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Understanding 'gritty' Brussels

Holed up for a week at a budget hotel near the 1,000-trains-a-day Gare de Midi (or Zuid) metro-rail station, surrounded by a matrix of roads and overpasses contemptuous of pedestrians, did not initially endear me to Brussels.
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Holed up for a week at a budget hotel near the 1,000-trains-a-day Gare de Midi (or Zuid) metro-rail station, surrounded by a matrix of roads and overpasses contemptuous of pedestrians, did not initially endear me to Brussels.

Simply getting the 100 or so metres from my Hotel de France ($62 a night, safe and adequate, with an otherwise mostly asylum-seeking clientele) across a mess of arterials to the station started me thinking the city was "gritty."

Then, a week later, waiting in a train in the station to depart, and witnessing the theft of a backpack from a visiting Asian businessman (who gamely chased the thief down the non-functioning escalators and retrieved bag with passport) didn't improve the image.

Finally, the powerful smell of urine in station nooks and crannies around central Brussels - in some sense a tribute to Belgium's superior beers - capped the description.

That said, gritty isn't necessarily bad and this messy city can be enticing.

Its Grand Place, a vast cobble square lined with flamboyant, early 18 th -century baroque guild houses (think brewers, butchers and tailors) and the immense Hotel de Ville (city hall), surviving from 1448, is one of the great urban spaces of Europe.

Whatever the weather, the square is filled with gawkers. (And on a lightly snowy winter evening, when the old-world lamps and fireplaces in the surrounding bars and restaurants are being lit for the evening, the square appears downright magical.)

Northeast of the Grand Place, beyond the neo-classical Bourse (stock exchange) and Boulevard Anspach, lies the Saint Catherine District, a former fish market of cobblestone lined with cozy neon-lit seafood restaurants and dark-hued bars.

With an ambiance of a village-like older Brussels, Ste. Catherine's architectural gems include the St. Jean Baptiste-au-Beguinage, a small Flemish baroque-style church that once served as a charitable community for single women.

Southeast of the Grand Place, in the Royal Quarter, stand Belgium's Musees d'Art Moderne and d'Art Ancien. In the former are works by modernists like Picasso and Matisse, but also the avant-garde group (Belgian, Dutch and Danish) known as Cobra, and a separate exhibit devoted to much-loved Belgian surrealist Rene Magritte. The d'Art Ancient includes works by the great Flemish Bruegel dynasty.

Just to the south is the Sablon, famed for its antique shops and open-air antique market, as well as the church known as Notre Dame de Sablon, with a towering interior of stunning 15 th and 16 th century stained-glass windows.

There is more to inner Brussels, including the admittedly touristy pedestrian-only Rue de Boucher, where one can revel in a big pot of steamy mussels, and the relatively new Belgian Comic Strip Center, devoted to masters like Herge, creator of the Tintin series.

But many of the city's glories are scattered among what was once a collection of villages (vestiges remain), in a city in which great swaths were destroyed by wars, bad roadway development, and construction for the accommodation of the European Union.

Most notable are the roughly 500 buildings in the Art Nouveau style, introduced by architects Victor Horta, Paul Hankar and others in the 1890s to early 1900s. A reaction to formalities of the past, Art Nouveau is characterized by curvilinear and nature-inspired forms.

And while the movement swept through Europe and beyond, Brussels, under Horta's influence, was and remains the European capital of the art form. Ironwork, natural wood, stained glass, marble and mosaics are used in stylized ways to create one-of-a-kind buildings of great craftsmanship and artistry. They may feature a lavish metal façade with curvaceous balcony or ornate grilled railing, exterior pictorial friezes, a shapely door and windows, or an interior of uncommon warmth, fluidity and sensuousness.

Several village-like neighbourhoods, notably St. Gilles and Ixelles, have concentrated Art Nouveau collections, but examples can be found throughout the city. Books, maps, walking tours and guides on the subject are widely available.

One masterpiece is the Victor Horta house, now a museum, on the Rue Americaine in St. Gilles, an easy tram ride from the city centre. Built between 1899 and 1901 at the height of the Art Nouveau period, it appears a haven for intelligent, humane living. Every room of mostly light-coloured polished wood, from reception areas to private apartments, indeed seemingly every detail, is rounded and gorgeous, elaborate yet utilitarian.

Another exceptional Brussels attraction is the Royal Museum for Central Africa, reached by a long and enjoyable tram trip from the city centre to the woodland suburb of Tervuren. Founded by King Leopold II in 1897 to exhibit artifacts and flora and fauna accumulated during Belgium's tenure in its troubled colony of Congo, the museum was for decades considered (by some) an incriminating testament to controversial Belgian rule and an embarrassment of political incorrectness.

The museum has been revolutionized in the past decade. And while exceptional artifacts, from traditional African musical instruments to jungle diorama remain on display, the museum now includes thoughtful, objective exhibits on issues surrounding Congolese independence, as well as present-day life along the 4,500-kilometre Congo River.

Back near the Gare de Midi, I pulled open my hotel room curtains early Sunday to see hundreds of vendors setting up stalls along the temporarily traffic-free Boulevard Jamar for one of the largest weekly markets in Europe. With a North African and Mediterranean flavour, the market mostly features plants, exotic foods, cassettes of rai music (a blend of Algerian, African and French-Belgian), and cheap clothing.

Is it a little gritty? Certainly.