We got up and enjoyed the best shower yet in our cute little room at the Hotel Lirico, then went to breakfast in the lobby. European breakfast will always be my favorite: bread, cheese, fruit and coffee.

We calculated that we should have exactly enough time to go see the Spanish Steps before having to head to the train station, so we set off that direction, checking the map regularly since we didn’t have time to get lost. It was already incredibly hot and humid in Rome and we were rushing.

A sign led us to an underpass at one of the major intersections, and the underpass ended up being a book store. That was very, very strange.

We only got a little diverted once, but managed to find our way to the steps. The area was packed with tourists. The plaza was super-cute, and I’ve loved to have shopped there.

Of course we’d arrived at the bottom of the steps, and the easiest way back to the hotel was to go up them. Plus it seemed important to climb them. We had to stop halfway up to rest, but we made it in the heat. The top was full of buskers, guys in gladiator outfits, and people painting landscapes and selling their work.

We rushed back to the hotel, a journey that seemed to be mostly uphill, even though we’d just climbed up to what we thought was the top. We checked out of the hotel, and the porter carried my bag down the stairs for me, thank god. We rolled our way over to Termini and bought tickets for the Leonardo Express from a machine. The train seemed to only have first class tickets, but they were fairly cheap.

The train pulled in a little late, and everyone hopped on. It was less of a crush of humanity than it had been at Civitavecchia, though, and the train was much nicer. Matt put our bags on the rack, and we got seats in a little elevated couch section in the middle where we had a good view of the Roman countryside.

One thing that surprised us about Rome is how quickly you leave the city. On the train, you pass Vatican City, a couple suburbs, and then it’s basically nothing but farmland between there and the airport.

We got to the airport half an hour later, and took the long walk to the terminal through the station. We found the EasyJet check-in: it was the one with piles of litter laying all over the place. (I assume that’s one of the reasons it’s so cheap.) The lines weren’t long, but there were only two desk agents helping people out. There was a proletariat line that we were in, and a line for their frequent fliers. That line got priority, which was fair.

Once we got to the front of the line, we stood there waiting for the agent to gesture to us, just like he’d been doing for everyone else. The French couple behind us got REALLY angry that we weren’t going, explaining that this was the queue and we should just go down there. They were definite asshats, those Frenchies. We went to the counter when the guy called us.

We checked in, went through security, and a French lady jumped to the front of the line at the scanner. We didn’t have a great opinion of them by that point, and were wondering how our trip to Paris would go.

Our gate was fairly empty, so we went to do some shopping in the terminal. I overheard something in French about our flight number and a new gate, so we checked the board and that was correct. By that point the EasyJet queue was pretty long, so we were a little worried about getting crappy seats. But a bunch more people showed up behind us, so we figured we were safe. We stood there for 20 minutes or so, and then they started scanning boarding passes. We went into the jetway area, and found the whole ramp full of the people we’d just been in line behind. We were used to the queuing, but it was about 20 degrees hotter in the ramp area.

We stood there for way too long, and then the line started moving again. We made it to the entrance of the actual jetway, and Matt and I were able to edge inside far enough to feel the air conditioning. We stood there for another 10 minutes or so, then slowly the line started moving toward the airplane door. (I still think it’s worth it for the price of EasyJet tickets, but holy crap. Prepare to stand in line for a hour.)

We managed to get a row to ourselves, which was awesome. We bought cans of London Pride from the flight attendant, and had a meal of the Italian version of Go Ahead (which I’d bought at Roma Termini) and my Pocket Espresso. (Note: don’t open a Pocket Espresso on a pressurized airplane. It will just go on your pants.) We had a good flight, and our British captain Gary got us to Paris-Orly ahead of schedule, at 4:20. We saw the Eiffel Tower from the plane, too!

We stopped at a little shop in the Sud terminal to get some food and drinks from a vending machine, then started following the arrows to the rental cars. They ended up being at the Oest terminal, but the walk wasn’t bad. We found Citer/National after some searching, and checked in at the desk. There was some mixup with the car we requested (automatic, with a trunk since we’d be keeping luggage in there for a while), so they ended up giving us a much nicer car: a Citroen C5. It was hella fancy, and we decided to name it President Mitterand.

