My opportunistic and eventful visit to Belgium

Isn’t a visit to the old Europe dreamy? Well I have always found it that way, until the last one. I have been to the western part of the continent many times, but always left this tiny piece of land sandwiched between the Netherlands and France out. I even overstayed in Amsterdam and dropped the plan of sweeping by the southern neighbour once. So I was quite happy to get a chance to tick that off from my list last summer, as a sudden opportunity had been presented in the form of an academic presentation at the Université catholique de Louvain (UC Louvain), just 30 km away from Brussels, the nation’s capital.

Well, Brussels is not only a nation’s capital but also hosts the many of the European Union offices, making it the de-facto capital of the “Altes Europa”, binding the continent once used to be riddled with tension and wars. But little did I know that this tiny country itself is being torn between two tongues for what seems like forever. And I was supposed to go to an institution that was born out of this feud. Belgium, as we know it today, has been created by the Belgian Revolution in 1830 that results in its secession from the United Kingdom of Netherlands. The interesting part: the seceded southern provinces as it used to be called before, housed a large population of Dutch speaking Flemish people along with the French Walloons. But, but, isn’t that what people in the Netherlands speak? Definitely, but the Flemish people were largely catholic in contrast to the Dutch reformed protestants of the North. This seems to be one of those innumerable turns in the history where the ethno-lingual identity has been trumped over by the religion. But the Flemish people soon became unhappy with the Francophone upper-class and clergymen. The French bourgeoise, with their pride in the French cultural superiority, used to look down upon their Flemish counterpart much to the latter’s dismay. Surprisingly, Dutch wasn’t even a state language until the 20th century. The clear demarcation between the Flemish Flanders and the French speaking Wallonia also didn’t help to reduce the tension.

Coming back to the UC Louvain, what seems to be a quiet university campus built in a custom-made town, is actually born out of this rift that runs deep in the country. The university is housed in the town of “Louvain-la-Neuve“, or the new Louvain. Naturally the question arises: where is the “old Louvain”? Turned out that the old town is fashioned as Leuven in dutch, deep inside the Flanders, and houses the Flemish descendant of the same university, Katholieke Universiteit Leuven. That used to be the original Catholic University of Leuven where the French language ruled supreme until 1930 in-spite of the town itself being predominantly Flemish. Introducing a Dutch language section didn’t really alleviate the problem. The dispute resulted in a widespread student unrest in 1960s resulting into the Dutch section being separated as the new KU Leuven which remained in the city. However, people in both the universities speak English well, and that comes to the rescue of this poor soul who doesn’t know the single word of French or Dutch. But the restaurants can be a real pain sometimes.

Although the country is officially bilingual, the clear demarcation between the regions of Flanders and Wallonia means that one sees the use of a single language, specially in relatively rural area. I didn’t get a chance to explore Flanders except the town of Bruges. But most establishments and business there serve in Dutch. The reverse seemed true in Namur and Louvain-la-Neuve, the towns of Wallonia. On a side note, I do recommend visiting Bruges which is only a couple of hours of train ride away from Brussels. The canals and the medieval vibe of the town along with the graceful swans on the waterways make it a photographer’s dream.

The city of Brussels, being the capital, but inside the Flanders region, is in a little weird situation in this tug-of-war. Huge Francophone immigration and the elite French ruling class have made Brussels a French island inside the Flemish ocean. Although the street signs are bilingual, few people speak Dutch. I still have a police report in French after I reported the theft of my belongings (yes, you heard that right, and that needs another post). However, the tensions flare up in the towns near the language watershed, as the road-signs in the unfavourable language routinely get vandalised by the opposing groups.

Overall, there seems to be no national story for Belgium, barring the royal palace and King Albert II. It is always Flanders and Wallonia, trapped in a marriage that neither is interested in anymore, but can’t part due to the high cost of separation. But if it really comes to that, I sincerely hope that there won’t be another Yugoslavia, but more like the Velvet break-up we saw in Czechoslovakia.