Michael Eriksson
A Swede in Germany
Home » Misc. » Vacations | About me Impressum Contact Sitemap

What I did during my vacation

Introduction


Meta-information:

While written in 2012, this page was not published until 2024. Some clean up has been made, but the contents otherwise match the 2012 version.


In February 2012, I left Germany for the first time in several years, to visit Brussels. The below is a semi-diaristic account written the weekend after my return, discussing my experiences and impressions. (Obviously, the chronology of events might be wrong in details.)

In a very brief summary: Brussels is an extremely beautiful and enjoyable city; however, it is also in many ways poorly organized.

2012-02-16: Travel, first impressions, finding a hotel

On Thursday, I left Düsseldorf shortly before 11 a.m. by train, switched trains at the next stop (my old friend Cologne) to catch the 11:43 to Brussels, and arrived at “Bruxelles-Midi” around 13:35 (claims my schedule, the true arrival was somewhat later).

I had a brief look at the station, in particular for somewhere to eat. Finding nothing immediately exciting, I left the station to walk around in the neighborhood. I made a mental note of some nearby hotels and then spent time walking up and down the steep hillsides of Saint-Gilles and (to a lesser degree) Les Marolles.


Side-note:

When traveling for leisure, I usually choose not to book a hotel in advance, make any greater plans and preparations, etc. (Except some general reading up and contemplation of what I might want to see during the visit.)

This makes the whole thing more of an adventure.


These parts of the city were not at all what I had expected from Brussels. Indeed, the last time that I saw such a large area so run down and obviously poor was when briefly visiting Poland (!) in, probably, 2005. There were many buildings that still had beauty and there was plenty of charm (for want of a better word)—but had it not been for the bi-lingual (French and Dutch) signs, I would have honestly doubted that I was in western Europe. (Except for actually knowing were I was and how I got there, obviously.)

After possibly an-hour-and-a-half of walking around, I decided to head towards the city center and/or the central train station (Gare Centrale, not to be confused with Gare du Midi where I arrived). This turned out to be easier said than done: I went in the direction of some signs indicating (from memory) “Centre / Centrum”, which I took the imply the city center—but which actually pointed in another direction. (As I deduced after a later study of my map. I still suspect that my interpretation was correct, but that the signs had somehow been turned.) After a long walk in the wrong direction, a consultation of my map, a long walk back, and then a continuation in the right direction, I actually landed roughly were I wanted to be.

Notably, I was at this point a bit too tired to pay real attention to my surroundings—and was almost shocked as I stepped onto the Grand Place—a town square surrounded by beautiful buildings in various architectural styles, including the Hotel de Ville with a 91 meter high tower topped by a gilded statue (of St. Michael, the guardian saint of Brussels). The contrast to what I observed earlier was so enormous that I again almost doubted where I was.

I spent a few minutes admiring the architecture (further visits were to follow) and proceeded with more vigor and alertness. A little later I found myself at Place de la Bourse, where I spotted both a Pizza Hut and a McDonald’s.


Side-note:

For some reason, my sense of adventure does not extended to the cuisine:

Unless I deliberately overcome myself, I end up eating in the restaurant franchises that I am familiar with, while missing the local specialties.


I decided on Pizza Hut, which unfortunately turned out to be a disappointment:

The service was poor, the pizza half-burned (but not so much that I, now ravenous, was willing to complain and wait for a new one), and the price per quantity possibly twice what I was used to from Germany.


Side-note:

Generally, Brussels appeared to be more expensive than Düsseldorf; however, my impression both from this restaurant and the sheer number of Pizza Hut restaurants is that the business concept of Pizza Hut in Belgium was different from that in Germany. (Also cf. below.)


My appetite dealt with, I proceeded to search for a hotel: By now it was close to 4.30 p.m. and waiting longer might be unnecessarily chancy. As before, I intended to head towards Gare Central, knowing that hotels tend to be common around train stations. Unfortunately, my fault this time, I misremembered my directions when leaving the restaurant and again headed in the wrong direction. Noticing my error, I decided to remove such risk factors by taking the Metro to Gare Centrale. Walking from there, I passed a few hotels that appeared too expensive for my taste (e.g. The Royal Windsor). Soon, however, I saw a souvenir shop that also sported a hotel sign. Here I found a room that was satisfactory in both quality and price (at 71 Euros per night)—but had to overcome the surprising problem that the one staff member present at the time did not speak English. (Fortunately, I know a bit of French and, while speaking French is far harder than reading French, we just managed to get by on that.)

