Heading to Moscow for the cruise we wrote about in the Sept. 8 edition of the Fitzhugh, we’re routed through Brussels, capital of a country we’ve not yet visited.

After flying from Vancouver overnight to London, a six-hour Heathrow wait, then a 45-minute flight to Brussels, we arrive at the doors of the Crowne Plaza Airport Hotel, tired and disoriented. 

We’re here for a two-night break – more than just a sleepover and early-morning shuttle.

Surprisingly, our room overlooks a pleasant park and the rooftops of a small village, not airport runways. We happily settle at an outdoor restaurant table as sunset fades to dusk and a family of Canada geese beds down on an adjoining grassy knoll. 

Feeling neither rich enough nor hungry enough for the dinner menu, we’re offered appetizers and extra bread, which goes well with a Belgian beer.

The next morning, we check out the locals. The village, now swallowed up in the megalopolis that is Brussels, retains some charm although many shops near the commuter rail line have been converted into housing. 

The Fly-Tox Restaurant catches our eye. Flies and food shouldn’t go together – right? We would have tried the place out of curiosity, but it’s closed for lunch and a takeout sandwich in the park is fine. 

People are friendly without being intrusive and, fortunately, English is widely understood since our French is limited and our Flemish non-existent.

Up early for the flight to Russia, but we’ll return to Brussels on our way home.

***

Three weeks later, after the cruise and a six-day bus tour of the Baltic countries, we fly from Vilnus, the capital of Lithuania, back into Brussels.

Night is falling and with it heavy rain. Once settled into the Aris Hotel, a few steps from the Grote Markt or Grand Place, we decide to brave the weather in search of supper.

We don’t have far to go. Right next door is Rafael Restaurant, its exterior covered with art-deco carvings painted bright red. Its welcoming awning provides enough shelter for us to occupy a small outdoor table where maitre’d Husain, a young man of Moroccan descent whose father founded the place, brings us generous appies of scampi and bacon salad as we watch dripping tourists scuttle by.

Small in scale measured against other cities’ central plazas, Brussels’ Grand Place, a World Heritage Site, is a charming mélange of Baroque, Gothic and Louis XIV architecture. Most of the buildings were rebuilt or restored after the bombardment of Brussels by France in 1695.

Streets surrounding the square are named after foods to reflect its history as a market. There’s Rue de poulet (chicken), herbes (herbs), fromage (cheese) and so forth.

The buildings around the cobblestone square bristle with stone gargoyles, knights in armour and fine ladies, while the roofs glisten with gilt. Refurbishment is a constant requirement and while some buildings have been replaced, the overall feel is one of antique harmony. 

Lunch outdoors at La Rose Blanche – a Belgian waffle topped with cherries and accompanied by cherry beer – offers a local experience. 

A few blocks away, Mannequin-Pis, a Brussels icon, poses on a street corner. He’s much smaller and more commercial than we imagined, changing his extensive wardrobe daily to fit the season or theme. On this day, he’s dressed for the waves in recognition of Surfrider Foundation Europe.

Our guidebook, Secret Brussels tells us the rest of his family isn’t far away. Wife Jeanneke-Pis squats on a rock and Zinneke-Pis, the family dog, urinates on a small hydrant.

The evening’s dining find is just up the street from our hotel. Le Gran Gi et Gigorneau, an atmospheric café with replica Tiffany lamps and a penny-farthing bike leaning on the wall, is big on seafood and lamb.

The next day we set off, map in hand, to visit the Musée des Beaux Arts. It’s not far but the map doesn’t show that the few blocks are all uphill!

After what must have been 300 steps, we find the museum is closed for renovation! Our consolation is an exhibit of the life and art of early 20th century Belgian expressionist René Magritte, followed by a fine view of the city from the outdoor cafe atop the nearby Museum of Musical Instruments.

Our final night in Brussels, we return to the comforts of Raphael’s and the attentive service of Husein. We treat ourselves to traditional moules frit (mussels braised in an aromatic broth and French fries) followed by a Belgian waffle loaded with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. 

We raise our glasses of Beaujolais Villages and toast a beautiful city and our charming host. A votre santé. We shall return.

Travel’s great but there’s no place like home – and, after a quick turnaround in Victoria, we’re happy to make Jasper our home for the summer.

You can read more of Lorie and Paul’s travel adventures at www.ozcantravel.com