Brussels, Belgium: One grey day of gold buildings, comic walls and serious beer
Brussels in November 2012: the Grand Place in gilt, Manneken Pis, Tintin on the walls, Mini-Europe with Dileep's brother, and a Chimay to finish.
Brussels in November 2012 was a three-person operation: the two of us, plus Dileep's brother, who brought an orange leather jacket and the appetite the city deserves. One grey day, gold buildings, comic-book walls and serious beer.
The Grand Place
You walk in through a narrow lane and the square simply detonates: guildhall after guildhall stacked with gilding, statues and rooftop ornaments, all competing for attention above the chocolate shops.
The Grand Place guildhalls, wearing more gold trim than a November afternoon strictly requires.Look up and every roofline is carrying its own sculpture gallery, flaming urns included.A gilded horseman charging off a rooftop, with the sculptor's name signed neatly on the base.Centuries of Belgian weather turned the crowned figures green. The stone kept its grey.
The famous little man
Brussels' most photographed resident is a bronze toddler having a wee. We joined the crowd at the railing like everyone else, and we regret nothing.
Manneken Pis, considerably smaller than the postcards suggest and completely unbothered by fame.The two of us at the railing, with the local celebrity mid-performance behind us.
A city drawn in ink
Brussels takes its comics seriously: whole gable walls are given over to Tintin, and a checkered moon rocket stands taller than the bookshelves indoors.
Tintin, Captain Haddock and Snowy sneaking down a fire escape across an entire wall.Dileep found the moon rocket. He wasn't leaving without this photo.One of our party trying on seventeenth-century fashion via the face-hole method. No names, to protect the dignified.
Small Europe, big atom
Out at Heysel we spent an hour as giants at Mini-Europe, then walked over to the Atomium to feel small again. Balance restored.
Dileep's brother, in the orange jacket, towering politely over the Town Hall at Mini-Europe.Giants for a day: the Grand Place at knee height and the Eiffel Tower photobombing from the back.The Atomium under a proper Belgian sky: grey, with a chance of grey.
Fuel
We ended the day the Belgian way, at a table in the old centre with something rich on the fork and something dark in the glass.
Lunch in the old centre: salad for appearances, and a dark beer standing guard.A Chimay poured to the label line. The monks know exactly what they are doing.
One day, three people, one city that takes its comics as seriously as its beer. We left Brussels full, in every sense.