When we lived in Berlin, friends and colleagues would often say they were having a ‘balcony holiday’ if there was a long weekend, or even when taking a longer holiday. It goes some way to understanding the deep emotional connection between Berliners and their balconies. Over the last 10 weeks, I’ve been trying to channel the spirit of the Berlin balcony enthusiast during a period of confinement in Brussels.
If it’s true that the best way to get to know a city is to walk its streets, exploring neighbourhoods away from well-known sights, and discovering quiet corners and hidden delights. It’s also true that the best way to learn how a city treats those unable to walk is to be forced to use a wheelchair. It is safe to say that Brussels hates people who use a wheelchair. Using crutches is only marginally better.
I can’t say it’s worse than anywhere else in the world, but after surgery to repair a broken foot, I can say Brussels is a hostile and infuriating assault course. Architects and urban planners seem to compete over who can design the least accessible urban environment. Finding a drop down curb in Brussels is like finding a unicorn. Anyone who deals with this crap day in, day out, because their disability is not temporary, has my respect.
Needless to say, I’ve spent a lot of time on the balcony while my leg has been in a cast. This would have been less galling if Belgium hadn’t just experienced an unprecedented spell of hot, dry weather during May and June. All those cycling plans in the Ardenne? On hold. Still, some certainties in life remain. The inability of Belgian politicians to form a government tops the list.
It is now well over a year since the Brussels Region had a government. Not a functioning government, just any government. Not that a new regional government would make things better for wheelchair users, the main parties have made it clear that pedestrian-friendly infrastructure, liveable neighbourhoods and schemes to create people friendly areas will be rolled back. An extraordinarily retrograde vision for the city.
The lack of a government also put a Brussels summer institution at risk: guinguettes. These hugely popular open-air bars pop up across the city, their opening more-or-less signalling the start of summer. This year, there was no government to issue the licenses. Luckily, a work around was found, because if you throw in summer events and festivals in different areas in the city, summer in Brussels is fun.
Unless you’ve just had surgery to screw some bones together, of course. Then it’s an object lesson in the failure to be inclusive. Still, it has been possible in recent weeks to get out more, especially to my local area. The so-called Northern Quarter – embracing St. Catherine’s, Gare du Nord, the ‘Kanal District’, and Tour and Taxis – has changed a lot in the years we’ve lived here. Largely for the better.
As July progresses, elsewhere in the city a curious thing happens: the EU quarter empties. Thousands of staff from the Parliament, Commission and the many, many lobbyists, lawyers and consultants who call the area home, start their annual migration. Much like the wilderbeast of the East African plains, they return again when the grazing is good – literally.
Across this part of town, restaurants, cafes and bars close their doors until the end of August. The year we moved to Brussels, I was working at the office in the first half of July. The area hummed with activity, pavement cafes and bar terraces were packed. A week later we relocated from Berlin to find those same places closed, streets and squares deserted. The zombie apocalypse, Brussels-style.
Having missed so much of the summer already, I’m hoping to squeeze in a couple of visits to guinguettes before taking our own summer migration. No doubt it will be raining by then.
Commiserations on the foot. All able bodied folk need to spend time with a disability- or as a caregiver to one. It changes one’s perspective. Those in government- should be mandatory!
Ouch! Not good news. Do as your physio and surgeon tell you and speedy recovery to you!
Thank you. My physio is doing a lot of good, it helps that they are quite strict!
I’m sorry for the broken foot, and for the incompetence of any governments in Belgium. But one has to look at the brighter side, which around this time of the year takes quite a literal meaning.
Thank you, the foot is doing better. The the many hours of sunlight this year has been extraordinarily good – a bit too hot for Belgium in June though.
Awful about your foot but great post.
Thank you
Aiee