Election Day in Belgium

I accompanied my friends to the polling station on Election Day, where elections were being contested at the regional, national and European levels. Voting is compulsory in Belgium; failure to present yourself at the polls elicits a modest fine. Voting is considered one of the obligations of a citizen living in a democratic society. Of course, the government cannot make you cast a vote. A person could simply leave the ballot blank, or even spoil it. In such case, the voter will have fulfilled his or her civic duty. 

Over breakfast before going to the polls, L expressed his frustration at what he saw was increasing belief that the relationship between the people and the government was one of all rights, without obligations on the part of citizens. Thus, very few people were interested in performing the duties, services and niceties that make a democratic society work. But people demanded more rights without consideration of its effects upon others. He worried that this trend toward, what I would call individualism or narcissism was eroding the democratic nature of Belgium.

The Language Border in Belgium

Meanwhile, G was concerned about the future of her village, one where she grew up and lived most of her life. She opined that the village was not the same place as when she grew up. The influx of Francophones had substantially changed the village. In Belgium, Flanders is Flemish-speaking, Wallonia French-speaking, and the city of Brussels is officially bilingual, however historically dominated by Francophones. Brussels is completely encircled by Flanders, with a thin strip of land that separates the city from Wallonia. L and G’s house, located in Flanders, just south of Brussels. is situated less than a quarter of a mile from the language frontier, the official divide between Flemish and French speakers. Francophone Belgian citizens who have moved to the Flemish villages that encircle the capital, have established their own organizations and social networks, demanding more services be provided to the citizens in French. G worries that this is diminishing the Flemish language. Because the new people have a limited knowledge of Dutch, it did not allow anyone to know and use the complexity and beauty of the language. 

Political Protest in Flanders

As we arrived at the Catholic school a that served as the polling station, friends and neighbors greeted one another with handshakes and cheek-to-cheek air kisses. Because everyone is compelled to appear at the polls, on a Sunday between 8am and 2pm, there is a good chance that people will see several people they will know. Whether people like it or not, compulsory voting is an opportunity to visit and connect to the community. Walking to the poll, L points out a restaurant and caterer in center of the village, one that has its services listed in Flemish and French. Someone has used black paint in an attempt to mask the French words.  Although the language issue is often discussed, it is one of the few instances of political protest I have seen in the years I have been coming to Belgium and Flanders.

Given the number of political parties, the ballot is large. Sample ballots line the walls. A bulletin board that separates the line from the voting area. On it is posted the relevant statutes regarding election. Hanging from a long piece of twine is a 300-page booklet, in both French and Dutch, enumerating the rules and procedures of elections used, presumably, in case of a dispute. Despite the hundreds of people queuing to vote, I am the only person who casually wonder over to thumb through it. 

After voting, L and G had another task: G’s brother and wife were on holiday in Greece. In what is a complete anathema to Americans, they would L and G would go to vote in their place. We walked over to another of the village’s polling place, this time in a primary school where G once taught, my friends produced a letter from the mayor and an affidavit signed by the principles and cast ballots on their relative’s behalf. At once it seemed opened to malfeasance and fraud, but in light of the mandate of compulsory voting, it makes complete sense.

The entire process was one in which the act of voting was not merely a right that once could exercise, it was a duty that citizens were expected to perform. From my perspective it promoted a sense of community. Each and every person, often with children in tow, were expected to present themselves to express their ideas and opinion on government. No one is left out; no one excluded. A chance for the people to make their voices heard. 

Exploring Alsemberg

My explorations near the language border of Belgium, on the south side of Brussels, are always interesting and provide much food for thought. As took a Saturday afternoon walked in late May in Fleming-speaking Sint-Genesius-Rode, many people were gardening, cutting the lawn or making general repairs to their homes. It was a beautiful afternoon. As I passed through one neighborhood I noticed a discarded tennis ball was hiding in the leaves at the end of a driveway. My first thought was that the ball seemed quite out of place. It made me realize that the amount of litter and debris in this sleepy little village in rural Belgium is substantially less than it would be in a village of similar size in the United States. This is in part because shoppers have to pay for plastic bags as part of a tax to reduce usage. Consequently, there are very few bags tossed carelessly along the road or empty lots.

I was making my way for Alsemberg, a nearby village. As I walked down the street called Steenweg naar Halle, a couple in a Renault beckoned me over, “Monsieur…s’il vous plait.” Although I could have tentatively responded in French, I calculated that it was easier for me to smile, shake my head and say, “I’m sorry,” knowing full well they were going to ask for directions. The lady smile understandingly, waved and said, “It’s OK.” She was no doubt going to ask how to navigate the washed out road about a half a kilometer further down. I knew how to go around, but there was no way I was going to be able to explain it in French.

One of the things I like in Flanders is the apartment buildings, which are generally made of brick and have a distinctive architectural design. One, at the corner of Tenbroekstraat, has a yellow-tile look to the brick that is very different. Built in 1949, the decorative art and details catches my eye every time I travel the road. Many have small designs that subtly enhance the distinctiveness of the building, while at the same time fits nicely into the community.

