Iran already feels like a dream because I'm now in Brussels and suddenly it’s full on Christmas. There's twinkly lights, decorations, festive vibes and me, blinking like I’ve time travelled. Checked into my hostel which is actually lovely, spotlessly clean with nice girls, apart from the absolute fucker who set their alarm at foghorn volume today. Nothing says festive cheer like being blasted awake by a human emergency siren at 4am. Still flying via Brussels saved me over £200 on my Tehran flight, so I’m officially spending Christmas in Belgium. Land of chocolate and waffles.
I wandered around Brussels on a lazy Sunday morning with the sun out, which immediately improved my opinion of everything. I went on a street art hunt because Belgium does cartoons like nowhere else. Tintin, The Smurfs, Lucky Luke, Spirou…not exactly my childhood heroes and a bit pants if I’m honest, but they’re iconic worldwide. Brussels is basically a giant open air comic book, where every corner surprises you with a mural or a doodle. Hard to try the food here when there’s always a bloody queue. Fries? Queue. Waffles? Queue. Pastries? Also queue. Apparently Belgium has decided food must be earned through patience and mild suffering. I don’t queue for food. I admire it from afar, judge the line, then walk off feeling morally superior and slightly hungry. Some of Brussels’ buildings are just jaw droppingly gorgeous. The Grand Place, especially, is a riot of Gothic, Baroque, and Louis XIV style façades. These guildhalls aren’t just pretty, they’re centuries old symbols of trade power, civic pride, and maybe a touch of municipal one upmanship. Every ornate balcony, gilded statue, and carved relief tells a story of merchants, craft guilds, and the city’s golden age. Basically, look up and feel very small. Apart from the jaw dropping buildings, Brussels has one tiny hero who steals the show, Manneken Pis. This little bronze boy has been peeing for the city since 1619 and apparently has over 900 outfits. Today he was dressed for god knows what because it definitely wasn't for Christmas. I kind of admired the effort, took a few photos and moved on…because I had a more pressing mission. I was looking for Audrey Hepburn’s birthplace. Hidden down a quiet street with zero tourists except me, it felt like stumbling upon a secret. Then I wandered into the cathedral and took a moment to soak in the soaring arches and intricate details it was quiet and unassuming. I'm done with this city now. Arrived in Bruges and immediately started taking photos like I’d never seen a pretty building before. To be fair, Bruges is ridiculously picturesque the moment you step out of the station. My walk to the hostel was meant to be 30 minutes. It took an hour because I kept stopping to stare, wander, and generally be in awe of canals and medieval perfection. I checked into my hostel, the only affordable option because Bruges does not mess around with prices. Then realised I’d arrived on a Sunday. Rookie error. Everything was shut. I eventually found a fast food place and paid €9 for a chicken wrap, which stung a little but hunger won. First night done and dusted. Bruges is already showing me who’s boss. Remember the movie In Bruges with Colin Farrell? Still his best film ever and there's nothing more to be said about it. Ever since I saw it, I’ve wanted to come here, so naturally I turned my day into a full movie location hunt. I tracked down as many filming spots as I could from memory and with a bit of Google assistance. Some locations are instantly recognisable, others were filmed inside and required imagination and goodwill. It was oddly satisfying wandering around thinking, Yes, Colin Farrell definitely stood here looking shifty. Excellent way to explore a city.
