I just got back from a weekend in Disneyland. Well, technically, it was Disneyland Paris for one day, followed by a weekend in Brussels. Unorthodox, I know; I don’t think lots of people follow up a visit to the happiest place on earth with a visit to the boringest capital on earth.
But it turns out that it’s genius.*
*I realize that sounds self-aggrandizing, but let me be clear: it was totally Chiara’s idea. If I’m any kind of genius, it’s for marrying so well.
The Disneyland thing
My favorite part of Disneyland? Leaving.
Haha, jokes!
Well, a little bit of comedic exaggeration. But also: there’s a kernel of truth there.
At the risk of sounding so contrarian it’s trite: Disneyland was underwhelming. Or maybe overwhelming. Or alternating between over and underwhelming. The crowds, the screwed-tight detailing, the rampant Disneyfication… it’s a lot.
Plus, there were so many Disney people. Look, I don’t want to yuck anyone’s yum, but the sheer number of people wearing Minnie ears was a bit unsettling. I get that it’s a big deal and expensive, so you may as well pack in everything, from the mouse ears to the custom tees and princess breakfasts. But having the omnipresent Disneyness didn’t contribute to my enjoyment of the park. I guess I don’t manage the outward devotion particularly well.
It’s a mouse church
My realization was that Disney is basically a secular church. Instead of going to a chapel on Sunday and chatting with the other congregants, you make a pilgrimage to Disneyland and commune with the characters, the rides, and the ambiance. But just like regular churchgoing and bible talk rank low on my list of things to do, so does “living la vida Disney”.
And same as with people who quote psalms and scripture, but I’m going to give that whole thing a pass. Just as I’m not likely to strike up conversation with someone whose sweatshirt says “I’m a Disney Mom – it’s like a Regular Mom, just more magical.”
Alright, that said, Pirates of the Caribbean was legitimately great – we rode it three times because my youngest loved it. Three mini-drops where you get a little splashed, lots to look at (“look, there’s Captain Jack Sparrow for a fourth time!”), and a lineup that takes under ten minutes? Quick and easy win!
Speaking of lineups, after noting that the Peter Pan ride had 40–60 minute waits from before opening until closing, we finally decided to just go for it. You get in a flying pirate ship, blow through the windows of the nursery where Peter, John, and Wendy (and Nana) are, and then burst out into the night sky – over London, into Neverland – and it’s wonderful. For two minutes. Then you’re booted out, left to discuss whether 58 minutes of line for two minutes of joy makes sense. Clear familial consensus: bad ratio.
Big Thunder Mountain was my Disney white whale. Arya spotted it, the train plunging into a frontier waterway, riders screaming with joy. I’d have loved to take her on it, but that was another 50-minute line – until it unexpectedly closed in the afternoon. So, no Big Thunder Mountain dreams realized. And to be honest, there’s a non-zero chance my anti-Disney rant is just sour grapes. Arya was so enthusiastic, but it didn’t happen. I failed.
In conclusion: to maximize the experience, you need to optimize every second – be on lineup times and showtimes like a hawk or a military strategist, exploiting weaknesses in crowd movement or digging in entrenched positions for maximum gains. Or spend a fuckton of money. You can’t just, you know, go and joyfully wander, soaking up the sites, you’ll end up with too many lines and not enough highlights.
Alright, I’ll share one more highlight, at the end of the day there’s a lights and fireworks show with a voiceover. Disney tales and magic imagery wash over the buildingsand the night sky. My youngest daughter was nonplussed and hit the road, with my wife in tow. But my oldest was mesmerized. Her eyes truly lit up.
So okay, maybe it’ll be back to Disney for Big Thunder Mountain and to catch that light in her eyes one more time.
Then: Brussels
Brussels, on the other hand, was like stepping through a portal to anti-Disneyland. We walked a lot. Much of it’s ugly as shit – gray, drab, graffiti that looks like a not-very-talented teenager got bored halfway through their defacement project.
But there are highlights: the Grand Place, and about a thousand chocolatiers. Most people probably pair Disneyland with Paris, but skipping Paris felt pretty damn smart. Paris is huge and brilliant and full of art thieves. Brussels has no such pressure. A decided paucity of must-see divertiments.
There’s not much to do except eat chocolate and fries, which turned out to be exactly what we needed between Disney and home.
Of course, the Grand Place is genuinely spectacular. Then there’s Manneken Pis – which you have to see precisely because it’s, if not lame exactly, then very Belgian. A tiny statue of a peeing boy that somehow tops every Brussels “must-see” list. That list, as you can imagine, is pretty short.
The highlight was wandering our old neighborhood (yes, we used to live in Brussels), bumping into an old friend, meeting up with another family, eating pizza, and ending up at a park. The kids played a card game and swung on the swings or chased each other around for hours. No lines, no stress, no merch.
I wouldn’t say they enjoyed themselves less at the playground than they did at Disneyland.
That observation is, I feel, quite instructive.
Why this combo works so well
At Disneyland, everything is “worth seeing,” but it’s all artifical.
In Brussels, there’s almost nothing that’s a must-see or do. So you can just… wander around.
After days of manicured everything and crowds galore, Brussels was the palate cleanser we didn’t know we needed. So yeah, if you’re doing Disneyland, book Brussels right after. Eat some fries, go to a playground.
Or not.
Because, regardless of your plans, that sleepy city will wash the mouse house funk right out of your mouth.
Big Thunder Mountain be damned.
