Beautiful Brussels

No scoreboard is required to know if Ecuador won Thursday. After stepping out of Brussels Central Station, it's a matter of minutes until we see groups of Ecuadorian supporters driving through the streets, honking their horns as some fans lean out the car window to wave flags. Their chanting can be heard from our hotel -- one block from the Belgian stock exchange, where the Ecuadorians have set up camp on the steps -- and I no longer have to wonder if World Cup atmosphere will exist in my third country this week.
Speaking of hotels, I owe my sister a big 'Thank You.' A division manager with Ritz Carlton hotels, she got me discounted rates for Marriotts in Amsterdam and here in Brussels. The latter of our rooms is in prime locacation and should probably cost 200-plus Euro since it is a flagship Marriott hotel. Lucky for us, we're playing in the 80s.
Once we check in we head to an Irish Pub a few blocks away. We passed it on our walk into town and saw signs for World Cup match times. We don't arrive until halftime and the place is packed -- mostly with fans dressed in Endland red and white, but there is still a Triniad & Tobago presence.
The atmosphere is the best of any place I've watched a match so far this trip. Noise explodes throughtout the joint when England opens the scoring in the late stages, just like it did for Wayne Rooney's entrance as a substitute. An insurance goal a few minutes later ensures a ringing feeling in my head, but this is what I came for. I took pictures and videos of the celebrations with my camera and hopefully was able to capture the moment.
For dinner we head into a section of streets for walking traffic only. I am reminded of Paris by walking around, and get another taste of France when choosing a restaurant. Price-fixed meals are the order of the day for many places, just like Paris. We settle on one and make sure to get the mussels, something Belgium is known for.
The night finishes with us walking around some more before heading back to the same pub -- ironically, when we ask our waiter for a good bar, he suggests our earlier choice -- and watch the end of Sweden and Paraguay. I end up going home a little before my friend -- I'm not sure the mussels were agreeing with me -- but feel as if the night was a success. I'd like to come back here, knowing my one-night stay before heading to Prague isn't enough of an experience.
It's now about 10:15 in the morning and the plan is to check out a few sites before boarding an afternnon train for a journey that won't finish until this time tomorrow.
It'll be a big day since the host Czechs are in action, followed by the U.S. in a must-win against Italy. The night should make for a wild one, which makes me happy I decided to end Thursday a bit early