Brussel Sprouts

I suppose I should attempt to blog about my little trip to Brussels, but Blogger is just whacked and has swallowed my previous 2 attempts with no remnants left for me to salvage. So I shall follow this with my third valient attempt not to lose another entry, for no rhyme or reason.

So was it Wednesday? Yes I think it was. Wednesday saw Gabriel Seet turning up at my door after a botched attempt at getting accomodation at my place; and on a whim I decided to go to Brussels with him and his French-spouting Parisian exchange mates.

For the record, this is Gabriel, best friend of the boyfriend and bad influence to all homopsapiens who have looming exams they should be studying for instead of going on a driving holiday.



And first up is Keith, who hails from the mighty US of A, and below him is Fernando from Brazil. They both respectively had exams 48 hours and 24 hours from the time they ended their Belgian sojourn, so really, Gabriel must have mighty persuasive powers to pry them away from their books and to the land of beer, waffles and pissing boys.

We drove into Brussels and headed for the Atomium. It looks rather phallic, doesn’t it? Don’t get me started on how many times one of us innocently interjected conversations with “Have we gone into that ball yet?”

Besides having been a Worlds Fair venue, the Atomium is famous for offering a full view of the entire city of Brussels. And a foggy day, like the day we were there, really isn’t quite an optimal time for said breath-taking panoramic view (It says so in the brochure).

A trip to the Cantillon Brewery made up for the foggy weather. We had a tasting of Limbic beers, which are brewed the traditional way by allowing yeast in the air to settle naturally during the fermentation period, instead of adding it in manually. Listening to the man explain this in a most lofty manner, I was quite inclined towards becoming a beer snob and turning an uppity nose towards the rather passé modern beers we have these days. Except Hoegaarden, of course.

Hops and barley. Raw beer, if you like.

Barrels and barrels of the good stuff! And of us, being very happy with, the good stuff!

Gueuez. A mixture of first-year, second-year, and third-year Limbics, and my, besides the big H, this has got to be the best-tasting beer in my book. Think Corona with a slice of lemon, then multiply the goodness 10 times, and you have, Gueuez.

We were happy campers when the time came for us to taste the beers. Well, all of us except Gab, who had a twisted face when the beer went into his mouth. I think he might actually share the same disdain with the boyfriend when it comes to sour things.

Here, we were drinking the Frambroise version of the Limbic, which I didn't like as much as Gueuez.

And of course, what’s a trip to Brussels without a snapshot of the Manneken Piss? It’s really small, so anyone could have missed it on the way to a kebab shop of some sorts for dinner, like I did! Thanks to Keith, I got my picture. Otherwise, I would have had to take a picture of the Manneken Piss bottle-openers they sell at touristy shops, which errrr, have the corkscrew extending out of the pissing boy’s nether region. Which I’m sure would not have made a very family-friendly picture.

And in case you can't see the pissing boy in action, here's an enhancement of what it should look like.

Aside from the minor mistake (pui) made in the billboards and by the good people at the information counter at Bruxelles Midi which almost saw me boarding a train bound for Paris, I arrived home safe and sound. And very glad to be out of the cold.

And now Gabriel is back in Singapore for Chinese New Year, and he says he will bring back pineapple tarts, all for him and none for me ;( Share the love, please!