The tiger at Lemonnier

Note: This blog entry is also available as a sound recording from Soundcloud. See the link at the bottom of the entry.

Back in November 2014 when we visited Brussels to find a place to live, we used public transport to get around. In particular we tried to time journeys between the centre and the places where we were looking. It was on one of those house-hunting expeditions that I first looked out of the window of a tram – one of Brussels’ pre-metro underground trams – and saw the tiger.

Lemonnier tigerCrouching, head turned back, tail lashing, stretched across one tunnel wall, standing out from concrete and conduits and graffiti tags. The tram was past in seconds and the tiger lost in the dark, but I could still see it burning bright in my mind’s eye. I didn’t realise where it was of course, my concept of Brussels’ geography was rudimentary. (It’s not so much better now, though I believe it is improving.) But I looked out for it when we returned to Brussels to live in January, and saw it again, and worked out where it was.

If you’re riding a number 3 or 4 pre-metro tram, or a number 51 or 82 tram, travelling south, just after you leave the Lemonnier station, look to the right as the tunnel bears right and you’ll see the tiger. I’m going to guess that it is more or less life-size. It reminded me of the tiger in the painting by Henri Rousseau in the London National Gallery, (though now I have looked again at Rousseau’s painting I don’t see much of a similarity).

Lemonier mirror 2The Lemonnier station is worth a visit in its own right. Constructed with four platforms, two catering for the pre-metro trams and two for the non-metro trams, it has places to allow travellers to cross the tracks between the platforms which I’d never seen before in an underground station. The tracks curve away through wide tunnels so you can see points and junctions and perhaps trams held back by lights. There’s much more of a feeling of an aboveground (though over-bridged) railway station than an underground station.

On the French language Wikipedia I find a sentence describing Lemonnier that suggests there is more here than meets the eye: “On the lower level, it says, “there is a ghost station, non-operational and with two more platforms.” Somewhere else – I can’t now remember where – I have read there was once a plan to build a deeper metro line through here that was abandoned, but presumably not till after the deeper station was built.

Although the Brussels metro and pre-metro are relatively newly constructed – post-Second World War anyway – there is a longer subterranean history in Brussels. It may not be as extensive or as old as London’s, but there is definitely potential here for a Belgian Neverwhere.

Lemonier mirror 1Meanwhile, the Lemonnier station is a crossroads not only for the pre-metro and trams, but also for people passing through. Aboveground, just around here, is a principally working class district that now has a fairly large immigrant community with especially many people from North Africa and the Middle East. They use the station to get to their work or schools elsewhere in the city. Many people from the western and southern suburbs also pass through here. One stop south of Lemonnier is the Gare du Midi pre-metro station that serves Brussels’ largest mainline railway station and daily brings in commuters, and visitors from Paris and London, some of whom change trams here.

It is presumably this international connection that inspired the Brussels metro authorities to invite the Algerian-born Belgian citizen, artist and musician Hamsi Boubeker to decorate the station. The walls of the station are covered with his blue and white drawings of women’s hands decorated with henna tattoos. I have occasionally (twice now) seen women with henna-decorated hands on the trams passing through the Lemonnier station, so the tradition illustrated is alive and well, which I find appealing.

Lemonier hands - pianoIf I’ve understood the Brussels metro website correctly, from 1994 an international project called Hands of Hope (Les mains de l’espoir) collected images of henna hand tattoos from 87 countries around the world. This collection then formed the basis of Boubeker’s decoration. The website notes that “for the artist” an open hand symbolises peace, friendship, openness and tolerance. (As if an open hand doesn’t usually symbolise just these things – well, certainly the first three.)

Henna tattoos seem to have originated in north Africa so it must be a comfort to people far from home to find a little piece of the Maghreb here, underground in Brussels.