I’ve never driven a car with GPS before, and I’m generally annoyed by it, but it made our getting around infinitely easier. We figured out how to program our destination after some futzing with it, and headed out on the highways of Paris. We only encountered a few traffic jams along the way, and then we were out in the countryside.

We could read most of the road signs, so that was good. (We didn’t know what ‘rappel’ meant, but thought it was pretty funny.) We learned that France is really, really proud of its rural areas: they put signs up showing you what kind of farmland you’re passing, or what industries exist in a town. We passed the Asterix theme park, too, which looked a little bit run-down.

We entered a toll road and paid with a credit card, with no idea what the toll was. As we saw the Belgium border coming up on the GPS, we wondered if there would be any remnant of the plaza that used to be there pre-EU, but there was no sign of it. Just a ‘welcome to Belgium’ sign in French and Dutch. We took the first roadside exit at Texaco to use the bathroom and get snacks. Matt got an individually-wrapped Belgian waffle, since obviously that’s what you’re supposed to do there.

We were shocked when we got out of the car: it was COLD there. Like, way colder than we had expected. I was in capris and flipflops, and I was freezing. After we left the building, I dug my hoodie and sneakers out of my suitcase in back.

We got back on the road and soon crossed from the French side of Belgium (Wallonia), to Flanders, the Dutch side. The President told us how to get to the hotel, and that all went well til we got to the center of Brussels around 9pm and encountered Pride. Like, the actual parade was going on right at that moment. We diverted and had to circle a few blocks, but we managed to find the hotel. There were cars parked three deep in the entrance, but the valet told us to leave the car there and helped us unload the luggage.

The Hotel Metropole was probably the fanciest building we’ve ever stayed in. The lobby was full of Japanese tourists taking photos, and the entryway was full of notes from celebrities who had stayed there. We had a gigantic room, and the rack rate was 450 euros (we paid $140). The bathroom had a huge tub and a towel warmer. There was a trouser press on the wall, which Matt tried out later.The TV greeted us by name in English, and there were 2 free Stellas and bottles of pop in the fridge. We looked out onto Boulevard Anspach, which was in a certain degree of disarray due to Pride.

We unpacked a little bit while enjoying our beers, then decided to go try Delirium Cafe so we could enjoy several of Belgium’s ten billion excellent beers. We set out and walked a few blocks as things got quieter and quieter, so we suspected maybe we weren’t going the right way. We also noticed that every other business there was a temp agency. We looked at the map and turned around, heading back down another street. We passed a battery store, and noted it for later: I’d realized only a few days into the cruise that the one thing I’d forgotten was my camera battery charger, and I was heartbroken over the idea that I might not be able to take photos. I was glad that we at least both had nice cellphone cameras, but it’s not the same.

We passed our hotel and went the other direction. The street became crazier and crazier, so we figured we were going the right way. The area around Grand-Place was nearing a disaster, with drunk people stumbling everywhere and empty cans and cups all over the place. (It was around 10:30 at that point.) We hurried through the narrow cobblestone streets in the area, knowing Delirium Cafe had to be nearby. But we couldn’t find it, after circling and passing places we’d already passed before. We finally saw a sign for it pointing down a street, saying the entrance was in the alley. We followed the arrow and there was nothing there, so we kept circling. Finally we ended up going the other direction on the street with the sign, and found the alley… and it was absolutely packed with Pride partiers.

I was exhausted and had zero interest in trying to get in there. We decided to go find somewhere else to eat, and come back to one of the bars in the area for beer. Everything in the area seemed to be closing down except for the bars, so we finally decided on the Sultans of Kebap right outside Grand-Place. It was going to be packed with drunk people later, but at that point it wasn’t too bad. Matt ordered the doner kebab, and I got falafel. That food was so good, it will haunt me forever. They had the best bread in the universe.

Refreshed, we headed back into Grand-Place and settled on a place called Drug Opera, for one reason alone: it was quiet. We got seats right at the bar and ordered beers. Finally I was really happy to be in Brussels. AND they had free wi-fi!

