TOP: Scenes at
and around the Palais de Justice. CENTRE:
A church we found, built in 1711, near the Palais de Justice. ABOVE:
The style of the churches in Brussels differs dramatically, witness
to their eras.
|
HERE
WAS one intentional omission: we would not take in the Mannekin
Pis, the life-size statue of the urinating boy. That did not fit
with the notion of her Brussels. And seeing a boy urinate did not
exactly appeal to me, either. It was like Titanic or a Star
Wars movie to me: Ive heard about them, but cannot claim
to have gone to the cinema to catch them. If you know they dont
appeal, why join the masses?
We set off toward the Palais de Justice. The largest
building made in nineteenth-century Europe, in the eclectic style
If Brussels could survive
de Villeroys troops in the seventeenth century with
its soul intact, then nothing could shift it save for its citizenrys
collective free will |
and built by Poelært, made for an impressive sight, for reasons
other than scale. With the Palais, Brussels offersed another breathtaking
duality: to go from streets of same-again apartment buildings and offices to sheer
magnificence matched only by the largest European cities.
There was an underground car park nearby. We left
the Opel there and began a walk in the Brussels rain to the Palais.
The term is right: the magnificent building, which still houses
the Belgian Supreme Court, is an impossibility today. Within a crowded
metropolis, modern architects would have gone for a high-rise. We
went from city apartments to an open space at the top of what was
once Gallows Hill, uncluttered by neighbouring buildings.
This is a stunning city, I told her.
Everything seems so neat here. I mean, I dont see the
projects anywhere.
Oh, theyre there, she replied.
For all its impressive architecture, Belgium had not escaped the
widening gap between rich and poor.
One difference between the classes was evident
at a store we passed. Royal Dog Shop / Le Couturier de Chien,
proclaimed the sign. Accessories for the discerning pooch. Megan
walked on, drawn toward the Grand-Place, or the Market Square, which
is Brussels most famous tourist destination.
En route we passed a shoe store that she had not
previously discovered and another shop specializing in string instruments,
but what did strike her as the streets went from paved to cobbled
were the distinct churches regularly seen throughout the city.
Each had stood for centuries, erected at different times in Brussels
past and reflecting their eras. Christmas was a big deal here, she
told me, not glossed over for political correctnesss sake.
The first church we passed near
the Palais de Justice was built in 1711, according to the grotesque
lettering that appeared to have been dripping for the last 290 years.
It was locked, but we were fascinated enough to try the door handles.
I was more taken in by the alleyways that led from the hill: small,
seemingly there for centuries, too, witness to Brussels continued
everyday life.
CONTINUED
|