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Map Key Flanders Wallonia Country border Regional border 1 Oostende 2 Brugge 3 Gent 4 Brussels 5 Ath 6 Mons 7 Enghien 8 Namur 9 Spa

Contents How it works

Oostende

Brugge

Gent

Brussels

Ath

Mons

Enghien

Namur

Spa

How it works Hello and welcome to unrestricted. I’m so glad you’ve decided to come on this journey through Belgium. There’s so much for you to see, but don’t run off straight away, here’s a lil’ explanation so that you can enjoy unrestricted to the fullest. On the inside cover of this book, you will have noticed a map. As we explore Belgium, passing from city to town, from castle to chocolate shop, your map will make sure you’re heading in the right direction. The book will guide you around this wonderful country, giving you personal reflections and helping you understand the cultural importance of Belgian food, events, traditions and more! But it doesn’t stop there, make sure you’ve downloaded the unrestricted virtual reality app to access even more fun! Through unrestricted’s VR you’ll get a digital version of the map, that will connect you to unique and enrapturing experiences at every stop. So come on then, lets’ get cracking or as the Belgian’s say...

Allez! Allez! Allez!

Belgium, you have my heart. Before we go racing away, there’s something to you I must say, so you can truly embrace, this beautiful, wonderful and special place. I hope you’ll see before we depart, just why dear Belgium has my heart. 15 Chemin des Prince, Soignies, Belgium. The place where I grew from a tiny girl into a young woman in what, looking back, feels like the course of 24 hours. The red bricks of the house layered row on row on row, white shutters half-closed to shield the inside from the bright rays of the midsummer sun. Outside ants use cracks in the driveway as causeways, as they gather food for their queen. Next door you can hear the young Belgian boy Piere shouting to his mother from the garden. He plays with you on your trampoline sometimes, cringing at your pigeon French. You like it this time of year because the wood across the street conceals the view to the Chateau that lies deep within the trees; it feels mysterious and enchanting when you catch a

obedient guard dogs, warning their neighbours of a possible intruder. But you’re not one. You’re just a young blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl, your innocence painted on your face with a delicate grin. This is the Belgium that sticks with me. The peaceful simplicity of everyday life; the loud slaps of rain on open leaves, scoffing mayonnaise frites on the corner and giggling at escargots in the supermarket with my sister. I guess that’s how I want you to feel as you turn the pages of this book, lost in the playful adventure of a small child, excited for what they’ll encounter next.

This is the Belgium that sticks with me. The peaceful simplicity of everyday life; the loud slaps of rain on open leaves, scoffing frites on on the corner and giggling at escargots in the supermarket with my sister.

glimpse of it whilst you whizz past on your bike. You don’t look for too long for fear that the wheels of your bike might stray from the road and clip the edge of the grass that marks the start of your slightly OCD neighbour’s lawn. He cares for it meticulously, to breach the border would get you in trouble. In the distance, you hear the hum of a gruff Belgian voice amplified by a speaker. Somewhere not too far from you, the man is sat sweltering in the heat of his white van, muttering words through his speaker pleading you to give him scrap metal. The only words you can ever decipher are always the same, “dix-huit, dixnuef”, although their relevance you can never understand. As you ride on rubber wheels against warm tarmac, you hear the cacophony of barks from 8

Off on a ferry, crossing the sea, where will we go, who will we see?

When I think of Belgium, I think about the perpetually grey sky; the Angele lyric ‘we don’t even have daylight for 6 months out of the year’ lightly rings in my ears.

Welgekomen to Flanders Gij zegt dat ‘t vlaamsch te niet zal gaan: ‘t en zal! dat ‘t waalsch gezwets zal boven slaan: ‘t en zal! Dat hopen, dat begeren wij: dat zeggen en dat zweren wij: zoo lange als wij ons weren, wij: ‘t en zal, ‘t en zal, ‘t en zal! Welcome to Flanders, the Dutch speaking, Northern region of Belgium, if you look at your map, it’s the big patch of land in green that stretches right across the top half. Home to around 6 million people, this region was the inspiration for the World War poem Flanders Fields, the birth place of Belgian chocolate and has the most castles per square mile in the world! The region is full of beautiful medieval architecture which is best displayed in Gent, Brugge and Antwerpen. When I was young, I loved this part of Belgium; it always felt so clean and tidy, with rolling green hills and flowers filling the fields in summertime. We also used to go to the mega water

parks, which was probably another reason I liked it so much. Flanders is home to the long straight Belgian coastline, where you can find some of the most delicious seafood you’ve ever tried. The capital city of Bruxelles can also be found in the Flanders region; it’s lively, multicultural and the people are friendly and charming. There’s so much for you to see here! But before you dive straight into this wonderful region, it’s only right and fair that you learn a few basic words and phrases, after all it is polite! Dutch isn’t an easy language, and you’ll have to master the softer Belgian accent, but I believe in you.

English

Dutch

Hello

Hallo

How are you?

Hoe gaat het met jou?

Goodbye

Tot ziens

Excuse me where is...

Excuseer me, waar is...

The ferry is so cute.

De veerboot is zo lief.

Yum, chocolate is my favourite.

Jammie, chocolade is mijn favoriet.

No thanks, I don’t like cow tongue.

Nee bedankt, ik hou niet van koeientong.

Yes, I can ride a bike.