After my In Bruges movie hunt, I went off script and found the city’s quirky side. Tintin museum, Smurf zone, a torture museum because medieval Europe were really into creative suffering, and then the old city gates. Bruges was once heavily fortified, and several of the gates still stand, marking where the city walls used to be. Some were checkpoints, others were prisons, which explains the skulls they used as decoration that said don’t mess with us. Then there are the three windmills.They still sit along the old ramparts, originally used to grind grain for the city. Very practical, very Flemish, and still photogenic. Bruges really does medieval efficiency with a smiley face. It’s the kind of city where one minute you’re admiring fairy tale canals, and the next you’re standing under a gate thinking, wow, people were absolutely unhinged in the 1400s. Bruges is one of the best preserved medieval cities in Europe, once a major trading powerhouse thanks to its canals and access to the North Sea. Back in the Middle Ages it was rich, important, and very busy. Then the water silted up, trade moved on, and Bruges basically froze in time. Which worked out beautifully for everyone else. Bruges is basically two cities pretending to be one. The historic centre is UNESCO listed and has been beautifully preserved, which means medieval canals, stepped gables, cobbled streets and buildings that haven’t really changed since Bruges was a major trading powerhouse in the Middle Ages. Step outside the old town and you’re suddenly in modern Bruges. Wider streets, newer buildings and people going about normal Belgian life. It’s practical, efficient, and very unfairytale. The old town gets to be impossibly pretty and slightly smug, while the newer parts quietly keep everything functioning. Medieval charm up front, modern life doing the heavy lifting behind the scenes. Perfect balance. I finally had my first proper Belgian waffle and I now understand why people queue like it’s a religious experience. There was no actual queue for me, just a lot of standing around watching waffles being crafted rather than cooked. Public service alert to the rest of the world, Belgian waffles are elite because they don’t use that sad runny batter. It’s a soft dough situation, which makes them chewy and glorious, exactly how a waffle should be. Obviously I ordered the Slagroom, which is Flemish for whipped chantilly cream. Slagroom, please. Say it loud and proud. I may never emotionally recover from this waffle. It was so good. By evening the crowds of Bruges disappeared, the lights came on, and the city felt a lot quieter but freezing. Church towers glowed and some bridges were lit up. I wandered aimlessly, got lost on purpose, and accepted that Bruges at night is pretty nice but so damn cold. Did I mention how cold it is? I'm freezing my tits off here. I figured for my last day in Bruges I’d do what every other tourist has done and hop on a canal boat tour. Very picturesque, very charming and about 10 degrees colder than yesterday. I froze my arse off while admiring medieval houses, reflections in the water, and pretending I wasn’t turning into an icicle. We glided past crooked houses, hidden courtyards and ridiculously photogenic bridges. The views were worth it though. Just remember to duck for the low bridges unless you fancy a canal induced concussion. Finally said goodbye to Bruges but not before some last minute selfies at all my favourite spots. Grabbed a quick lunch on the train and before I knew it, I was in Antwerp, land of diamonds, diamonds, and more diamonds. About 80% of the world’s diamonds pass through here, so if anyone loses a ring, this is probably where it ends up. I checked into my accommodation with mild concern because the word hostel was splashed across the front. I'm sure I didn't book a hostel but it was cheap. In fact it was the same price of the Brussels hostel, so I got a little worried. Don’t panic because I have my own little room and I love it. Bags dumped and I’m ready to see what Antwerp has to offer. Christmas Eve in Antwerp, aka the land of diamonds, oversized churches and guild houses. This city has been trading, flashing wealth and collecting art since the Middle Ages, when it was one of Europe’s richest ports. You can feel it everywhere especially around Grote Markt, the Cathedral of Our Lady towering like it knows it’s impressive because it is, as they can charge 12 euros to enter. Then there are grand old buildings casually sitting next to bold modern architecture like it’s no big deal. I wandered through markets, past medieval streets, docks and shiny new structures. All of this while absolutely freezing my wotsits off because Antwerp believes it should be admired with numb fingers. Cold and elegant, a very solid way to spend Christmas Eve. After another waffle stop, I walked for ages almost leaving the city altogether. Antwerp isn't all diamonds and churches. It's a bit quirky actually from four giant humans crawling up a wall, pepto bismo man, creepy hand, random street art tucked in alleys, and the futuristic curves of Zaha Hadidplein at the docks. The best is St Anna's tunnel, that deserves a post of its own it's so damn quirky. History, modern design, and a bit of whimsy all in one city. I completely had a mini meltdown trying to find the entrance to St Anna's Tunnel, wandering around like it was a secret level in a video game. Then suddenly, boom, this cool Art Deco building appears out of nowhere. I'm excited. Inside there are wooden escalators, actual original 1930s wooden escalators. One of the best things I’ve stood on all year. The tunnel was built between 1931 and 1933 to connect Antwerp city with the left bank of the River Scheldt, long before cars took over everything. It’s purely for pedestrians and cyclists and stretches about 572 metres underground. The white tiled interior makes it feel like a Kubrick film set, cold, futuristic, slightly eerie, and utterly brilliant. I did the full circuit obviously. On the way back, one escalator was out of order so I had to walk all the way up the stairs, my knee was in agony. Worth it. Frazzled start, giddy middle, slightly breathless end. Easily the highlight of my Christmas Eve Arrived in Gent bright and early because apparently Christmas turns me into an eager beaver. Caught sunrise from the train, then rolled into Gent around 9.30am to absolute silence. Everything was shut, no people, no noise, just me wandering around a very asleep city. It finally started waking up around 11ish, by which point I’d already seen most of it. It was strange being back after my uni days. Even though it was bitterly cold and my fingers were numb, Gent gave me blue skies and sunshine for which I am truly grateful.
