A candid, slightly blurry shot from a smartphone of a half-eaten Brussels-style waffle on a small plate, with a light dusting of powdered sugar and a few fresh strawberries, on a simple metal café table. In the background, the edge of a coffee cup and the cobblestone street of Bruges are softly out of focus. The lighting is natural and overcast
A close-up, authentic photo of a small, elegant chocolate praline, partially bitten into to show the earl grey ganache filling, resting on a simple paper bag from a chocolatier. The image is taken from above, with the historic cobblestones of a square visible in the shallow depth of field. The style is spontaneous and real, not staged
A first-person perspective shot looking down a quiet, cobblestone side street in Bruges, with historic buildings and a canal barely visible in the distance. The composition is slightly off-center, captured spontaneously as if the photographer is mid-walk. The mood is contemplative and the light is soft, diffuse, and cloudy

Chocolate, waffles, and conversations: a morning of Belgian indulgence

Thursday, September 18, 2025 Bruges, Belgium Day 23 of 500

It's just past noon, and I'm sitting at a small café near Burg Square, enjoying a moment of reflection with a cup of coffee that's surprisingly good – rich and smooth with just the right amount of bitterness. The morning has been dedicated to two essential Belgian experiences: chocolate and waffles.

I set out around 8:30 this morning, arriving at The Chocolate Line just before their 9:00 opening. The shop, housed in a beautiful historic building on Simon Stevinplein, is known for its artisanal chocolates and innovative flavors. While waiting those ten minutes for the doors to open, I watched the city slowly come to life – shopkeepers preparing for the day, a few early tourists consulting maps, and locals cycling purposefully to work.

When the doors opened, I was greeted by the intoxicating aroma of chocolate and the sight of display cases filled with meticulously crafted pralines. The chocolatier, a young woman named Marie, noticed my interest and offered recommendations. I ended up selecting an assortment that included some traditional flavors and more adventurous combinations – wasabi, Cuban cigar, and even one infused with bacon.

"These are meant to be savored slowly," Marie advised as she carefully packed my selections. "Let them melt on your tongue to experience all the flavor notes."

I followed her advice, finding a bench in a quiet corner of the square to taste a praline filled with earl grey ganache. The chocolate shell gave way to a silky center with subtle bergamot notes that paired perfectly with the dark chocolate. Twenty-three days into this journey, and I'm already learning to slow down and appreciate these small moments of pleasure.

Around 10:30, I made my way to Chez Albert, a waffle shop tucked away on a side street that the hotel receptionist had recommended. "They make them the traditional way," she had assured me. "Not the tourist version."

She wasn't wrong. The Brussels-style waffle I was served was lighter and crispier than I expected, with a subtle sweetness that didn't need the mountain of toppings I've seen on waffles elsewhere. I opted for just a light dusting of powdered sugar and some fresh strawberries.

As I was enjoying this simple delight, an elderly gentleman took a seat at the table next to mine. We exchanged smiles, and he commented on the weather in French. When I responded with my limited French vocabulary, he switched effortlessly to English.

"You're visiting?" he asked, introducing himself as Henri, a retired history teacher who had lived in Bruges all his life.

For the next forty minutes, Henri shared stories about Bruges – how the city had changed over the decades, how tourism had transformed certain neighborhoods, and how some traditions remained steadfast despite modernization. His perspective added layers to my understanding of this place that no guidebook could provide.

"You must visit the Groeningemuseum," he insisted. "The Flemish Primitives – they capture something essential about this region, about who we are."

I mentioned I had already planned to visit the museum tomorrow.

"Good, good," he nodded approvingly. "Go early. The light in the galleries is best in the morning."

We parted ways with a handshake, and I continued my wandering through the cobblestone streets, eventually finding myself here at this café, watching people pass by as clouds drift overhead.

The weather has been surprisingly pleasant today – 21°C and mostly cloudy, though the forecast suggests more sun this afternoon. Perfect conditions for exploring on foot.

Looking at my watch, I realize I've been sitting here longer than intended. The plan for the remainder of the day includes visiting the Church of Our Lady to see Michelangelo's Madonna and Child sculpture, followed by exploration of the eastern part of the historic center that I haven't covered yet.

As I prepare to continue my day, I'm struck by how comfortable I've become with this rhythm of travel – the balance between planned activities and spontaneous discoveries, between solitary observation and unexpected conversations. Bruges seems to encourage this pace with its winding canals and medieval architecture that reveals itself gradually around each corner.

Twenty-three days down, 477 to go. The journey continues...