Ja, ik kan fiesten. 15

OOSTENDE Jumping fishes, flying kites, let’s find some succulent seafood, and other seaside delights. map mark 1

You Have Arrived You’ve made it onto Belgian soil, excited? Good me too. Now let’s explore! Stretched out before you, stacked like lego bricks, are the white buildings that line the seafront of the Belgium coast, light sand leads out to the sea below; this is Oostende. The brick pier looks like cheerios piled on top of each other until they’ve breached the waves. The promenade is awash with parasols, carefully placed by brasseries attempting to attract tourists. Bikes whizz past the open storefronts, but something else has caught your eye... As the wind whips through the sand, forming patterns as it blows, it also bears the weight of hundreds of kites. You look at them in wonder, spotting the different shapes; some look like cartoon characters, others look like

animals, seahorses, caterpillars and even a giant shark, whilst a few are indistinct rainbow shapes, swooping and circling in the wind. This is the Oostende Kite Festival; held in May it sees teams of stunt artists descend onto the beach to fly kites, all be it rather strangely, to the beat of electrodance music. The kites flying in synchronicity are the object of fascination to any passers-by and children LOVE them. But watch your ankles! The Belgian kids are racing up and down the promenade on their eight-man peddle bikes, using the wind as rocket fuel. Let’s not miss out! Hop into the VR to get a better look.

Oh what fun to be, on a push bike next to the sea, laughing and peddling with glee, waving at anyone we see.

Often described as unassuming with scruffy charm, Oostende gets a bad rep. But Oostende has a certain charm and mystery that can not be found in pretty old buildings alone. Oostende is culturally rich; its streets are awash with the vibrant colours sprayed upon the walls by street artists, the food is an excellent representation of the stock of their seas and the language is the perfect melodic rhythm of Flemish Dutch. I want you to stay awhile and discover its charm. We’re getting the ferry from Visserskaai to Ooesteroever (the East Bank). The ferry is small and its white paintwork is awash with blue, wave-like shapes. You notice the boat’s name, Roger Reveel, in black print on the bow. As it approaches, motor churning grey-blue water into bubbles, you look at the queue and begin to question how on earth all these people and their bikes are going to fit onto the ferry?! You board, slotting in like a jigsaw piece amongst commuters’ bikes and other passengers. The quiet bubbling of the motor amplifies to a roar and you leave the harbour behind. You head out on the open sea, wind rattling around your ears. You notice that you’re passing the cheerio like pier that grabbed your attention before and watch the sea as it curls up at the edges, forming foamy white patterns. After some time, Roger Reveel ports and you look out at the vast dunes covered in thick beach grass. Lange

Nelle lighthouse stands proudly, its thin structure and blue swirls reaching towards the sky, there is little need for it on a clear day like today. Take your time to lose yourself in the quieter part of town. Walk along the beach barefoot and let the sand squish between your toes. Or maybe since Oostende and Oosteroever are renowned as openair galleries, perhaps you could go out and find your favourite mural? And if you’re feeling peckish, you could go to the seafood market and source a traditional Belgian recipe for Sliptong or shrimp croquettes... what will you decide to do?

BRUGGE Medieval buildings, winding canals, we follow the cobbles, circling around and around. map mark 2

My sister is small, but her appetite is mighty. I remember the first time we went to Brugge; it was bitterly cold, the kind of cold that seeps through your clothing and nestles close to your bones. My sister decided to buy a waffle from a kiosk in the ancient walls to warm up, it was HUGE! I would have loved to have seen the look of surprise on our faces, as we watched a petite young girl demolish her bodyweight in sweet, fluffy Belgian deliciousness.

Do you have a sweet tooth? Completely opposite to the art deco and often forgotten about Oostende is the medieval city of Brugge. With horses and carriages trotting up the ancient cobbled streets, and swans delicately swimming up its winding canals, Brugge has earnt itself a romantic reputation comparable with the likes of Venice. Although this city is a tourist hotspot, it would be wrong not to take you here, for Brugge is one of the best places in Belgium to get delicious traditional chocolate! Chocolate is a big deal to the Belgians, it’s not just something they produce it’s part of who they are, an object of national pride. In 2007 the Belgians took a stand against copycats and introduced the ‘Belgian Chocolate Code’ to guarantee that

any Belgian chocolate really has come from Belgium. Each traditional shop is filled with hand-made delicacies freshly produced in the early hours of the morning. If you weren’t hungry before you entered you will be once you’re inside, your eyes will dart left to right in wonder at the scrumptious, beautifully wrapped treats on display and your nose will be filled with the bitter smell of cocoa and the sweet scent of melted chocolate. Traditionally there are three types of Belgian chocolate for you to stuff your chops with; Pralines are any type of filled chocolate, be it buttercream, nut paste or anything else! The soft filling is deliciously wrapped in white, milk or dark chocolate shells. Truffles are equally tempting but slightly more 28

Be warned, this little Belgian lady has a changeable temperament... expensive; these rich and creamy chocolates are made by wrapping ganache in a solid or cocoa powder shell. Finally, there is Gianduja, invented during the Napoleonic era, Gianduja is a soft almond or nut paste delicately cut into small rectangular blocks and wrapped in golden paper. No two shops are the same; they all hold secrets to iconic family recipes or innovative new chocolate designs. In truth, there really is something for everyone. During your exploration of Brugge, you find a small brick house tucked away in the corner of Aartrijkestraat. When looking at the shop’s outside, you notice its funky shaped roof and Dark-Age windows and chuckle to yourself as you think that the house

wouldn’t be out of place in Harry Potter’s Hogsmeade Village. This shop is home to the Dumon Chocolatiers; the long-running family business was started by Stephan Dumon and is respected as one of the best and most authentic chocolatiers in Brugge. The Dumon Chocolatier is now run by Madam Dumon and her daughter Nathalie. You may be won by her sweet smile and polite manners but be warned, this little Belgian lady has a changeable temperament that is not for the faint-hearted and has even won her shop some scathing reviews. But whilst she’s low-key petrifying, she is also a chocolate connoisseur; try to stay on her good side as you enter the VR for an exclusive chocolate making workshop with Madam Dumon herself!

