Sometimes, suds and soda mix OK with beer

[venta]

So, later I'm off on holiday for the weekend. Well, kind of on holiday. Mabel, my rapper team, are planning a hit-and-run dancing raid on Bruge. Or is it Brugge ? Or Bruges ? Opinions seem to be divided. Hopefully I will know when I get back.

Yesterday, when I told secutatrix I was going to Belgium, her first reaction was "Oh, I'm sorry."

Now, I'd like to protest that that's an extremely unfair thing to say, but since my first reaction to Belgium is always...

The concept it embodies is so revolting that the publication or broadcast of the word is utterly forbidden in all parts of the galaxy except one - where they don’t know what it means.

... I feel like I don't really have a leg to stand on.

Just what is it about Belgium, anyway ? I know a few people who've been to Bruggge, and they've all reported it as lovely. It seems that Brugggge is a perfectly acceptable place to visit, so long as you don't mention its being in Belgium.

Of course, there is the point that the most famous Belgian doesn't exist - Hercule Poirot is the only one most people can name. But on the other hand, if you can't think of any famous Belgians, how many famous Bulgarians can you name off hand ? And no one particularly picks on Bulgaria. (Wikipedia thoughtfully provides lists of both famous Belgians and famous Bulgarians). Why is it Famous Belgians which always comes up in conversation ?

My favourite answer to "name four famous Belgians" has, for some time, been "dEUS", but I was astounded yesterday to discover that Front 242 are also Belgian. I mean... it just doesn't sound very likely, does it ?

Belgian beer and Belgian chocolates seem to be the acceptable faces of the nation. But why, exactly, is it that the entire country seems to be such an inherently humorous concept ?

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[wimble.livejournal.com]

I'm a real nowhere man, living in a nowhere land

Years ago, my family were on holday in France. We returned home, and got to the north coast, where we found there was a fisherman's blockade of the ports going on. So, rather than getting the ferry from Dunquerque, we were redirected to Le Havre, in Dutchland.

Getting there involved stopping overnight. We stopped. In Belgium. At a hotel which was in the middle of a roundabout.

Belgium: home of noisy concrete boxes. Oooh!