Hello/Bonjour/Hallo from Brussels

As someone who has spent the bulk of her life on the border between Ontario and Quebec, and working for the federal government on and off for the last 10 years, I can safely say I've heard my share of complaints about bilingualism. Anglophones grumbling about translation costs and French training, Francophones scraping by with barely recognizable English, going off about how hard it is to get by in country that isn't really bilingual at all.

Having spent two days in Brussels, I can feel confident in telling both sides to stuff it. Think living in a French/English society is hard? Try throwing DUTCH into the mix. For those of you not aware, Belgium is is officially a trilingual country, and all three languages are effortlessly and artistically woven through every inch of the beautiful city of Brussels. French and Dutch seem to be the dominant two, with English seemingly thrown in only for the benefit of annoying tourists. I've had a great time flexing my French muscles, and am thrilled that Belgians are more than willing to encourage me to struggle along in my second language instead of condescendingly switching to English, as is usually the case at home.

Besides the languages, there are many interesting and beautiful things to take in in Brussels. Dave and I arrived in the city at around 10am on Friday, barely conscious from our 4am rise and 6:20am train ride. I know I should have been pretty thrilled about my trip through the Chunnel, but I was so tired that I woke up, saw black on every side, assumed I was under water, and went back to sleep.

Our first stop after orienting ourselves was Grand Place, the life-centre of Brussels. Dominated by the grand Hotel de Ville and the Maison du Roi, it has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and with good reason. Gorgeous.

After lunch and a stroll through the square Dave and I exhaustedly made our way to The New Hotel by subway, our bed in the financial district, situated directly across the street from the European Union Headquarters. After a brief walk around the butterfly-shaped building, we checked into our hotel and promptly took a nap, surfacing hungry and thirsty 3 hours later.

Our destination was Le Bier Circus, a relaxed little bar just west of our hotel, which boasted a wide selection of Belgium's iconic Trappist beers (a type of brewing mastered by monks) Our goal was to find a bottle of Trappist Westvleteren 12, a beer considered by beeradvocate.com to be the "best beer in the world." The menu was approximately 30 pages long, and 29 pages were devoted to beer (the other page had apps and main dishes squished together, with a few specials scribbled on a chalkboard near the tables). Dave and I managed to score the only bottle of Westvfleteren in the joint. Our server told us it was the last bottle they would have for the next week, when they would receive just 12 more from the brewery to last them for the rest of the year. At €15 a bottle, I doubt they get many requests, but as beer enthusiasts Dave and I were more than happy to give it a shot. One bottle, two glasses of pure, unadulterated hops heaven. As a fan of the blonde and wheat ales, I was a little apprehensive of the deep mahogany colour of the brew, but it was easily the smoothest, most flavourful beer I've ever had the pleasure of drinking. The bottom of my glass was a pretty sad sight.

Saturday Dave and I locked into full tourist mode, and despite the persistent rain, we managed to see an impressive amount of the city.

Armed with a day-pass for the transit system (which comprises of a subway, buses and streetcars), we began our day north of the city at the Atomium, a giant atom-shaped structure left over from the 1958 World Fair. For €11 you can head up to the top for some pretty awesome views of the city, but Dave and I decided against it and took a walk around the base instead before hitching a subway train back to the city.

Our next stop was tourist-central, Galeries St. Hubert, just east of Grand Place. Narrow lanes of cobblestone lined with chocolate shops, toy stores and high-end restaurants. Armed with a cone of Belgian "frites," Dave and I strolled along happily, pausing only to pick up some chocolates from Neuhaus, a famous chocolatier known as the birthplace of the praline.

Next stop was the Mannequin, a small but popular statue of a cherubim-looking boy unabashedly peeing into a pool of water. Nearby shops were crammed with souvenirs bearing the statue's likeness, including my favourite, a strategically-placed corkscrew.

The remainder of the afternoon was dedicated to architecture, with stops at the Colonne de Congres and the Arc de Tripomph in Cinquentenaire Parc, the latter being the much more impressive of the two. The Arc is an entranceway to a beautiful and well-manicured park which ended only minutes from our hotel, so Dave and I were more than willing to take a leisurely stroll through the greenspace. We picked up some cheap Indian food on the way back to our room, accompanied by a selection of more Belgian beer from a local corner store, all of which made for a scrumptious bed pic-nic.

Tomorrow we catch an early train to Bruges for the next two nights before making our way to Amsterdam!

That's all for now! Good night/bonne nuit/goede nacht.