Let’s play a game.
I say a word, and you say whatever comes to mind. Ready?
Irish …
English …
French …
Belgian …
What were your answers? For me, it was Irish Pub, English Channel, French Fries, and Belgian Waffles. Did you get the same?
From France, we traveled to Belgium, and if this article is successful, you will have a new association with the country. There were a lot of classical Belgian things to look forward to—waffles, their famous chocolate and beers (maybe that’s what you answered?), as well a visit with Uncle Kevin, and a whole day of training/teaching with fellow martial artists from several countries.
What we didn’t know was in store for us was a series of unusual museums. Sure, every big city has its art and science museums, for which we are truly grateful, but have you ever been to a Sewer Museum? Comics? How about Fries?
I’ll start with a quick nod to the natural history museum—not because it qualifies as a weird museum but in defense of Belgium and ourselves. It is in Brussels, just around the corner from the European Union Parliament Building. It offers a treasure trove of rock samples and dinosaur bones that delighted our nine-year-old son, as I imagine they would delight all nine-year-old boys. The highlight was the high-speed animation of tectonic plates rearranging themselves, culminating with India crashing into Asia with enough force to create the Himalayan Mountains. On repeat. Again and again. Very engaging.
But the weird museums were of a different flavor (and in some cases odor) all together…
Oh, yes, back to Fries. If you are still calling them French Fries, then you haven’t spent nearly enough time with Belgians; they will ardently defend their claim to inventing deep-fried potatoes. Thankfully, every Belgian I’ve had the privilege of getting to know is forgiving and has a great sense of humor. For despite my time there, I still often utilize the unforgivably alliterative ‘French’ word.
Maybe that Belgian sense of humor is behind the quirky museums?
So, why stop eating waffles and chocolate in Bruges long enough to go into a museum? And what would you put into a Belgian Fries Museum, anyway? Well, firstly, you go in for the free sample of fries at the end. And as for content, it’s mind-blowing what you can explore on the topic.
The museum starts with the history of the potato—how and when it came from the Americas to Europe, how there is an institute in Peru dedicated to preserving all of the thousands of solanum tuberosum species, how Ireland became dependent on the potato in part because it was graciously hiding underground when the nasty English landholders burned their other crops, and how you can use raw potato juice to cure a long list of maladies. Who knew?
How do potatoes become fries? Of course, the museum explains how some Belgians invented our favorite side dish: one winter when the little minnows they fished out from under ice to deep fry were unattainable, some hardy Belgians made do with potatoes instead. Fast forward to the present day: we watched a video (twice, it was that good) of how potatoes travel from underground through various machines to end up in freezer section bags, ready to fry.
And who could forget the display about how a group of young Belgian space enthusiasts successfully ballooned a paper cone of fries (with accompanying selfie-camera) into the stratosphere. Or the cabaret show where human-sized packets of fries with arms, legs, and moving faces, sing to us about the virtues of topping your potatoes with ma—ma—ma—ma—ma—ma—ma—ma—ma—ma—mayonnaise!! Did I mention the Belgian sense of humor?
Oh my, I was so excited to tell you about the fries museum that I’ve nearly run out of time for the rest. Well, in summary, I honestly didn’t want to go to the Comics Museum in Brussels. I would rather have delved into the halls dedicated to the artist Magritte or the scientist Marie Curie. But this time, we let the boys pick. Well… after hours of weaving through displays of Tintin, Smurfs, Manga, GameOver, up-and-coming talents, and all the rest, I walked away from that place in sheer awe of what wonders human imagination and creativity can inspire. (Dare I say, more so than any fine art museum?)
Did I save the best for last? (Chuckle) Not really. The sewer museum was difficult for us to understand because it was the one museum not graciously offering English translations. We did pick up some mathematics on the evolution of the shape of the drainage pipe, as well as the avant-garde art surrounding a manhole cover, a tale of everyday heroics that the average sewer worker represents (imagine dysentery without them!), and the unforgettable experience of walking through an active raw sewage pipe while listening to a ghostly soprano duet piped in over the speakers. Truly moving. (Chuckle again.)
Ah, I think I just wanted the satisfaction of hearing the words for years to come: “Mama, really? The Sewer museum?”
So, next time someone says ‘Belgian’ to you, will you think about fries, quirky museums, or a terrific sense of humor? If so, my job here is done!