The first thing I noticed about Bruxelles was the smell of urine. The second thing I noticed was that it was like an alternate reality version of Canada. Belgium can be geographically and culturally divided into two main parts: the northern Flanders (Flemish, basically another name for the Dutch language) and the southern Wallonia (French.) I kicked off my travels in Bruxelles, the French-speaking capital on the Flemish side of divide.
This city was the biggest linguistic headtrip for an anglo-Canadian who has been living in the Netherlands. Anywhere there was written word in the city, it would be in both French and Dutch. It was a relief to be in French-speaking city since I could read signs and communicate with the locals. My ability to speak French is poor but it sure beats my Dutch, which consists of inserting the name of a food item between “one” and “please.” The only complication was I was so stuck in Dutch mode, I had to stop myself from wasting time trying to decipher Dutch signs and from adding “alstublieft” and “dank u well” to the end of my sentences. It was strange to take comfort in the French language when in Canada I regularly ignore it for the English translation.
The Belgians are currently facing a perennial Canadian political situation: separatism. Except here, it’s the Flemish political parties who want to separate from the Wallons. The Flemish area is doing better economically and is tired of their taxes being funnelled to their southern countrymen. (Equalization payments anyone?) The percentage of French-speaking Flemish greatly outnumbers the Flemish-speaking French, which doesn’t help add to feelings of goodwill. According to the Liège natives I was hanging out with, the Walloons feel a special affinity for Quèbec because of the political situation and because they think Quebeçois is more similar to their language than Français (with a capital F.)
This brings me to the first thing I brought up: the smells of urine in the city. I have reason to believe this is a French thing. I first experienced this phenomenon when I visited Paris when I was 17. There’s no doubt in my mind that Paris has been my favourite European city thus far but that doesn’t change the fact. The problem is its always at its worst in the metro both in Paris and Bruxelles. However, to Bruxelles credit, in all the Parisian metro stations, there are tiny moats running along the side of the station walls with liquid flowing through. I never quite figured out what those were for but they only added to my suspicions. I never experienced this same in the other four Flemish cities I visited. This problem doesn’t seem to exist in the Netherlands either. There are many an outdoor urinal strategically placed for drunken males that prevent the city from smelling like a toilet. Furthermore, we have canals and still don’t smell.
However this smell could just be a really convenient marketing tie-in with the symbol of Belgium: Manneken Pis. It’s nothing more than a tiny statue of a little boy urinating. It’s a major tourist attraction in Bruxelles and plastered all over tourist merchandise. The Belgians have many outfits they dress him up for special occasions but always with a convenient hole for him to do his duty. There are a few stories behind the statue (boy who saves his town from fire by answering nature’s calls, boy goes missing and father finds him answering nature’s calls etc.) but seem to be of little importance. Manneken Pis is simply Manneken Pis.
Belgium has historically been overshadowed by its neighbours and before coming here I couldn’t tell you any famous Belgian symbols. However, in the Netherlands we have a chain of fry shops called Manneken Pis, a name that invokes a reputation of fries. Belgians have a self-professed good sense of humour about themselves and if having your national icon taking a piss isn’t proof, I don’t know what is.
