophone, guitar, and flute




• sat at outdoor cafes and listened as the world passed by in Flemish, English, and French
• accidentally meandered through the local housing projects



• laughed while watching screaming passengers spinning on a manic, twirling Ferris wheel
• enjoyed a deliciously spicy Thai dinner, and washed it down with excellent house wine
• gazed at the fanciful facades of many a Gothic church
• discovered Dr. Bronner’s soap actually does exist in Europe (at Belgian natural food stores, anyway)
• bumped into the crowd gathered around Manneken Pis, even though we tried to avoid it
• bought the best vegan chocolate on the planet, aka Ritter Sport bar Marzipan
  
• picked up dog poo, earning ourselves the imagined "good visitor" award from locals
• pretend-ate poison berries



• stared up at a gargantuan model of an iron atom
  



• moseyed about Chinatown, stealing furtive glances at outdoor diners' plates as we passed




• sipped overpriced carrot-apple-ginger melanges from a juice-bar chain
• missed our chance to laze about in the hotel sauna
• watched a light show projected against the ancient buildings in the main square



• vowed to haunt the Magritte museum the next time we visit




• marveled at king-sized loaves of bread for sale at the very few bakeries we encountered
• cuddled cute cars



• experienced documentary film-making failure at Laeken Park (see below)