Needless to say, I kind of over did it.

The fry guy in Lille and I became friends since I would stop by so often. He asked if I was from Paris. When I told him I was from Los Angeles, he gave me a funny look. It would seem to make more sense that an American would be eating so much fried food in one week though. I don’t care if I’m perpetuating a stereotype, I love my fries. With mayonnaise, extra salt, please.

I was told that in Chinese, beer is called ‘the white man’s green tea’ so technically I was detoxing all week.

When I wasn’t eating, I walked a lot. I found some really great, non-edible things like this collection of typewriters at a bookstore in Brussels called Posada Art Books.

I saw a lot of cool architecture during this trip but I would want to live in this building housing the Librairie Minet freres. It really appeals to me for some reason. Maybe because it’s slightly dilapidated yet still so elegant. Or that the upper levels look disproportionate to the lower floor. Or maybe the old green paint with the fading signage seems kind of melancholy. Or it could be the contrast of the spooky symbolist painting with the tagging right below it. The Waka Moon sign (the restaurant on the ground floor) is just kinda awesome.

But back to the food.


When I wasn’t eating fries or drinking beer, I had Belgian waffles.

Not fried, but still crispy. My favorite is with Nutella.

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