We accidentally loved Brussels. We came in for like thirty six hours, passing from two must-do’s (Amsterdam and Paris), and saw that the weather was calling for mostly rain for the two days we were there. We had herd a lot of great things about Brussels from friends family, beer lovers and waffle enthusiasts, so it isn’t fair to say we had low expectations. But when we walked through the drizzling rain to our hotel and stepped foot for the first time in the Grand Palace Square, we realized we really don’t know anything about Brussels. We both felt like it could easily pass us by and, as long as we got a waffle and some good chocolate out of it, the world would continue to turn.
As she tends to do, Kylie picked up on this early and refused to let it happen. We decided to try a walking tour and it not only saved us from a relatively bland visit, it opened our eyes to the deep beauty of Brussels.
Brussels is a divided city within a divided country. The French influence and the Dutch influence crash palpably in this little city in the middle of Belgium. The street signs are all in two languages – Dutch and French. It is courageously living the balancing act between the diverse influence and power of Europe. Speaking of delicate balance, Brussels is also the home of the European Union.
One of my favorite stories in Europe is about the ruler of Belgium, Albert (King?), who was in leadership during World War One and refused to step aside as Germany made its way toward France. They knew they’d lose, but they refused to be a doormat. They fought. Albert gave a great speech and told his country (which had only been a country for like 30 years or so) that any country that fought for itself is always going to be a country.
Brussels is a place that drips with courage. It was hard for us to put our finger on, but it is courage that spurs the Belgian city to its greatness. The courage to stand up to oppressors, the courage to balance two colliding influences, the courage to represent the whole of Europe (mostly). Belgium is the little country that could. It is whimsical and grand, practical and majestic. It has monks making its beer, for goodness sake.
Lastly, I want to mention that we came across some great churches while we were in Brussels. It is probably the place we visited the most churches so far – they have an open door policy with their old cathedrals. Sitting in each of those spaces, solemnly saying the Lord’s prayer, which I’ve adopted as a custom in each cathedral/church/basilica/abbey/chapel we go into, it really hits me how wonderfully active most of these churches are. They aren’t relics. They are active congregations. What a great evangelistic tool! What a great statement of identity! These old cathedrals are doing what we should be doing all the time – opening our doors and inviting people in and worshipping the Lord while they whisper and point in curiosity.
I think this appreciation that the old cathedrals are remaining active really hit me in Brussels because of the over-arching theme of courage. There is a beautiful boldness, an appreciation and acceptance, a maturity, that Brussels has when it contemplates itself and treats its visitors. If Brussels doesn’t know, they say they don’t know. If they don’t care, they say they don’t care. If they are confused, they good-naturedly admit their confusion. Driven by Albert’s leadership in the early part of the Twentieth Century, Brussels is courageously being itself, swirling between two forces and using the inertia to become a force of its own.
Brussels reminds me of who I want to be and who I am, at my best. A slightly confused swirl of diverse influences. Courageously stubborn when my deep self is threatened. Full of hidden beauty and acknowledged practicality. Adaptive, but only for the sake of purpose.
If you get a chance, don’t miss Brussels. And if you have the chance, don’t be afraid to be a little more like Brussels.