I spent, possibly, five minutes in bed doing nothing, had a quick shower, and spent another quarter of an hour in bed looking in my guide book, after which I returned to the city (around 6 p.m.). The central parts of the city offered more to see than Saint-Gilles, but, looking for some sort of store to buy groceries, I was soon frustrated—while Saint-Gilles had an “Alimentaire Generale” (or similar) everywhere I turned, here I only found various chocolate stores (and other specialists and/or tourist traps).

Eventually, I found myself back in Saint-Gilles, but unable to locate a store that was both open and respectable looking even here.


Side-note:

Somewhat similar to the issue with restaurants, I have a strong preference for franchises where groceries are concerned—and for a better reason: While many “stand-alone” restaurants compare favorably to the franchises in both price and quality, stand-alone grocery stores tend to be lacking in both quality and choice of product, and do not have a sufficient price advantage to outweigh this. (In fact, they are often more expensive.)


Somewhat later, I ended up back at Gare du Midi—and was surprised to see that the stores there were all closed. Depressingly, the poor Germany opening hours are actually better than those in Brussels: At train stations, 10 p.m. is a typical closing time in Germany; in Brussels 8 p.m. appears more typical. Ordinary closing hours have by now moved to 8 p.m. or better in Germany, but in Brussels many stored closed somewhere in the range 6–7 p.m. Depressing...

About to give up, I suddenly saw a sign proclaiming “24/24” and “Carrefour”. By typical conventions, I took this to be a store with 24-hour service—and it was indeed open. Unfortunately, before I was done with my shopping, a rather rude woman complained that they were closing the store (! and this at roughly 8.30 p.m.) and that I had leave with what I already had. So much for opening hours... Fortunately, I had enough to last me till the morning.

I now tried to take the Metro back to Gare Central, but eventually found that this was not possible without changing lines (and traveling a minimum of six stations). Knowing that there were ordinary trains that traveled directly and without stops between Gare du Midi and Gare Centrale, I went back to the non-Metro part of the station. I know found myself flustered by the fact that none of the ticket machines accepted money... Further unable to find a manned ticket-counter, I decided to chance it and travel the one station without a ticket.


Side-note:

As later experience showed, the Metro-station Bourse would have been closer to my hotel and easier to reach per Metro (which I for simplicity take to include some lines that are technically “pre-Metro”).


After an uneventful ride back, I went back to my hotel and spent a few very passive hours before falling asleep.

2012-02-17: Seeing the city

Friday was less eventful (and my memories are less sharp), but was spent mostly with more walking around, looking at the city, admiring the Grand Place, etc. A sizable part was spent around “Le Sablon” and south-east of it, including a a long look at the royal palace (from the outside). Here and around the Grand Place, I saw immense amounts of great architecture in a comparatively small area—possibly surpassing “Unter den Linden” in Berlin and the best parts of Paris. (Which are the most impressing areas that I both know from personal experience and have somewhat clear recollections of—unlike e.g. Venice and London, which I saw as a teenager.) It was also on this day that I first went in the direction of De Brouckere, Rue Neuve, and the surrounding store district—and went to the movies (Sherlock Holmes II) for the first time in a minor eternity.


Side-note:

I was once a very regular movie-goer, but in Germany the crime (against both viewers and performers) of dubbing movies is ubiquitous. Factor in the relative cheapness of DVDs, the commercials in the cinemas, and the risk of annoyances through other movie-goers (in particular, the younger ones), and it is simply not worth the money.

The Belgian cinemas were both expensive and had commercials (but, in my impression, less than the German); however, they did not dub the movies, which makes a world of difference.


I also managed to find two reasonably nearby grocery stores of some “respectability” (a Lidl and a Del Haize), which were to be my main sources of food and drink for the remainder of the visit.

On the down-side, by now my feet were in a very sore shape and I had actually developed minor wounds on my thighs. These factors were to keep down considerably both my speed of walking and the overall distances walked during the rest of my visit. (Normally, as on the previous day, I tend to walk significantly faster than the average person once I have “got started”—to my reckoning, I totaled roughly a Marathon over the first two days. From here on, however, I was mostly restricted to average or sub-average speed, depending on the exact day and level of discomfort.)

2012-02-18: Comics’ museum, resting

Saturday was not a good day: After a slightly disappointing museum visit in the morning, I felt so beat up that I decided to spend the rest of the day in bed—a good decision, since my body (minus sores, unfortunately) had bounced back entirely by the next day.

