For three years, between 2015 and 2017, Mrs SC and I lived in Brussels. There are a number of posts on this blog describing some of our experiences then. It’s been a while since we were back, but in September his year we returned. Partly to visit old haunts, partly to explore Wallonia. Here are some stories I found while we were there.
Found stories 1: A story for a journey
In the Brussels Midi station there is a special office for booking international travel. You chat with one or other of the Belgian Rail people at the door. They act as a filter to point you to the other ticket office – the one for domestic travel – if that’s what you really need. If they judge you really do intend to travel internationally, they let you in so you can take a ticket and wait for your number to come up.
We were legitimate visitors, Mrs SC and I. We were there to buy our return ticket via Cologne and Kiel ultimately home to Sweden. We waited, and as we did so, I saw against one wall a machine that promised to dispense me a story for my journey. I’d heard about these story dispensers. Back when she was an international high-flyer, Mrs SC told me about one at the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. But I’d never actually seen one before, so of course I had to use it – and take photos.
I chose to get a story in English, (French and German were the other language options), and pressed the button. And I wondered what classic or what piece of translation I’d be offered.
The story was printed out on a long strip of paper. It was neither a classic (in the sense of a short story long out of copyright), nor was it a translation. It turned out to be Super Troopers by the contemporary Canadian author Thomas Wharton. A story of love and loss, and books in a bookshop. You can read it on-line on Thomas Warton’s website here.
Short Édition
According to the extra material printed on the strip, the story is reproduced from a literary magazine called Short Circuit, produced by a the Short Édition publishing company.
Short Édition turns out to be a French publishing house of short literature. On their website they write that not only do they publish online, but also: we publish fiction around the world via our Short Story Dispensers for the public to enjoy a serendipitous literary experience, free of charge. So they are the ones responsible for the story dispensers.
At the bottom of the story strip is the circled B logo of Belgian Rail and the logo of the Fédération Wallonie-Bruxelles. And a statement in French that I think tells me the story strip is sponsored as part of a project to promote the future of culture in Wallonia and Brussels.
So that’s the first found story I want to share.
Found stories 2: A story for the lonely
Walking round the city, revisiting our old haunts, we came up to the Bar du Matin near the Albert pre-metro station and saw this message.
Jay Ventress goes by @Jaytheauthor on Instagram where he describes himself as a streetwriter. (I’ve never seen this term before. I suppose it’s coined with an eye to streetartist.) Following the links from his Instagram profile I learn Jay has been posting up his Dear Stranger letters for some time in different places around Europe, Australia and the USA. Some people write back to him. In the letter above he says people in Brussels have been particularly responsive. I think, he writes, that’s because the majority of souls here, once arrived as strangers, so they know what lonliness feels like.
He may be right, though it strikes me as a romantic interpretation. There’s nothing wrong with seeing the world through romantic lenses, and there are a good many souls who once arrived as strangers in Brussels. My experience of Belgians, though, suggests many are friendly people even if they are natives. Even if they didn’t arrive as strangers.
Looking for the TI
Mrs SC and I experienced this friendliness again on our present trip. Every time we stood uncertainly on a street corner and opened a map, someone would be sure to come up and ask if they could help.
We did this in Charleroi, looking for the city’s Tourist Information office and had lots of friendly advice. Nobody actually knew where the TI office was. Some people had never heard of it. “A Tourist Information office? In Chareleroi?!” But everyone tried to help us. (And we did find the TI office in the end, and they were delighted to see us. I suspect Charleroi doesn’t get all that many tourists.)
Jaytheauthor has produced a book (Dear Stranger: Origins) from his experiences and the messages strangers have sent him. It looks like he’s also recently started a Substack page recording his adventures. (Kick Ass Cult, here.)
His most recent Instagram post from Brussels is from July. (Which, I guess, is when he put up the Dear Stranger letter we found.) Under it he writes: If you found a letter feel free to comment the location. Hi Jay, consider this a comment!
Which leads me to my third and fourth stories.
Found stories: Mrs SC and the Bar du Matin
We found Jaytheauthor’s Dear Stranger letter posted on a rubbish bin near the Bar du Matin. The Bar is a 15 minute walk from where we used to live, and also on the way to and from where my wife worked. It was a favourite place to meet up after work. As it name implies, it’s open early (Bar of the Morning), and I sometimes dropped in for a coffee there after I’d walked with her into town.
During the lockdowns after the terrorist attacks on Brussels airport and the Maelbeek metro station, I was not in Brussels, but Mrs SC was. This is more her story than mine, but I wrote about it soon after it happened. I’ll reproduce her story as I reported it.
Not a typical day
Mrs SC has an arrangement with her office that lets her come in late on Tuesdays so she (and I when I’m there) can go swimming. When I finally reached her – by text message – she’d just got back from the swimming baths and was getting ready for work. She hadn’t heard about the attacks.
During the day, contact was a bit difficult. Presumably the mobile net was overwhelmed by traffic. However, we managed to exchange texts several times during the day and finally were able to talk in the evening. I spent the day on and off line. Sometimes fielding questions from worried friends and family members (especially the more elderly and less e-literate ones), sometimes following the news updates on the social and news media, sometimes doing something practical. I dusted and vacuumed the flat. Then I went shopping. Then I made a batch of pancakes and ate them all. It was only afterwards (when I was feeing a bit sick) that I realised I’d forgotten to use any eggs.
Mrs SC got through on the phone at last around 6.30 in the evening. She told me her story.
Her day
When she left the flat in the morning, she discovered the metro wasn’t working. She took a local tram towards the city, but that came to a halt just two stops up the line. So then she tried to catch a bus, but that also came to a halt just a few stops along. After a lot of uncertainty, a couple of security personnel turned up and told everyone on the bus and milling around at the bus stop that there was no public transport into or out of Brussels centre. It seems this information was not given over the radio to the bus or tram drivers; they were just told to stop. The security people recommended that the passengers did not go on into town on foot, but return to their homes.
Mrs SC walked a part of the way home, but then went into a cafe for a late breakfast. That was when she learned more about the bombings and finally got through to her (Swedish) boss who had been trying to reach her. He wanted to know about another Swedish colleague who was visiting Brussels, but because my wife wasn’t in the office she couldn’t go to find out what had happened to him.
This was also when she got through to her work (or they reached her) and she discovered her immediate (Brussels) boss was actually close to entering the Maelbeek metro station when the bomb went off there. The boss didn’t realise what had happened – just understood that the station had been closed – and instead walked to work.
A “safe” notice on Facebook
By this time the authorities had gone out with a request that everybody stay indoors and off the streets, so Mrs SC decided it was better for her to stay on in the cafe. She was there for at least two hours, following developments on social media and news websites. This was when she was able to post a “safe” notice to Facebook and a photo of the café looking very peaceful, which helped allay fears for some friends I’m sure. After that she decided she would be better off at home, and because there was still no public transport, she walked. The weather, she said, made it a very nice day to be out walking.
When she got home – or on the way – she finally heard officially from her employers that all their members of staff were accounted for and were safe.
(You can read the full post at Terrorism – a proper response.)
Just outside the Bar du Matin is a water fountain with a charming sculpture. Two children playing on a barrel. It’s based on an illustration in one of Breugel’s paintings. I wrote another blog post all about the Breugel fountains here. There’s another story for you!
But I think this blog post is quite long enough for now.