GENT Dragons and drama, so much fun to be had, be careful not to wobble, or you’ll hurt your bum bad. map mark 3

“Victory, not death for the dragon, but victory! He shall live among us forever!” This is Gent, the capital of Eastern Flanders, a cultural hub and filled with probably the most laid back people you will ever meet. The kind and easygoing nature of the Gent people is ironic in the sense that it juxtaposes the city’s turbulent history. The truth is their culture is built on defiance and rebellion, which could not be represented in any better way than the dragon-filled Belfort. Standing between SintBaafskathedraal and Sint-Niklaaskerk church (soon to be a supermarket!) the bell tower sits upon the cobbled square in the city centre. The tall tower with opulent golden fixtures and gothic gargoyles not only symbolises the freedom of the citizens of Gent,

but also has a magnificent view if you climb all 255 steps to the top! So what about dragons? The story of the Weeping Dragon is a Belgian folklore. It tells the tale of Buccoleon, a dragon whose tears made tulips grow and who was accidentally shot by an archer from the belltower. To pay their respect to the dragon’s tears that had brought them wealth and tulips, they placed him on the weather vane at the top of the Belfort proclaiming “Victory, not death for the dragon, but victory! He shall live among us forever!”. The golden cast of the dragon looks out over the town and is the guardian mascot of Gent. You can see Buccoleon dramatically breathe fire during the 10 day Genting Festival!

But it’s not medieval drama we’re here for, no no, we’ve come for sporting antics instead. Cycling is one of Belgium’s national sports and the country has had a lot of success, especially with cycling legend Eddie Merckx. Whilst Gent is renowned for its brutal Cobbles Classic the Gent-Wevelgem, which sees cyclists whizz over the cobbles at speeds of up to 45km, it is also home to the infamous Citadel Park Velodrome. Known as Kuipke or ‘Little Tub’ this short and incredibly steep track hosts the Gent Six Days cycling race each year and you’re going to give it a go! Be sure to keep your eyes on the track, the steep edges can be deadly if you crash, as was the case for Spanish rider Isaac Gálvez in 2006. Right, now I’ve frightened the life out of you, try to stay upright as you whizz around the track and, afterwards enjoy storytime with Belgian cycling royalty, Eddie Merckx!

You glance down into the open freezer to find a large tongue precariously wrapped in cellophane; the flesh dramatically pushing against the clear covering, like it’s gasping for breath.

You’ve just been enjoying a casual stroll through the supermarket, oggling at delicious pastries, when you glance down into the open freezer to find a large tongue precariously wrapped in cellophane; the flesh dramatically pushing against the clear covering, like it’s gasping for breath. For you, a slightly horrified foreigner, this sight is something fit for The Silence of the Lambs, but for a Belgian, this is a top tier dinner time delicacy, Beef Tongue! Beef tongue is a big deal in Belgium,it is prepared by boiling it until it is nice and soft; the tough skin on the outside is then peeled away and the tongue is thinly sliced. The Belgians serve tongue with potato croquettes and LOTS of Madeira sauce. Would you dare to give it a try?

Which would you rather, moules et frites or shrimp croquettes? Here’s the thing about supermarkets, they may seem unspectacular, but they are a window into the culinary soul of a country. Belgium is a country filled with big time foodies, and the supermarkets show it! Sugary treats like chocolates and waffles are not all that’s on offer here! If you’re a sucker for seafood, why not try tucking into some garlicy moules et frites or tempting shrimp croquettes covered in crispy bread crumbs. Meat eater? They’ve got you covered; try getting your chops around a mighty Belgian Blue steak! And of course, there is the holy grail of Belgian food, the humble frite! No, before you start, it’s not a

French fry, it’s actually a Francophone fry. Oringinally made in Namur, these potatoes are thinly sliced and fried to perfection. Folklore states that in the cold winter of 1680 the River Meuse froze over, preventing the locals from frying fish; instead, they fried potatoes! Now, I know you’re dying to give them a try, but you’ll have to eat them with mayonnaise if you want to look like a real Belgian. So maybe all is not lost for the quaint church, destined to be a supermarket, sitting sleepily in Gent’s town centre. Perhaps it will hold a cultural significance of another kind? Go on, have a wonder around one, who knows what you might find..

