Once Upon a Time in Brussels.

Once Upon a Time in Brussels.

September 2007- June 2009.

Cover photo courtesy of Francisco Conde Sánchez. 

It is almost inexplicable that I have so few photos of Brussels. I lived there for nearly two years, you see. There are some defences I can put forward for this. First and foremost, it was an exceptionally busy period of my life. S and I were planning our wedding, which took up much of our free time.

Moreover, I had recently left my shit call centre job in Diegem to move back into English teaching as a freelancer. As such, many of my days were spent running from class to class at the various EU institutions I gave lessons at.

Photo courtesy of JLogan.

This was definitely one of the most challenging periods of my teaching career. Many of my group classes were made up of lawyers, department heads and diplomats. They could be demanding at the best of times, so I often went home exhausted, physically and mentally.

One of my private students was a big cheese called Aldo Longo. An Italian from Naples, he was (and still is) Director General for Agriculture and Rural Development at the European Commission. Our grammar lessons together always took place in his office, where his secretary would usually pop in halfway through to serve coffee.

Once Upon a Time in Brussels.

Photo courtesy of EmDee. 

Softly spoken and thoughtful, I really liked Aldo, even if I was also petrified of the man. In fact, I felt certain that somehow he couldn’t possibly be satisfied with my teaching. Until, that is, the day he invited me to dinner at his home! He and his wife were gracious hosts, I’ll always remember their kindness.

I must have taught hundreds of classes during my stay in Brussels. And yet I only have one photo to show for it. That’s Laurence (from France), Vito (Italian) and Manuel (Portuguese) pictured below, three of my elementary students at The European Council.

They were lovely people who always took it easy on me. Because, I reckon, our classes together were so horribly early (08:00 sharp!) that they were barely awake! My photo captures the day they brought in some snacks so that we could munch together while tackling a tricky present simple text about commuting to work. A warm memory.

With work and wedding planning as hectic as it was, it isn’t surprising that I dialled back the amount of time I spent exploring Brussels.

While living in Leuven I’d had lots of free time to get to know a city that I truly loved, right from the first few weeks. Brussels though, I was generally less enamoured with. I think the city and I just didn’t click. Hence much of my free time played out in the apartment being a home bird. We lived in a cosy one-bedroom unit on the 4th floor of a massive block on Avenue des Eperviers in the city’s leafy Woluwe neighbourhood.

Avenue des Eperviers.

I really liked that apartment, which played host to so many memorable evenings. Pretty much all my friends from The UK came to visit, as well as my mum, dad, brother and sister. Even Goldblum made it over from Nashville. Captured below is one of his legendary afternoon naps, which I had become so accustomed to back in our Bratislava days. 

That apartment witnessed some epic house parties. Steve C (back) had flown over from England, while our good friends and former neighbours Vicky (left) and Steven (right) took the train over from Leuven. Chris (England shirt) I met during my short stint working as a customer service rep for the coffee giant Nespresso. 

From time to time I held private English classes at home. Over the course of six months or so, I saved all the cash from those lessons, which I put towards my spending money for an amazing U.S. trip.

That epic holiday played out across the state of Tennessee with my friends Steve C and Steve P. A few months prior to flying, they came over to Brussels for a weekend of planning. It was a great couple of days, the three of us gorging on takeout and beers as we thrashed out the details of our stays in Washington D.C., Nashville, Memphis and Chattanooga.

Once Upon a Time in Brussels.

But of course I didn’t hide away from Brussels altogether. I was lucky enough, for example, to have the pretty Woluwe Park right on my doorstep. At 71 hectares, this is one of the city’s largest green spaces. Home to Japanese Cherry Trees, ponds, rock formations, swans, herons and even a few Egyptian geese!

I used to go jogging around the park two to three times a week. I always got a kick out of how it had been landscaped as an English-style park. Hilly and with a big pond, being the defining English features, apparently. King Leopold II ordered the park’s creation in the mid 1890s before its grand opening during the Brussels International Exposition of 1897.

Even for those with a stubborn case of Brussels apathy, there’s no doubting the splendour of the Grand Place. Surely one of Europe’s most impressive city squares.

Nevertheless, there were many times when I actively avoided The Grand Place due to the awful crowds. Especially if there was a market or event of some kind on. In contrast, on a quiet day it could be an absolute delight. The most atmospheric place in the city to enjoy baroque architecture over a beer, coffee or hot chocolate.

Photo courtesy of Celluici

Nearby, stands the kitschy but smile-inducing sight of Manneken Pis. Or the Pissing Boy, as some overseas tourists like to say. Made as a drinking fountain sometime in the late 1300s, Belgium’s most famous statue depicts a young naked boy peeing. Yes, the water comes right out of his dongle into a basin of water below. Classy.

Manneken Pis.

Over the centuries, the statue has been damaged, beheaded and stolen on dozens of occasions. The oldest surviving statue dates back to the early 1600s and now sits safely in Brussels City Museum. Its current incarnation is a replica made in 1965. Throughout each year, local authorities dress Pissing Boy in various custom-made costumes. There are around 1000 in total!

Scraping through the bare bones of what photos I have from central Brussels, I did find a capture of the highly pretty but ultimately soulless Rue Des Bouchers. With a history stretching back to The Middle Ages, the street’s name translates roughly as Butcher’s Street. Indeed it began life as a rough-and-ready market lane packed with meat sellers and sausage makers. Until, that is, the Great Plague of 1667 wiped them all out.

Photo courtesy of Rex.

