Briefly Belgium

Years ago, when walking on a footpath in Geneva, a man needed to step aside to let me past and as he did, he hissed "Cochon "in a language I did not understand. I knew however that "Cochon" means pig. The friend I was with who lived in the city, told me that the language was Flemish and that there were many Belgians in Geneva. He did not seem surprised at this behaviour from the solidly built, doughy faced man who was temporarily inconvenienced. Me, I was hurt being a woman who carries weight but who was at that moment, feeling unusually svelte.  

Given such a brief acquaintance, I should not have extrapolated negative aspersions to the entire Belgian citizenry however given my sensitivity, I did. I would never have come to Belgium on this journey except for the fact that the Eurostar passes through Belgium on its way to Amsterdam and one of my all-time favourite films is the 2008 black comedy "In Bruges " The opportunity to see where this film was made seduced me and for the past five days, I have been discovering the delights of Brussels and have completed the pilgrimage to the delicious, dizzyingly touristed, destination of Bruges.

Firstly, I must apologise to the citizens of Belgium. Despite the occasional spoken Flemish sounding harsh, it has been against a background of French and Dutch with these unfailingly polite and kind people also switching to English as I flail about getting my needs met.

Initially taking a long exploratory walk from our hotel, conveniently sited near the Gare De Midi transport complex which houses International, regional and metro train services and bus and tram services as well as a significant number of citizens demonstrating heartbreaking neediness and /or a wary agitation, Brussels looks grim.

The streets are littered and gritty, shops empty and standing outside small corner bars, ever more needy and agitated citizens. Our destination is The Grande Place and Sat Nav guides us down more grey streets with savagely pollarded trees, before slowly the neighborhoods become slightly more gentile, and we finally arrive at the central square of Brussels. Given the dourness of its surroundings, this place of fabulous baroque guildhalls, the neogothic Bread House building and the flamboyant town hall leaves me open mouthed. Gob smacked.

My impression is of enormousness and gilt. It reminds me of Liverpool in the U.K which also does enormous but without the gilt.  And has more than a smattering of surrounding grittiness.  

 The square is absolutely teeming with tourists and the adjacent streets lined with chocolate shops and " Frite " or chip stores are similarly filled. Both the chocolate and chips, Belgian signatures, are delicious. The bread too and macaroons and meringues.

Unexpectedly, narrow lanes lead to more open spaces, a busker with a lovely country voice playing an acoustic set of American modern classics and a wonderful statue of a former mayor of Brussels and his dog.

They also lead to Galleries de St Hubert, somewhere posited as the first shopping mall in Europe. These are three glazed shopping arcades, elegant and beautifully proportioned, lined with similarly beautiful, elegant and expensive stores. I discover Bookstore Tropismes, where amongst its small selection of English titles, I find "At the Pond "Swimming at the Hampstead Ladies Pond. Given my recent Hampstead sojourn, it feels serendipitous.

At Brussels Centrale Rail station where we decide to make an attempt to decipher the metro system in order to return to the hotel, we are again overwhelmed by the somewhat Brutalist architecture and the cavernous space teeming with people, and choices all requiring deciphering. After a long day in a foreign country, deciphering becomes almost impossible and the decision to take a cab, is an easy one.

Like many of his compatriots, the driver marvels at the distance we have travelled from Australia. He also advises us that tomorrow, May the 1st is labour day, and a public holiday in much of Belgium. He indicates that workers' rights are important in his country and that there will be many speeches in the parks at the centre of the city. The social fabric of his society seems not unlike our own.

I am liking Brussels and Belgians. I can just about forgive that rude man from all those years ago. He does not seem representative which is just as well as I am not the forgiving type.