The museum in question was “Musee Belge de la Bande Dessinee”, dealing with the great Belgian tradition of comics. Unfortunately, the opportunities of the subject were not taken were they could have been taken. Notably, any deeper analysis, comparisons of different comics at different times, etc. were missing. At the time of my visit, the museum contained four major parts (I am unclear which might have been permanent and which temporary):

  1. The main exhibition, consisting of mini-biographies of the more famous artists and characters, examples of various comics, and some discussion of the history of Belgian comics.

  2. A somewhat odd exhibition, with no stated purpose, consisting of some fifty to one hundred individual pages from various comics, most of little international renown, most black and white. There was some opportunity to study various styles and methods (in particular, as there was some thematic grouping, e.g. by animals present); however, for a layman, even with an interest in art, the value was comparatively limited.

  3. A meta-exhibition displaying photos of the museum at various times and during various events.

  4. An exhibition of Romanian comics—for which I at the time did not have the mental agility and physical stamina.

I probably spent no more than one-and-a-half to two hours there—and most others seemed to move through even faster. (However, I have grown to expect most others to move through museums considerably faster than I do.)


Side-note:

Here and elsewhere, most of the informational texts where presented in French and Dutch, but neither English nor German. This implies that I (between the languages) can understand almost everything, but that it takes me considerably more time and effort than someone with a higher proficiency. Secondary implications are that I might tire mentally sooner and that I occasionally skip contents that I would have read, if in English.


On the plus-side, I had seen an English bookstore on the way to the museum, which I visited afterwards—solving the unexpected problem of there being little English content in the general bookstores, including those at the train stations.

2012-02-19: La Maison du Roi

Sunday saw a far more rewarding museum visit in the morning: La Maison du Roi. (The main museum for Brussels, it self, situated at the Grand Place.)

The first story, in particular, was wonderful and took me close to three hours to go through. A first few rooms with church decorations (not always well preserved, unfortunately, but that is a natural danger of museums) were followed by endless glass cases with craftsmanship of various kinds and qualities, including a great variety of porcelain—some of which truly made me lament the items we see in daily use today. (Not necessarily to say that these pieces were intended for daily use, and certainly not daily use by the broad masses; however, with modern technology, it must be possible to cheaply produce similar items—which leads to the fear that what lacks is a sense of beauty.) A few additional rooms with tapestries and further church decorations rounded the first floor off.

The second was far less intense in content, containing large models of Brussels at various stages of its history, contemporary drawings, historical information, and the like. While I went through it relatively fast (possibly three-quarters-of-an-hour), those with a better knowledge of Brussels could likely find a longer preoccupation.

The third floor, however, was highly disappointing. Most of it was closed off for some sort of work and the rest was dominated by information concerning Manneken Pis, the interest for which I have never comprehended (see also below). No more than ten minutes worth of my time.

Walking back to my hotel, however, I noticed that the actual statue was right outside my hotel (La Veille Lanterne)—having slipped under my radar for the simple reason of being surprisingly small (and my usually having my eyes directed upwards rather than forwards the first few days). Indeed, had it not been for the flock of tourists surrounding it, I might have taken it for a miniature replica intended to draw on the fame of the original...

During the afternoon, I intended to go shopping around Rue Neuve, but was stymied by the fact that the stores were all closed—here, at least, I had assumed that the Belgians were better than the Germans, but this was not the case. (Although, in all fairness, some other stores were open, including the grocery store that I had picked for the day.) Having nothing much to do, I strolled in the greater surrounding area in the direction of and around Gare du Nord. Later I made a second visit to the movies, this time to see the 3D version of Phantom Menace. While Star Wars is always enjoyable, the 3D features did not overly impress me (even with this being my first 3D movie). There was one scene were a flying vehicle actually appeared to be in front of the screen, which drew a gasp from the audience, but by and large the differences to a 2D performance where not revolutionary.


Side-note:

However, and in all fairness, my 3D vision is not always the best even in real life and it is possible that the perceived differences would be greater for someone else.


2012-02-20: Atomium, adventures with the Metro

Monday I set aside for a visit to the Atomium, out of the inner city, with an optional visit to the nearby planetarium or a walk in the (so my information) beautiful surroundings. Unfortunately, by now, my back was starting to act up, be it through all the time spent on my feet or through an unnatural way of walking (due to sores; although my problems in this regard were starting to improve) and I eventually left it at just the Atomium and a possibly half-hour walk in the vicinities (not counting the way between Metro station and Atomium and back).