We had another round, and the place started to close down around 1am. They only charged us for one beer, and we were fine with that. We decided to stop by the liquor store across the street from our hotel, and ended up grabbing a couple of beers, a can of J&B and cola (Matt had seen them smashed in the street, and was intrigued), and Kriek Max. Holy crap, I fell in love so hard with Kriek Max. It’s delicious.

Back in the hotel, we watched a German-dubbed version of British Silent Library, and a Tosh-like YouTube show called Rude Tube. European TV is so entertaining.

Sunday morning, we slept in. I woke up at 7:30 feeling guilty, then went back to sleep til 10. It was glorious. We made coffee in the room in our beer classes, thanks to Starbucks Via. (Europe does not put coffeemakers in their hotel rooms, you know.) I managed to drop my phone face-down on the bathroom floor and shattered the screen. That worried me a lot until I realized it was still usable, and I could wait to replace it when we were home.

We headed down to Grand-Place to walk around. Everything was still covered in trash from the night before, but we figured that would be cleaned up fairly soon.

My camera battery was officially dead. We went to go check the battery store, but it was closed on Sundays. Thank god for the cameraphone, even with a broken screen.

It was still cold in Brussels. I was wearing a hoodie and had my pants rolled down, but I’d have been happy for a jacket.

Belgian waffles are no joke… they’re REALLY into waffles in all forms there.

Grand-Place was amazing. There are sidewalk restaurants all over the place, too. As expected on a Sunday morning, it was full of other tourists. One thing that we were slowly realizing about Brussels, too: though they’re in the Dutch-speaking part of the country, people in the city speak French for the most part. It’s a little island of French-speakers. And for those of us who know some German and therefore find Dutch really easy to interpret, it was kind of frustrating.

We wandered around the same alleys we’d been in the previous night, looking for a lunch place. We paused for 2 seconds in front of a menu board at a Venetian-themed restaurant, and a server came running out to try to convince us to come in. It wasn’t very difficult at all. We got a table and ordered Leffe Brun, which quickly became one of my favorite beers.

There were only a couple vegetarian items on the menu, but I didn’t care: they had Italian-style four cheese pizza. Matt got a bucket of mussels with frites. He was covering the traditional-Belgian bases for us.

After lunch, we went to find the Manekin-Pis. And that’s exactly what it was. There was a huge crowd around it, of course.

We checked out the map, and decided to walk up to see the palaces and huge park between them.

Brussels is really picturesque. It’s also full of litter. We realized later that that wasn’t entirely Pride-party related… there’s just discarded crap laying everywhere. It’s strange, because that’s the only city we visited that was like that.

We climbed up a hill toward the palaces, and hung out on the front steps of the Palais d’Egmont for a while.

The Palais Royale is at one end of the Parc de Bruxelles.

The park itself is really pretty. There are walking paths everywhere, trees, flowers, and fountains.

The Palais de la Nacion is at the other end.

From there we went to walk down to the botanical gardens, but by halfway there we realized it was much farther than we thought. We decided to head back into the main part of town, and found a confusing way to get there on the map. It took us past a high-rise building complex that looked basically like a hobo jungle… all the windows were broken out, and there was graffiti all over everything. The plaza was overgrown with weeds. The far side of the building looked like maybe it was under construction, though. It was really confusing.

We passed the Cathedrale St-Michel on the way:

We stopped at a grocery store to pick up the hairspray I desperately needed (note: 2 travel-sized cans in that amount of time is not enough), and also found more Kriek Max, some beer, and Belgian Go Ahead. They were everywhere!

We dropped our bag off at the hotel, then went back down to Grand-Place. We figured this might be a good time to check out Delirium Cafe, since it was only 3pm. And it was! The front area (the actual cafe) wasn’t very busy at all, and the server was awesome.

After a couple rounds there, we went to look at the rest of the complex. We ended up downstairs in the main beer bar. The bartender asked if we wanted the beer list, and this is what we got. It’s more of a catalog:

In the time we were there we ordered, according to my list: Val-Dieu Tripel, St Idesbald Dubbel, St Feuillien Tripel, Chouffe Houblon, Kopstoot, Gueuze Tilquin, and Cre Tonnerre.

We were sitting at the bar directly in front of their certificate from the Guinness Book verifying that they have the largest selection of beers in the world. That’s no joke.

