Brussels is known to be a home to many nationalities due to being the administrative hub of the European Union. This proved true for my boyfriend and I despite not being a part of EU administration. My boyfriend, Tsoumpi, is a Greek who has been studying at Vrije Universiteit Brussel and I’m an American studying in Spain. Although this was neither of our first times in the city, we didn’t have any issue with running short of new things to do.
My first day in the city again was relaxed and busy at the same time. My plane flew in at 10:15 a.m., a time most students are unhappy to wake up at in the morning, and only a few short hours later Tsoumpi and I were being guided by a beast of a dog around a local park. If Vicky didn’t want to go somewhere, then you wouldn’t go.
The Bernese mountain dog would plop her butt down in the grass and there was no changing her mind. Her owners knew this. They warned Tsoumpi not to take her to the area where she normally sees her boyfriend because he was on a trip and she won’t leave the park until she plays with him.
Later that evening, I experienced a European football match for the first time. Although I’m told that women’s matches are less boisterous than their male counterparts, the crowd was still shouting and covered in red, yellow and black for the Belgian Red Flames. There were also small groups of Greeks that showed their support for their team with a flag or two, but the Belgians severely outnumbered them.
Tsoumpi and I did loops around all areas of the stadium to find some sort of Greek merchandise to show our support for the team, but only found fries that are worthy of their fame in Belgium, which soothed our disappointment. The Belgians chanted the names of their players over and over throughout the match while the Greeks suffered goal after goal scored on them while barely making it over the halfway line themselves. It was a brutal scene for the Greeks with the freezing rain to match it.
In the next few days, we made our way outside of Brussels to Liège, a city in the French-speaking region of Belgium. As we stepped into the city, Tsoumpi marveled at the architecture of Liège-Guillemins train station. He talked about it as a professor talks about their research or a parent about their newborn while he took photos like he was the paparazzi and told me how the famous Spanish architect, Santiago Calatrava Valls, was the mastermind behind it all. This was all a bit surprising to me because I didn’t even realize he was interested in architecture.
I was far more interested in the churches. We visited Saint Paul’s Cathedral in Liège which I found to be astounding. The Catholics certainly have a knack for making the church something spectacular to look at with the variety of statues, paintings, and stained glass windows.
The feeling of being in a cathedral is solemn and wondrous. Your feet move with caution while your eyes try to absorb all the details. Sometimes while you view the church as a tourist, there will be a person praying in the chairs only a couple meters away from you.
The next church we visited towered over the one in Liège both figuratively and literally. The National Basilica of the Sacred Heart should be on every Brussels tourist’s must-visit list. I couldn’t stop myself from repeatedly shouting to my boyfriend how cool it looks and that was only when we stepped off the bus. The mist surrounded the massive basilica giving it an eerie feel. Unlike the outside where you could see the entirety of the glory of the church, the most intriguing parts of the inside were blocked off.
The museum area in the basement was closed, the panorama at the top of the basilica cost money, and, as far as we could find, there was no way to even get to the balcony of the main room. Additionally, the area where you could look straight up in the dome was fenced off.
Despite these minor disappointments that could have been prevented with some money and if we hadn’t chosen to visit on a random Tuesday in November, the National Basilica of the Sacred Heart is still a magnificent church.
Finally, to end our short trip together, we rode Brussels’ giant permanent ferris wheel known as “The View.” The colorful wheel illuminated the night sky as I dragged my reluctant boyfriend to what he was sure would be his last view of Brussels, to which I’m sure many others with motion sickness and a fear of heights can relate. Regardless, even if it was going to be our final sight of the city, we were going to make it a good one.
We climbed into the capsule as it shifted under our weight, which made Tsoumpi further question his decisions, but by the third time we rose into the sky and looked down at the cars and lights of buildings fifty meters below us, he accepted that this wouldn’t be our death and that the views were worth it after all.
