Thanks to the many wars that have been fought on its turf, Belgium has been called the “European battlefield”. If one wanted to take this to the economic level and make a killing in Brussels all they would need to do is land a hot air balloon hauling a load of chocolate treats smack in the center of the huge square called the Grand-Place a couple of blocks up from the jaunty mannikin taking a leak.
Tourists hanging around the Grand-Place sort of lost, sort of dazed by the sun, would instantly swarm the huckster pilot like insects out of a sci-fi thriller. He or she would, if they weren’t trampled to death, float away with a basket full of Euros.
They don’t call this place of public places pocketed by chocolate shops the Grote Markt for nothing. If what is happening in the square doesn’t grab your attention, or if you’re not in the mood for artisanal chocolate, there is always the architectural splendor of the neo-Gothic Maison du Roi.
Or the some of the Baroque monstrosities that used to be guildhalls.