Later, the street re-emerged as an area for restaurants, taverns and townhouses. Today’s narrow lane is picture perfect and well worth a stroll. You’ll just have to deal with annoying touts doing everything they can to badger you into their restaurants.

I once made the mistake of dining here. It was a big disappointment, with average food, overpriced dishes and indifferent service. More often than not, once a customer has placed their order the waiter’s charms die out faster than you can say “plague!” That’s me taking a wander through Butcher’s Street with my brother-in-law Thomas. 

Once Upon a Time in Brussels.

One memorable Brussels sight that certainly didn’t disappoint was The Royal Greenhouses of Laeken. They lie attached to the delightful Laeken Castle and its Royal Gardens in northern Brussels, built by the Dutch Governors of Hapsburg between 1782 and 1784. 

The castle and its spectacular grounds have been home to royalty since Belgian independence and Leopold I’s ascension to the throne. Today’s green spaces are another bounty of his son, Leopold II’s legacy. In addition to enjoying English style gardens, he became fascinated with Oriental architecture. Hence the grounds contain a Chinese pavilion, a Japanese pagoda and a Museum of Japanese Art.

Unfortunately, much of the gardens remain closed to the public. Royalty still live onsite you see, while many of the ancient buildings seem to be in a near-permanent state of renovation. Still, I managed to snatch a few shots from across the lake at The Greenhouses, which open to visitors for just three weeks a year. As a result, there’s usually a mad rush to grab a time slot online before tickets sell out.

Leopold wanted the greenhouses to serve as a grand statement of royal beauty, wealth and power. And to showcase one of the finest collections of plants, flowers and trees in Europe. In order to realise his lofty ambitions, he brought in the renowned architect Alphonse Balat to oversee the first phase of construction between 1874 and 1893.

The Greenhouses of Laeken.

Today’s metal and glass domed pavilions are celebrated as one of the most important and well-preserved sites of 19th century Belgium. Inside stands a stunning display of flora and vegetation, including roses, orchids, camellias, orange trees and Congolese palms. Watch out for some of the hanging plants, they might just swallow you up.

Well away form the Brussels tourist trail, I enjoyed some very cool experiences at two historic football stadiums. The first came when my mate England Chris (seen in the house photo earlier) invited me to join him for an afternoon watching Royale Union Saint-Gilloise.

Also known as Union SG, or simply USG, Chris had been supporting them for a few years. He was attracted by the fact that historically they are one of Belgium’s most successful clubs, but one that had sadly fallen on hard times. 

Founded in 1897, Union dominated Belgian football for years, winning no less than eleven Belgian championships between 1904 and 1935. But by the 40s and 50s their grip on silverware had considerably loosened.

Next, their fortunes began flailing altogether, culminating in relegation to the Belgian Second Division in 1963. By 1980, meanwhile, they had sunk as low as the fourth tier of Belgian football!

When I went to see them play in March 2009 they were treading water in the Third Division. Chris had promised me a proper “spit and sawdust” experience and that’s exactly what I got at Union’s modest 10.000 capacity home, the Joseph Marien Stadium.

Once Upon a Time in Brussels.

Photo courtesy of MM1912.

I found myself stood in a terraced section of the stadium among a small but hardcore group of Union SG fans. For the most part they were no-nonsense working class men who had zero reservations about calling a spade a spade.

Cheering, jeering, jibing and cackling among themselves in throaty French, there were several particularly colourful ringleaders who one might describe as characters.

As for the football itself, it wasn’t amazing. Just patches of genuine quality in evidence throughout a game that saw Union receive a royal walloping from Boussu Dour 5-1.

This did not go down well with the home faithful, who shook their heads, rolled their eyes and began labelling certain players… um… spades. There may even have been a “sacré bleu” or two thrown in along the way. Recently, while writing this article, I had a catchup call with Chris who reminded me that we actually went to two Union games together. And that in the other match Union won the game 5-1.

But the real story here is what happened in the years that followed. In 2015, after such a long period of toil and trouble, Union SG got promoted back up to the Belgian Pro League, the country’s top division. They were also bought out by the English millionaire entrepreneur Tony Bloom.

In the 2021-2022 season they nearly won the championship (!), narrowly missing out with a second place finish. At the time of writing, in the midst of the 2022-2023 campaign, Union SG lie second again and are fighting for their first major league championship since 1935. No spades here, methinks.

Joseph Marien Stadium.

I’ll sign this piece off with a brief look at my visit to Belgium’s national football arena, the King Baudouin Stadium. Opened in 1930, it takes its name after Leopold III’s son, Baudouin, king of Belgium from 1951 until his death in 1993.

Funnily enough, I didn’t visit the stadium to see a football match! Rather, this was the venue for Randstad’s annual company party. S worked for Randstad at the time, so along I went full of curiosity.

What a strangely enjoyable afternoon it turned out to be. There was juggling, balloon making, bongo drum performances and, of course, much consumption of Belgian beer, herring and waffles. Security was incredibly lax, so much so that a bunch of us were able to waltz onto the pitch for a kickabout! 

Below is a treasured shot of my efforts to save a penalty on Belgium’s hallowed turf. The guy who took the penalty made an absolute mess of it, note how the actual ball is nowhere to be seen. But hey, I reckon I’d have saved it anyway. And if not, I had a little friend who’d have taken care of the left hand corner. 

For more on my time in Belgium have a look at my article on Leuven.

I’ve also written a short story series called Based In Belgium.

I’ve been living, working and traveling all over the world since 2001. So why not check out my huge library of travel reports from over 30 countries.