A morning walk, Brussels

The heat in Paris last summer was unbearable. I figured Brussels would be cooler. I grabbed the train to the Gare du Midi. The Southern Station. (Above at the Gare du Midi: Tintin in America, second Tintin album)

I had a drink at a local friendly bar. Try the new shot. Only 5 Euros. “Feck P*tin”.

I hopped to the Grand-Place. Using my newly acquired panoramic techniques. Clearly COVID was over in Europe. Well, on the Continent maybe. We’d caught the ghastly bug in London two weeks before.

Circling the Grand-Place clockwise: to the left, City Hall, the Hôtel de Ville, built in the 1400’s. Most buildings on the Grand-Place are from the 1400’s to the 1600’s, a time of wealth and power for the entire region.

To the west, facing us at the centre, is the “Roy d’Espagne”, the King of Spain. A brasserie we went to on an international meeting years ago. My Spanish colleague refused to stay: “There are Spaniards hanging from the ceiling.” Puppets. A reminder of Spain’s iron rule over Flanders. And massacres at the hand of the Duke of Alba. (Turning clockwise again:)

In the centre, the grey building is the Maison du Roi, the King’s House. Torn down and rebuilt in the 19th century. À l’ancienne.

Facing us, the Kings’ House and the North side of the Grand-Place. To the right, on the east side of the Grand-Place, is the House of the Dukes of Brabant. After 1695, and the bombing of Brussels by the French troops of Louis 14th (oops), that section was torn down and re-built in 1698. Three years? Surely you jest? No machines? Running water? No. Electricity? No. That might explain the short delays. Or were they more efficient? (Less norms too).

No trip to Brussels would be complete without fries. Which, BTW, are not French. The Belgians invented them.

And beer. Don’t forget beer. Some of my ancestors were brewers 50 miles down south around the 16-17th century.

De bankier met zijn vrouw. The banker and his wife. Based on Quentin Metsys. Anvers, 16th century. Beaux-Arts museum, Brussels. (A very fine museum). He counts the money, she is reading a prayer book. Thick warm clothes. Wool made the fortune of the Northern provinces then.

Hop to the 20th century: Broussaille, right, and his girlfriend, Catherine, left, with the short black hair. Belgium is the cradle of “Franco-Belgian” comics. This particular charming series was started by Frank Pé in the 80’s in Spirou. Series seems to be on hold. Broussaille and Catherine were a charming pair. They still grace the walls of Brussels. Watch the details carefully. They’re walking on air. (One might also compare the clothes and attitude with the banker and his wife.)

St-Michael and St-Gudula cathedral. The patron saints of Brussels. The cathedral’s main construction lasted from the 11th to the 16th century. Five centuries.

“Honey! Did you pick Junior at school?”

René Magritte. (1898-1967). He was the main Belgian participant in André Breton’s Surrealist movement. A magnificent artist. I visit his museum just about any time I go to Brussels. In this photograph, Magritte is posing near his own rendition of Fantomas. See another below:

“Le retour de la flamme”. The return of the flame. Magritte museum. 1943. Painted in occupied Brussels. Fantomas was a master of crime – and elegance – developed by Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain in France before WWI. A character Magritte liked very much. (Or so I’m told)

Jimmy Stewart was here. Want a hat? (Aw shucks.)

The census of Bethlehem, by Peter Brueghel the elder. Mary is in the centre foreground riding on a donkey as she and Joseph arrive to be registered. Brueghel paints Bethlehem as a village in Flanders in 1566. The peasants, the snow. The iced canals… Whenever I look at one of his paintings I can see the way my ancestors lived.

Wanna ride?

Olivier Rameau and Colombe Tiredaile. (Names are almost impossible to translate). A series from the journal of Tintin starting in the late sixties. Scenario by Greg, art by Dany. A very poetic series of the “golden age” of comics.

Let’s have a Kriek (Cheery beer) in a glass of “Mort subite” (Sudden Death, a strooong Belgian beer) with the Brugse Zot (The Fool from Bruges) on the Place de Brouckère…

Place de Brouckere. Only the façade remains, held by the scaffolding, and the words of a song:

“Et la Place de Brouckère aux serpents de néon (“And the Square of Brouckere of the neon snakes)

Inscrit dans le ciel le nom de Bruxelles ” (Writes in the sky the name of Brussels.”)

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Mesdames et Messieurs, Dames en Heren, please welcome: Jacques Brel.”

That’s all for Brussels today folks. Remember, wherever you are, drink a “Feck P*tin” shot, and above all:

Free Ukraine 🇺🇦