I meet Louis Waelkens, a relative newcomer who came to Liège for love and stayed for the city. ‘It wasn’t instant,’ he admits over coffee at Constantin Café, a stylish spot at the foot of the citadel hill. ‘Liège makes you work for it. But once you start to see its beauty, you’re sold for life.’
Five years ago, you could count the good coffee places in the centre on one hand. Now, there are half a dozen. The city is buzzing—without losing its authenticity, like so many others have. Liège is still lived in. Rent is still affordable. There are bakers, butchers, grocers who know your name. The frites at Saperlipopette à la Patate aren’t a social media trend—they’re what the locals eat, mayo all the way to the bottom of the cone.
Liège is in yet another cycle of rebirth. The Vikings, Burgundians, French, Austrians, Germans—they’ve all burned it down. And every time, the city rose again. The last blow didn’t come from an invader but from economics. Coal and steel once made Liège rich; their collapse left it gasping. The recovery has been slow, but it’s happening. Look at Calatrava’s train station—once too grand, too much, now anchoring a transformed neighbourhood of boulevards, offices, apartments, hotels, restaurants, and a sleek new tram line tying the city together.
I take the tram into the centre. Rain drives me into Utamu coffee bar, windows fogged, a DJ spinning, people dancing—at 10:30 in the morning. ‘The owner asked us to,’ laughs musician Mosinga, whose roots are in Congo. Music thrives here, crossing cultures, feeding collaborations and community projects.
Liège loves encounters. Louis told me so: it’s normal here to strike up a conversation with strangers over a drink. The most northerly French-speaking city, balanced between Latin and Germanic cultures, it feels foreign to visitors from the north—not just in language, but in houses, streets, rhythms.
Not long ago, Liège was grey, its facades blackened by industry and traffic. Now a ring road diverts the trucks, the tram calms the streets, and the city looks lighter. I climb the citadel—not via the famous Montagne de Bueren, but through Rue Pierreuse, once anarchic, now lined with urban farms and gardens. From the top, the city spreads out below. The descent down Bueren’s 374 steps is history underfoot—built for soldiers in the 19th century, now as famous as the local meatballs, Boulet à la Liégeoise, in their sweet-sour sauce. I eat mine at Brasserie C, at the foot of the stairs, with a beer from the brewery.
The longer you stay, the more Liège reveals itself: messy, chaotic, suddenly beautiful, then scruffy again, warm, noisy, surprising. The Grand Curtius stuns with its religious art, then minutes later I’m in a café chantant listening to a ballad for an audience of three. Apartment blocks line the river, broken by a lone 19th-century facade. At Cité Miroir, once a 1938 public swimming pool, concrete arches, glossy tiles, and steel ladders now frame exhibitions and events.
Liège was an independent principality for nearly eight centuries, from 980 to 1792, a diplomatic tightrope walker among powerful neighbours, a kind of Switzerland of the North. Even its borders were fluid—its language officially bilingual. The French Revolution ended that chapter.
Across the Meuse lies Outremeuse, Liège’s old heart. Here, nameless teahouses and working-class cafés mix with traces of Georges Simenon, who grew up in these streets. Today, the medieval Rue Roture is home to lively restaurants and bars like Café Brasil, Rotur’s Café, and the rooftop-view Tribe.
I ride the Navette Fluviale back south, wind on my face, Liège passing in a shifting collage of old and new, beautiful and ugly. An old man waves from the pier. At La Boverie park and pavilion, built for the 1905 World Expo, I step into a museum without queues. Picasso, Van Dongen, Delvaux, Chagall, Magritte, Monet—all to myself. And a new discovery: Adrien de Witte’s Femme au Corset rouge, a woman dressing—or undressing—caught in a single moment.
Crossing the footbridge, the white ribs of Calatrava’s station rise ahead. In 2009, it felt like a spaceship had landed by mistake. Now, the people of Liège are quietly proud. They’ll never admit it outright—nothing is bigger than the city itself.
Thinking about visiting Liège? Excellent choice – this vibrant Belgian city is packed with charm, history, and flavour. Whether you’re after stunning architecture, bustling markets, riverside walks, or the best spots to enjoy a creamy coffee or a crisp local beer, you’ll find plenty to inspire you.
For more information on must-see highlights, cosy places to stay, great food and drink, upcoming events, and easy day trips in the surrounding area, and a downloadable city guide, click the link below.
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