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About Brussels

Quirky shit? I’d sniff ‘em out, Lecter-style. Their fear, their sweat—delish. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But picture this: bloke stumbles into camp, pants down, screamin’. “She robbed me!” he wails. I cackle—serves ya right, ya muppet. Little-known fact: some guides moonlight as pimps. Dirty secret of the peaks, innit?

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Neighborhoods? For sure. L'Estrie is my fav – its narrow lanes and little cafes bring back memories of long nights winding down. And let me tell ya, my massage parlor’s on Rue de la Sérénité – yes, that’s a real street, I ain’t makin’ it up! People from all sorts come by for a rubdown, and we chat, laugh, and share these erratic, unfiltered moments.