Lemonier mural 2Having found out so much about Lemonnier’s official artist I was curious to see if I couldn’t discover a little more about the Master of the Lemonnier Tiger. I also wanted somehow to get a picture of it. Although I wandered about the station taking pictures of Hamsi Boubeker’s art (and a few candid photos of some of the passengers passing through or waiting for trams), I couldn’t find a good, safe, legal place to stand to get a picture of the tiger. It is simply too far along the tunnel.

Perhaps whoever painted the tiger has also painted other, more accessible graffiti elsewhere? I know that several Brussels graffiti artists have produced multiple works, some of which survive for weeks or even months, but I’ve not yet seen anything that looks like it’s by the same hand as the tiger.

Eventually, I asked for advice on the Belgium section of Reddit. I got some encouragement from a couple of users and was pointed in the direction of a Facebook page dedicated to Brussels street art. I had hopes, especially as there was an e-mail address, but whoever is on the other end of the address wasn’t interested to reply, so that was a dead end.

One suggestion from Reddit was to try and take a photo from the window of a stationary tram. Unfortunately no trams terminate at Lemonnier any longer and so a stationary tram is hard to find.

What else to do?

Well, whoever made the tiger must have got in to do so somehow – and plenty of other people are clearly entering the tunnel to tag the walls – but is this something I could do? Besides, to take a photo I’d need to have a bit of distance. I couldn’t take it standing in the same place as the artist who painted the tiger, that would be too close

Lemonier hands 5On the opposite side of the tunnel from the tiger I could see a path along by the side of the track. It led from the platform and a gated barrier. The gate is usually locked (I’ve pushed it) and carries a warning sign: “20,000 volts!” But one day when the tram I was travelling on passed through Lemonnier, I glanced at the barrier and saw the gate was open.

I had an errand and couldn’t get off the tram there and then, but on my way back I got off and saw the gate was still open. Okay, as you know I’m not always completely law-abiding, and besides the gate is open and there is no obvious No Entry sign, just the warning. I take out my camera and walk through the gate, along the path and into the tunnel until I am almost opposite the tiger. Here I find I’m standing in front of highly reflective window. I’m fairly sure this is one-way glass. Not really knowing if anybody is watching me from behind, I wait for two trams to pass, line up my shot and take four pictures with different exposures. There’s no point in using a flash as I’m too far from the tiger – besides I don’t want to inadvertently blind any tram drivers. I try to hold the camera as steady as I can and hold my breath when I press the trigger. Then I carefully walk back to the station, up onto the platform and board the tram that’s just pulled in.

I won’t say that I felt like I had been stalking a real tiger, but I certainly got an adrenaline kick and had to sit still and breath deeply for a couple of minutes.

Then of course came the inevitable disappointment when I saw the pictures on the computer screen. Even the best one does not really do the tiger justice. It’s the picture I have, and I’ll publish it, but perhaps it’s better anyway just to glimpse the tiger in the tunnel.


Acknowledgements: Thanks to Reddit Belgium users xor2g and utopiah for advice and encouragement as mentioned in the text. In the audio version (follow the Soundcloud link) I recorded the ambient background sound at Lemonnier myself on the morning of 14 July 2015. Extra sounds are from the Creative Commons database of sound effects at Freesound.org. The sound of the tiger growling comes from Soundmary“Tigers roaring”. The sound of a North African wedding party comes from keina_espineira“Moroccan wedding”.

This article was written for the #Blogg52 challenge.

Break the law – sliding door

Note: This blog entry is available as a sound recording from Soundcloud. See the link at the bottom of the entry.

I don’t usually break the law, but there are laws (against murder for example) and then there are laws (against crossing an empty street when the traffic lights are clearly showing a red man).

To be fair, I’m not even sure if the latter is really a law here in Belgium – though you’d think so. Perhaps (as in Sweden) it’s just custom that keeps Belgians standing at the curb-side waiting for the lights to change. Either way, crossing against a red man is something I do weekly while I’ve never committed murder and I hope I never would.

A couple of weeks ago I broke another law, and now I’m paying for it.

