Hammond organs and not women.
As some of you may know, my girlfriend, Madi, lives in Brussels. As some of you may also know, I’m not Belgiums biggest fan. To me, it’s just like lentils. It’s there and people clearly like it, but I just can’t work out why. Whilst I might not like Brussels and Belgium, I cannot however say that the capital is uninteresting. I think the main reason I dislike Belgium is its lack of geographical diversity. I like mountains and rivers. Flat green spaces and concrete have never really done it for me. Socially though, it’s actually a very nice place. You can still smoke in bars (whilst I hate it around food, I quite like it with drink and music), cannabis is socially accepted, a massive range of beers, great jazz and there are no problems with drinking on the streets.
If you ever happen to find yourself in Brussels on a Tuesday night and you’re in need of a drink and some music, try and find your way to Bonnefooi, a great bar near the Bourse (the massive steps outside what I think is a bank in the centre). Unlike most British bars which have a wide front and often a dancefloor, a lot of the bars in Brussels, including Bonnefooi, are long and narrow with the bar itself running along one side and are often split over several levels. This was all accompanied by a DJ providing an oh so mellow vibe thanks to some RJD2 and Squarepusher. After choosing to drink Kwak pretty much for the fact that you drink it out of something more suitably described as a quaffing device rather than a glass, I headed up the narrow staircase at the end of the long bar to settle myself for the evening on one of the sofas. Soon after setting myself down, the DJ took his leave with a fade out and was replaced by the joyous pops of a Hammond organ accompanied by a drummer on a 3-piece kit fed by a steady flow of beers. Whilst it’s possible to find similar bars in the UK, this is the sort of place the for some reason is so much easier to find in Europe. In my opinion, this is possibly down to the fact that the typical British night out is to get slaughtered whilst hurling yourself around to over-produced pop. Whilst this can be fun once in a while, you never get the same buzz from a crowd as you do from seeing a live band play.
When in Brussels, one of my favourite things to do at night is to buy a couple of beers and head over to the Grand Place with several hundred other people of all shapes and sizes and backgrounds. There are fat people, thin people, black people, white people, homeless people, executives, friends, couples, locals, tourists and people by themselves looking to just chill out. So many people just seem to head there for a beer bought in one of the night shops and to soak up the vibe. A vibe that is created by these people going there to soak up the vibe in the first place. In the dim light cast down upon the square from the buildings that box it in, you’ll heard people laughing, instruments being played and the general hum of chatter.Being able to just sit in one of the most famous squares in Europe, legally drinking a beer on the street and just either sit or lay there and have a natter is possibly the most social way of drinking possible.
The Grand Place is a rather odd place, being a blend of gothic architecture and something else that looks like it was dreamt up by the architect whilst on a particularly enlightening journey courtesy of a cocktail of opiates and various other psychoactives. Nothing really fits, each building was designed completely separately to its neighbour, in fact parts of the same building sometimes look completely different. They were all sort of just shoved in to place with a giant crowbar until they fit, and if they didn’t bits were just chipped off until they did. Whilst this all makes for a complete architectural Smorgasbord, it somehow just adds to the charm of the place.
As I said, it’s an extremely chilled out place. However, from time to time a wave of excitement may ripple through the crowds of people, as I found out on one of my last nights in Brussels. As myself and Madi were sat having a beer and a chat, a few wolf whistles were blown towards the opposite side of the square to us. Nothing too unusual of a place with so many people, however these whistles rapidly became cheers and laughter. As I stood up to see what the cause of the excitement was, I could see half a dozen women preceding the wave of cheers and whistles in a whirl of glitter and hair made most probably from recycled carrier bags and milk cartons. strolling across the square. Half a dozen very tall, squarely built women who clearly didn’t wear stilettos very often. Half a dozen very tall, squarely built, stiletto wearing women who were clearly not women.
Unfortunately, due to the fact I was on the other side of the square, getting to the ladies/gents quickly wasn’t really an option, so this was taken just before they left. But before leaving, prompted by the wave of whistles and cheers, the six of them walked up the set of steps behind them and on to a flat platform to elevate them above the crowds, whose entire focus was now on them, struck a pose, encouraging yet more excitement within the crowd, and then stepped down again to each stride out of the square with an air of purpose about them. They left in the same direction that they came from, so one can only conclude that the aim of their stroll through the square was purely to raise eyebrows and get themselves some attention. Whilst cheers and whistles were directed at them for the whole time from three hundred strong crowd, each and every one of those cheers and whistles had a hint of respect behind it and was of pure enjoyment. Not a single malicious heckle was thrown at them as they entertained the crowd for a brief couple of minutes.
I’ve just realised quite how long this post is (half the length of most of my university assignments, and it’d usually take me several hours with the encouragement of rum to get me this far on an assignment), so I’ll try to wrap it up. A few must see things to do in Brussels if ever you find yourself there are certainly a beer in the Grand Place, frites from Place Flagey (apparently the best frites in the world), and gorge yourself on chocolate. You’ll have a while to wait for the frites, and you’ll certainly have to put up with a little rudeness, however they’re worth it! And with the chocolate, you can eat as much Swiss chocolate as you like. Most of it is made in Belgium for the Swiss.
