Belgium

My friend J who sometimes sends me things from Brussels sent me an email about an event in Anderlecht. Anderlecht is an urban cutting edge commune (some people might call it rough but, as someone who lives across the road from a boarded up house, I wouldn’t).

The event is called “Action « crottes de chiens » ce samedi à Anderlecht”. No, you have not misunderstood – it’s called “Action “dog poo” this Saturday in Anderlecht.” I suppose I should contextualise this by saying that there is more dog poo on the pavements of Belgium than there is anywhere else in the developed world but it still doesn’t stop it being odd, I think you will agree.

For any francophones among you, the full text is reproduced below. Let me translate some highlights:

This is a festival to make dog “poo-poo” owners aware of their responsibilities.

On the agenda for the day is a “Poo parade” [which will open with] a float with a giant dog poo which the students from the local school have designed…

People often ask me whether I miss Belgium – well, I think you would only get the crotte parade in Belgium; it’s the home of surrealism for a reason, you know.

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[L]es comités de quartier des Etangs et Frans Hals à Anderlecht organisent une opération festive de sensibilisation des propriétaires de chiens baptisée « Crotti-Crotta ». Le but: leur rappeler leurs responsabilités (chiens en laisse et ramassage des crottes) de manière ludique. Cette action a été initiée par la cellule de sensibilisation Propreté de l’échevine Monique Cassart en collaboration avec la Maison de la Participation dans le cadre de la campagne RéapPROPRiez vous votre commune.

Au programme de cette journée, une grande « Parade de la crotte », qui débutera à 14h rue Frans Hals. Un char avec une crotte géante, réalisée par les élèves de l’école P18, ouvrira le cortège. Des flyers et des sacs à crotte seront distribués aux propriétaires de chiens par les habitants du quartier et les élèves de l’école.

Cette parade se rendra place Bizet avant de rejoindre le terrain Marius Renard où une démonstration de la brigade canine est entre autres prévue à 16h. Cette journée, qui se veut avant tout festive, se clôturera par un barbecue au parc Marius Renard.

Par ailleurs, ces deux comités de quartier ont convaincu deux grandes enseignes commerciales des environs de vendre du matériel de ramassage. En effet, ce n’est pas tout d’obliger les propriétaires de chiens à ramasser leurs crottes, encore faut-il que ce matériel soit facilement accessible au public, et pas uniquement dans les magasins spécialisés.

Mr. Waffle decided to check whether there were any activities planned in Dublin for Belgian national day. Don’t laugh, Mr. Waffle and the children got free sweets and some rousing songs in the park on Norwegian national day and they’re not even Norwegian.

Of course, technically, we’re not Belgian either but, since all the children were born there, he thought that it would be nice to stay in touch. He rang the Embassy and the secretary (Flemish sounding) puzzled for a time over his query. Then, having discussed matters with the Ambassador, she came back and said that there would be activities with lots of fun for children also. A couple of days later this arrived in the post:

No it doesn’t say fun for children to me either but I was touched all the same and this evening we dressed ourselves up in our best clothes and pushed off to the Belgian Embassy. All of the excitement was in the back garden of the embassy which was huge and was, prudently, covered in army tents. After some initial unfortunate incidents (I saw the boys running wild on the grass and they nearly knocked over an eminent judge who didn’t look as though he enjoyed indulging young children – in marked contrast to all the other punters who were extraordinarily relaxed and kind) we headed down to the far end of the garden where there were some other families with young children. This was quite pleasant, the sun shone and, finally, after many years of effort, we met some Belgians.

There was beer and cheese but, alas, there were no chips. There were Leonidas chocolates. The children found out where they were coming from and attacked the caterers at source:

I suppose we’ll be back next year. Lucky old Belgians.

Brussels III

We lived in a beautiful flat which was luxurious for two when we arrived and rather cramped for five when we left.  It was round the corner from my previous flat in Brussels. I often passed it with the children thinking that I never imagined when I lived there that I would some day be strolling past the building with my children.  That is very inelegantly expressed but you know what I’m trying to say here; life is weird.
I started my blog in that flat so it is obviously of great significance – also very well documented.

I think we really have left Brussels for the last time.  Our memories can be constantly refreshed by the truckload of coffee table books about Belgium of which we are now the proud owners. When you leave a country forever, your friends and your colleagues give you coffee table books.  Even when it’s the third time you leave forever.

I’m quite relieved that I have nearly reached the end of my list as I am very depressed by the lack of comments.  No, it’s not like I’m begging you, really.

Brussels II

I moved into a lovely bright flat on the second floor of an old maison de maître filled with my own things.  It was delightful.  I loved that flat. It had a balcony big enough to accommodate a table and six chairs and several pot plants in various stages of decay.

I met the man who would become Mr. Waffle.

In fact, everything was perfect, except for my job which was rather tedious.

I was relatively rich but even so, I was very struck by how cheap Brussels was compared to Dublin.  The last time I had lived there, it had seemed terribly expensive compared to Ireland.  The early stirrings of the celtic tiger, I suppose.

I was lured back to Ireland by a promotion and kissed goodbye to Brussels for what I thought was the last time (insert hollow laugh here).