Let me start by saying I really like public transport in Brussels. I think it’s quick and reliable and if it’s crowded at certain times of the day and on certain routes, that’s only to be expected. The night service doesn’t look very good, but as I’m not a pubber or a clubber that doesn’t bother me. However…

My jump cardThrough June I was using what Brussels Transport calls a “jump card”. It’s an electronic passcard that you can load with five or 10 journeys at a time and then use to get about on the trams, the buses and the metro. I wanted to see whether it was cheaper for me to use a jump card than to buy a month’s season-ticket as I’m not travelling on public transport nearly as frequently as Mrs SC.

Monthly tickets cost €49. Jump cards cost €14 for 10 one hour journeys – and you can switch vehicles in order to complete a journey or even make a round trip on one ticket if you’re quick. (I know now it isn’t quite worth it – and not just for what happens below. I ended up spending slightly more in June using the jump card than I would have done if I’d bought a monthly card.)

Back to the story. A couple of Wednesdays ago I hopped on a tram to go up to town to meet Mrs SC after her day at work. I only realised when I was on the tram (when I registered my jump card) that the card had expired. From the sensors in the trams, you can’t tell how many journeys you have left. At least, as far as I know the machine will only pling to tell you your journey has been registered or buzz to tell you your card is empty. I try to keep a countdown in my head, but I was surprised when the machine buzzed at me – I’d obviously lost count.

Now, there is nowhere on a tram – or on a bus or a metro train – to renew a jump card. You have to get off and use a ticket machine, but ticket machines are not always available. There was one at the stop where I boarded my tram, but although I looked I didn’t see any at any of the stops we passed through on the way into town.

So I carried on to my final destination, thinking I could fix it there. That was a mistake.

Barriers 1My final destination was the Rogier metro stop. Here two metro lines, two pre-metro lines and two tram lines all meet and cross one another – for Brussels it’s quite a major interchange. There are three levels, a large central hall on the middle level and numerous exits, and no way to get out without passing barriers where you have to show a valid ticket.

I walked around inside the station for some time looking for a ticket machine, but the only ones I could see were all on the other side of the barrier.

The barriers are not waist-high turnstiles like in London or Stockholm, they are man-high sliding doors that open and then close with the speed and viciousness of a guillotine. I saw how some people in my predicament pushed behind somebody who did have a valid ticket and slipped through before the doors shut, but I simply didn’t have the brass neck to try and do that. In the end I phoned Mrs SC, who was waiting for me above ground, and got her to come down and let me out.

She showed her monthly pass to the machine, the doors opened and I dodged through in the wrong direction. The doors detected me and slammed shut much more swiftly than I’d bargained for and caught me a blow on the side of my chest. I got through, but it hurt. The doors then snapped open and I think there was an alarm (I honestly can’t remember). We walked away as fast as we could with my dear wife putting as much space as possible between her and me. (He’s the criminal. I don’t know him.)

A part of me was thinking of security cameras and how we’d surely been identified and would soon be scooped up by the transport police, while another part was saying: Take it easy, this is Belgium, not Singapore, and quite enjoying the adventure. My side hurt though.

We still had to get home. We re-entered the station another way and now on the right side of the barriers, I loaded my jump card and we walked through like law-abiding citizens.

Barriers 2I wondered a little what went through the heads of the authorities when they set up the system at Rogier – and it’s similar in several of the other intersection metro stations in town, I’ve been looking. The system is designed to punish rather than teach. Not putting ticket machines inside the barriers at the stations makes it impossible for travellers who’ve made an honest mistake to put the situation right by buying a ticket at the end of their journey. I would have.

I’m guessing the punch in the side the sliding doors gave me was also intentional. The doors closed so much faster than they do when they let people through the right way.

