Every October, Hasselt hosts a Jeneverfeesten. Jenever is a liquor that is typically made from fermented barley, rye, and corn, and then redistilled. It is then flavoured with additives as diverse as coriander, carroway, passionfruit, lemon, or vanilla. The only jenever that I knew of before moving here was what we call gin, which is jenever that is flavoured with juniper berries. Now I have become very partial to chocolate jenever, which at 17% alcohol is delicious but dangerous.

We spent the day in Hasselt, sampling a wide range of their delicious jenevers, and snacking on freshly baked speculoos cookies. My favourite part was watching the cocktail jugglers assemble the winning cocktail, a mojito-inspired concoction of lime and mint.

Adrian’s dad and his wife are visiting at the moment, and last weekend we took them to Namur (in Wallonia) to watch the Combat de l’Echasse d’Or (fight for the golden stilt). This competition involves two teams of twenty men, with either red and white stilts (the Melans) or black and yellow stilts (the Averesses). In a ninety minute battle, the two teams attempted to knock the stilts out from each other. When the last of the Averesses fell, the Melans turned upon each other. Finally, only one man was left standing. Standing on one stilt, he lifted the other up into the air in victory. He won the l’Echasse d’Or, and will return next year to defend his title.

I am so happy that we have moved to Belgium. Everything seems to have fallen together perfectly. I have a great job, we have a lovely apartment, two cute kittens, and live in a fascinating country. Adrian finally has his own lab, and he has a team of students and staff who are benefiting from his wisdom and mentorship. On weekends we are able to explore new places and learn about other cultures. During the week we both go to jobs that we enjoy, and then come home to watch the sun set over the city that is becoming our own.

Last week we took our friend Lina to the small Walloon town of Dinant. It is a beautiful little town situated on the River Meuse, featuring a citadel accessible by cable-car, allowing us to look down over its onion-domed Collegiale Notre-Dame (Church of Our Lady). Dinant is also the birthplace of Adolphe Sax, who invented the saxophone, and the couque, Europe’s hardest biscuit. We bought a few tiny sticks of the honey-flavoured couques to try, and they were very delicious, if a little difficult to consume.

While we were there, we also discovered that today was the day of the annual pie-eating contest. I looked it up on my iPhone and discovered that the record stood at fourteen. Wow, we thought, fourteen pies in fourty-five minutes. That is impressive. The pies were like quiches, and called flamische, as they were cooked over the flames. The Confrérie des Quarteniers de la Flamiche Dinantaise (Brotherhood of the Officers of the Dinant Flamische) assembled on stage, the choir began to sing, and the competition began. We quickly realised that the record was fourteen slices, not fourteen pies. And why was this number so low? Because the men insisted on using their knives and forks, pausing between mouthfuls to enjoy a glass of burgundy wine and to answer questions over the microphone. Even in an eating competition, the European instinct was to savour every mouthful. All the contestants simply ate until they were full, then pushed back their plates and watched the others with a smile. No records for gluttony were broken in Dinant that day.

I had always heard the story of David and Goliath, but had never stopped to consider it from Goliath’s point of view. In the city of Ath, I was able to see a whole new side of him during the Festival of the Giants. On the fourth Friday in August, the townspeople gather in the park to burn Goliath’s trousers. Why? Because the next day he is to be married.

On Saturday he and his tall bride gather in the town square, accompanied by his personal guard – the devil Magnon, two wild men covered with ivy, and two horsemen. The giants and their entourage dance down the street to the church, accompanied by the “Bleus”, French soldiers who periodically fire blanks into the air after a dramatic drum roll.

They two giants are married in front of the church, in the language of Picard (not French) before dancing back to the town square. Suddenly, shepherd David approaches, dressed in white and red. He challenges Goliath to a duel in a dialogue (“bonimée”) that dates back to the 16th century. This dialogue has been passed down by oral tradition, and now some segments are so garbled that they have lost all meaning, even to historians. At the end of the banter, David calls on his lord to give him strength and power to bring vengeance on the villain. The young shepherd has a single attempt to throw a stone through the peephole in Goliath’s wicker frame. If he succeeds, the town will be bathed in a year of happiness.

This year, David was played by seven year old Noa Depôtre, the son of the chief carrier of Madame Goliath. Unfortunately, for the second consecutive year, the shepherd did not succeed, and Goliath lived. This meant that the giants did not perform their final dance, which is seen as a bad omen for the town. David slunk off, ashamed and disappointed. His mother said “Of course, we are very disappointed for Noa, but the festival continues. I am very proud of him because he perfectly recited his lines perfectly. We cannot blame him because the pressure was so great, especially for a child so young.”

It might have been a dark moment for Ath, but our day was bathed in beer and sunshine. Friends Grant and Michelle were visiting from Cambridge, and we were able to sit together amongst the festivities and sample special grape beers that were brewed just for the event. A short ride on the train, and we were back in Brussels to end the day with some magnificent Cuban cuisine for dinner.