I only visited Belgium for one reason. One best-day-of-my-life-sized reason. I only visited Belgium for Tomorrowland. But I must admit, it was a pretty good excuse to visit the country, including a few nights in the weird capital, Brussels.

Brussels is pretty popular with the tourists. It has some pretty buildings, delicious chocolate and great beer. Due to it’s central location people add it to the itinerary for convenience and curiosity I think. But too be honest, the city didn’t do much for me. For us it was a convenient place to sleep before and an amazing and messy festival.

I will always have a soft spot for the city now as I was reunited with some pretty great people there, so don’t take it too harshly Brussels. But the fact that one of the top tourist attractions is a fountain of a small boy urinating pretty much sums up the excitement of the small capital.

After a last minute decision to meet up with my incredible friend Lulu for a few days of electro festivities, we were reunited over waffles and free chocolate samples (even though no one could tell us where exactly to get the best waffles in the city).

The days prior to Tomorrowland we took it pretty easy and we locked our possessions up at the seemingly cool hostel before our big day (not really considering sleeping arrangements once we returned…)

We somehow made it back to Brussels afterwards. We somehow only ended up with one bed. We somehow slept in that small top bunk forgetting that we were covered in fresh Tomorrowland mud. Sorry roomies…

The next day was your typical warmish July day. Coming from frosty Icelandic summer days, I was fully embracing the sun. Embracing the hint of sun from the edge of the balcony.

Due to the lack of signage, I assumed Belgium was a pretty liberal country where a girl could throw her legs off a balcony with flowers in her hair. I was wrong. Apparently Belgium has unspoken (and unsigned) no-sitting-on-the-balcony rules. Rules that when broken result in the craziest man I have ever encountered screaming at you for a good chunk of your day. I will not name the establishment that this hostel-owner runs, but I will mention that if you do end up in a hostel that features vintage decor and fun-looking balconies you should avoid annoying the manager at all costs.

I had never been kicked out of a hostel before…

Even though I was the one “not behaving like a grown up girl” and “I must be crazy because it is too cold to be outside”, Lulu was left on the street with me.

We weren’t too concerned about finding a new hostel, but we were  concerned about the fact that we were meeting Tom and Luke at the hostel we had just been screamed out of. The manager wasn’t too impressed with us lurking on the street either…

Tom decided that he would have to come up with a pretty good excuse to get out of paying for the non-refundable room. A close family members death would be the only excuse good enough to get their money back. Yep. Tom said his brother died to get out of paying for a hostel room.

So there we were – homeless and hungover, left to fend for ourselves on the streets of Brussels. Not even a urinating baby could lighten the mood.

We strolled the streets and found a friendly looking chocolate shop. We innocently browsed. Lulu underestimated the size of her backpack and soon neatly backed chocolate stacks came crashing around us. The milk in her bag starting spilling on the floor and in an attempt to help clean up she covered the entire shop with milk. The lady was not impressed but still seemed to like us enough to run after us to return the phone Lulu had forgotten. Given how tragic the entire situation was we still managed to laugh.

When all seemed lost we found an answer. A private apartment with a view of the beautiful town centre answered or prayers and google searches and soon enough we were sprawled across couches in what seemed like a miracle.

I abducted Tom for the evening, promising to return bearing dinner ingredients so we could make the most of our luxurious kitchen. After dragging him through a fun-looking gay street party and dancing with men in police outfits, we ended up returning home with pasta and nacho cheese.

After the most pathetic, but somehow successful dinner we amazingly managed to leave the comfort of the apartment that night to indulge in some Belgian Waffles. We had definitely deserved them and spent the evening admiring the lit-up city.

We had forgotten it was Independence Day until the sky lit up in an eerie, misty firework show. Brussels had been rough on us, but as I watched the magnificent light show from our apartment window surrounded by great friends there is no where in the world I would have rather been.