I landed in Belgium on a cold and gloomy Sunday. In late May. After having spent the past week in a very warm Granada and quite hot Lisbon. Going from summer to the equivalent of the worst day in a California winter was a disorienting transition to say the least. But I suppose the weather is what makes for an authentic experience.
I was only in Brussels for about 48 hours. A brief stopover before heading to Paris. It was my first time in Belgium, and it was my first true solo trip to a country that felt truly foreign. I didn’t overly plan the trip, so I felt free to wander, vaguely in the direction of famed landmarks, stopping frequently for fries, beer and waffles.