A Love Note

Bruges by night -- magical. Believe all of what you see.

I got mussels.

Fries backed up by bikes.

The goods.

Dear Belgium,

You are not like the other European countries and cities I've visited or know about. You're not a dream destination like Paris or Tuscany or Barcelona or Rome or London. Big things don't come out of you -- you don't make headlines. Your president isn't married to a French chanteuse and paparazzi doesn't stalk your royalty. Your football teams don't produce hooligan fans, your football stars don't get paid off by the mafia and your football teams aren't champions. When people think of you, they don't think state-of-the-art, glorified worldly icons like the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, the Alps, La Scala, the Mona Lisa, the Acropolis, the Sistine Chapel, the Colosseum or Michelin stars.

Oh no, you're not. You have some pretty hot stuff, but you either keep your head down or look on straight, because humility runs in your canals (who says only Venice and Amsterdam have pretty drainage systems?) and if you were any warmer by nature, all your chocolates would morph into fondue. Chocolates. People think of you when they think chocolates, because you're sweet like that. When people think of food, they also think of your mussels, shellfish scraped from the bottom of the ocean, and fries, potato dunked in hot burning beef or duck oil. You drink beer. A lot of it. But ya know, you're so insanely and fearlessly proud of your cuisine, second only to the pride for your beer. You love eating and drinking organic and you love giving back to the good earth -- you have more vegetarian restaurants than most other European cities. Actually, you do have some pretty damned fine cuisine, but you don't like bragging about it. You love brewing your beers in abbeys and monasteries, proving what we all believed to be the greatest philosophy in life's little pleasures -- beer is a religion.

You bike everywhere and navigate cobblestones like Tony Stewart at Talledega. In fact, in Antwerp, they built a half-mile long walkway under the river so everyone could bike underwater. Biking is your national sport, followed by tennis, and you idolize Justine Henin and Kim Clijsters. You let your people jump on subways and trams for free, so that the ticket machine is like a two-handed backhand in Roger Federer's repertoire.

And you have your share of UNESCO World Heritage, knock 'em dead landmarks as well. The Grand Place in Brussels. Your very own World's Fair item of kitsch, the Atomium. Picturesque canals in Bruges. Serene beguinhofs. A vivacious display of Art Nouveau everywhere you turn turn turn, thanks to Victor Horta. Flemish primitives who perfected the art of oil painting using brushes with just one strand of hair. You idolize the statue of a little boy taking a piss on the street, Manneken Pis. I think that's you telling the rest of the world to piss off -- when ya gotta go, ya gotta go. Too much beer.

I love going from Paris to Belgium and almost getting a rude shock because suddenly, I'm thrust into a world of friendly Europeans who strive to speak English so they may get to know you better. I love how your barkeeps know every one of the hundreds of beers they pour and serve tenderly, like a child. I love how the frituur has 50 sauces for your cone of frites and tries to shove as many as he can into your package -- screw miniscule European servings. I love that each beer you brew has its own serving glass and goblet, to maximize the taste and experience. Your dedication makes wine lovers look Little League.

When I wrote postcards from Bruges while nursing an Orval Trappiste, and tried to convey how I fell in love with you twice as hard on this second visit, I suddenly realized why. You're just like Chicago. You have cozy taverns where you huddle with your friends in conversations (although I wish light and domestic beers were banned in my kinda town), you have amazing restaurants where local chefs hold their own with local produce. You're understated because you know you have the goods, but why flaunt like New York and Los Angeles? You play it cool -- you're the seat of the European Union, but how many people know that? You're the kind of European city where someone could say, "I could live here" but not under the influence of fanciful romantic dreams and Hollywood movie ideals. You have staying power, that's what you have. And that's not beer goggles talking. You're more than a one night stand.

A bientot ma cher Belgique,

Your beer buddy

(See my trip to Bruges and Brussels!)