I popped into mass for a bit, enjoyed the choir, very peaceful and tactically exited just as the sermons started. Timing is everything. Food was next, and I finally gave in to the famous fries. I mean they’re just overpriced chips. But I did my bit and pimped them with truffle mayo and bacon bits, which felt appropriately indulgent for Christmas. Then it was more wandering, spotting Gent’s quirky corners, odd details, and little surprises, before calling it a day and heading back to Antwerp. Christmas done and dusted. Quiet, cold, low key not my most epic Christmas, but sometimes that’s exactly what's needed.
It’s my birthday and everyone knows by now, I’m physically incapable of staying still. The original plan was a day trip to Luxembourg by train, which was about €50 return. Then I spotted a tour for €55 that also included Dinant, a place I’ve wanted to visit, so I booked that instead. Minor detail, it left from Brussels and I was in Antwerp. Cue a 5am wake up and an annoyingly painful crick in my neck. Between my dodgy knee and now my neck, it’s a miracle I managed to get out of bed at all, but off I went. Dinant was the first stop and honestly, it was worth every ache. The town sits dramatically along the Meuse River, squeezed between cliffs and the water. It’s best known as the birthplace of Adolphe Sax, yes the saxophone and the town leans into this hard, with giant colourful saxes lining the bridge. There’s also the citadel perched high above the town, originally built in the Middle Ages. Cold, bright sunshine, postcard views, saxophones everywhere…not a bad way to start a birthday, even with a pain in the neck and a 5am alarm.
Our next and main stop is Luxembourg. After the obligatory city walk, we were set loose in the city with three hours to roam. I headed straight down into the Grund because I love anything involving old walls, tunnels, and cities that look like they’ve been carved out of the landscape. Luxembourg City is a fortress first and a city second. The lower town sits beneath towering cliffs, with layers of medieval walls and underground tunnels that once made this place one of Europe’s most heavily fortified cities and strongest in Europe. It had to be because the city was fought over for centuries by basically everyone. There’s also a softer side to it all, Grand Duchess Joséphine Charlotte. She did a huge amount for Luxembourg socially and culturally, especially around education, welfare, and inclusion. She treated people like people, regardless of background, colour, or class. Such a tiny country but so much history.
What goes down must come up...me! I climbed back up to the top of the city, ready for food only to find that everyone else had the exact same idea. What few places that were open were packed. Queues everywhere. Cafés rammed. And worst of all no waffles. Rude. So I improvised and went to the supermarket but shelves were practically empty. Even their coffee machine gave up. So I panic bought a massive chocolate and caramel brioche tray loaf and took myself off for a picnic in the Pétrusse Valley. In theory, it was a lovely idea. In reality, it was freezing fucknuts. I lasted just long enough to eat while walking, pretending this was the plan all along. As the sun started to set over the city, it felt like the perfect full stop to the day. Cold, tired, slightly sugared up, and very content. Luxembourg was a cool little side trip.
