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Antwerp once handled forty percent of world trade, and the ambition never quite left. Stand in the Grote Markt and you are surrounded by sixteenth-century guildhalls that survived Spanish fury, Napoleonic reshuffling, and two world wars. The Brabo Fountain at the square's center marks the legend of a Roman soldier hurling a giant's severed hand into the Schelde, which is apparently where the city gets its name. It is that kind of place: dramatic, a little gruesome, and proud of it.

The Diamond District, a few streets north of Central Station, still processes eighty-five percent of the world's rough diamonds.

The station itself is a Beaux-Arts cathedral to rail travel, with more ironwork and marble than most actual cathedrals. Head south and you hit the Cathedral of Our Lady, where two Rubens altarpieces hang as intended. Then double back through Zurenborg, the Art Nouveau neighborhood where every facade competes for excess in the best possible way.