Who decides which costume you wear today?
A day of miracles with a fool. That was my gift.
Grand Place, Brussels. illustration by Filiz Hekimoğlu.
Broeksel
Historically, the name comes from Old Dutch Bruocsella, or Broeksel — settlement in the swamp.
That morning I was helping someone to settle into his new apartment in Brussels, with his girlfriend.
Something was still not right. But I did it anyway.
Then I looked at the north, and started to walk, following the north star. I arrived at the Grand Place. The heartbeat of Brussels, which is the heart of Europe.
I had never seen these transparent biggggg orbs floating in the air, this much crystal clear, with naked eyes.
Immense breathing air bubbles. Mysterious — just in front of my eyes.
That was Steve, a young guy creating bubbles in the Grand Place, to entertain the tourists. A street artist dressed like a fool. Golden suit, white make-up. On the floor near him, a cardboard was written: Money for Travelling. And an open hat just nearby.
He was bringing beauty into the middle of the palace. Only the children were amused by him.
And yes — me. I had this glowing billboard message in my mind. And here it was. What a coincidence.
I never remember how much I paid for travel. But the experience itself was always priceless. Felt alive. Learnt. Observed. Grown. Discovered new worlds in each new person’s eyes.
I waited until the bubbles settled, and approached Steve. I said: Hello, this is Fili. Would you like to travel with me to La Fin de Siècle, and find out what’s there, and have a dinner with me? I would like to put something in your hat, for your next travel. Come wander with me.
My offer was too good to refuse.
On the way
He looked at me, and I could hear his heartbeat — playing like a hand drum. Like the one we saw on our way to La Fin de Siècle. He just packed his bubble gun, and with his make-up and his costume, we walked.
And 1, and 2, and 3.
Brugse Zot
We arrived at a land of ancient food, and the culture of the real Brussels.
La Fin de Siècle
We read the blackboard for the menu, and picked a traditional slow cooked meal. And I asked the waiter to offer me a beer, after describing my taste. Here is the beer he brought me.
Brugse Zot — the Bruges Fool.
The waiter with the moustache captured my eyes, and started to tell the whole story around the Brugse Zotten. I was mesmerised. And I went and visited all those places, with his words.
In 1488 the citizens of Bruges were unhappy with the strict rule of Emperor Maximilian of Austria. They revolted, and held the emperor captive for months. Maximilian took his revenge. He banned all festivals, all fairs, all celebrations.
To appease him and get their celebrations back, the people of Bruges organised a huge party in his honour. And they asked his permission to build a new zothuis — a madhouse.
Close all the gates of Bruges, and you already have a madhouse.
From that day on, the people of Bruges were nicknamed the Brugse Zotten. The Fools of Bruges.
I looked at Steve. His costume, his make-up. And he saw my thought floating in the air. We started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh. We raised our beers and said:
To life. To life. And to Life.
Something to drink about. Let’s live another day, and live to see a thousand reasons to enjoy.
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After a splendid, spectacular dinner, and talk about all our dreams of travelling the world, I paid cash at the cashier. Like the old days.
No credit card here
Then we started to walk into the city, and feel the essence.
Three statues
People were around a small tiny statue. We approached it.
It was small, but mighty.
Manneken Pis
Fifty-five centimetres. A boy in bronze, making water into a basin, since 1619. And what I was looking at was not even him. The original was stolen, again and again. Since 1965 there is only a copy on the corner.
More than a thousand costumes. A samurai, a king, a policeman. The day I saw him he was a bear in a blue coat and a red hat. Nobody asks him what he wants to wear. The city decides, by the calendar, according to what the day requires.
I looked at Steve, still wearing his costume and his make-up. I held his hand gently, and invited him somewhere. And I asked him:
Who decides which costume you wear today? What is left of you when the costume comes off? Where is your original?
He turned his eyes from the Manneken to me, and said: the one. His eyes shined green, as I never saw this darkish green before, with layers of layers.
And it is gone, to eternity.
We arrived at a corner of Impasse de la Fidélité. A dead end.
Jeanneke Pis
Here is a girl who has no costume at all. Naked. She never had one. 5 cm smaller than her brother. No wardrobe, no calendar, no one asking what to wear.
No one dressing her.
She is made of blue. Pierre bleue. From three hundred million year old sea fossils. If you cut it, grey. If you polish it, blue. She was once at the bottom of the sea.
She cannot be copied. Not the bronze one. There is only one. She cannot be stolen.
There is an ocean under the girl. And there is a museum under the boy.
No one was in that street. Steve wanted to take a breath, and went to the nearest restaurant toilet. I don’t know how long I stayed there. Me, and the girl, squatting.
I felt the essence flowing through my body.
Then a hand touched my shoulder. I looked back. Steve had changed his costume, and was wearing daily clothes. His fake smile on the mask had disappeared. And we kept walking.
It was late, and I wanted to go back home. He wanted to walk with me until the door. And then — what was that? We had an encounter with Het Zinneke.
Het Zinneke
A dog who looks like he is peeing, but does not. He is dry. Like a street dog. Adopted when needed, and left alone after.
Zinneke — the little river of Senne. He is the river. And no one sees it.
The door
We had nearly arrived. Some sounds were coming from the second floor of my friend’s flat. Like an interference. Deep, but firm. I didn’t pay much attention.
I rang the bell, and gave Steve my phone number. Sometimes life, and dreams, bring people together on the crossroads.
A day of miracles with a fool. That was my gift.
Filiz Hekimoğlu is the founder of WHLE — Wholeness · Healing · Living · Evolving — a creative and educational platform rooted in Urla, İzmir. She is a travel writer, narrative creator , and she processes her own photographs.
Who decides which costume you wear today? is a story in the TheLongTravel series: short journeys where a place, a stranger and a small personal turning point meet. More at filizhekimoglu.com.
