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Belgian Waffles

They are everything you expect them to be, and then some. Maybe I was just hungry and hadn’t eaten anything since the crappy hotel breakfast in Copenhagen before dawn, but from the first bite there was no doubt it was the finest waffle I’ve ever tasted. It was literally the first thing for sale when I stepped form the train at Brussels Central Station. I took a bite and stepped outside, into clear blue skies and mild temperatures, and for a moment … I don’t know. It was good.

So I’m here for the European Center for Jewish Students Party Like a Jew weekend. I know nothing about the organization, nor what Europeans mean when they announce their intention to party like Jews, but I assure you I will find out. In the meantime, for those of you who think The Wandering Jew is just one massive skirt chase, all I can say is, get ready. 

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