Brussels brings on the fun

I arrive, coincidentally, just as the city's annual rollicking beer festival begins. Also, I have an appointment with a chocolate maker. Also, I eat snails from an escargot stand on the street.

Could this be Brussels, known as the tedious capital of the amazingly dull European Union?

Obviously, somebody has been keeping this place a secret.

"Does this happen every day?" I ask an art shop owner, pointing to the white beer tents and thousands of grinning Belgians spilling across the enormous expanse of the Grand Place (Grote Markt) square.

What do I know? Maybe it's a daily thing. Something to keep up their spirits in a gloomy world.

"No, it's a festival," she says, rolling her eyes. "With a parade at 2 o'clock."

Sure enough, pretty soon a brass band, costumed harlequin actors, beer wagons and draft horses come clomping down the street. The sun glints off all the gold on the 15th-century Hotel de Ville. People shout and clap. Men in red hats hold up steins of beer, singing.

It turns out that Brussels is a festival town, celebrating art in May, culture in June, flowers in August and beer in September. Tourists who time it right can not only partake in the fun, they can meet actual smiling Belgians.

Fine chocolates

After the parade, I wander over to Lombard Street for a chocolate-making demonstration at Planete Chocolat, one of Brussels' many fine chocolate shops.

The Belgians basically invented the fancy chocolate industry in the early 20th century. Godiva is a Belgian company, but there are dozens, probably hundreds, of equally chic chocolate shops in this city.

At Planete Chocolat, a chocolate artisan serves hot cups of cocoa, nectar of the Aztecs and the Spanish who brought it home from the New World. Then comes the chocolate-making demonstration, with a vat of chocolate kept at exactly 45 degrees Celsius (about 113 degrees Fahrenheit). Chocolate drips thickly off the ladle, its buttery smell wafting through the room. Chocolate is poured into molds. Then, they pass out samples. The truffles. I take one. Little pralines. I take one. The nougats. I take one.

Most of the chocolate demonstration is in French, with a few sentences of English thrown in for translation. No matter. Chocolate or chocolat, beer or bier, it's self-explanatory.

After the chocolate, I roll out in a sugar coma to visit Stoofstraat to see the city's most famous statue, the diminutive Mannekin Pis, the fountain of a little boy urinating. He is so small, he looks like a doll atop a stand. His, er, stream is obviously the victim of hype.

Luckily, nearby I discover something not hyped enough: a Belgian escargot stand, with delicious snails bathed in pungent broth, a couple of euros for a little cup.

And did I mention the Belgian lace and needlework shops? You have to eat all your escargot before going inside.

So gulp down the snails and then go buy a nice tapestry.

And then find yourself a festival.