The journey there turned out to be surprisingly troublesome: I entered the Metro at Bourse, intending to switch lines at De Brouckere and going from there to Heysel (where the Atomium is).

A first problem was the ticket machine: I chose a ticket, but found myself unable to actually enter more than one coin into the machine—with no indication as to why. A second machine, fortunately, was more accommodating. However, to minimize the number of coins needed, I had moved from my original intention of buying a one-day ticket to buying a return ticket. As will be clear, this turned out to be a source of minor concern later.

The main problem, however, was at De Brouckere: It was not obvious how to reach the right line. Indeed, even to change platform, I actually had to leave the area of the station protected by ticket-checking machines. With poor signs, I was left having to make a near random choice between two directions, both requiring me to go through a second set of ticket-checking machines. Here I made a poor choice, lacking a crucial piece of information, and landed upon a platform equivalent to the one I arrived at. (The piece of information: Unlike the trains that I am accustomed to, the Brussels’ ones open doors at both sides simultaneously, effectively allowing entry and exit from/to two platforms at once. These are then for all purposes equivalent.)

Not wanting to risk yet another trip through the ticket-checking machines (two trips, depending on the system used, might already have invalidated my return ticket), I studied the line maps carefully and found that I could take one line from the track I was on towards Esplanade, leave the train one stop before that and there change to another train that took me to Heysel in one or two additional stops. Having left my hotel around 10, it was already close to 11 as I eventually arrived.

Once there, there was a brief walk to the Atomium, which could be well admired from the ground . I proceeded to buy a ticket from a man who tried to greet me in Swedish, but had a close miss: His “Tag!” would have worked with a German (although being terse to the border of the impolite), but the Swedish equivalent must be the full “God dag!”—and “Hej!” is the more common greeting.

I then moved on to the innards of the Atomium: A lift took us up to the observation deck of the top sphere and down again in groups. The view was roughly according to expectation (I have been in too many high buildings and aeroplanes to be impressed by the mere perspective), with a good view of the nearby surroundings. The view of the city suffered from a combination of too large a distance and cloud- or fog-filled skies—those looking to admire specifically Brussels might be better off with a high building within the city. (The view from the top of the tower of the Hotel de Ville must be spectacular, but I have no idea whether tourists can access it.)

The possibly most enjoyable view was of a nearby pond, where the ripples in the water reflected the sunlight upwards in a fascinating manner, and where a few ducks were mostly recognizable through just the ripples that they caused.

Back at the ground-floor, the tour continued upwards with escalators, this time to one of the side-wards spheres. Here there was an exhibition focusing on the 1958 World Expo (of which the Atomium was part), regrettably without any really worth-while contents. Through a mixture of escalators and ordinary stairs one or two further spheres (my memory is a little vague, but the center sphere was included) and four-or-so additional floors were reachable. The contents were mostly focused on modern architecture, including the use of concrete and how effectful facades could be built through identical, mass-produced building blocks. By-and-large interesting, but not on a level with the previous day. What I particularly lacked was more information about the building of the Atomium it self, how it was constructed, etc. There was a movie showing on repeat, which displayed parts of the actual work on the building, and some conclusions could be drawn by direct study. However, even with these, the overall information was too scarce. Indeed, if I had been in charge, I would even have taken the opportunity to at least grace on subjects like mechanics, engineering techniques, why this-and-that component or construction was chosen, and similar—in conjunction with the Atomium, it self, this could have served to awaken an interest in otherwise unpopular topics among, above all, the younger generations.

All-in-all, I probably spent roughly two hours at the Atomium, followed by a brief walk in the vicinity.

The travel back was again a bit of an adventure: Firstly, the big question, would my ticket work walking through the ticket-checking machines a third time—or would I need to buy a one-way ticket back to Brussels? To my minor surprise, this was not a problem. However, the Metro that I had entered did not contain the expected line 1a, but what appeared to be line 2, which according to my guidebook was not even supposed to serve that station (or any nearby station). The guidebook, however, was published in 2006 and the lines might have been altered since; further, even the information present for 2006 appears to be incomplete with regard to the pre-Metro lines.

As is, I took the 2 (?) to Beekkant where I switched to line 1a and soon arrived at Gare Centrale (or did I step out already at De Brouckere?).

After arriving back in the city, I exercised some self-discipline and went to a better restaurant to get some actual Belgian food.