BRUSSELS Oh Brussels, oh Brussels, the home of the sprout, I can’t wait to find out what this city is all about. map mark 4

The Cartoon Capital I love Belgium dearly, but it has to be said Brussels is probably the only place that has a bit of oomph to it. Whilst the rest of the Belgian towns have a quiet serenity to them, Brussels has a bit more of a buzz. This multicultural city is renowned as the capital of Europe and is bustling with different people from all walks of life. You’ve arrived in the Grand Place, one of many you’ll visit this tour, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the decadent gothic architecture surrounding you. People amble past you with their maps at the ready and you can hear the echo of tourists asking ‘où est le Mannaken Pis?’ in questionable French accents. It’s rude to laugh, but you do a little. As you begin to travel onwards with the hoard of tourists, setting off to cover

famous Belgian cartoons around the city. The likes of Tintin, Spirou and of course the Smurfs have all been delicately added to the walls; cartoons are an important part of Belgian culture and Brussels is said to be the capital of the comic strip! In fact art in general holds a lot of cultural significance for the Belgian people and there’s no better place to become acquainted with the likes of Belgian Surrealism and Art Nouveau than in Brussels. You’re going on an art tour to learn more, but with a slight twist. Head over to the VR to meet your tour guide, Tintin and see all that the city has to offer in his red car, be sure to leave room on your lap for Snowy!

the usual route of the Grand Place, Mannaken Pis and the Royal Palace, something catches your eye. A small familiar cheeky face grins at you from the side of an old building, it’s the face of Tintin! You’re surprised that seeing the face of Tintin has brought you a feeling of giddy, childish excitement, but worry not, I know that feeling well. Perhaps one of my favourite memories of Brussels comes from marvelling at the cartoons too. One day, me and my dad went to Le Plattesteen on Rue du Marché au Charbon, Dad had his usual fix of Belgian beer and we sat talking whilst gazing up at the beautiful cartoon mural painted on the building next door. Sometimes, it’s nice to just spend time simply. You can find countless murals of 48

You’re surprised that seeing the face of Tintin has brought you a feeling of giddy, childish excitement, but worry not, I know that feeling well.

The Manneken Pis is a bronze fountain sculpture that can be found in the centre of Brussels. The popular tourist attraction depicts a young boy urinating into a pool. When I was young I found it hilarious and often pushed my luck making cheeky jokes about him. The souvenir shops were filled with Manneken Pis keepsakes and my sister and I could often be found giggling at the corkscrews, which replaced the sculptures appendage with the corkscrew worm.

The smell of spice tickles your nose as the scent of fried chicken drifts through the streets.

et frites. You gaze into the windows of the restaurants and the bars and see people gathered, talking, eating, laughing and of course drinking. You haven’t been allowed to let loose yet, you’re craving the promiscuous excitement of a night out. It’s not like England here, the usual rowdiness with pumped up boys and girls halfdrunk crying mascara down their cheeks is not becoming! Belgian’s get drunk of course, they’re European after all, but they do it with class. You’ve decided to start your night on the Mantonge street Rue St Boniface and after being attracted to one of the bars you decide to go in, staying and drinking fruity Belgian beers. When you leave, the cobbles beneath your feet will make you feel unsteady, as you wonder about where you should hobble to next. Maybe you’ll go down absinthe shots with students at Floris, or perhaps embarrass yourself at Nua’s karaoke. The night is young, so much fun is still yet to be had.

It’s easy to forget where you are in Brussels, the amalgamation of different languages and cultures can make you feel as though you’re in a different country entirely; the Mantonge neighbourhood is a perfect example of this. In a way the Mantonge is the soul of the city, walking through the streets the sounds of life come together to form a rhythm, like a kind of heartbeat. It’s weird to think that people used to view this neighbourhood as ‘scruffy’, now it is quite the opposite. Seen as the up and coming Brussels neighbourhood, it’s popular with locals, youngsters and tourists. It’s the perfect way to simultaneously soak up historic Belgian, African and as the French call it, bourgeois- bohème culture. Originally the home of African migrants, Mantonge is massively inspired by their culture and as you walk through the streets, you notice that the windows are awash with mosaic African fabrics fashionably laid over mannequins. The smell of spice tickles your nose as the scent of fried chicken and other foods drifts through the streets. Anything you could possibly imagine is available for you to try, African delicacies, Japanese ramen and even traditional Belgian moules 52

Fancy A Pint? Beery bubbles fizz in your mouth and you’re starting to feel quite tipsy, as you sit at the round bar tables sipping your drink. You don’t normally go for beer, but when in Brussels hey. Belgians and their beer is a love affair as old as time, but there’s an art to beer drinking here, a kind of boozy appreciation for the years of craft and artistry that has gone into creating the 500 iconic tastes we know today. The passing of trade secrets from father to son for generations has given the country a rich beer culture. Up until the 1900s every village in Belgium had its own brewery, which generally speaking, brewed one of two types of beer, Lambic or Trappist Ales.

year old Westvleteren Brewery in Vleteren. Westvleteren beer has a chocolate and caramel flavour that leaves a warm aftertaste in your mouth, but I would recommend only going for an Enkel Westvleteren if you’re a bit of a lightweight! So far on your journey you’ve been enchanted by the small brasseries lining the streets of every town. The outside tables are always filled with Belgians enjoying a smooth beer and you can hear the sound of 80s music drifting from the bar inside, out into the street. I don’t doubt that you’re dying to go inside and try one of these famous brews. But don’t get swept up in the moment, because the wrong choice of glass could ruin your experience. See, I told you, there’s a craft to Belgian beer. Each beer has a glass shape made specifically for it, as the choice of glass affects the amount of froth on the beer and the taste. Plus, getting the wrong glass just makes you look like a downright rookie, and we wouldn’t want that! Enjoy, but don’t get too drunk.

