2 days. 6 waffles. This is the story of my food pilgrimage to Brussels.

When someone asks "why Brussels?" there are only a select few words you need in order to answer: French fries, waffles, and chocolate.  When you can find a place that combines some of the best things in life, the better answer to "why Brussels?" is "why not Brussels?"  And so, it was with this mentality that three students from across the United States studying in Roma for a semester set out for Belgium on a pilgrimage.  A food pilgrimage, that is.

There are a few things one needs to know when traveling to Brussels.  Some knowledge of French or Dutch is one (we knew none).  The second is that the city is small –– small enough, in fact, that we walked almost the entire thing in one day.  The third thing is that Belgians do not mess around when it comes to food, and by food I mean waffles and French fries.  There are four types of waffles: the street waffle (dough with sugar inside that they make in waffle carts on the street), the Belgian waffle (coated in powdered sugar), the tourist waffle (an over-the-top waffle topped with strawberries, bananas, whipped cream, and chocolate), and the extreme tourist waffle (with everything already mentioned plus ice cream).  French fries are not just French fries, they are meals, and come in trays or cones with every type of sauce imaginable.  The most popular is mayonnaise, but as I cannot handle large amounts of mayonnaise loaded on top of my food, I stuck with ketchup and was more than satisfied.  We survived our two-day stay in Brussels on two orders of French fries and six different types of waffles, and in the end we still wanted more.  My favorite waffle was either the street waffle, with its melt-in-your-mouth sugar pieces embedded in the dough, or the chocolate dipped waffle we had upon arrival.  The Nutella coated one came in a close third, while I was surprised to find that the tourist waffle was too much for me to handle.  No one should have that much whipped cream in his or her system.  It may not have been a healthy trip, but I am not ashamed in the slightest.

While at the core our journey to Brussels may have been based on our love of food and our eagerness to have as many waffles as possible, the city of Brussels is an extraordinary one in itself.  A blend of different people and historical sites, it is a city that offers cultural diversity around every corner.  Scattered with a number of parks and eclectic artwork in the most obscure places, Brussels is not only a food “Mecca” but an artistic one as well.  With our map in hand we explored the city by foot, which offered us the opportunity to find local spots we may have otherwise overlooked had we stuck solely to public transportation.  We saw almost every major site in Brussels with the exception of the atom, and devoured as many waffles as we could handle along the way.  

Belgium has a different atmosphere than Italy, one where there is less rush to make it somewhere, a friendlier outlook, and a little more modernization.  I have found McDonald's in Italy, but on this trip I also saw two Pizza Huts –– just like being in America.  The map provided to us by our hostel had an "Act Like a Local" section, where it stated, "stay long enough, and Brussels is not a little postcard city like Bruges.  On one day you can see the classics and drink the beers, but you need at least two more days to discover the good stuff.  A year would be even better."  Ours was a power trip through Brussels where we crammed in the sites and sustained our hunger with cheap food, and it was impossible to leave after only two days and feel like it was a sufficient amount of time.  We may have walked for hours, seen an old army museum, the Palace of Justice, the famous “Manneken Pis” fountain, and photographed our way through the Art Nouveau areas, but I left with the feeling that there are endless finds down every street to be uncovered another time. 

We left Brussels bright and early this morning following a few transportation issues –– our taxi did not arrive to pick us up and a large fare is required to actually make it all the way to the airport –– and we left with chocolate in our suitcases and a craving for more waffles.  With any journey, there is a comfort that comes with returning home, and being away made me realize just how much I have started considering Roma my home.  Being gone, even for just a weekend, made me "Rome sick," and it felt amazing to be back among the unorganized and laid back Italian airport system, where luggage size and the volume of liquid you are carrying makes no difference.  It may have taken a plane, a shuttle bus, the metro, and another bus to get us back to campus, but walking up to the green gates of the JFRC was relieving.  Though I am currently displaced from my room due to a water leak, this campus is a home base that makes traveling a little easier.  I traded pasta for waffles and "buongiorno" for "bonjour" this weekend, and while I can see myself returning to Belgium over and over again, there is nothing quite like returning to Roma.     

"It's the creme de la creme, (and you can bounce with that)" -A Tribe Called Quest graffiti in a Brussels alley

Waffle #3 –– Street Waffle

French fries in a cone

Il dolce far niente

There is a special unexplainable serenity that develops as the frigid chill of winter transitions into the warmth of spring.  As we shed our winter coats and don our light sweaters, trading our boots and thick socks for sandals, it generates a different reality unique to springtime.  And so, in this new reality, the sun shone on Roma this weekend in such a way that I felt more at home.

