It took three distinct modes of transport to get there – including a pit stop to find a locker for my bags – but make it there I did. With an hour and change to spare. A long day that started in Lisbon, with the timing of my arrival in Belgium hardly coincidental – being the last operating day that week for the Brussels Tram Museum. Worth it? Absolutely. Up there amongst the best transport museums I’ve had the privilege of visiting, the museum boasts over a hundred trams; each one lovingly preserved, and most of them in working order. It was an outright treat. And getting there was half the fun.

With my luggage collected from Brussel-Centraal and my check in done at the hotel, it was time to get a chilled one. But the problem with not having a recommendation to begin with, and then having to search the internet for something as ubiquitous as a beer venue in a country like Belgium, is akin to going down a rabbit hole. Beer making in the country traces its origins to the Roman-era, and has been so intrinsic to life there that in 2016 it was inscribed on UNESCO’s “Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity” list. Today, the tiny country is home to over 300 breweries, producing about 1500 types of beer between them.

My own introduction to the wonders of Belgian beer was a lot more recent, going back about two decades, when a friend took me to Vol de Nuit, a watering hole in the West Village specializing in brews from Belgium. It remains to this day one of my favorite bars in NYC. So while I was in Belgium, I had every intention of sampling a different brew – sometimes two – at every meal or opportunity. After all, this visit for me was as much an ode to the country’s glorious tradition of beer making, as it was to anything else.

In the limited time I had in Belgium, it was difficult choosing what other city to visit. I’d heard great things about Antwerp and Ghent, and positive things about Liège too. Eventually, I settled on everyone’s perennial favorite, Brugge. Notable for its many canals, Brugge, along with Amsterdam and Saint Petersburg, is often referred to as the Venice of the North. So while I was expecting to encounter a reasonable number of tourists there, given that it was a weekday, and an overcast one at that, I was overwhelmed just by how many there were. With over a month of summer still ahead, if that was the condition of Brugge, I couldn’t help but wonder how incredibly overcrowded Venice would be – a city I long to visit someday.

The capital of the West Flanders Region, Brugge lies some 60-miles northwest of the Brussels city center. With frequent departures from Brussel-Centraal, and a journey that takes just over an hour by train, Brugge is an easy day trip from the capital. Especially so when you consider the size of its historic city center – just over a 1000-acres – that most visitors are looking to explore. A historic core that’s been on the World Heritage list for almost three decades, boasting a treasure trove of medieval architecture, some of it dating as far back as the 12th-century. Where religious spires dominate the skyline, and ornate spouts still cater to hoofed mammals. Where a network of enchanting canals weaves through the city center, punctuated by stone-arched bridges, bearing cobblestoned streets lost in time. Where the cityscape appears equally magical from land as it does from the water. Despite the crowds that inundate it today, Brugge is utterly charming, effortlessly living up to all the hype.

Back in Brussels, my time was spent wandering around the city center initially, then branching out east, and eventually north. Getting around was a breeze, and I loved how distinct each neighborhood looked and felt. From the contemporary cluster of high-rises in the Northern Quarter to the feeling of openness in the Heysel Plateau. From the vibrant yet intimate neighborhood of Ixelles to the orderly complex of government buildings in the European Quarter. And then there was the city center, with its bustling plazas, lush parks studded with monuments, glazed shopping arcades, and medieval alleys rich in history. An ongoing dance festival had makeshift stages set up at various public squares, drawing in locals and visitors alike. Art installations and murals were everywhere. Bold, not just thematically but also in scale. Complete comic strips, at times. Some even taking up entire building facades. Going to Brussels, I was assured ample doses of history and culture, but it was the city’s hard-to-ignore playful energy that I was least expecting.

Growing up, The Adventures of Tintin was easily my favorite comic book. I would look forward to getting my hands on the latest release – by hook or by crook – and then utterly devour it. As an adult, it became a bucket list item of mine to someday visit the museum dedicated to its creator, Georges Remi, known better by his pen name, Hergé. With its famed Comic Strip Trail boasting a handful of Tintin murals, Brussels had done well to whet my appetite, but on the day of my planned visit to Musée Hergé, I could barely contain my excitement. Located in the town of Louvain-la-Neuve, some 20-miles southeast of Brussels, the museum is an absolute gem, and a must visit for anyone who’s relished those comics. Every character, and each scene – depicted through Hergé’s original sketches, props and models – came to life in a way I could hardly imagine. For the two hours I spent there, I was the proverbial kid in a candy store.

There was one more museum I wanted to see while in Belgium, but simply ran out of time. Musée Horta, dedicated to the life and work of Victor Horta, one of the founders of the Art Nouveau style, of which I’m a big fan. Brussels, in fact, was the birthplace of that very movement, before it gained even more traction in Paris. Fortunately for me, scattered across the city were an abundance of Art Nouveau masterpieces, and for that matter, brilliant representations of every other style of architecture as well. Brussels had me covered, and then some.

Getting access to the lounge at Brussels Zaventem International was unexpected but very welcome. It was a late afternoon flight so a bite seemed in order, as did a pint, of course. The bar was self-serve and I even spotted a couple of taps, but on closer inspection, only one of them was operational and it was pouring Stella! It was quite the conundrum for a purist like myself, who strongly favors drafts but takes great pains to avoid big name brands. I had no choice but to resort to the unthinkable – drink beer from a bottle!

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A photo album from my visit to Belgium can be viewed on my Flickr.