BELGITUDE

The honest answer is very little; Belgium is the country equivalent to an old bickering couple that can neither be happy together nor leave each other. Yet, like any old bickering couple that won’t split up, there is something that keeps us together. At the end of the last century, the term belgitude was coined to explain our shared Belgian spirit. Allow me to explain.

Those who wish to understand this Belgian spirit need not read any great literary epics or incomprehensible works of philosophy. Simply watching the children’s show Samson en Gert will do the trick. In every episode, someone knocks on the door, walks in, and says they had to knock because the doorbell doesn’t work. The bell never gets fixed; the characters simply adapt to it not working, yet they never miss a chance to complain about it. That’s how it goes with everything in this country: our bike infrastructure is often downright dangerous, but we still use our bicycles, simply calling the unseparated cycling lanes ‘murder lanes’ to express our disdain.

Life would be bleak if all we did was complain, so we drink as well. Since this is our main joy in life, we take it very seriously. Every beer brand has its own glass, and you had better learn which goes with which, because pouring your beer into the wrong one will result in an angry mob chasing you out of the country. You should also keep in mind that most beers have higher alcohol percentages than you may be used to; this is so that we need fewer glasses to forget the misery of living in Belgium.

What perhaps unites us most is that we dislike each other less than we dislike our neighbours. Sure, the Walloons speak a language we can’t understand, but at least they don't speak with an annoying accent like the Dutch do. We may barely be capable of ordering a beer in the southern half of the country, but at least they will serve us actual beer instead of sparkling pee. All Belgians will be angry if you say the French invented fries and likewise be fuming if you dare to put the Dutch sugary abomination called frietsaus on them.

There’s a lot more to belgitude, but by now you should get the gist: complain about Belgium, complain even more about our neighbours, and drink beer. And remember: never pour a Duvel in a Stella glass.