Project Zinneke: Phase 1

Partly in protest against the invasion of the cobbled streets of Brussels by the SUPER-SIZED WAFFLE (a sickly sweet distortion of a perfectly acceptable patisserie, favoured by the unwitting tourist); partly inspired by the discovery of a Belgian group called MuZiek de Singe, whose music has been discribed as Zinneke Swing, I have fallen even deeper for the Bruxellois (abstract: I wouldn't be talking about that on the internet now, would I?!).

Zinneke, if you want to practise your French:

"désigne en bruxellois à la fois la petite Senne, la rivière qui contournait Bruxelles pour éviter des inondations et un chien bâtard qui parfois terminait son existence dans la Senne. Par extension, le Zinneke est celui qui a des origines multiples, symbole du caractère cosmopolite et multiculturel de Bruxelles." (This is how the annual Zinneke parade organisers describe it)

Ok, so if French GCSE is only a distant memory to you, Zinneke is:

A word in brusseloise, describing the little river Senne, which winds its way around Brussels, as well as a type of mongrel (whose life sadly often ends in the river Senne). By extension, someone who is a Zinneke has multiple origins and it is this sense of multiculturalism that caracterises Brussels.

Come and visit us, if you can decode the pixels

Scathing criticism of the SUPER-SIZED WAFFLE, from the awesome Use-it Guide to Brussels

In Brussels, people communicate in any language they know. Sometimes this means that the two participants in the conversation may not be using the same one, which can often be confusing (in beer-related situations, the Flemish have overcome this by developing the genius system of holding up one's little finger to order one pintje). Often though, this means that people just find it more straightforward not to talk to each other.

I like writing letters, and I like receiving letters (anyone who wants to be penpals, let me know!). I like Brussels but I still have a lot to discover. I know that there are ugly things to see and strange stories to tell that only those people who live in each of the 18 communes (divided into over 100 districts) know about. 

With only a slight trepidation at the prospect of encouraging a return to the chain-mail letters that I used to receive on an almost weekly basis as a child (most of which seemed to be trying for a Guinness Book of Records feat), I plan to invite the Bruxellois to have a bit of a letter swap. I've got a poster, which I plan to stick around Brussels, once I have the time to go back to the National Bank Library, where you get free printing. 

The plan beyond this? tbc....