Side-note:

Apart from those restaurant visits explicitly mentioned, I had a few fast-food meals, including two visits to the local hamburger franchise Quick, during the week.


The choice fell on a restaurant “Raphael” close by both the Grand Place and my hotel. The food was a menu consisting of a Chicory-based salad (enjoyable, as far as salad goes; chicory is common in Belgian dishes), Lapin a la Gueuze (rabbit cooked in a local beer; an explicit recommendation in my guidebook and quite tasty; on the downside, I have never mastered the art of eating flesh with bones in it, which likely wasted a bit of the meat) with a side of first rate fries, and a “Dame Blanche” (an ice cream and whipped cream dish—the ingredients speak for themselves). To drink I had a Kriek, a mixture of Beer and cherry juice, and another local specialty. While this drink sounds highly suspect (as a rule of thumb, beer should not be mixed with anything), it was actually quite well-tasting, if possibly a little too strong in the cherry taste.


Side-note:

The waiter seemed to be highly surprised at the order of a Kriek. There might be several explanations for this, but one is, obviously, that I might have ordered a frowned-upon combination of food and drink. Other visitors might want to investigate this before ordering.


Overall the restaurant was a little short on room, but otherwise visually pleasing. The background music consisted mostly of enjoyable old jazz numbers (Billie Holiday and similar), although usually in cover versions.

Except for the bill, I would certainly extend a recommendation. However, the bill contained an unordered item at EUR 3.60 (or so), which drove up the total by an unnecessary 10 %, and together with the bill appeared a very small glass, half of which was occupied by an ice cube, with a fluid tasting like a mixture of coffee and alcohol. Seeing that I had previously made the decision to not let such minor irritants of life get in the way of enjoyment, I let the issue slip. However, I do extend the warning that the restaurant might not have worked with entirely honest methods. Indeed, my guidebook explicitly warns against eating in the nearby area of Ilot Sacre for such reasons.


Side-note:

Normally, I have a policy of not letting companies get away with mistreating customers, be it through deliberate fraud or just incompetence: The more customers who complain, the greater the chance that the companies will improve; the more customers who do not, the greater the risk that the situation worsens even further. Notably, this applies even when the chance of achieving a correction in one’s own special case is comparatively small.

However, taking a stand takes time and energy, and when on vacation I find it better to waive the policy—especially, when so small sums are involved. (Indeed, I find that I waive it more and more often even when not on vacation, if with a minor sting of bad conscience.)


A further stroll in the city took it to roughly 5 p.m. when I returned to the hotel, and I spent the rest of the day in my room; in particular, as I felt a touch of a cold.

2012-02-21: Shopping, resting

Tuesday again saw me relatively passive, the cold having grown stronger. I spent a few hours doing the (window-)shopping that I had intended for Sunday. After this, I went to a second proper restaurant (no name recalled, but it was more ordinary, both in terms of price and quality), enjoying gratinated (?) chicory and ham, with a side of mashed potatoes, followed by a cup of coffee. After this, I returned to the hotel and bedded down.

2012-02-22: Museum of books, good-byes, journey back

Wednesday was my last day in Brussels. I checked out shortly after 10 a.m. and took a brief walk in the immediate vicinity, including one last visit to the Grand Place, before I went to Gare Centrale to buy a ticket and check the connections. The choice fell on the 14:25 from Gare du Midi with an arrival in Düsseldorf at 17:01 (and, again, a change of trains in Cologne).

I put my bag in a locker and, according to plan, left the station to look at the nearby Musees Royaux des Beaux-Arts Belgique (large art museum(s)); however, stepping out of the station I spotted a sign about a museum of books—and with free entry. Being a lover of books, I altered my plans for the intervening hours.

The museum started promisingly, with a number of antique machines, e.g. lithographic presses. However, walking through the majority of the rest of the building (shared with the city library), there was comparatively little to see—and what was there, e.g. a section on medals, had little to do with books. Eventually, I ended up in the underground floors where the main book-related exhibition was. To call it a dud would be kindness: Not only were there no true sources of information (among the many things missing: A discussion of the history of books, information on manufacture of books at various times, a comparison of books in different cultures), but the enjoyment of the actual objects displayed were severely reduced by the most unprofessional set-up that I have ever seen in a museum: Grossly insufficient lighting, irrelevant computer displays providing distracting movement (but no value-added) surrounding the objects on display, and a lot of noise from much too loud video shows. By and large, my impression was that any effort to actually inform the visitor, to give him a learning opportunity, had been deliberately sacrificed in order to provide the dumbest of the dumb with an “experience”.

