Imagine walking a few metres just to see a little boy having a wee. That’s exactly what I am made to do. And, as I amble along the lanes of Brussels, my nostrils widen with the tempting aroma of fresh cream, waffles and a smorgasbord of chocolates in all forms and sizes.

There is the molten variety, the finger-licking good fondue and the hard variety as well. Greedily, I stick my nose to a chocolatier’s display window, eyeing the yummy spread.

But, my tour guide is unrelenting. He wouldn’t let us stop at any of the stores. “On our way back, we can shop for a while,” he calls out, stopping at a reclining bronze statue.

It’s the statue of Everard’t Serclaes, who was killed defending Brussels in the 14th Century. For many centuries now, visitors have unfailingly touched the arm and hand of this shiny bronze statue, as it is said to bring good luck. Always in need for some luck, I do so too, and make a wish. And then, with a contented grin, prance along.

After walking another five minutes, we reach a junction that’s abuzz with people crowding around something. Squeezing my way through the crowd, I finally see it — the statue of Manneken Piss.

A legend lives on

A cute little boy with the most joyous expression doing what his name suggests. Inspired by the other tourists, we too get busy posing with the petite statue. There are many legends about it.

The most fascinating one goes like this. Once, when the city of Brussels was under fire, this little boy helped put out the fire by urinating on it; he is said to have also saved the castles of three kings from burning down.

The cheeky brat is said to have quite a selection of costumes, and on several occasions, his statue is robed in them. Just as our guide begins to tell us more stories, it begins to rain. The guide has no other option but to let us scurry off to the neighbouring shops for shelter and some retail therapy.

There are souvenirs, pretty laces that the city is famous for, bags and chocolates. Most of the chocolate stores have chocolate miniatures of ‘the little boy’ in dark chocolate, and in an array of vivid hues.

Inside one of the stores, the dizzying variety makes me feel lost. Unable to decide, I reach out and randomly grab boxes of whatever I can. There’s truffle, white chocolate with juliennes of orange, pralines, mousse, liqueur chocolate…

At the billing counter, there’s a commotion. A bunch of meddling children have walked in, and are sampling chocolates. One of them reaches into an open jar and picks up a Manneken miniature, and laughing, puts it back. The lady at the counter asks them not to touch the chocolates with bare hands. But, the kids seem determined to do so, infuriating the lady, who has been smiling till now. I hurriedly pay my bill and leave.

Heritage calling

The sky is clear now, and our guide has managed to hunt us down. He now guides us to the Grand Place, the central market square of Brussels. Surrounded by the city’s Town Hall, Bread House and guild houses, it’s a huge area, and I just can’t fit everything into one frame. The Grand Place is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Every two years, in the middle of August, the Grand Place square is covered with flower decorations, and looks bright and beautiful. There aren’t any flowers now, but even then, the place with its architecture, looks simply delightful.

Time’s ticking away, and shortly, it’ll be time for supper and for me to bid adieu to this place. With only a few minutes to spare, everybody makes a beeline to the market that stocks luxurious brands.

I race towards it too, but make a stop for a Belgian waffle. Warm and oozing with fresh cream and strawberries and dusted with powdered sugar, it looks divine.

When I bite into it, I know I can’t stop with one. So, I queue up again for yet another waffle while the rest of the gang maniacally hoards on designer goodies. I don’t care anymore, for these waffles are something I could renounce everything for!

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