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Ours was a short/long weekend.  Short, because you lose precious hours as you fight the jet lag, consciousness blurring as you struggle with the time change.  Still, time spent in a new city (to me) always provides tiny windows of perception.  The craziness, as the buskers try to corral customers who stroll through the city center’s Galerie at dinnertime; the innocence of children, babies in buggies balancing little knit hats or small gaggles of kindergartners held rapt by their crush-worthy teachers in the galleries of the Musees Royaux des Beaux-Arts. 

That museum was a highpoint, especially for the discovery of Bram Bogart, a man who paints with a trowel to electric effect–though their Brueghels collection, and the works of Paul Delvaux held potent magic all their own.  Out in the city, we marveled at the quality of life being lived: so much energy coursing through Parc de Bruxelles, the Sunday market in Marolles and the stretch of shops along the Rue du Marche aux Herbes.  I recommend Brussels for a getaway.  Start saving your Euros—for real deals, check out  Proost! (cheers).  

 above, Bram Bogart’s Les Carres