We had a couple ideas of where to go for dinner, so we walked over to an area about half a mile away to find them. The first was called Java Cafe, but they didn’t serve food there. There was also a Vietnamese place nearby, so we walked over there. It was across the street from a place called the Snack Bread-In. I still don’t know what that is.

We ordered vegetable spring rolls, pho, tofu fried with vegetables, and rice. Everything was excellent, and the place became very crowded while we were there. (We had to shift over in our 4-person table so they could divide it in half to make two, which meant we also had to have the table next to us get up when we left.) Behind Matt, there was a couple that seemed to be having some sort of food orgy. They were inhaling all the food in the world at an amazing pace, and slamming wine. The lady kept giving the man an orgasmic look. It was hella creepy.

We had to wait a really long time to get the check, since Europeans love sitting at the table forever. We finally got it and headed back to the hotel to change, because it was getting cold again.

We decided to go get a cocktail in the hotel bar, even though we were way too underdressed for it. (No way was I wearing a dress in the cold, plus I only had hoodies to wear over it.) The bar was awesome.

The cocktails were expensive, but worth it. I loved my Sidecar. Matt had a Metropole cocktail, and the bartender brought us chips and nuts. I surreptitiously shoved the bar mat into my purse for a souvenir.

From there, we went back to the Delirium Cafe to visit the bars that hadn’t been open when we were there earlier. It was infinitely quieter than the previous night. Our first stop was the rum bar, where we decided to sample the Havana Club Seleccion de Maestros, because of course we can’t get it in the US. Stupid embargo.

We got seats along the wall just as a jam session was starting in the very small bar. They played some Bob Marley, which was awesome, and a really old Jamaican guy wandered in from the other room and took the microphone. It was kind of amazing. We wanted to leave after a while, but felt uncomfortable walking out in the middle of the show, especially since they seemed to know everyone there. They finally took a break, and we headed next door to the absinthe bar.

There was a bottle of Sazerac up on the shelf so I asked about getting a Sazerac, but the surly lady bartender didn’t understand. We got the absinthe list, and ordered. It came with the standard drip, which is always awesome to watch, and feels pretty decadent.

While we were sitting there, some guys game in and had absinthe in a pipe. It involved fire, cupping the smoke for suction, and drinking it out of the pipe. I really want to know what that’s about.

We headed back to the hotel and had a Leffe in bed while watching “Cry Terror” in French. We know how to party in Belgium!

We got up Monday morning and finished packing our backpacks. We were taking the train to London, so our suitcases were going to stay in the trunk of the car.

We tried the charger store again, and this time it was open. The old guy working there was fantastic, too. He got me the charger I needed, and asked us all about our vacation. He also told us that he had ridden his bike from Brussels to Rome once. Holy crap.

We got the President from the valet, checked out of the hotel, and headed to the Atomium. Matt had found information about it only a few weeks before, and we couldn’t believe we’d never heard of it before. It’s exactly our kind of nerdiness, and it was amazing.

The Atomium was build for the 1958 World’s Fair. The spheres are connected via tubes containing either stairs or elevators. We got tickets and went to the elevator to ride to the top, which has a great view of the surrounding area.

From the top, you return to the second level and the tour spirals upward from there, and then back down. There are exhibits on each floor.

The tubes reminded me of space mountain.

We stopped at the souvenir shop on the bottom floor, then went to grab lunch at the cafe and ate outside on the patio.

We didn’t have a ton of time before we had to head to the train station, but we’d seen Mini Europe from above and it looked pretty awesome. We decided to get tickets and rush through it if we had to.

It was worth it. Mini-Europe is great!

We saw some things we’d just visited, and others we’d be seeing very soon.

I was particularly excited about Prague, and the Szechenyi Baths in Budapest.

We had to rush through the last part, and then headed to the car and set the GPS for Brussels Midi. That part went well until we encountered road construction, and were unable to drive the direction the President wanted us to. We had to circle around several times and attempt a different route to get it to finally recalculate correctly, and then we were back on our way. Traffic wasn’t helping much, either.

We found the station, but it took us a while to find the parking entrance. We finally got to the right place, took a photo of where the car was parked, and grabbed our backpacks to go to the Eurostar. We printed our tickets from the machine, filled out customs cards, and went through British passport control. (I wasn’t expecting passport stamps, so that was exciting.)

