How many people are lucky enough to wake up one morning and find that a one-kilometre long funfair has been erected just outside their door? The residents of Saint Gilles in Brussels are some such people. Since 1885, a summer fun fair has been set up between Porte de Hal and the Porte d’Anderlecht. While some of the attractions are new, such as the 60-metre tall Stratosphere, many of the traditions are a fascinating fusion of the 19th, 20th, and 21st centuries.

The main delicacy at Belgian carnivals is a paper cone full of large hot deep-fried balls of dough, sprinkled with sugar. I was fascinated to learn from Mme Waffle that these treats are known in French as “pets-de-nonne” (nun’s farts). The story goes that in the 1400′s a novice named Agnes at Marmoutier Abbey in France made such a humiliating sound that she accidentally dropped a spoonful of dough into hot fat. The result was a dessert that was light, fluffy, and delicious, and is now found at carnivals throughout Belgium, France, and Germany. Another fun tradition is the “Jeu des Rats” (game of the rats) – now played with guinea pigs. For each round, a limited number of tickets are available for sale, each containing a different list of numbers. Then, the guinea pig is placed in the centre of a large ring. The ring is edged with doors with a number written above it. If the creature runs into a door with your number, you win a prize. We played this game with John and Jay, and we ended up winning an excellent German-made toaster. Now, every time I make toast, I remember our fun evening betting on the ‘pigs.

There are also the standard Ferris wheels and motion-rides. I tried to enjoy my time on the Ferris wheel with Adrian, but the dilapidated state of our pod, along with the very small rusting bolts that seemed to be holding it all together made me so nervous I could not appreciate the view. Another day, Adrian, Jay, John and I all rode the Turbo Polyp together – an octopus-inspired monstrosity that spun me around in entirely too many directions at quite an inappropriate speed. One attraction I did enjoy were the mazes of glass and mirrors – very dense constructions that take a surprisingly long time to navigate, especially for Jay.

Tomorrow afternoon, we pick up the kittens. We still have not decided on names.

On the weekend we showed our houseguests one of the quirks of living in Europe – international borders that are a little higglty pigglty. Baarle Nassau and Baarle Hertog are two towns on the Belgium/Netherlands border. In fact, the border between the two countries is so confused that the towns have to place a diagram in the main street to explain the situation – the red perspex represents Belgium and the clear perspex represents the Netherlands:

This confusion is due to centuries of sales and swaps between the lords and dukes of the region. Yet still today, these borders are considered strict international boundaries. As we strolled through Baarle, we crossed the border dozens of times, and I was careful to have my passport ready. As we explored the suburbs, we noted that most of the residents were very nonchalant about the location of their house. For the most part, the only way that we could tell which country we were in was by very carefully examining the house numbers. Dutch houses have a red stripe on the left and a blue on the right. Belgian houses have a black/yellow/red flag in the top left hand side. This apartment complex straddled the border, and had two front doors, so the residents had both a Netherlands (left) and Belgium (right) address – very useful for tax purposes:

The two cities of Baarle Hertog and Nassau have different police forces, laws tax systems, fuel costs, speed limits, alcohol licensing laws, closing times, and mobile phone rates. A letter posted from Hertog to Nassau travels via Amsterdam. And yet the border quite often cuts right through a business or home.

But best of all, in these odd tangled territories, the sun was shining and all the stores were wide open on a Sunday. So we were able to sit outside, eat chocolate and beer, and soak up the sunshine in the enclaves and exclaves of these intertwined cities (note how the border continues down the middle of the road behind us before finally crossing the street).
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