Office workers cut across the Grand-Place at lunch, under guildhalls rebuilt in gold after cannon fire flattened the square. Nearby, Manneken Pis wears whatever costume the day calls for, and at the Royal Theatre Toone, rod puppets still trade jokes in the old Brussels dialect. The past here is part of the errand route.
Beyond the old center, bargain hunters sift through crates at the flea market on Place du Jeu de Balle, and the Atomium's steel spheres catch the light over Laeken. The climate is oceanic, with mild summers, cool gray winters and rain in any month. A Local Friend walks beside you, matching your stride and pointing out the carved doorway you were about to pass.