Friday began with a bus ride to the Vatican, where we warmed ourselves in the sunshine of Piazza San Pietro while watching both locals and tourists flock out into the streets of Roma with a newfound zeal.  From St. Peter's we moved forward into the city with no destination in mind and no agenda to follow –– our day was free, and we were ready to Rome (thank you Kevin for that wonderful pun).  Ending up in Piazza Venezia, we climbed the steps aside Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II, popularly known as the “Wedding Cake” building, and once again soaked up the Roman sunshine.  From there we walked toward the Spanish Steps and arrived just as the sun was setting over the city.  There are select moments where the fact that I am in Italy washes over me.  It is not that I forget where I am, but more so that the routine of school and the busy weekends have helped me to feel as comfortable here as I do at home in San Francisco.  Yet there are moments, maybe when the sun fades into night and casts a pink glow over the cobblestone streets or I stumble upon something I have only seen in movies, which make me stop and actually think about where I am and what I am doing.  Standing atop the Spanish Steps watching the slowly diminishing sun behind an endless assemblage of buildings was one of those moments.  Sometimes when the comfort of a routine sets in you need a moment that will give you just enough clarity to change your perspective.

This weekend, aside from beautiful weather, also gifted us with a visit from the Budapest study abroad students and a little taste of home in this incredibly different culture.  We ventured out in to the city Friday night, a blend of San Francisco, Saint Louis, and Chicago students living in Italy and Hungary ready to experience Roman nightlife.  Saturday was a day of relaxation and errands in town, followed by an attempt at Mexican food only to find out that a reservation was needed for the restaurant.  In a world of pasta and pizza, sometimes what you really crave most is a burrito.  Maybe next week!  We awoke early Sunday morning to trek to Porta Portese, a Flea Market that I can tell will quickly become a weekend tradition when I stay in the city.  We wove our way through stands of cheap clothing, shoes, jewelry, bags, books, music, sunglasses, and every other item you could imagine being sold in an outdoor market.  Followed by lunch and gelato, it was the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Amidst the bustle of city life and the slowly mounting piles of homework, finding calm in lazy weekend afternoons makes me feel like Roma is gradually becoming a bigger part of me.  There is a certain sense of awe that comes from standing in front of ancient ruins, but there is a greater sense of belonging that comes from uncovering the authentically Roman hidden gems on days when there is nothing but time.  It is what the Italians refer to as “il dolce far niente.”  The sweetness of doing nothing. 

The sunset from the Spanish Steps

Jewelry at Porta Portese

Scarves and artwork at Porta Portese

Quando si lascia la vecchia per la nuova

With the transition into a new country comes the inevitable adoption of its culture.  Up until this point, my absorption of the Italian lifestyle has been one based primarily on a relationship with food, language, and the arts.  I have eaten my fair share of pasta, pizza, and gelato; I have stumbled my way through conversations in Italian and picked up a few new phrases in the process; I have seen the likes of the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, and Roman Forum.  But today served as an introduction to an aspect of Italian culture that is probably more unknown to me than the language itself –– attendance of the Papal Audience.  

For those who know me well enough, I am not a religious person.  Despite attending a Jesuit school, I have my own set of reasons as to why I have not integrated religion into my life; and while I am not opposed to religion nor will I criticize anyone for their beliefs, the understanding of a higher power or one God is not something I can wrap my head around.  This makes me the perfect candidate to pay a visit to the Pope, right?  When I heard that Loyola cancelled classes for the day and gave us all tickets to the Papal Audience, I decided that neglecting to go simply because I was not Catholic would only keep me from experiencing as much of Roma as I possibly could.  And after all, the Vatican is one of Roma's defining characteristics, despite many Romans being non-practicing Catholics (you will often hear "Io sono cattolica ma non pratico").  So instead I set my alarm for six a.m. and set out to view this whole experience from a sociological standpoint.  If nearly 1.1 billion people in this world define themselves as Roman Catholics, it is no secret that this religion has a large influence on our society.  After spending awhile figuring out what was appropriate to wear (it says something about our generation when only a handful of us brought dresses that covered both our knees and shoulders), we caught the 990 bus and set out toward the dome that serves as the highest building in Roma.  We passed through the security checkpoints, handed over our tickets, walked inside and took our seats about ten rows from the front.  

The rows of seats began to fill with people from all over the world, many of who were dressed up, carrying signs, flags, and singing.  While I may not understand the Catholic religion as a whole, one thing that is entirely apparent is the sense of community that stems from being part of it.  When one group would begin a song, another would join in, followed by the clapping of another and the tambourine of yet another.  The swell of excitement grew as the minutes ticked on until the Pope finally walked on stage to abounding camera flashes, cheers, and applause.  And so it began.  Two hours of introductions for each group in their native language (Loyola received its own recognition and a wave from the Pope) and the Pope reading the same thing in seven different languages.  Many groups greeted the Pope with chants and songs, revealing their overwhelming affection for him.  Being someone who has never felt this sort of devotion to a religion, it was quite the eye-opening experience.  It is amazing how something can serve to unify people from around the world, regardless of their language, social class, race, or ethnicity.  I may not identify, but there is no denying the power generated from the religious community.  Ultimately, we are a vastly religious society, and today I was at the heart of the Catholic sector of it.  I got another little taste of Italian life this morning that helped me to step outside my romanticized version of Roma filled with espresso shots and Nutella croissants, and it was nowhere near what I had anticipated.  Not bad by any means, just different.

It was a sunny day at the Vatican

Yes, there's still a Christmas tree up in February

The Pope (blurry, I know)