Brussels has a reputation problem. Everyone passes through it — it's the capital of the EU, after all — but few people actually stay. This is a mistake. Nine December days showed me a city of extraordinary contradictions: Art Nouveau next to brutalist concrete, Michelin-starred restaurants next to friteries serving fries in paper cones, and a population that somehow maintains three official languages while collectively agreeing that beer is the only language that matters.
December in Brussels means Christmas markets, mulled wine, and the Grand Place lit up like a baroque fever dream. It also means rain, grey skies, and the kind of damp cold that makes you understand why Belgian chocolate exists — as medicine for the weather.
The Grand Place
The Grand Place is not a square — it's a statement. Surrounded by ornate guild houses covered in gold leaf, it's regularly voted the most beautiful square in Europe, and the competition isn't close. At night during December, it's illuminated by a light show that reflects off the gilded facades and makes the whole space shimmer. I've seen grand squares from Jaipur to Prague, and this one genuinely took my breath away.
Beer Culture
Belgium has more beer varieties per capita than anywhere on earth: over 1,500 distinct beers. Trappist ales brewed by actual monks. Lambics fermented with wild yeast. Cherry krieks that taste like dessert. I visited Delirium Café, which holds the Guinness record for most beers available (over 2,000), and spent an evening working through a carefully curated flight. It was educational. It was also very effective.
The Chocolate Situation
Belgian chocolate is not the chocolate you know. Entering a place like Pierre Marcolini or Laurent Gerbaud is entering a different universe of cacao — single-origin ganaches, pralines filled with spiced cardamom, dark chocolate with Indian black pepper. When Belgian chocolatiers use desi spices, something magical happens. I brought back two kilos. It lasted four days.
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