aving missed a ghost train, we took the only Brussels hotel room that we could find. It was in the swankest hotel in the city and happened to be housing EU Convention delegates and us, two lowly backpackers with barely acceptable credit cards. Breakfast was thankfully included in the price of our plush little room.

In the morning, we dined in a massive ballroom with high back chairs, shish tablecloths, and tuxedoed co-diners. Fleuri in the Sutton Hotel reminds me of that Brussels breakfast: smaller, but just as aristocratic.