Flirting, Food, and A View From The Top in Brussels

I suck at flirting. Seriously. I put the “single” in single occupancy.

On the day I returned to Brussels from a few days in Antwerp and Brugge, the day was gray and cold and I’d grown weary of lugging my behemoth backpack around the country. Cranky and chilled to the bone, with feet aching from the walk from the Metro, all I wanted to do was check in to my hostel and collapse into bed for a few hours, but as soon as I walked through the automatic doors, I saw him out of the corner of my eye: a lanky, blond, bespectacled hipster working the front desk.

Mm-hmmm.

Shuffling towards him, I managed to crack a smile as I told him I needed to check in. Since I’d spent my first night in Belgium at the hostel, I knew the routine. Digging my passport out of my backpack, I handed it over to him. He turned to the last page, quickly scanned my information, and smiled to himself. “Marsha.” He looked at me. “That’s a beautiful name.”

Ding! Cute and charming to boot? Ladies and gentlemen, we could have a winner. I went from grumpy to giddy in under sixty seconds.

Between his round, black horn-rimmed glasses, worn blue jeans, soft gaze, and utterly drool-worthy Dutch/French accent, I was smiling to myself like a fool. At the end of the check in process, Sergio* (I made sure to get his name) assured me that if I needed anything to let him know.

You betcha, Sweetcheeks.

I saw him again the following evening at the front desk, so I decided to engage him a bit more under the guise of needing recommendations for things to see and do in the city. My opening line? “So, are you from around here?”

Wow, Marsha. Brilliant and original. Good job.

Sergio was sweet, funny, and engaging and from all appearances, a total darling. Turns out he wasn’t a Brussels native, but he was incredibly knowledgeable and, in spite of my incredibly awkward attempts at flirtation, gave me a few recommendations for things to do in the city: the Museum of Comic Strip Art, the Magritte Museum, and lunch at the Musical Instruments Museum.

“There’s a great view from the top at the restaurant there.” Food and a view? Sweet.

The next day was my second to last in Belgium, and although I’d been enjoying my meals of waffles and frites, I was in the mood for something different. Having been incredibly frugal during those first few days of my trip, I was beyond willing to splurge on a good meal. Taking Sergio’s advice, I spent a leisurely morning walking through Brussels’ Upper Town and visiting both the Museum of Fine Arts and the Magritte Museum (highly recommended). Afterwards, I headed over to the Musical Instruments Museum for lunch as Sergio suggested.

Even if you’re not interested in visiting the museum itself, you can still get into the restaurant without paying the museum entry fee. At the ticket desk, I simply let the attendant know I was heading up to the restaurant so she gave me a ticket, and soon I was whizzing my way up to the tenth floor in the glass-walled elevator to Restauration Nouvelle at the MIM.

Housed on the top floor of the MIM, Restauration Nouvelle is perched on the top floor of the building like a bird’s nest made with glass and wrought iron instead of sticks and twigs. The brusque, energetic hostess placed me at a table near the kitchen. From my vantage point, I had a fairly good view of the dining room: among the restaurant guests were a variety of people; working professionals and tourist families were spread throughout the café-like dining area. The tall, wide windows illuminated the restaurant beautifully; the room was bright and airy as I prepared myself for a nice lunch.

Sitting in the midst of a flurry of activity as the hostess and waitstaff darted from table to table, I was able to secure my waiter’s attention long enough to order a curry chicken dish with rice cooked in coconut milk plus a glass of kriek, Belgium’s ubiquitous cherry lambic, to wash it down. My order soon arrived and before long, I was treating my mouth to a delicious melange of flavors and textures.

It was incredibly refreshing to have a relaxing, sit-down meal after so many days on the road and I relished the experience. From savoring the crusty bread served as my appetizer (note: the Belgians really know how to do bread) to watching the family at the table next to me interact playfully with each other (grandparents and their two granddaughters, it seemed), many of my earlier difficulties with Belgium became a distant memory.

Although the food was tasty and did not disappoint, I’d come for more than just that. After completing the meal and paying my £20 bill, I made my way through the small restaurant, dodging diners, scaling a small staircase, and gliding through a pair of glass doors onto the open air terrace.

The air was crisp yet warm at the same time as the sun peeked through the clouds. Breathing deeply, I spun around. There it was: Brussels, spread out in plain view from almost every angle. Behind me was the Eglise St. Jacques-sur-Coudenberg and its classical 18th century design. Just behind it the Royal Palace, with the Belgian flag gently waving in a soft breeze. Below and ahead, I could see Place Albertine with the statues of King Albert I of Belgium and his queen, and beyond, the elegant Gothic spire of the Town Hall rising above it all. And suddenly, I was enjoying myself in Belgium. I forgot about heartbreak and disappointment and from that point on, I was able to embrace the country for what it was, warts and all.

Later that evening, when I returned to the hostel, I’d hoped to thank Sergio for his recommendations and to tell him how much I enjoyed the view, but I never saw him again. So Sergio, if you’re reading this–thanks. For putting up with my awkward flirting and tipping me off to one of my favorite experiences in Belgium.

P.S. I think your name’s beautiful, too.

P.P.S. *His name’s not really Sergio.