Life with “The Others”

Luckily, Del and I just left Paris yesterday, escaping a fresh outburst of riots. Sixty police have been injured so far. The catalyst? Two teenagers (12-13ish) were riding on a moped without helmets. They crashed into a police car that was just patrolling around. Not chasing them, no sirens on. Just driving around. And now the suburbs light up in riots again.

I don’t want to make politically insensitive arguments, but WTF? I just don’t get it. What are these people angry at the police for? What justifies them destroying property, lighting police stations on fire, throwing malotov cocktails, etc…for something that was the boys’ fault?

I am not anti-(legal) immigration. But even though the papers do not state it, considering the neighbourhoods where this is happening and the boys in question, these rioters are almost surely (mostly Muslim, perhaps illegal) immigrants. It looks exactly like last year’s riots after two boys electrocuted themselves hiding from police. Except it looks even less like the police could be construed as having precipitated the deaths.

A brother of one of the boys says the police “rammed” the bike and refused to offer the boys assistance. Besides the fact that this sounds terribly fishy (the police would have to be hoping for a riot to act so openly callus and racist), was the brother making this claim even there? He doesn’t say so, although there are witnesses who say that the police car was just riding along when the boys smashed into it.

Now, I can’t prove it of course, but the rioters look like (bad) liars on top of it. Yes, I get that these people say they can’t get jobs and face discrimination. But I’m sorry I missed it: how does lying and then burning things up after your own people kill themselves in stupid mistakes fix that again? They’re only making themselves appear like dishonest, destructive people who have no concept of self-responsibility. C’mon! At least chose to riot when the police have actually acted inappropriately! I don’t want to judge people I simply don’t understand, but in this instance I just can’t see a way in which they look like anything other then people who are blaming their woes on somebody else and looking for a reason to prove what undesirable citizens they are. It just makes me wish we could throw anybody acting this way out of the country.

It reminds me of the Copenhagen riots over the closing of a “youth center” (which, despite some news outlets calling it that for some reason, was actually a squatter house). I try to understand the”other side” of these stories because I assume that people have logic in their own minds. But I still don’t see how that one was justified. Just like this one in Paris. These people appear to be nothing but victim-players. I’ve never understood what they think their gripe is, at least not one with any legal or logical justification. If you can explain it to me, please do. Otherwise, I’ll continue to think that these people are just blaming “us” because we let them.

Del and I quite often come across nice places and things to do here in Belgium, and I always intend to recommend some of these things, but quite often forget. In fact, I think Brussels has better food than Paris. I say this because, sure one can find fierce food in Paris. But it’s not easy to find among all the less-than-impressive places that make it off of naive tourist traffic alone. In Paris, you either have to be very lucky, very informed, or willing to pay a pretty price to ensure a heavenly meal. Brussels, on the other hand, is chock full of outstanding restaurants that won’t cost you a week’s salary to eat there. Here, you can randomly walk into a restaurant of your choice and chances are good that you’ll get your money’s worth, if not more.

So I’m going to try to get better at offering “local reviews”. (I sortof did do one earlier for Brasserie du Prince d’Orange here.) Last week we ate at BelgaQueen with friends. Tucked away on a side street by the opera house, it’s easy to miss in spite of the architecture indoors which wears its history as a national post office, and later a bank, on its (beuatifully stained glass) sleeve. Sure it’s not an unknown secret, but I had never tried it. (Perhaps partially because it is quite well known.) I must say, we were not let down!

We started off with foie gras (I know, I know but I can’t help it!) It was so good I didn’t even feel guilty. One friend had some sort of shrimp in sauce in a puff pastry. I was a little too preoccupied concentrating on the stuff melting in my mouth to notice his plate, but he was fully content as well. I followed it with the “Royal Cod on crushed potatoes with olive oil and embered chicory, butter and wine ‘of mai’ emulsion with black radish chips”. Yum! (You have to sort of sing when you say that.) A more than ample serving, it pained me to waste any, but I could only eat a little more than half. Every bite that I did eat made me want to dance at my seat. The fish cut was thick like steak with a delicate crust of skin. The sauce was lightly sweet and seasoned as if it were created to mate perfectly with the chicory and fish.

One friend had the “Oven roasted cuckoo from Malines (Belgian poultry) on gingerbread with pear syrup on top, homemade chips and a mixed salad with a cider vinaigrette” and my bf chose “Belgian Charolais tenderloin, sauce of Orval reduction with broken pepper (or beer based béarnaise sauce), braised spinach and artichokes, cone of fries BQ”, which he described as “gorgeous”. I think our table conversation was mostly reduced to “ohhh”s and “mmmm”s. This was one of those rare meals where you can hardly believe that food can make one so happy. A place where you realize that it really doesn’t matter what you order, it’s going to knock your socks off.

The only thing I wasn’t wowed by was the dessert menu. I’m sure all dishes were top quality, but nothing really sparked my interest. Their offerings are heavy on the fruit-and-cream/pastry-and-sugar variety, short on the chocolaty/rich and fatty variety. I am a strong fan of the latter. My bf, however, was completely enamoured with his creme brulee. I split a lemon meringue “tartlette” which was high quality, but still fruity pastry nonetheless.

All in all, it gets my top endorsement. Let’s call it “five chocolate bars”. Don’t let the hype scare you away. This is one restaurant that’s practically a Belgian landmark for a reason.

BelgaQueen’s bar, a shadow of the beautiful one downstairs to accompany its club.

I’ve been in England again. This time I didn’t go anywhere new to me, but I still couldn’t help but appreciate the everyday charms and images of Britain. (Apologies in advance for the distortion caused by resizing them for posting. All originals, and more in the series, can be found on my flicker account):

A good old English Sunday snack, complete with sausages, brown sauce, toast and butter, pork pie and a tea cake.

Have you ever seen fresh milk still delivered to the front door?

A thatched roof house in Sulgrave (remember Sulgrave – home of George Washington’s ancestors?)

Bundled up against the chill so we can take a ride in the uncle’s new toy – one of those cute, quirky antique (convertible) cars. Aviator goggles free of charge. Note the original (5×6 or 7 foot!) fireplace and the stone floors, as all the houses in town are hundreds of years old.

Our drive down an English country lane, complete with misty autumn weather.

One striking image I did not get a photo of was an Indian wedding. We were going to the movies and the building which housed the ceremony was swarmed with a rainbow of bright colors, fluttery fabrics, and sparkly accents. Indians like bling and color and it makes a gorgeous, celebratory scene. While I didn’t get that photo, I enclose instead one of an English-Indian friend wearing one of her saris at a recent wedding. So just imagine 100 women dressed like this in various shades, on a green lawn with autumn colored trees all around.