← All articles · Belgium · 27 November 2012

Brussels

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.

Curved guildhall pediment with a gilded relief of figures and a chariot wheel, topped by a stone balustrade and golden flame urns — Look up and every roofline is carrying its own sculpture gallery, flaming urns included.

Gilded equestrian statue of a rider pointing forward on a prancing horse, mounted on a rooftop pedestal against a pale grey sky — A gilded horseman charging off a rooftop, with the sculptor's name signed neatly on the base.

Crowned statues turned green with verdigris standing in niches on an ornate gothic stone facade in Brussels — 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.

Close-up of the small bronze Manneken Pis statue mid-stream in its curved stone niche — Manneken Pis, considerably smaller than the postcards suggest and completely unbothered by fame.

Inga in a pink knitted hat and Dileep with a camera standing at the black iron railing in front of the Manneken Pis fountain — 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.

Large mural on a building gable showing Tintin, Captain Haddock and Snowy descending a fire escape — Tintin, Captain Haddock and Snowy sneaking down a fire escape across an entire wall.

Dileep standing beside a tall red and white checkered Tintin moon rocket inside a grand arcade hall — Dileep found the moon rocket. He was not leaving without this photo.

A man's face poking through the cutout of a comic-style portrait of a plumed nobleman in a gold frame, with a sailing ship painted behind — 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 an orange leather jacket and flat cap standing beside the miniature Brussels town hall model at Mini-Europe — Dileep's brother, in the orange jacket, towering politely over the Town Hall at Mini-Europe.

Dileep and Inga posing above the miniature Grand Place model with its flower carpet at Mini-Europe, a small Eiffel Tower in the background — Giants for a day: the Grand Place at knee height and the Eiffel Tower photobombing from the back.

The Atomium in Brussels, nine giant steel spheres connected by tubes, under a heavy grey sky with a Belgian flag on top — 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.

A diner in a red shirt lifting food on a fork above a plate with salad, a glass of dark beer with a thick foam head in the foreground — Lunch in the old centre: salad for appearances, and a dark beer standing guard.

Close-up of a Chimay glass filled with dark Trappist beer under a thick cream-coloured head of foam — 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.