Fortuitous encounters

It has been several months since I last found the time, patience and inspiration to write on this blog.

The ambitous nature of the post I was going to publish has somewhat subsided, largely as a result of the fact that the overwhelming clarity of thought, that had possessed me for a few long weeks at the beginning of this year, has largely disappeared.

However, a few weeks ago, possessed by boredom, depression and an overwhelming sense of lack of purpose, I found myself leafing (figuratively of course) through the pages of the BBC's website and reading of the imminent departure of Mark Randell, the BBC's Brussels correspondent, who is relocating to the USA.

Mark published a very interesting and informed article on his impressions of Brussels (largely positive) and placed it in stark contrast to the one that Justin Webb published in 2002 before relocating to the US.

Mark's piece was mellifluous and complimentary of the city's many virtues, while Mark's was a scathing endictment of its limitless inadequacies and idiosyncracies.

Both Mark and Justin (though he did his best) failed to raise any serious controversy, and for that reason, I felt entitled to play my well rehersed role of 'agent provocateur' and contribute to the debate.

Below the comment I left on Mark Randell's blog.

'As somebody that relocated to Brussels at the end of 2004 and is about to reach the ominous 5 years threshold of being based in the capital of Europe, I can recognise myself in almost everything that both Mark and Justin have written in their FOOCs.

Bureaucracy in Belgium is infernal, customer service non-existent, taxes prohibitive, and dog fouling as much of a national sport as mussels and beer.

But it is a city I have learnt to love becuase of its size, the beauty of its architecture, the quality of the public services you can access (both hospitals and schools are excellent), the gentlemanliness of (some) of its inhabitants, its low key charm and, of course, its multi-culturalism.

I have plenty of friends who have lived in Brussels throughout the nineties and the memories that they carry of the place very much echo Justin's 2002 piece. But from what I see and hear (from many of those friends as well), the city has moved on and the refreshing inflow of 1000s of young people from the new member states has not only increased the availability of Milla Jovovich lookalikes in the streets, but also generated a very vibrant night and cultural life.

The only issue that still angers me about every day life in Brussels, and which both Justin and Mark have failed to mention, is the pathetic and petty infighting between the french and flemish communities to which you are constantly and invariably exposed - even as a foreigner - the second you step outside the ghetto of the European quarter.

I am sick and tired of people stepping out of lifts and responding to my well meaning 'bonne journee' in sneering flemish, and I am getting increasingly irritated at having to walk out of restaurants, when in the company of Flemish colleagues, if they do not provide a menu in Flemish.

Two years ago, I attended a political meeting organised by various political parties trying to promote their policies to the expatriates from the EU living in Brussels (yes as an EU citizen in another EU country, you can vote in in local elections).

Within a few minutes, a discussion on public services in Brussels degenerated into a war of insults between flemish and french speaking parties. Trying to capture expat voters by telling them how good bus services are in Ghent was one of the most absurd circus acts I have ever seen.

On that occasion, I was tempted to scream from the back of the room 'just let me know which one of you guys will get rid of the dog S**t'. Sadly, I just decided to leave instead.

Alessandro Fazio'

Nothing exceptional so far. I think my piece reflects the feelings of a vast majority (or minority) of the members of the Brussels expatriate community. And I was not expecting that it should have any consequences. In fact, I feared it would be largely dismissed as an outpoor of frustration and anger generated by a disgruntled octagenarian.

So much for assumptions, I thought to myself on opening my linked in profile the day after posting. A message from a guy that I had not heard from in years was sitting in my inbox, waiting to be read. I hastily opened it, assuming that it would be yet another message from somebody who has lost their job and is eagerly trouping the colour around friends and acquaintances in search of a new challenge (aka job).

To my surprise, however, here was a message from somebody who had read my post on the BBC's website and was visibly disturbed by it. I was reprimanded for the content of my post which apparently provoked a great injustice to Brussels and its inhabitants.

Guess I hit a nerve there. The first sentence that comes to mind: "excusatio non petita, accusatio manifesta".

Alex