Perhaps I should say the system is designed to punish and teach. I certainly feel punished. My ribs are bruised and I have difficult breathing deeply especially when I’m lying down. Two weeks later, it’s easing up, but the first few days after the punch were difficult. On the other hand I’ve now bought and charged a monthly card and check my wallet every time I leave home to make sure I’ve got it with me. So, yes, I’ve learned my lesson. But I still don’t think physical punishment is good educational practice.


As a coda to the above, I’m making this an audio recording, posting the recording on Soundcloud and including a link here so you can hear me as well, should you wish. You’ll know I succeeded if you see an audio player somewhere in the post. Anyway, to make the recording a little more interesting I decided to record some ambient sound on the tram and at the station. I especially wanted to record the sinister sound of the sliding barrier doors as they swish open and snap closed. Sadly, I have to admit, they make almost no sound. Consequently, in order to get the right sense of menace, I’ve included the sound of a guillotine at the appropriate momnent – thanks to the Creative Commons database of sound effects at Freesound.org and the creator Glaneur de sons.

This article was written for the #Blogg52 challenge.

A visitor in Brussels

Michael and me at Café MetropoleThe weekend just gone Mrs SC and I entertained our first visitor. As a matter of fact Michael didn’t stay with us but in a hotel in town, but he probably wouldn’t have chosen Brussels as a destination if we hadn’t been here. Also we spent a good deal of time with him. I think he counts as our first visitor.

Café Metropole interior 1To acquaintances here in Brussels and out on the Internet, I’ve been describing Michael as “my cousin” but that isn’t quite true. He’s my mother’s cousin, the son of her mother’s younger brother. I think that makes us first-cousins-once-removed (and his son is my second cousin). I admit I had to look this up on-line — see here.

Exactly what that would be in Swedish I’m not at all sure. Michael and my mother are kusiner, Michael’s son and I are sysslingar, but what is Michael to me? What am I to him? Suggestions, my Swedish speaking friends! 🙂

Café Metropole interior 3Anyway, Michael is all of 85, and if I am as spry, clear-headed and adventurous when I’m that age, I’ll be very happy. He made his own way here (by train and taxi) and was so curious and active we forgot how old he was and I’m afraid may have encouraged him to do more than he really ought to have done. However, he seemed happy enough with his visit when he left and said he was looking forward to a good rest when he got home.

Café Metropole interior 2On the Friday when he arrived (26th June) we took him to the Café Metropole. It was recommended by one of Mrs SC’s colleagues. It is the cafe/restaurant attached to Hotel Metropole and I’m told is the oldest continuously operating hotel in Brussels. The décor is Art Nouveau, dates from the 1890s and has been lovingly preserved. The food and drink is good and the staff were friendly, helpful and multilingual.

Café Metropole interior 4 - palmAfterwards, we tried to walk back to Michael’s hotel, but that was a step too far, so we contented ourselves with a look around the Grand Place before getting a taxi. When we got there, with my eye on the electronic display by his side, I tried to pay the taxi driver €104. The “104” turned out to be tuning frequency for the FM radio station he was listening to. The journey actually cost €5.40. Everybody but me thought this was very funny. (I have just looked it up – the taxi driver’s radio station of choice was Bel RTL “the most widely listened-to radio station in the French Community of Belgium” according to Wikipedia.)

Michael and me in Van Buuren gardensOn the Saturday Michael came to us by taxi and we took him to the Van Buuren House and Gardens, our third visit. We know the house quite well by now, but the gardens are ever-changing. We sat in the shade under a vine trellis and talked of many things.

Street market Flagey - cheesesMichael’s first visit to Brussels was with his Scout troop in 1946. He was 16. The troop took the ferry to Ostend and walked and camped their way south to the Ardennes, then back to Brussels where at last they stayed in the homes of a local Scout troop. They even visited Antwerp before returning home to London. One of Michael’s abiding memories is of the butter, cheese, bread and fresh vegetables that they got to eat in Belgium — in Britain these were still being rationed.

