The city was glowing, the buildings swathed in a golden light. The market was teeming, busy with tourists, locals, and more than anything stag parties - running around in onesies, throwing themselves around on the skating rink.
Smells of Belgian waffles, frying bratwurst and mulled wine filled the air. Every other stall was selling food and drink of some sort or another. It was a market of calories and chaos, and I couldn't resist taking part in a bit of both.
Finding the stall with the biggest queue (a sure sign of the best food) we stocked up on bratwurst, juicy and brown, in soft white buns, smothered in mustards, and of course the Belgian favourite, mayonnaise, and hot waffles, drowning in liquid chocolate and Chantilly cream.
Sitting on the steps below the majestic city hall, we feasted on our little haul, washed down with mugs of spicy mulled wine, and watched the the market thrive.
After another walk around, the 4am wake up hit, and we headed back to the hotel for a quick warm up, and a beer or two, in the bar, and then off to bed, ready for the next day.
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