This is an ongoing dilemma for your absolute favorite mooch crew. There are not enough hours in the day and not enough downtime to document our endeavors. It has been a whirlwind of activity for the VFH team and I am the first to admit that I have been lax in being a journalist. So, with an enfeebled attempt to catch up with our antics in Europe, today is our new entry.
You may recall the drunken soiree that was our travels last month in England, Scotland and Belgium. It started with Janet’s daughter getting married in Nantwich, England. Following this we took a train up to Edinburgh, Scotland for a two day visit. There we visited the Glenkinchie distillery and drank several whiskies at a proper whisky bar, The Bow Bar, just off the Royal Mile.
Afterwards we visited Brugge, Belgium. This medieval city was the site of several of our lengthy pub crawls. Some of the taverns were in buildings that were centuries old; one dated from 1515. All of them featured extensive beer menus offering upwards to 400 different beers! For beer lovers it was quite the place to visit. Looking back it’s hard to remember why we left that lovely city with its canals and windmills and cobblestoned streets, its bustling Markt with the cafes and the ominous bell tower. Oh… now I remember… it did not have a statue of a pissing boy.
Yes, throw away all the enchanting vistas, the cozy pubs with their pleasant chatty owners, the quiet lanes where the only sounds came from our clattering heels, we were off next to see the Manneken Pis…The Little Man Who Pisses…. In Brussels.
Janet said she had wanted to view this statue that perfectly represents the frivolity of this capital city for the past 25 years. When planning this leg of the trip we went back and forth about where to go. We thought of Gent and Antwerp. We considered renting a car to tour the countryside and to visit a monastery or two. But Janet pressed her wish to see this pissing boy statue.
She said she had to, ahem, go….
So, we went.
It is about an hour by train between the two cities and the station was just two blocks from our hotel. Brussels is a city, where Brugge was a small village in comparison. The hotel was a fancy one, especially by VFH standards, but Janet with her phenomenal researching got us a room at the Royal Windsor Grand Place Hotel for a fraction of the 350+ Euros price. After we freshened up, we grabbed our beer map of Brussels and set off in search of the Manneken Pis.
Brussels is a bi-lingual city by decree. The country of Belgium is split between Flemish and Walloonian cultures. Though Brussels, the capital, lies in the French influenced south, everything, state correspondence, menus and street signs are listed in both Flemish and French. We eventually found the little street urchin at the corner of Stoofstraat / Rue de L'Etuve and the Eikstraat / Rue du Chêne. Janet had waited 25 years to see him, and when we finally found the little square it seemed like all of God’s creation also wanted to gaze upon this little pissing boy. Hordes of tourists crowded the corner vying for positions to photograph the little scamp, mimicking his hand to his crotch gesture.. Signs warned of pickpockets. A tavern we thought to visit was directly across the narrow street. The outdoor seating was filled to capacity. We never caught the eye of a server and never got a beer there even when we went inside and after enduring the drunken revelry of a table of French speaking men nearby. Outside on the corner, a pushcart sells escargot. The roiling crowds were the complete opposite of our experiences in Brugge, but here was the iconic statue that embodies the frivolity and whimsy that is Brussels. To me it just seemed like chaos. This statue is Brussels’ Effiel Tower, he is their Empire State Building. So, important, and yet, he’s just a meter tall. Standing higher than the gathered throng, his flow splashes playfully at eye level. Thankfully he is ensconced behind a gate, lest some zealot decides to shake it for him. This has happened before. The first Manneken Pis was erected…no pun… in the early 1600’s, but vandals destroyed him a few years later. Another was put up in his place.
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Not only was the intersection choked with tourists, but the shops surrounding it sold likenesses of the little fellow in every conceivable form: key chains, bottle openers, miniature statues on Brussels pedestals to garden statuary. A waffle / ice cream shop had huge plastic versions of the little guy in front, one hand on his accouterment and the other holding a plastic waffle. Even the city of Brussels officially gets into the playful nature of the statue by allowing him to be clothed in little costumes made especially for him. It is a tradition that started years and years ago. When heads of state visit Brussels, they often bring an outfit for him to wear and the Manneken Pis is dressed up in clothing that is representative of that country. I wonder if they make him wear a diaper…. One of the 800+ outfits makes this wicked pisser little fellow look like Elvis Presley. One can marvel at the entire wardrobe at the Museum of the City of Brussels - Maison du Roi, Grand-Place.
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| don't stand too close |
