We visited a Beguinage in the Flemish city of Leuven with Marie-Louise and George-Henri, Eric’s mother’s lifelong friends. This brickwork fairy-tale borough originated in the late middle ages, almost a thousand years ago when a women’s movement known as the Beguines arose in northern Europe. These women were not nuns, per se, but they lead a quasi-monastic life in closed communities, devoting themselves to prayer and labor. We had already visited a picturesque Beguinage in Bruges, but in terms of scope and serenity, the one in Leuven really took our breath away.
Just a short walk from Halle Gate is ‘Art en Marge’, a marvelous little museum dedicated to my favorite kind of artists. “Outsider” is perhaps the most slippery and contentious label you can throw at an artist, but there is a meaningful use of the term and this museum does a wonderful job of doing it justice. Upstairs was a little room brimming with homespun carnival rides, and I played with them all.
The historical center of Brussels is always teeming with odd and cheeky street performances, but something strikes me as especially Belgian about this guy. It’s not just the fact that he’s dressed as Magritte. There’s something else to it, a je ne sais quoi that I lack the Flemish words to express. Like a spirit animal or something. He just seems at home here with Tintin, Mannequin Pis, and beer.