Waterloo, Belgium and the Language Divide

La Grande Place - Brussels, Belgium

In my last few posts I described my life in Milan.  In earlier posts I shared stories about living in Verona in the 1970s.  If you remember, we had to make a quick exit from Verona because of the danger of kidnappings or other reprisals from workers at the Barzetti plant because Beatrice Foods had laid off some 350 workers.

In early August, Vincent and I traveled to Belgium to look for a house or apartment.   The European headquarters of Beatrice Foods was located in Brussels.  Marie-Juliette and my niece, Kristin, aged 11 accompanied us.  Kristin had come to Europe to spend a year with us and attend a Francophone school. The boys stayed in France with my mother-in-law while we house-hunted.

Waterloo and The Lion's Mound

We looked at many houses during the day and eventually chose a rental in Waterloo, the scene of Napoleon’s demise.  A man-made hill, The Lion’s Mound, commemorates  this historical event.  “The lion is the heraldic beast on the personal coat of arms of the monarch of the Netherlands and symbolizes courage.” (Wikipedia)  The hill is made up of earth collected from all over the famous battlefield.  For a small fee one can climb up the hill and study the scene of the battle.

Our house was not far from the Lion’s Mound in a development of newish homes.  A mixture of Belgians and expats made up the neighborhood.  I absolutely loved that house.  It had lots of windows and was light and cheerful inside.  Along the back a series of French windows opened on to a yard with a cornfield beyond.  The spires of a church were visible on the far side of the rolling fields.  We had lived in apartments for years and I loved the wide open spaces and the fact the children could go out and play on their own. 

Because Belgium is on the  English Channel, weather was an ever-changing event.  Over the cornfield I could watch the clouds careening through the sky: cloudy, rainy, sunshiney and cloudy again; all that weather packed into a half hour.  

Belgium is a bi-lingual country.  Currently, 40% of the population speaks French.  They live primarily near the southern border with France.  58% of the people speak Dutch (Flemish) and are found in the northern regions bordering The Netherlands. A small number of people speak German.  Brussels is a mishmash.  But the collar communities vary.  For example the check-out girls at my grocery store were francophone but the tellers at my bank were flemish-speaking. When we moved there in 1977, a radical far right-wing Flemish faction was pushing for separation and independence. 

Yellow - Dutch,  Red - French, Blue - German,  Orange - Brussels

That evening after finding our new abode we were invited for dinner to a Belgian colleague’s home.  After dinner, the two girls 9 and 11 went out to play on the swing in the back garden. In Belgium, the sun sets very late in the summer.  They were having a good time running around and giggling.  We were inside having coffee, when there came a loud knock and rough voices.  Our hostess hastened to the door.  In came a swat-team of paramilitary policeman with machine guns and bullet- proof vests.  They swarmed through the house looking for Flemish terrorists.  Apparently a neighbor had been disturbed by the girls and had called the police.  Wow!  Welcome to Belgium.