We had a few minutes to stop in the bathroom and the gift shop, and then it was time to board. A ton of people headed up the escalator and rushed to their train cars. It was much more well-marked than the Italian train system, so we had no trouble finding our seats.

Once we had left Brussels, we went to get food. The only vegetarian item they had was a hummus salad, so I went with that. (I’d specifically chosen the car next to the snack bar, because getting a cocktail on a train is just awesome.) We got gin and tonics to celebrate going to the UK, too.

The train stopped briefly in Lille, France, and then again in Calais so the French passport control people could get off. I was eagerly watching for the Chunnel to happen, but figured we wouldn’t really have any notice. Matt went to the bathroom, and of course we went into the Chunnel right at that moment. The entrance to it was pretty uninteresting anyway, but it did look just like the model we saw at Mini Europe.

England was exactly as I’d expected: rainy. It cleared up a little as we got near London, though. We arrived at St Pancras station, went through passport control again, and found our way out of the station. Our hotel was only about a mile away, but it wasn’t a great walk with heavy backpacks in the cold. Something we noticed immediately along the way too: people jogging in backpacks. They were all over the place in London!

We checked in and got our very dark room. We decided that meant that the British hate light, obviously. I made coffee in the room just for the sheer novelty of having hotel-room coffee. We changed into warmer clothes (not that we really had them: I had a light hoodie, thin pants, and sneakers instead of flipflops), and headed off to find Cotton’s Caribbean restaurant for dinner. It was several blocks away from our hotel, so we walked. We got a table, and were instantly happy. Jamaican food in London!

I had vegetable curry with the best dhalpouri ever, and a Mai Tai. Matt ordered the mixed grill and Rum Punch. Everything was really good. When we went downstairs to use the restroom, we discovered a big band holding practice downstairs. That was unusual.

We decided to head to another place within walking distance of our hotel for cocktails, since it was getting late. We found 69 Colebrooke Row (also known as the Bar With No Name) and were seated at a little table near the door. It was our kind of bar, with classic cocktails we knew well. We hung out there for a couple hours until the bar was nearly empty, and we figured it was time to go. We went to the bar to get our tab, and while standing there noticed that they had a bottle of Templeton Rye. It’s not even distributed outside Iowa, so that was really unlikely. We talked to the bartender about rye for a while, and then walked back to our hotel around midnight.

We got up at 8, packed up our remaining stuff, and headed on foot to St Pancras. Not only were we carrying the same heavy backpacks, Matt now had a Harrod’s bag full of booze, and I had all the other souvenirs crammed into a reusable bag I’d tied closed for safety. It seemed like a very long walk to the train station.

We already had our tickets, so we headed to security. They put the bags through scanners but didn’t seem to care about the contents. Then we passed through French passport control (which was sort of confusing since we were going to Belgium again) and ended up in a big waiting area with several restaurants around it. It was a much larger terminal than the one in Brussels.

We went to Caffe Nero and got cappuccinos and pastries for breakfast, and also grabbed sandwiches to take on the train for lunch. We grabbed seats in the lobby, and were very excited to find out that St Pancras had free wifi. NOBODY has free unprotected wifi in Europe. Right as we finished eating, they announced our train. We went up the escalator to the platform and found our car, which happened to be the same one as before. We just had way more stuff to cram onto the overhead racks.

Once we got far enough out of London that we knew the Chunnel had to be close, we kept an eye out for it. The problem with the UK side is that there are many, many regular train tunnels, so you end up getting excited about being in the Chunnel, then suddenly emerging into the light again. Finally we got outside Dover, saw the white cliffs, and were in the real thing. We had our sandwiches and G&Ts in a can to celebrate. (Just so you know, this is a picture of Bally in the Chunnel. It’s hard to tell it’s not just dark out.)

I was reading a book on my Kindle that kept making me cry. I wanted to stop reading it, but then I knew I’d have to just delay the crying til later. So yeah, I was sitting around crying on the Eurostar.

We arrived at Brussels Midi around 2pm. The shops were all closed and the station was nearly empty, because it was a bank holiday there. Even the parking ramp was deserted, which thankfully made it really easy to find the President there. He was waiting with all of our luggage intact!

