The Dream: a road trip from Malaga to Morocco to discover new flavors and moments to frame in the album of our adventures.
The Reality: Brussels, the most convenient meeting point for two friends separated only by a different path of life.
During the flight from Dublin to the capital of Europe I imagined Brussels as the classic North-European city, well kept and romanticized by its Flemish colors. However, Brussels, at first glance, shatters part of these conceptions.
Jacques Brel’s city follows its existential parable, it is a microcosm rich in contrasts. Its streets are a combination of history, poetry, postcolonial theories, progress/remembrance. The scents carried by the wind smell like beer, waffles and oriental fragrances. The Bruxellois come from Belgium and from every corner of the world. The antithesis of Brussels is translated into French, Dutch and into all the languages f the metics who dwell the city. The tourists’ attention is caught by the beauty of the Grand Place, by the bohemian atmosphere of the Mont des Arts, by the Atonium, by the crazy colors of abbey beers, by Tin Tin’s blonde tuft. But Brussels is made of thousands of parallel roads, it’s made of rich areas, red lights districts, working-class neighborhoods, dilapidated buildings. Brucsella or Broekzele, the “marsh home" cannot be portrayed by a single snapshot, it cannot be judged, it must be experienced, enjoyed and understood.