Wendy's Platter…travels

September 21, 2025

How many steps does it take to erase the calories of a Belgium waffle?

Perhaps I should backtrack…

Leaving Humboldt County and making it to the San Francisco Airport.

The Euro journey has begun and already it feels a little like the 1969 movie of that title. We left our house just over a week ago, had a doctor check-in Redding on our way to San Francisco (where Nick got high marks!), then settled in to seeing my side of the family for our last two days in the U.S. I also snuck in a 55^th year high school class reunion which turned out to be sweet, nostalgic (a word that was adopted and overused by our 8^th grade class when we went to Washington DC and New York), and very fun. It is hard to believe that 55 years seemed to melt away leaving only the best memories. Worked for me.

Sunday our flight to Istanbul took off on time with very little fuss. The flight was a whopping twelve hours with essentially no sleep. However, Turkish Airlines kept us fed and entertained. The taxi I had booked when I booked the Airport Hotel Black Sea back in April, was waiting and we wound our way through the countryside behind the airport to our tiny hotel on the beach of the Black Sea. It was a taste of Turkey without the price tag of Istanbul.

The hotel manager greeted us and asked if we wanted dinner…he had fresh fish from the Black Sea. We jumped at the idea that we could just unpack and walk downstairs for a quick meal. With permission, I went into the kitchen to watch the cook deftly keep the fish from burning over the hot stove. It was a simple preparation taking advantage of the very fresh fish. It was delicious with a hint of middle eastern spices.

With the Black Sea lapping the sand, we took a quick stroll in the dark towards the water. Nick was determined to dunk his toes in the Black Sea. I was happy to just listen to the gentle waves. As Nick approached the water, he suddenly disappeared in the night. The waves had created a sand “cliff” that, in the dark we had not noticed. Nick went sliding down the cliff, fortunately with little issue except the copious amounts of sand that found every nook and cranny of his pants and shoes. It was a banana peel moment.

The Airport Black Sea looking out on the Black Sea. Nick after almost taking an unexpected swim in the Black Sea.

The next morning we had to get to the airport for our last flight to Brussels. After a few snafus which were somewhat cured by Japanese powerwalking, we made it to the gate in time for the flight.

Because of our “snafus” we were in a rush to get to the Istanbul Airport. The driver was very fast until he came across a herd that was in no hurry as they had just had their mudbaths and were relaxed.

Let me digress. So—Japanese powerwalking (JPW). A few months ago, I came across Japanese powerwalking. It is basically interval training, but at a level this old 73-year-old can handle. Walk at normal speed for three minutes, walk fast with exaggerated arm swinging for 3 minutes, go back to normal speed for three…and so on until you have achieved about 30 minutes of walking. Once I read about it, it seemed like the easiest way for me to add to my walking routine and maybe gain a bit more cardio. And it paid off…we arrived in time through the vast Istanbul airport, for our flight to Brussels. I have no doubt that JPW will save us many more times in the coming months.

Brussels promises not only culture and food, but a chance for us to connect our 2023-24 trip to New Zealand with this Euro 2025 trip. Our Whanganui River canoe trip left us not only with adventures and stories to tell, but with friends. When we knew we were going to be in Europe for a few months this year, we reached out to Suzanne and Jan-Bernd to see if they could meet us somewhere. They live in Bremen at the top of Germany on the North Sea but we knew we wouldn’t make up to them. They replied, how about Brussels?

Suzanne is French but was raised mostly in Germany. Jan-Bernd is German through and through. Although Nick and I speak some French, English took over as the main language. Upon seeing them after almost two years at the Airbnb I had rented in Brussels, it was as if no time had elapsed. We called them the “young ones” as they had not quite yet reached the “senior” status that allowed us discounts everywhere.

Deciding what to do was relatively easy. Beer, chocolate, waffles, moules (mussels) and frites (french fries). The rest of the cultural icons, the Royal Museums of Beaux Art, the Atomium, the architecture could fill in the gaps between the various stops for sustenance.

Nick is a happy man.

Let’s start with the beer. This is Nick’s world which, as it turns out, he shares with Jan-Bernd. Nick was always checking out the darker abbey ales, while Jan-Bernd took on the pale ales. Suzanne and I managed to keep up.

Chocolate? To say Belgium chocolate is the best in the world is an understatement. I guess I hadn’t really considered how many light years Belgium chocolate is from its American counterparts. The center of Brussels contains hundreds of fine chocolateries that offer samples of their wares. It was so seductive and dangerous. After the first three shops we finally were able to actually pass up a free sample. We were quite proud. The smoothness, the creaminess, the subtle flavors, the artfulness was beyond what I had encountered before. Fortunately, the prices (worth every euro) was enough to keep us in control.