Lambic beers are specific to Belgium, brewed in the Pajottenland region just South West of Brussels, they use wild yeast and bacteria native to the Zenne valley to ferment the booze and are often described as dry, vinous and having a tart aftertaste. With Lambic classic such as the cherry flavoured Kriek and sparkling raspberry Framboise, Lambic is sort of like the rosé of the beer world. Trappist ales are a lil’ bit more holy. Lovingly brewed by Monks these beers are malty, bready and at times even said to taste a bit spicy. There are only seven official Trappist breweries in the world, and Belgium has six of them; the most renowned is the 184

So far on your journey, you’ve been enchanted by the small brasseries lining the streets of every town.

ATH Ath is usually quiet, but Goliath’s in town, maybe little David can take that sucker down. map mark 5

English

A divide older than the country itself, the northern region of Flanders and the southern region of Wallonia don’t really get along. My family and I always knew we’d crossed the Flander-Wallonia border as there was considerably more potholes on the road in the latter. You see, both sides are run by different governments, so there’s a tough chance getting them to fix each others roads. ‘But why are you telling me this?’ I hear you ask. The truth is this divide will affect the rest of your adventure; with a different government, language and education, comes a new cultural and historical heritage. Whilst the rivalry began with linguistic differences and opposing rulers in the Roman era, nowadays its more heavily based on economic inequality. Whilst, the north is inspired by its affluent medieval past, the south on the other hand,

became wealthy during the industrial revolution. However, following the devastating impact of The First World War, the region’s wealth has declined, resulting in high unemployment and economical issues. Money concerns combined with a linguistic divide has resulted in some pretty deep rooted borderline beef.

You better not come over to my side Walloon, I’m warning you!

French

Hello

Salut

How are you?

Comment allez-vous?

Goodbye

Au revoir

Excuse me where is...

Excusez-moi, où est...

Freshly baked tart, yummy!

Tarte fraîchement cuite, miam miam!

Is that a dragon over there?!

Est-ce un dragon là bas?!

This place is spooky.

Cet endroit est effrayant.

Yes, I can drive.

Oui, je peux conduire.

Ugh, as if Flanders, the only good thing about you is Brussels...

Up until now you’ve been speaking Belgian Dutch so beautifully, but if you speak Flemish here you’ll get a bit of a shock; the Wallonians don’t take to it lightly and you’ll be met with a rather harsh “QUOI?!” in response. The language spoken in Wallonia is French. But don’t worry, I’ve got you covered again, here’s some top phases you might need. We just need to talk about the pronunciation, Belgian French is said to be a bit harsher than the traditional, with a strong pronunciation of the letter R and a more throaty rasp. Probably the best way to get to grips with it is with musician Stromae, his song Alors On Danse, is not only a massive Belgian hit, but it’s a prime example of the Belgian French accent. Have confidence in yourself, you mastered Dutch, French should be a walk in the park!

GIANTS?! The town of Ath is a quiet little place. It has the usual sleepy Belgian feel; the houses have their shutters halfclosed, the streets are empty and the people speak in French whispers. But today is different, for you’ve arrived in Ath on the last weekend in August and the usual snoozy serenity has been replaced with hundreds of people. Before you, amongst eager onlookers, a procession of people and floats are making their way through the ancient town. You stare at the procession with wonder and quickly notice a small child sitting on top of what looks like a giant, two-headed blackbird. As if this wasn’t strange enough, you’re shocked when the bird and the child on top begin to spin on the spot at breakneck speed, before moving a few steps forward with the procession and

spinning again! ‘How is that child not hurling from severe motion sickness?’, you ask yourself. No, you’re not suffering the early side effects of insanity, what you’re witnessing is the Ducasse d’Ath, an ancient Belgian festival that celebrates the biblical victory of David over the giant Goliath. Started in the early thirteen hundreds, the festival lasts for three days and involves a wedding, a great battle and lots of giants. The Ducasse is centred around the giant Goliath (Gouyasse in French) and his marriage to Madam Gouyasse. The antics begin on the Friday night, when in line with local premarital tradition his best friends, the townspeople, burn his trousers in Ath’s town square. Bizarre, I know, but think of it as the town throwing Gouyasse a stag do. 62

Tarte à mastelles is an Ath specialty and you’re going to learn how to make your own! On the Saturday Gouyesse and the bride are wed in the town square in front of the mayor and the local magistrate; but their newlywed happiness is fleeting, as just an hour later David, played by a local Belgian boy, will verbally provoke the giant using a dialogue called the Boinmée, before slaying him. After all the drama the townspeople will then enjoy some downtime indulging in tarte à mastelles, a traditional Ath

macaroon and almond tart. On Sunday morning the festivities start up again, with a procession of 7 giants and 8 floats making their way up through the town. The newlywed Gouyesse couple performs their traditional dance at two stops along the way and it looks like you’ve stood in exactly the right place! Quick, head over to the VR and you’ll find yourself on the Rue du Moulin, trust me you don’t want to miss it.

You will need: 1 sheet of shortcrust pastry 4 mastelles or 5 pistoletes (French bread rolls) 850ml of milk 3 eggs 125g of white caster sugar 50g of almond macarons 50g of ground almond 1 sachet of vanilla sugar

Once 6 hours have passed, preheat the oven to 180°C. Then, take your 3 eggs and separate the yolks from the whites. Add the egg yolk to the bowl and mix well.

