Wanderlust

The radiant sun tickles my eyelids in the morning. I hurriedly wake up, jump out of my worn out hostel mattress and hop downstairs to the cafeteria where I only have half an hour left to eat my breakfast. I smile to myself. Today’s loaded with exciting and promising adventures.
I get my tourist kit together. Camera, comfy shoes, city map and a handy booklet which has different ways of asking for a coffee. I leave my room towards the alluring city centre. The anticipation of getting lost in Brussels fills my whole body up with a feeling of agitation and mild emotional delirium. The only way to discover the secrets of the city is by getting lost in its vibrating streets and lanes; overflowing with life, with cheery inhabitants from all over the continent enjoying moules-frites in the never ending summer days. What else could you expect from the capital of Europe?
Camera in hand, I capture the essence of the moment by collecting photographs of the city’s delightful gifts. Snap snap, the majestic golden tip of the Town Hall. Snap snap, the cheeky stance of Manneken Pis. Snap snap, children laughing at Tintin comics… I suddenly become aware of the intruder in my snapshots. There’s a tiny pink elephant present in most of my pictures. Intrigued, I look out for the little creature across the narrow alleyways, certain it’s directing me to a secret place.
I search for my special guide on rusty lampposts, antiqued brick walls and wooden benches. I can sense the pink elephant’s desire for me to grasp the antiqued ambiance of this magnetic city but it also takes me through some of Brussels’s contemporary scenes. I follow the signs and I stumble upon the rare yap of the Griffon Bruxellois, leaping about with its tongue sticking out; upon the scrumptious scent of freshly baked waffles (of which I bought 1 or 4!); upon the multicultural smiles attached to multicultural faces, satisfied with themselves after buying their last item on their souvenir shopping list and the shy navels peeking out whilst their disinhibited owners gleefully gulp their beers. And then it hits me. I’ve been purposefully guided to the Delirium Café, a beer haven if you wish.
After a long day roaming about and soaking up culture, a well-deserved Belgium beer is in order. As I sit on my stool, I browse the dim lit café and I bring the damp, chilled glass of beer closer to my lips. A young couple approaches me and we engage in conversation.–So how did you end up here?
–I followed the pink elephant.