Café Maho
Sadly, there is no panorama for this cafe. Why? My phone was stolen minutes away from this place. Fair warning: this hafe (see description below) is not in the best neighborhood.
One thing you should know about Brussels that no one tells you: it is very Middle Eastern. That circumstance might run counter to how you expected a country, sculpted in the wake of its colonizing neighbors. 36% percent of its residents are of backgrounds ranging Moroccan to Sub-Saharan African (according to the World Population Review), and—within the city center and its immediate surroundings—it is impossible not to notice. If you see some kind of coffee imagery, smoke, or come seemingly kitschy name including the word cafe or coffee, you are more than likely going to walk into a cash-only bar with an espresso machine. These establishments are so prevalent, that I’m inclined to give them another name. They aren’t the intention of Poland’s klubokawiarni, but they do exhibit a nature unlike houses of drink and certainly of cafes. I’m going to call them hafes (the Arabic word for bar + cafes). This hafe has the comings and goings at 11:00 of any bar in slumber, with some casino machines and the phantom of smoke tickling the air. For a coffee goer, it offers a solo seat against a table of slats topped with plexi glass and sunlight does not breach the bar and the space beyond. However, just before this point it alights a dropped ceiling beam where a few plants stay out of trouble. Kindly treated and connected to the WIFI, it’s all the needed makings woven into something less familiar, but bad in no notable way.
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Drink: Coffee
While the coffee wasn’t anything to write home about, for the smell and the cup, patterned in Christmas plaid, it was worth it. Strangely enough, the coffee pulled by the Astoria Had a zing, but it wasn’t anything standout. While I think that this cup of coffee could reasonably scored a two, it wasn’t undrinkable or rude for which I was extremely grateful.