Fezzik In Paris

The weekend before last’s trip to Brussels (yes, I am behind) for their version of the marché de noël featured a significant amount of wandering, the consumption of copious quantities of hardly-healthy food that still somehow was tailored to each of our dietary needs (read: the Purrito tackled the sausages while I consumed an unholy number of waffles), and surprisingly little beer (as it turns out, the Foulard champagne dôme proved to be more inviting than the Leffe beer hut).

While we had both had our doubts regarding how wise heading to Brussels would be, said worries were never revisited once underway as both the French and Belgian police and military apparatuses were clearly projecting force; from the moment we stepped on the Thalys (now featuring sizable Police nationale patrols on the journey there, and Belgian police on the way back), we were never more than a few minutes away from seeing either a police or a Belgian military patrol, which is noteworthy given that I distinctly remember wondering aloud as to what a Belgian cop looked like during our inaugural trip in May of 2015.

While I think our sole purchase from the market, aside from the food and the wine, was limited to a large tea mug with a pair of cuddling owls, we had quite the time wandering through the market and around Brussels. This despite the frenzied calculations, projections, and hypothetical plans that came with discovering that the bed and breakfast we were staying in was being sold for an entirely reasonable (if still ever so slightly out of reach) amount.

Sigh.

It’s Manny.

The Parc du cinquantenaire looks promising…

Not bad, not bad.

Goatgoatgoat.

Such an angry lion.

Oh hey, it’s Autoworld.

The inside is more or less what one would expect from a place called Autoworld.

The Musée royal de l’armée et de l’histoire militaire suffers from a serious case of let’s-just-stick-this-stuff-here.

The hall dedicated to the guerre mondiale.

An Indiana Jones tank.

A tank, a minivan, and a catering truck roll into a museum…

Those lovely Mad Men-era lines.

…where the hell did the Hind come from?

A festive tree on the Grote Markt.

The Grote Markt was markedly more festive after dark.

Normally there are far more automobiles and far fewer people at this intersection.

Something we’d like to take credit for: these see-saws in front of the Bourse were being used exclusively by children before we wandered up; a random couple approximately our age took over after we got off, and when we returned from the far reaches of the market, there were nearly as many adults goofing around on them as there were children.

Eh. Rouen-quality it was not.

See that champagne dôme? That place was awesome.

We committed to standing in line for the “funny Christmas monster” after we saw crying children returning from their run through it. A boring walk through dragon “intestines” punctuated by a guy in a gorilla mask jumping out at you is funny, apparently.

This is from whence we were shat.

No idea as to why he’s dressed as a climber.