Dutch apple pie aside, cuisine in Amsterdam left something to be desired. It seems the country’s philosophy is if you want good Italian food, you go to an Italian restaurant. If you want good beer, you go to a Belgian bar. I did one better and just went across the border to Belgium.
First stop was Brussels because I had to have the mussels. But as I made my way to the morning market in the Grand Place, I followed a comforting Sunday morning scent to a woman and her portable waffle stand. I gave her a euro and she handed over a warm sugary Belgian waffle. Oh yeah! I thought to myself. I’m in Belgium!
It was a good start to a confusing day. Brussels might be known for its mussels, but it is not known for its maps. It took me all day to find the tourist office, relying on the double decker bus tours to get me around. On that tour I hit the highlights of the city – the European Union headquarters, the atomium (a World’s Fair oddity), and the Mannequin Pis (peeing boy statue). Yes, all mighty claims to fame for any city!
Thankfully, there was also the food. After a long, cold day on the bus, I wandered past the peeing boy statue and found a neighborhood pub. This time a friendly dog greeted me, so I felt obliged to go in. I settled on a beer and got a recommendation for dinner.
Later I was all smiles as I made my way through a bowl of mussels bigger than my head and washed it all down with yet another Belgian beer.