Obviously, after this disappointment, I found myself left with more time than expected before my train left, but too little to receive any major gains from returning to my original plans. Instead I spent some time looking around the station, had something to eat, and then went to look around town again. I particularly took some time to admire the outside of Cathedral Saint-Michele and to revisit a long and beautiful gallery (the name of which does not occur to me, unfortunately). Shortly before 2 p.m. I went back to the station, collected my bag, and took a three minute ride to Gare du Midi, where I had a quick cup of coffee and then went to my train.

The journey back was uneventful.

Conclusion

While it might seem that I complain a lot, this week in Brussels was an extremely enjoyable time. Indeed, there have been times the last few days, in particular on the day after my return, when I have ached to be back there, to see the Grand Place again, to visit a few of the many museums I did not have the time or energy for last time around, taking the time to buy a few comics in the original language, ...

I can as good as guarantee that I will visit this extraordinary city again; however, I leave the when unstated: If I were to go too soon, the result would likely be a disappointment—as is so often the case when one tries to recreate a certain time or event of great happiness.

Various remarks

  1. I did not get around to trying as much of the Belgian beers as I had intended, but apart from the Kriek mentioned above, I did buy a four-pack of a light “abbey beer” (florival?) which was highly enjoyable.

  2. The people in Brussels were surprisingly small overall, and the hotel staff was virtually microscopic. Of the three or four women I encountered (no men) the tallest might have been around 1.65. Unfortunately, this affected parts of the hotel: The bathroom mirror missed most of my face when I stood up straight, and the (fixed-to-the-wall) shower head was on a height with the middle of my forehead, making showering awkward.

  3. While the hotel room, it self, was satisfactory, even with the not-for-grown-men bathroom, my overall impression was not the best. The language skills of the staff were disputable (in particular, for a tourist area of town...) and the maid service was horrible:

    Consider that:

    1. My beer bottles were removed from my room when empty, even though they carried a 10 cent deposit. Not an amount to get excited about, but absolutely not a thing to do—in particular, as the waste basket was not always emptied...

    2. Through a lack of suitable electric sockets, I had put my mp3-player on re-charge precariously arranged on a socket above waist height. Just in case it fell down, I had placed a pillow on the ground beneath it. This pillow was inexplicably restored to the bed by the maid... (Who cannot reasonably have failed to draw the right conclusions—and, in any case, such an explicit placement would be an indication of purpose on the part of the guest, with which the hotel obviously should not interfere.)

    3. My things were regularly so re-arranged that I had to search for them. In particular, the one ballpoint pen that I brought with me went missing for almost a day, having descended into the depths of the bed. (At the time of my leaving, it was on top of the covers of the other half of the double bed—together with the Killer-Sudokus that I was currently solving.)

    4. My subsequent explicit request that the bedroom part of the room be left alone had as only effect that the bathroom (!) was exempt from maid service for one (!) day.

  4. As noted, Brussels appears to be more expensive than Düsseldorf (it self one of the more expensive German cities). One way in which this manifests is that the ketchup in German fast-food restaurants is included, but costs another 60 cents (or so) in Belgian (on top of the already higher menu price). In effect, a mere nice to have (with good fries) or a cover-up-the-mistakes-of-the-restaurant (with poor fries) drives up the cost of the meal by another 10 %.

    Here, and in some similar ways, the international franchises risk shooting themselves in the foot: Having different prices in different countries is one thing; however, one of the advantages of e.g. McDonald’s is the similarity between restaurants in various countries—the ability to go into any restaurant, anywhere, and order a standard menu in a standardized way, with no gotchas, no surprises, and no reason to inquire about the procedure. Removing it harms the restaurant unnecessarily. This implies, e.g., that the price levels might be different, but that charging for item X in one country and not another is a no-no. Equally, one country can have products not available in another, but must not alter the recipe used for the common products (and a small core of common products must be present).

    Consider my visit to Pizza Hut compared to a typical German visit:

    My Hawaiian pizza appeared to use a different recipe (far more tomato) and was significantly smaller (despite, if anything, being more expensive). Drinks were not delivered to the table, but were collected through self-service. Checks were not delivered either, but provided and paid at the exit. The result is not only a significant, unnecessary, risk of a dissatisfied customer, but also of ditto miscommunications between staff and customer.