I somehow managed to not eat a waffle in Belgium

A best friend of a best friend (a mutual best friend?) lives in Brussels. I contacted her before my trip in hopes of popping by Belgium and maybe grabbing a waffle together. Instead, she was kind enough to invite me to stay at her house*.


*this is not her house

Mayssa and her boyfriend Daniel must have thought I was insane. The joy on my face when they told me I had my own room must have been spoiled-kid-on-Christmas-morning level. It’s cheesy but so true.. traveling really makes you appreciate the little things. I didn’t realize I’d forgotten what it was like to sleep through the night.


Not only did I have a washing machine, a kitchen, a laptop, a backyard– but I also had a personal tour guide. Mayssa, you may be part hobbit, but you are also an angel.

Cold and rain didn’t stop her from showing me the best of Brussels. Drenched and hungry we waited 45 minutes for “the best fries in town” from Maison Antoine. We split an order with ketchup, mayo, and Samurai dipping sauces and took them to one of the bars in the square with a “FRIES WELCOME” sign out front. Twice-fried in beef fat, smothered in spicy Samurai sauce and the highlight of my visit.

Disclaimer: I somehow managed to not eat a waffle in Belgium.

C’est la vie.


Although I did learn that Belgium is famous for more than just their waffles. Comics, lace, smurfs, fries, chocolate, saxophones, tiny statues of little boys peeing. It’s quite the eclectic place. Someone should just combine all those things into a weird half-French, half-Dutch musical Belgian mashup.


Throw in Delirium, an aircraft museum, a brothel bar, a full city tour and a beautiful rainy Sunday spent inside the house, perfectly relaxing and necessary, as I researched where I’d spend the next 24 hours of my life.

Spoiler Alert: I decided on Rotterdam, South Holland. 

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