Roughly break up the mastelles and pistolets in a large bowl. Be careful not to crumble them.

In a separate bowl whip the egg whites until they’re stiff and split them into three. One at a time, gently fold each of the the three lots of egg white into the mastelle mixture.

Mix the crushed mastelles or pistolets with the ground almond, vanilla sugar, caster sugar and crushed macaroons.

Next, take your shortcrust pastry and roll it out into a 30cm diameter. Lift it and place into your pie tin, pushing it into the edges gently with your fingers. Prick the top of the pastry with a fork.

Put the milk on a medium heat and bring it to the boil. Then, pour the milk into the bowl and mix it into the other prepared ingredients.

Evenly pour the mastelle mixture into the pie dish. Bake it in the oven at 180°C for 45 minutes.

Cover the bowl with a cloth and leave it in a cool place for at least 6 hours. It is important that the milk soaks into all the ingredients and cools completely before the next step!

Et voilà ç’est fini! 65

MONS Cobbles and fountains, some wondering eyes, magical manes and a dragon’s demise. map mark 6

My Home, Mons Everywhere you go there’s so much to see, but there’s someone you must not forget, you see. You must touch the monkey on the bonce, you only have to do it once. Come on now don’t be a shmuck, you have to do it for good luck. to exchange goods in the quietest of manners. But there’s something enchanting about it, you feel it the most when you take a moment to sit back and listen to the sound of the gentle French murmurs, shoes tapping against cobbles and the trickle of the water from the fountains. Mons to me I guess is home.

The funny thing about Mons is that it’s always sleepy, the hush rushes over you causing each of the tiny hairs on your arms to rise. How is a town home to 95,299 people so quiet? It feels almost as though somewhere the people of Mons are having a giant nap time to which you weren’t invited. Even on market days, the locals seem

Growing up in Casteau it was the closest town and we used to come here often. In the centre of town is the Grand Place, an ancient cobbled square surrounded by cafés, our favourite is Le Saint Germain. Outside the chairs and tables are always filled with Belgian men, drinking Juplier beer and smoking tarry cigarettes, whilst on the inside, women sit with friends drinking coffees and sharing secrets. The inside is cosy and warm and they serve delicious thick, rich hot chocolate that’s always extra scrumptious on cold winter days. We always climb up the lavish staircase and sit on the soft chairs overlooking the cafe below. I remember as a child

peeking over the mezzanine to watch the chefs in white hats effortlessly flipping crepes with large silver palette knives, and giggling childishly when they looked up and caught me in the act of curiosity. It seems bizarre for Mons to be such a peaceful place, when just over a hundred years ago it was the site of one of WW1’s first major battles. As you wander around the town evidence of the fighting remains in small bullet holes carved out of the architecture. Sometimes, I would think of them all sitting in the square in their uniforms, one of them my own great, great uncle Snowy, unaware of the realities of the 9-hour battle that awaited them.

You turn, your gaze searching this way and that, hoping to reach another’s. But you can’t find one. As you wander down the cobbled streets surrounding the Grand Place, you feel the weight of someone’s eyes on your skin. You turn, your gaze searching this way and that, hoping to reach another’s. But you can’t find one. Your eyes travel up the walls of a rickety old house and then, you find them. You are locked; a piercing pair of green oval eyes stare back at you, but their owner is not what you expected. The eyes belong to a gorgeous cat who has perched delicately on an ancient window sill. It’s fur is patterned with brown and black fluffy tufts and lays on its skin thick and heavy. The cat

always sits here, cheekily curling its tail up and down playfully, as it watches people wobble up and down the cobbles. But as your eyes linger you notice something rather strange... Creepily surrounding the cat are masses of vintage marionettes. Their strings suspend them in the air and if you listen carefully, you can hear the sound of their wooden legs knocking together as they are caught by the wind drifting in through the open window. What is this place you ask yourself? Some kind of marionette museum? Who knows. Can you unlock the mystery of 6 Rue Cronque?

Curiouser and Curiouser

Ducasse du Mons c’est l’doudou, c’est l’mama, c’est l’poupée, poupée, c’est l’ doudou, c’est l’mama, c’est l’poupée St Georg’ qui va. There is no way the Ducasse de Mons can be described other than a prime example of sweet, poetic Belgian chaos. The Grand Place is packed wall to wall with Belgian bodies, moving like a Mexican wave as they push against each other, drifting this way and that. In the centre, a small square has been marked out with thick orange sand, concerned looking policemen line the four sides, holding back hundreds of rowdy Belgians with their strong arms. The small square is filled with bodies

crowd. It is at this moment that the lyrics of I Predict a Riot start ringing in your ears. The Ducasse is hard to imagine for those who haven’t been, and those who have must look on in disbelief that what they’re witnessing is actually a religious festival. The festival is supposed to act as a reconstruction of St George heroically slaying the green dragon, which is representative of good’s plight over evil. But that’s not what’s on the Belgians’ minds. The aforementioned wooden dragon is locally known as the Doudou and attached to his wooden tail is a thick, jet black mane; this is what the Belgians are after. Whilst watching the Doudou parade around the sandy square, you look on