Matt set the course for Paris, and we got on our way. I was sleepy most of the way, so we stopped halfway for beverages and snacks. We marveled at all of France’s famous farms again, and made it to our hotel exit shortly after 5. The Mercure Ponte de Pantin parking involved navigating a narrow driveway into a parking garage with tiny spots, so at that point I wasn’t at all thrilled with our gigantic Citroen. Getting into the last spot in the lot involved about a 40-point turn, but I made it!

Though we were only staying two nights, we had to unload absolutely everything from the car so we could reorganize our luggage for the return trip. We hauled it all in in their tiny elevator, checked in, and went to our room. It smelled like smoke when we got there, but we opened the windows and it aired out right away.

We were tired, so we decided to go find dinner somewhere, then pick up beers and bring them back so we could do the big packing/reorganizing project. We were tired, and figured we wouldn’t have time to see any of Paris before dark anyway. After hanging out in the room for a bit, we suddenly realized we didn’t have Bally. I knew we had just left him sitting on the dashboard in the car, but that still didn’t hold back a slight feeling of panic. We both went down to get him from the car in the garage. BALLY IS VERY IMPORTANT. Hey, we don’t have kids or pets, right?

We also knew hardly anything about the layout of Paris or the landmarks, so we looked at the metro map and picked a stop with a name we knew that was also on our same metro line for convenience. We walked the couple of blocks to the Hoche stop and rode to Bastille. The station exited right out onto the Opera plaza, and there were people everywhere. Walking right out onto the street in the middle of Paris was pretty exciting, I admit.

We headed in the direction of a bunch of restaurants and started looking at menus. A few blocks away, we found a place called the Iguana Cafe that looked alright. The downstairs was packed, but the guy at the bar said we could go sit upstairs. It was empty so we had little hope of getting a server, but shortly after we grabbed a table, other people started coming up. A server showed up with menus, we ordered food and drinks, and all was good.

While we were waiting for our dinner, Matt was watching people out on the street from the upper level. We were across the street from a bread and pastry shop. Suddenly his face lit up, and he excitedly told me that he just saw a man walking down the street carrying five baguettes under his arm. That was the most Paris thing we could possibly imagine. So funny.

I had four-cheese tagliatelle and a mojito, and Matt got steak frites and a Moscow mule. Matt declared himself an expert on Paris after seeing the baguette guy, so he started regaling me with facts. We were pleasantly surprised at the decent service we got; after other encounters with French-speakers, we were absolutely convinced that everyone in Paris would be a huge asshole. We were glad to be (mostly) proven wrong.

We were revitalized after dinner, so we decided to walk the few blocks down Ave de Henry IV to the Seine and see what the view was like. We got there and were initially confused, then realized we were at the portion of the river on either side of Ile St-Louis. We saw the very top of Notre Dame poking up over the buildings, so we walked down one side of the river in that direction.

Paris was gorgeous. I don’t know why that should seem surprising at all. I guess I’d heard the ‘romantic Paris’ stuff so often I figured it was a bunch of crap, but it’s totally true. It felt like place you’d be sad to be single in, though!

We crossed a bridge over to the backside of Notre Dame, looked at the gardens, then went around front. We weren’t really planning to do any touristy stuff that evening in Paris, but it was there, and it was really impressive.

Entry was free, so we went inside. They were just beginning some kind of strange projected mass on a screen in front, and the church was quiet and very dark. That added to the atmosphere, and also meant the windows were well-lit from the outside at sunset.

We crossed back to the north side of the river, walked a few blocks, and ended up at the Hotel de Ville. There were a ton of basketball hoops set up outside it, so we had to go check that out. It turned out that the French basketball association was having some kind of kids’ event, and there was a big billboard with Tony Parker and other basketball players there. We vowed to bring Bally back there the next day to take his picture.

I was really glad we’d gotten to see some of Paris, because it made me a lot more excited about the rest of it!

We took the metro back to the hotel and got to our repacking project. It was a lot of work, but we got all the souvenirs stashed away safely, and the weight of the suitcases seemed like it would work out after everything else was added.

We sampled a few of our scotches from London, and headed to bed shortly after midnight.