Sinds ik de locale pers volg, ongeveer een 4-tal maanden dus, is dit het derde uitgebreide artikel over Belgie. Toegegeven, de eerste twee verschenen in de travel/cultuur sectie van The Financial Review en beschreven uitgebreid hoe hip Antwerpen en Brugge zijn, en waar je de beste chocolatiers kan vinden - Brussel en Brugge, mirakel mirakel.
Onderstaand opiniestuk verscheen vandaag in The Daily Telegraph, een deftige tabloid naar Londense normen, en werd me door een grinnikende collega onder de neus geschoven. Niet van de poes, maar het is dan ook niet moeilijk om een gelijkaardig artikel over Australie te schrijven... stuur maar op!
Btw, een "schooner" is hier een groot glas bier, altijd handig om te weten.
Vettige Çois
Belgium: it's not all beer and waffling
By JOE HILDEBRAND
June 22, 2005
IN A faraway peninsula called Europe there is a place called Belgium, and in a slightly closer peninsula called The Rocks there is a place called the Belgian Beer Cafe. Both these places have done little to contribute to society.We will deal with these locations in order of importance . . . let's start with the Belgian Beer Cafe. The proprietors of this establishment had a vision – that by charging huge amounts of money for small amounts of beer, Sydneysiders would flock to their premises like rottweilers to a day-old chop.
To our eternal shame, they were right.
Last weekend, a moral obligation of the highest order – let us call it "birthday drinks" – forced me to join their number.
With a heart full of trepidation I followed the sound of rustling hair product until I reached my destination.
The Belgians are known for their hospitality – after all, they let the German army in – so I was naturally shocked to find a Belgian with a distinctly Irish accent refusing me entry.
Immediately, my loyal birthday-celebrating friend accused the management of anti-semitism, a powerful argument compromised only by the fact that I am not, as far as I am aware, actually Jewish.
Instead, I was informed that the place was too full and that I would have to wait for someone to come out.
Reasonable enough I thought, until it emerged that I would in fact have to wait for seven people to come out.
Now, I realise that I'm not as skinny as I once was, but that seemed a little cruel. And to say it in front of everybody.
Suddenly I was having flashes back to the time in grade six when, after I got the answer right, a guest teacher warmly praised me with the words "good girl". Parents, do not give your children home haircuts.
Once the tears had subsided, my journalistic instinct kicked in – how did the extra six people get in before me? Was there a back entrance?
Unfortunately, in the end I did get into the Belgian Beer Cafe. By happy coincidence, it was just in time to buy everybody a round of drinks. Am I paranoid in suspecting some collusion here?
The next hurdle was the bar, where the service was exceptionally fast and efficient providing you had a pair of stilettos, no visible panty line and a voice like a pair of tweezers. Sadly for me, two out of three wasn't good enough.
After every female on the eastern seaboard received their drinks I had the pleasure of witnessing the bartender wash the glass, rinse the glass, pour the beer and then carve off the top of the head so that the glass was only half full of froth.
This took a surprisingly brief 5½ minutes, so with just four other beers to order I expected to be out of there well within half an hour.
As I waited, my mind drifted. It occurred to me that the Belgian Beer Cafe reminded me of a place that I couldn't put my finger on – at least not without attracting a lawsuit.
That place, I realised, was Belgium. How ironic that a venue so cutting edge, so 21C, so now, was exported from a country that has only just found out that The Beatles have broken up.
Of course, the two places have a lot in common.
They are both surrounded by French, German and Dutch people – it's just that in Europe, fewer of them are wearing bum-bags and pointing at a bridge.
Also, Germans excepted, things apparently have difficulty getting in to both places. In the Belgian Beer Cafe it was me, in Belgium it was primary colours.
But Belgium has produced some fine gifts for the rest of the world. The Belgian Beer Cafe is clearly chief among their number, but let's not forget modern Brussels architecture.
And Belgium keeps on giving.
The invaluable website Famous Belgians now lists no fewer than 259 Belgians who have achieved fame in the history of all time.
And if you think the yardstick of fame has been relaxed for this exercise, consider the latest addition of luminaries.
In the business world there is Luc Vandevelde, chairman of Marks and Spencer, and the dynamic entrepreneur Bernard Van Hool, founder of renowned international coachbuilder Van Hool NV.
In science there is Edward de Smedt, chemist and inventor of asphalt and Adolphe Quetelet, the mathematician who invented the Body Mass Index, while they have given the world of sport 17-time world billiards champion Raymond Ceulemans.
But it is in the musical sphere that Belgium has always excelled. Who could forget the "world famous jazz musician" Toots Thielemans, "international pop singer" Helmut Lotti or of course "The Singing Nun", famous for her US No. 1 hit Dominique.
And, sure, 51 of the 259 famous Belgians listed are prime ministers of Belgium, but that counts dammit.
Then I started to think about waffles, Jean-Claude Van Damme and the European Union. And then my mind drifted further – specifically about two blocks further to a pub around the corner where you could just go to the bar and order a schooner.
But what would be the point of that?
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