in disbelief as his tough wooden tail is sporadically spun and thrust into the crowd, causing more chaos to ensue. The whole crowd violently lurches towards it, and a few others try a more dangerous approach, surfing on top of the crowd, launching themselves towards the tail of the Doudou with all their might. Emerging with a chunk of the Doudou’s mane, said to bring luck and good-will. Clearly it’s not to be missed out on... In and amongst the madness, you notice the almost constant interruption of bodies being hurled forward and freed from the crush. You don’t know whether to be concerned or just to laugh. Although the Doudou is essentially the Brad Pitt of the Ducasse de Mons, he’s not the only celebrity. The festival

of its own; men in horse costumes, drag others dressed as devils across the sand by their feet. A few of the devils are free from a horse’s grasp and flick playfully across the sand, whipping the Belgian crowd with cow’s bladder balloons as they go. At the centre of it all there is a large, wooden dragon, its green colour standing out like a highlighter amongst the crowd. It’s being pushed across the sand followed intently by a gentleman sat atop a real horse, that looks just as petrified as the people in the crushing

takes place yearly, 57 days after Easter and actually begins on the Saturday, a day before the battle. Back in ye olden times, when the city of Mons was touched by the great plague, the shrine of Waudru was processioned from the nearby village of Casteau, through the centre of Mons and placed in the Saint Waudru Collegiate Church, after this,

the plague disappeared. Every year, the day before the battle, a special service is held in the church and the locals sing the ‘Air du Doudou’ hymn at the top of their lungs. When Sunday rolls around, that’s when things start to get crazy. First, there’s the The Car d’Or; poor Waudru’s bones are placed into a golden 78

carriage and processed through the town, followed by bellringers and singing children. For the locals it’s a big deal, as it is an opportunity to show respect for the town’s founder. As the procession draws to a close the Car d’Or has the all important task of climbing the Saint Waudru ramp back into the church in one go. The people of Mons rally around to help give it a push and they take the task seriously; if it doesn’t make it up the ramp in one go, bad luck will ascend onto the town for the rest of the year! Just as Saint Waudru has made it back to the church, Saint George and the characters of the battle, disappear down Rue des Clercs to the Grand Place to take part in the fight, known as Lumeçon. As the Air du Doudou rings from the belfry, a rush of Belgian bodies storm down the Rue des Clercs, hoping to get in the best position to claim the Doudou’s lucky hair. The battle is choreographed with military precision and will continue for thirty minutes until St George defeats the Doudou by striking him three times with his lance. Whilst this festival seems like utter madness to us, it’s an object of pride for the people of Mons. Not only does it allow them to celebrate the founding of their home town, it also removes barriers, allowing the people of Mons to come together as a community for this special day. It’s your turn to feel the Mons pride, head over the VR to see the festivities for yourself, and don’t forget to sing the Air du Doudou.

As the Air du Doudou rings form the belfry, a rush of Belgian bodies storm down the Rue des Clercs, hoping to get in the best position to claim the Doudou’s lucky hair. 79

When I think of Belgium, I like to think of time spent with family; cuddling my grandparents, baking with my mum, cycling with my dad, or listening to the excited squeals of my giggling cousin bouncing erratically on the trampoline in the crisp evening air.

ENGHIEN A peaceful palace, between the trees awaits, you’re feeling sleepy, let the grass take your weight. map mark 7

Take your time here to rest and feel at peace; let this feeling of being here, totally relaxed without a care in the world, stay with you, as it has with me. In the Eastern Part of the Hainaut region is the city of Enghien, and within it lies a beautiful Chateau dating back to the early 1900s. The house and garden, which were taken over by the city in the 80s after falling into disrepair, are considered a major part of Wallonia’s cultural heritage. You wait patiently to pass through the beige concrete arch, only wide enough for a few people at a time; once the coast is clear and you proceed through. Outstretched before you is a grey gravel path that bends and forks, leading this way and that. You choose to follow straight on and, after strolling for some time, feet crunching against loose stones, you reach the Chateau, sitting sweetly, framed by tall trees and its exceptionally well-kept flower garden. You could venture further and

explore the themed gardens or wander at the beautifully crafted water structures. You could amble gently through the wild wood, but instead let’s do something simple. Growing up, we used to come here as a family often. We would spend hours lounging on the grass, talking and playing and sometimes, on warm days, we would have a nap, the sun as warm as a blanket. I want you to lay here on the green. Lay still. Let your body go heavy. Give up the weight of your anxieties and daily pressures; be calm. Feel your body sink into the soil beneath your back; let the grass come up and tickle your skin. Listen to the busy chatter of birds finding their next meal and the distant squeals of children playing. Feel the coolness of the wind as it brushes over you, soft as a baby’s breath. 86

NAMUR A castle with gun power and a moat running round, something spooky in this town is sure to be found. map mark 8

Are You Feeling Brave?

been so heavily contested that you feel the presence of people who are physically gone, but their troubled spirits still roam free. The Citadelle de Namur is a reminder of the countless wars that have taken place on Belgian turf. The fortress’ tactical positioning between the river Sambre and Meuse has been the site of many bloody battles. Although the citadel already looks menacing sitting upon the hill looking across the town, much of it is unseen. Below it, underground passages connect different parts of the building; it is these passages that are said to be haunted... time for a tour I think.

