A candid smartphone photo from inside a cozy Brussels café, looking out through a rain-streaked window onto a wet cobblestone street. The view is slightly blurred, with a half-finished cup of coffee and a small cookie on a saucer in the foreground. The atmosphere is contemplative and authentic
A close-up, slightly out-of-focus shot of a small, open box of artisanal dark chocolates, resting on a café table next to a damp paper bag from a chocolatier. The lighting is soft and natural, capturing the texture of the chocolate and the imperfect, spontaneous feel of a moment captured quickly
A low-angle view from a wooden pew inside the Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula, capturing the immense Gothic architecture and the soft, diffused light from the stained-glass windows on a gray, rainy day. The photo feels peaceful and slightly imperfect, as if taken discreetly by a visitor

Rain-soaked chocolate and afternoon contemplation

It's just before 3pm, and I'm sitting in a small café near the Sablon district, watching the rain tap against the window while nursing my second coffee of the day. The weather app promised clearing skies by 4pm, so I'm taking this opportunity to rest my feet and reflect on my time in Brussels before tomorrow's departure.

This morning started with another bakery visit - I've become quite fond of the almond croissants at a little place around the corner from my hotel. The owner now greets me with a smile of recognition, which feels like a small achievement for someone who's only been in the city for five days.

After breakfast, I decided to make one final visit to the chocolate shops before leaving Brussels. Despite the light rain, I walked to Elisabeth chocolatier, a shop recommended by the museum guide yesterday. Their specialty is dark chocolate with unusual spice infusions - I tried a sample with star anise that was surprisingly delightful. I purchased a small box to enjoy on tomorrow's journey, though at the rate I'm sampling, they might not survive the night.

The rain picked up as I was leaving the chocolate shop, so I ducked into the nearby Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula. The massive Gothic structure was nearly empty this morning, creating an atmosphere of peaceful solemnity. I spent almost an hour wandering through the nave and side chapels, admiring the stained glass that somehow managed to glow despite the gray skies outside. The cathedral was built over 300 years, and you can feel that patient accumulation of history in its stones.

As I sat in one of the wooden pews, I found myself thinking about time and transformation. I'm 17 days into this journey, with 483 days remaining. Already I can feel small changes in how I approach each day - more patience with delays, less anxiety about language barriers, greater comfort with uncertainty. But are these real changes or just temporary adaptations? Will I carry them home, or will they dissolve once I return to familiar routines?

By the time I left the cathedral, the rain had lightened to a drizzle. I made my way to Mont des Arts for one last view of the city before finding this café. Brussels has been a fascinating introduction to mainland Europe - its multilayered identity somehow feels like the perfect transition point between the familiar and the unknown.

I've already booked my train ticket for tomorrow morning. I decided on Luxembourg as my next destination - it's close enough for a comfortable journey but promises to be quite different from both Amsterdam and Brussels. The weather forecast looks promising, and I'm curious about this tiny country that plays such an outsized role in European affairs.

The coffee here is strong and slightly bitter, served in delicate cups with a small cookie on the side. Through the window, I can see the rain is starting to ease, just as predicted. Perhaps I'll take one more walk through the Grand Place before dinner, assuming the weather continues to improve.

My bag is mostly packed, camera batteries charged, and I've downloaded the offline maps for Luxembourg. I'm ready for the next chapter, though I'll miss the chocolate here. Seventeen days in, and I'm starting to find my rhythm - approximately 4 days per location feels right for now, though I wonder if that will change as the journey progresses.

The café is filling up now, people seeking shelter from the rain or perhaps just enjoying an afternoon break. I should probably give up my table soon. The rain has almost stopped, and patches of blue are appearing between the clouds. Time for one last Brussels adventure before tomorrow's departure.

483 days remaining