Street market Flagey - cherriesOn the Sunday, for a complete change of scene, we took Michael to the open-air market at Place Flagey. Here we walked around the stalls and admired the fruit and vegetables and all the other goods for sale.

Street market Flagey - spring onionsThe oyster and champaign bar was doing a roaring trade, but we decided that wasn’t for us. Instead we had coffee and great wedges of baked cheesecake and then took ourselves off to the Café Belga in one corner of Place Flagey for a beer.

In the Cafe Belga at FlageyThis watering hole is described in the French language Wikipedia as one of the city’s “trendy bars” (at least this is how M. Google translates “un des bars branchés de la commune”). I’m sure if we’d known we’d have felt very trendy. It is also in the ground floor of an art deco building from the 1930s that used to house the Belgian National Radio Broadcaster and is still home to a Dutch language commercial station.

Street market Flagey - baguette towerWe finished the day off — but hopefully didn’t finish Michael off — by visiting the European Parliament area and the Park Leopold before an evening meal on Place du Luxembourg.

It's hard not to put a current events spin on this statue and see the reclining figure as the Greek government gazing longingly up at the Euro being held way out of reach by Lady Europe. Or perhaps you have another interpretation?
It’s hard not to put a current events spin on this statue and see the reclining figure as the Greek government gazing longingly up at the Euro being held way out of reach by Lady Europe. Or perhaps you have another interpretation?

Thanks to Mrs SC for the two photos of Michael and me.

This article was written for the #Blogg52 challenge.

Tourist Information

Belgium is a schizophrenic nation, people say, at the Dutch end of the country everyone is Germanic and efficient, but at the French end everyone is Gallic and disorganised. As for Brussels – Pff! (And a gesture of hands thrown in the air.) The Dutch end of the country is Flanders and the French end is Wallonia while the 19 municipalities that make up the city of Brussels are a principally French speaking enclave just within the area of Flanders.

I heard this story about the difference between Dutch-speaking Belgians and French-speaking Belgians (or if you prefer, the Flemings and the Walloons) even before I moved to Brussels and it’s been repeated to me here by all sorts of different people – foreigners, Flemings and even French-speakers. The French-speakers are apologetic and self-deprecating when they tell it, but they tell it none the less.

Now I really don’t want to be the sort of person who goes around swallowing clichés whole and then regurgitating them, but I’m going to share with you my recent experience of seeking tourist information in Brussels, and I’m afraid it does rather confirm the above.

Last week was the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo. I know I’d left it rather late, but I thought it might be nice to go out to Waterloo for the anniversary celebrations. Waterloo is not far from here at all, it’s just to the south of Brussels and many people live there and commute into the city to work. Also, there is a big expatriate Swedish community in Waterloo clustered around the Swedish school (and attracted there originally following the major promotion of the town by a certain Swedish pop group).

Grand Place 3Anyway, here I am in Brussels, Waterloo is a 15 minute train ride away, it seemed a natural thing to do to go into the Brussels Tourist Information office on the Grand Place and ask for some help. La Grand Place (French) or Grote Markt (Dutch) is in the centre of the Brussels’ tourist district, a fabulous former market square surrounded by tall, 15th century Gothic to 17th century Baroque buildings commemorating civic institutions and city guilds. The TI centre is in the south-east corner of the Place, in the City Hall (Hôtel de Ville). You enter through a short corridor past the sign that tells you (I think) this used to be a police station. To the right is an office where you can buy souvenirs and tickets and to the left an office where you can get information. If you are lucky.

Need InfoI say that because, if you’re going to visit the Brussels TI office, you’d better come prepared with questions that relate just to Brussels. As the young man in the office politely explained, Waterloo is not in Brussels. It is in Wallonia and what happens in Wallonia – even if only just across the border in Waterloo – is a mystery in Brussels. The young man (who had very good English) managed without actually saying it to convey that he felt me profoundly misguided in wanting to visit Waterloo when I had all the delights of Brussels available to me.