Our Lady in Alsemberg

The village of Alsemberg is a small town of about 5,000 people. It is quite busy on a Saturday afternoon, with many people shopping and running weekly errands. I wandered in the OxFam shop and mused that the name for a garden shop, “Sophie’s Choice,” was somewhat inappropriate. The gothic church in the center of town, the Church of Our Lady in Alsemberg, was constructed in the second half of the fourteenth century. While the interior of the church was closed during my visit, outside there is an evocative memorial to soldiers who died during the Second World War.

The Mariakapel van de Steenput. Erected by
the Meurs Family in 1849

One of the most interesting phenomena in Flanders is the number of Mariakapel (Maria Chapels) that are found throughout the region. Field Mariakapels (or freestanding Mariakapels) are not associated or attached to a church and are often found along roadsides or farm fields in Belgium and the Netherlands. Once you begin to notice them, they are everywhere. Most of the time a statue of Mary, the mother of Jesus, is found inside a small post that is decorated with flowers or paintings. Seemingly, most date from the nineteenth century.

 

Witloof

Much of Flemish cuisine is based on a peasant diet and reflects the relatively cool climate that required energy for agricultural work. Much of the food is familiar with interesting variations in seasonings and combinations. Of course, it is very common to serve frites (Belgian fries) with many meals. Seemingly most families have a small fryer to make frites. Small shops that serve frites with mayonnaise, often resembling converted trailers and reminiscent of diners in the United States, dot Belgium.

When Americans see Belgian endive in the grocery store, it is often hard to know how to use it. Sometimes it is added to salads. Although bitter raw, when cooked witloof has a delicate flavor that makes a nice contrast to potatoes and mild meat. Here is a simple Flemish recipe that uses the plant as a side dish:

Cut the endive (witloof) in half, long wise. Remove the hearts and discard. In a deep pan, melt butter on low heat. When the butter is melted, arrange the endive in the pan so that each piece is touching the bottom of the pan. Add salt and pepper to taste and about 2 ounces of water. Cover and cook for 20 minutes, the endive should have a caramelized / brown color.

Gently turn each half of endive in the pan, keeping each piece intact. Add more water if necessary, and cook another 20 minutes.

My host serves witloof with roasted pork and potatoes (mashed or boiled).

Churches in Brugge

Bruges (or Brugge in Flemish) is famous for its medieval architecture, especially its churches. Among the more famous the Church of Our Lady has one of the few sculptures of Michelangelo that is housed outside of Italy; the Basilica of the Holy Blood, which regularly features a veneration of the relic that is said to be the blood of Jesus, is very popular among tourists. What peaks my curiosity is some of the other churches in Bruges that are not as popular among tourists. Many have interesting architecture and even more beautiful artwork inside. It is disappointing when some of these so-called minor churches are not open to travelers. The lack of access only fuels my interest.

Unidentified Church in Bruges

On a recent trip to Bruges I found this church, on Nieuwe Gentweg, which appears to be abandoned and in disuse. Despite some initial investigations, I have been unable to identify the name of the church or any other information. While it appears to be of some interest in terms of architecture, it is far enough off the tourist path it probably did not benefit from regular donations from those wandering in. The simple stained glass windows and declining state of repair beckoned me to further investigation. It appears that the church has been empty for some time now, and cracked window panes and boarded up doors lend an air of decline. Sadly, for now, my curiosity goes unfulfilled. 

The First Shopping Mall?

The Galleries Royal Saint Hubert, located in central Brussels near the Grand Place, is the precursor to the modern shopping mall. Inaugurated in 1847, the galleries were a fashionable setting for shopping and gathering in the mid-to-late nineteenth century Brussels. Originally, Saint Hubert was designed to link two commercial districts and its glass and steel architecture lured shoppers in even when the weather in Belgian was not so good.  Since its opening the gallery has been the home of boutiques and luxurious shops. Particularly in the early days of its existence, the gallery was the home of newspaper editors, artistic clubs, as well as high-end retail shops, therefore it quickly became a gathering place for elites and intellectuals.

The convergence of modernity, intellectualism and beauty helped to create the idea of the importance of shopping to modern consumer culture. The motto of Saint Hubert, “Omnibus Omnia” (Everything for Everybody), assures the patron that everything that they might possibly want or need, materially and spiritually, can be obtained within the premise of the shopping experience. It even suggests that if you do not know what you need, the shops inside will help you identify what you might need. This is an example of the development of modern culture where, moving away from the traditional society, the person can be seemingly be fulfilled outside the realm of religion. That is, shopping provides everything one might need.

One of the most significant events, at least from my perspective, that took place in the galleries was on 1 March 1896 when the Lumiere Brothers screened their cinematic program for the first time in Belgium. It was just a mere two months following their initial Paris exhibition (28 December 1895), which was the first public performance of moving pictures ever projected on the screen. Although I need to do more research, it seems that the cinema located in the Royal Gallery might have been the first cinema to include paying customers rather than invited guests.