"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)