Suzanne starts in on the Liege waffle which is covered by a caramel sauce. Jan-Bernd is about to attack the Brussels classic waffle with added whipped cream. Nick and Wendy finish the critical lattes after finishing the waffles.

Then there was the street that we found with our noses. Like hounds on a chase, we found the street with many Belgium waffle shops. Served with chocolate, or fruit, or Nutella, or sugar, or caramel, or whipped cream, or…you name it, they’ve got it, including savory choices. So many waffles, so hot and delicious, so little time. The answer to my initial question is not an exact number, but 15,151 steps that we covered that day seems to have kept the calories at bay as attested by my scale the next morning.

And then there are the frites. In the United States, we call them French fries. Given that frites are far more ubiquitous in Belgium than France, they should be Belgium fries…or just frites. I don’t think we had a meal that didn’t include frites. French fries, have always been my downfall, but even I was able to leave at least half of them on the plate. Not that they weren’t tasty…and always served with mayonnaise.

One of the standard cheap Brussel dishes is moules et frites. Moules are mussels, of which we have plenty on the California coast, but few folks eat them. Brussels serves the mussels in a variety of sauces with different herbs. Not knowing, we missed my favorite preparation with white wine and garlic. Looks like we have to go back!

Carbonade flamande is Belgium’s answer to Boeuf Burginogne, however substituting red wine with, of course, Belgium beer. Think pot roast…you can’t miss. We tried it a couple of times, and were never disappointed.

The Atomium from the 1958 World’s Fair in Brussels. Walking through a molecule is always interesting.

OK. We did actually see some sites between our Belgian eating frenzy. Although we took buses and trams, most of our exploring was done by foot, averaging about 10 kilometers (6 miles) per day. On my list was the Atomium which was the icon of the 1958 World’s Fair, which my parents and older siblings attended while the six-year-old me and my little sisters were farmed out to relatives for four months. The Atomium is a giant iron crystal, magnified 165 billion times and represented in steel and aluminum, that represented not only the strength of Belgium in the steel and aluminum industries but also the look to the future.

From the top of the Atomium you could see all of Europe! Well, all of “Little Europe” which was created for the 1958 Brussel’s World Fair to show off the attractions of all of Europe. On the right shows the elevator and spheres that were included in discovering the iron molecule from the inside.

The Atomium has been converted into a museum and allows visitors an elevator ride up to the top for a view of Brussels and several stairways descending into the body of the molecule. At the time we were went, there was a laser light show inside that kept you entertained and off balance.

No, it is not Nick. By Bruegel or his son, this yawning man caught my eye as did the candlelit woman. A touch of the Royal Museums of Fine Arts.

The Royal Museums of Fine Arts combines within its complex, several museums. We chose to explore the Flemish masters from the early Renaissance through the start of Impressionism. The near insanity of Bruegel (from the mid-1500s) plus the studies by Petrus Van Schendel (mid-1800s) kept me captivated.

In our wanderings, we came across the Manneken Pis, the statue of a boy peeing. The statue was originally part of the water system for Brussels, which, if you think about it, is a little odd. Nonetheless young lad has been costumed over the centuries. Apparently there is even a museum of his costumes. On our day he was ready for work. We didn’t bother with the Jenneke Pis, the female version added elsewhere in the city, nor the Het Zinneke, the “mutt” peeing. It is a Brussels thing.

The architecture, the small shops filled with chocolate, or cheeses, or beers, or lace were constant eye-candy for us. On our last day, after walking 10 kilometers, we found an outdoor café for a late afternoon spritz, a light European answer to a cocktail…Nick and Jan-Bernd kept with the beer theme.

Saying goodbye to Suzanne and Jan-Bernd was difficult but we made them promise to come to see us in the U.S….maybe in a few years when the political climate is more conducive to visitors.

On Saturday morning we left the Airbnb and took the tram to the Gare Midi where we could catch the Eurostar, high-speed rail for Paris. We arrived early and I was thirsty so Nick stayed with the luggage as I went in search of water. I found some vending machines but was unable to get them to work…then my nose guided me to the right place. Across the station was a Belgian waffle shop. One last waffle. Oh yeah, and water. On to Paris!

~Wendy

© Wendy Platt Hill 2025

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