Namur has that feeling. It’s difficult to describe, but Belgium has a kind of heaviness that lingers in the air... Like most places in Belgium, standing in Namur feels like you’ve got into a time machine and gone back a few hundred years. Before you, the town sprawls out with chocolate box houses and pointy symmetrical roofs making patterns against the grey clouds. You can hear the gentle buzz of the cable carts sliding across the sky above you. Tangling rues lead this way and that through the town like a well-planned maze; you follow them weaving this way and that until you reach the river bank, grey water lapping at the edge. The wide river stretches out before you and stops abruptly when

its reaches a chalky white exposed cliff edge. Upon it, a mighty fortress sits dramatically, commanding the surrounding landscape with little effort. Its sight is beautiful and menacing all at the same time and a sort of chill rushes over you. Namur has that feeling. It’s difficult to describe, but Belgium has a kind of heaviness that lingers in the air; everywhere you go there’s a ghostly quietness. The weight feels like a combination of tension in your chest and the apprehension that someone is always watching. Perhaps it’s because the land that you’re standing on has

What’s that behind you? .....

BOO!

I will always remember Belgium as a quiet, peaceful place. I miss lazy days, quietly playing or reading books, listening to the gentle rumble of everyday life happening around me.

What you seem to have come across today is the Folknam festival. The people of Namur are keen to preserve their rich culture and play an important role in the promotion, practice and preservation of Belgian folklore and music. The town’s Folknam celebration takes place yearly and brings together different traditions, food, crafts and more to the people of the town and anyone passing through. Jump into the artisan market on the Place d’Armes and you will see Royal Moncrabeau, Echasseurs and people playing Namur Alfers! You should see the quizzical look on your face as you read that sentence over. No you didn’t just read gobbledygook, they are real words, your challenge this afternoon is to find out what they mean. Now, go on, run along.

It’s no surprise that the local culture is heavily inspired by folktales of heroism, defeat and…dwarfs. At this point in your journey the sight of Belgians dressed up in extravagant costumes performing strange rituals shouldn’t surprise you, but somehow it still does. The Place d’Armes is heaving, surrounding you are stalls in yellow tents displaying traditional crafts. The smell of Belgian food drifts through the air, making your tummy rumble. The Place is bursting with energy; before you, men on great stilts are brawling whilst elsewhere in the square, locals in traditional dress are spinning to the sweet sound of folk music, linking their arms joyfully as they go. You listen to the music and take in the weird but wonderful scene, feeling nothing but pure, playful happiness and a longing

to join in although you know none of the steps. It’s no surprise that the local culture is heavily inspired by folktales of heroism, defeat and…dwarfs. My favourite story was always about the naughty little dwarf, Nain Muet. For many years he lived on the mountain where the Citadelle de Namur now stands and the townspeople used to come to him to seek advice. Nain Muet was such a cheeky dwarf that he would give everyone a different answer to their woes. One day, after the birth of Christ, Nain Muet stopped giving advice and went into hiding; rumour has it he still lives on the mountain now. 96

SPA Fresh mineral water and skis on your feet, a track record at Francorchamps will be difficult to defeat. map mark 9

I remember the day the snow came. It fell fast and heavy, covering the ground like soft cotton. We didn’t go to school; instead we stayed home and played, first making snow angels, then snowmen. Dad towed us up and down the road on our little red sledge and we cheekily pinched the snow from the neighbouring lawns to add to our creations. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the sound of the sledge whizzing across the ice.

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The Last Hoorah Oh how quick we’ve reached this final stop, I have to admit I’ll miss you a lot. A final activity for you I did save, but I’ll warn you, you’ll have to be brave, as in this one you will speed of quick, I’m glad I’m not the one in the cockpit! Our final stop on our tour is the town of Spa. It is a place filled with beautiful people who have travelled from far and wide to soak themselves in the luxurious, healing mineral water, or speed down the snow covered slopes. When you pass through it is quiet and peaceful; you notice the decadent 17th century architecture, symbolic of the town’s early wealth and marvel at the intricately carved wooden Jolités de Spa lining the windows, hoping to entice affluent tourists. A little farther afield you can make out the glass dome of the Thermes de Spa poking through the trees on the hilltop; it is

relaxing and magical here. We used to come here when I was a child; with my small feet strapped into big skis, I would fly down the hill on the thick snow. I remember getting stuck on the rope lift once, a look of terror flashing across my face as skis and snow formed a brick wall for me to throw myself over. My sister and parents held their breath at the bottom of the hill, not knowing if we were going to have to take a trip to A&E; until out of the snow rose my rosey cheeks and, although a little embarrassed, I stood up laughing at my rather epic fail. As you continue on South out of the snoozy town of Spa, you feel confused as to why you’re not staying longer; that is until you reach the nearby village of Francorchamps that things suddenly become clear. Outstretched before you, you can see 7km of flat, grey tarmac, winding and weaving through the land. This is the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, one of the most legendary motorsport tracks in the

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world, the site of the Belgian Grand Prix and the Spa 24 hour race. Drivers have to be fearless, racing around the track at a whopping average speed of 230kph and negotiating the infamous Eau Rouge-Raidillo corner, where 22-year-old racer Anthonie Hubert suffered a fatal collision in 2019. So, why relax when you can get a kick of pure adrenaline right? Go on, admit it, you’re dying to give it a go.

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Off you go, speeding away, oh how you’d love to stay and play. I’m so glad you’ve come along. I’ll see you again for some more unrestricted fun.

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For my family, Belgium wouldn’t have been the same without you. Love El x

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