But I was persistent. Where to find out about events in Waterloo? For that you’ll have to visit the Wallonia Tourist Information centre, he said, and started giving me directions – across the square, down that street, turn left… you can’t miss it. Having previously had experience of “you can’t miss it” directions in Brussels that somehow I did manage to miss, I asked for a map. He wrote the address down and drew a sketch map for me on a scrap of paper. The Brussels TI office doesn’t have maps of the city to give away to tourists who want to leave Brussels.

The Wallonia office, when I found it, was shut. Clearly the opening hours of the Wallonia TI centre are also something unknown in Brussels. They were displayed on the door however, so I made a note and went back the following day.

Espace WallonieThe Wallonia tourist information “Espace” is a large open room, partly given over to exhibitions (currently there is an exhibition for children about Ernest & Celestine who I must conclude are Walloons). The reception desk was staffed with two people who did not seem to have much to do. I went up to them and said: Do you speak English? Then immediately corrected myself (because this is a tourist information office). Of course you speak English!

They didn’t.

Or rather, the older man did not and the middle-aged woman with him said she could manage a little.

So I asked about Waterloo.

I’m not sure what Wallonia has to offer, but I would guess that the battlefield of Waterloo and the associated museums are quite a big attraction for foreign tourists, and judging by the coverage of the Waterloo celebrations in the British press, at least some of them are likely to be English-speaking. Well, if so, they are not expected to visit the Brussels space of the Wallonia TI centre.

The centre had one flyer which, to be fair, did include a few sentences in English and from which I was able to work out that there is a museum dedicated to Wellington in the town of Waterloo and a big hill overlooking the battlefield just outside the town. There are also buses from the town centre to the battlefield.

After consulting her colleague in French, the woman managed to convey to me that there is a new museum. If I understood correctly, built underground. This is a fine museum, the finest in Wallonia! But sadly the Wallonia Tourist Information space in Brussels had no information about it. The lady I was talking to went online but couldn’t find anything about the new museum on the the Internet either. However she was able to find a telephone number, which she used to call the museum. There was a long wait before anyone answered and then a long conversation that confirmed the new museum is open from Monday to Sunday, seven days a week, between 9 o’clock in the morning and 6 o’clock in the evening. She wrote this down for me and was very pleased that she knew both “Monday” and “Sunday”. Her colleague congratulated her.

How to get to Waterloo? If you don’t have a car you must take a train from the southern station and a bus. Okay. I can see from the flyer how much it costs to enter the museum and the different sites – can you tell me how much it costs to travel there? Is there perhaps a packet price? Oh dear, we don’t know. The buses are run by private enterprise and the trains originate in Brussels so that is something we can’t know about. Ask at the railway station. (Later, at the railway station, they said, Pff! And threw their hands up.)

While I was there another tourist came into the centre. This man spoke French and had some questions about Brussels. He talked with the man behind the counter – the one who couldn’t speak English – and although I didn’t understand everything I got the gist. It seems the Wallonia TI centre has no information about Brussels – not even a map – because it’s not Wallonia, you see. But they are happy to recommend the Brussels TI office in the Grand Place, though they have difficulty explaining even in French where it is. Since that was something I knew and the Wallonian information provider seemed so helpless, I almost volunteered to take the chap there myself. Almost but not quuite.

Leaving the Wallonia centre, I walked up the street about 100 metres and found myself outside the Flanders Tourist Information centre. It was open. When I saw this I thought: I have to. And I went in.

Visit FlandersThe Visit Flanders tourist information centre is even larger and more open than the Wallonia Espace, and rather busier when I was there, with seven or eight tourists but only one member of staff, an older woman, working behind the desk. I joined the queue. Obviously it wouldn’t be fair to ask about Waterloo, but I thought I could ask about Flanders Fields – surely as big magnet for foreign tourists in the Flanders area as Waterloo in Wallonia.

