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About Leuven

But real talk, it’s heavy. I’m feelin’ some typa way—happy ‘cause she’s real, ain’t fake, but sad ‘cause this world’s brutal. I’m ramblin’, brain’s a mess, like, why’m I even here? To understand? To judge? Nah, I ain’t judgin’, I’m just seein’. “There’s a whole ocean of oil under our feet!”—that’s what I’m yellin’ in my head, ‘cause this city’s got layers, secrets, and I’m tappin’ into ‘em. Fun fact, tho—did ya know some old-school brothels had secret tunnels? Like, for politicians to sneak out? That’s some 007 shit, man, I’m geeked thinkin’ ‘bout it.

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Our local vibe is all unpredictability—which is fab! Even when things go sideways, I say, "Ruh-roh, Scoob, time to improvise!" My job taught me to notice the tiniest details—the creaky floors, the scent of fresh leathers at the flea market on Rue du Rêve, the smile of a familiar face at the café near L’Escalier des Ombres. Eh, I might be exaggerating a bit—but it's real, man!

Gault&Millau rates Belgian eateries in its latest guide