John was disgusted to find out that mussels and frites are the national dish of Belgium. He is of the opinion that you should not eat anything that carries its house around all day.

John and I explored the magnificent Grand Place before sprinting to the train station to book seats on the Thalys train to take us to Rouen. It was called the most beautiful square in Europe by Victor Hugo, and I am inclined to agree. The buildings are emphasized by gold trim, and rise in stately grandeur over a sea of tourists.

Outside the train station, my mother rang to wish me a happy birthday. The next stop was the fabled Mannekin Pis, a statue of a small boy proudly urinating into the old local drinking fountain. I will show you all the adorable photo of John I took there.

I celebrated my birthday by drinking Stella Artois and discussing the most painful event of the last year with John (alcohol = truth serum and painkiller), an event that I still can´t tell my brother about, and took me three days to tell my mother about. He coped well, and I feel better.

We then made plans to watch the Liverpool game, ate frites and generally hung out.