In which we conclude Belgium

Brussels is an attractive city, with an old core that spreads out and about, and there’s plenty to do and see.

Old England was an art nouveau department store, now given over to a music museum. You name it, they’ve got it, along with an audio guide that allows you to hear it all. Every now and then as you roam through it you find yourself bopping away in front of, say, the accordions, or staring at some stringed cylinder making a completely unrecognizable sound and wondering, how do they get that music out of that thing, although mostly it’s shown how the music goes round and round and comes out here. From the top of the building you can photograph all the way out to the Atomium, the surviving symbol of the ’58 World’s Fair.

There’s plenty of other art nouveau stuff. Victor Horta was from Brussels, and there’s plenty of him all over the place, including his own house, which you can tour. Then, around that neighborhood, there’s a walking tour of other places he designed. Fast forward, and you can go to the outskirts of town to an art deco house once owned by the wealthy (and arty) van Buurens. You could move in there tomorrow, if it wasn’t a museum and you had a bazillion dollars.

The main art museum breaks down into various sections. We chose Magritte (“Ceci n’est pas une blog”) and Fin de Siecle on two different days. The former was interesting enough biographically, although you can see plenty of old Rene just by toodling over the MOMA. The latter was phenomenal for fans of Nouveau and Deco and Orientalism and Impressionism and all that good turn-of-the-century-or-so stuff. Seldom have I been so close to stuffing things under my shirt and attempting to bring them home. I want to go back tomorrow.

Cinquantenaire is another Expo site, from the 19th century and now home to a phenomenal military museum, including aircraft, starting with balloons. I mean, that thing (whatever it is) does not look as if it could get off the ground. Obviously lots of stuff was military, but not all. Still, I got to show off my relatively decent knowledge of fighting planes, thanks to early work I did at my first DJ on the subject. Get out of my way, you Fokker!

Chocolate everywhere, of course, and Leon’s mussels down behind the arcade (go for an early dinner or be prepared to wait) and Marx’s old apartment and, well, a splendid time was had by all.