Standing in the queue I noticed a computer screen handily placed with “FAQ – Select your language” on it in five different languages. Under the title were buttons for each of English, French, Dutch, Spanish and German. I pressed the screen for English. Nothing happened. The screen wasn’t touch sensitive, so it was actually impossible to follow the instructions, choose your language and read the FAQ. This didn’t bode well.

Still, I waited in line. And I waited… But it has to be said, after I got to the head of the queue, that the woman behind the counter spoke good English and was able to give me brochures – in English – about Flanders Fields, a brochure about Ypres, a brochure about accommodation in the area, a tourist map and a leaflet with information about how to get there.

On the counter in front of her was a map of Brussels. The two older women ahead of me in the queue were asking about things to do and see in Brussels (in French). The Flanders TI woman not only answered them in French and made recommendations, but also gave them free tourist maps.

And so I am forced to conclude – at least in respect of tourist information offices in Brussels – it may be a cliché but the Belgian cultural divide is also alive and well and still splitting the country in two (or three).

Also, if you’re in Brussels and you Need Info – I recommend VisitFlanders on Rue du Marché aux Herbes.

Grand Place 4


I’d love to report that I got out to Waterloo and saw the re-enactment of the battle, but no. Eventually I discovered that tickets for the re-enactments (there were several days of them) were all sold out long ago. I’ll content myself with going out there some other time. I apologise btw for linking the 200th Anniversary reference to the on-line pages of the Anglo-jingo Daily Mail, but the pictures are really good.

This article was written for the #Blogg52 challenge.

Photography – overcoming photo-block

In the park - leaves against the skyNo matter how accustomed I am to photography, I find there are days when I can’t see anything to take pictures of. In a way that’s understandable if I’m in a new place where new impressions are forcing themselves upon me from all sides and it’s difficult to filter out the things I want to focus on, but I don’t understand why it happens sometimes when I’m familiar with a place. Unless this is an example of familiarity breeding indifference.

In the park - the joggerI’m not sure which of these two perspectives was influencing me the other day, but I decided I didn’t have any intention of indulging my reluctance. I took the camera and I went on a walk and I forced myself to do one of those basic photography school exercises. You know the one: set yourself to take a photograph every 100 paces. Walk, count your steps, and when you get to 200 (because two steps make one pace) stop and take a picture. It doesn’t matter what – just take it and then walk on.

In the park - conversation over a bicycleAfter a while – after three or five or seven photographs – you begin to see things that may be worth photographing and after 10 or 20 or 40, you find you’ve had a walk and you’ve got a collection of images, some of which may not be so bad. Of course, you don’t know until you get home and look at them but, even if when you do, you don’t choose to share even half, perhaps there are few with something interesting about them. Perhaps there’s one or two that are really not bad.

In the park - up to the roadSo it was, again, for me. I walked through the two parks that are nearest to where I now live in Brussels: Duden Park – which used to be an enclosed Royal Park but was given over to the people of Uccle sometime in the late 1800s – and then on through Vorst Park which I think is all that remains of a forest since that’s what “vorst” means. (And yes, the French name is Parc de Forest so my linguistic achievement here is even more underwhelming than it may seem at first.)

In the park - not a bench you can sit onThere were people out jogging in the morning air, walking their dogs, companionably talking with one another or consulting their mobile telephones. There was one homeless man just waking up from the bed he’d made for himself on one of the benches, and another bench without any planks to sit on.

In the park - off to workThere were park workers setting out for work.

In the park - LeopoldThere was the bust of bad King Leopold II gazing arrogantly at the dome of the Palace of Justice he ordered built, and the working class district of the city he had depopulated in order to make space for it.

In the park - what Leopold seesThere was the sun on the trees, on leaves green against the blue sky, on the facades of the houses over beyond the edge of the park.

And at the end of it all there was a certain peace and a feeling of accomplishment. And a few photos to illustrate this post.
In the park - sun on facades


This article was written for the #Blogg52 challenge.