The nights are drawing in, the falling leaves drift past my window, and the prospect of another long cold winter looms. Not that you would notice much difference from the summer we've just had. Christian and pagan rituals alike at this time of year are all tied up with withering, darkness and death. At the end of this month falls All Hallows with its American commercial entity Hallowe'en, when we honour the departed to appease them from coming back and haunting us. All over the world different nationalities celebrate the arrival of the "dark side" of the earth's yearly cycle in different ways, often verging on the macabre.
In Poland, for example, the entire population heads for the cemeteries on All Hallows Eve to light candles and tidy up graves. The overall effect is rather jolly, the cemeteries are like Piccadilly Circus and the flickering multi-coloured candles creat the effect of a sort of nightclub for the departed. The late Late show, you might say. It's just as commercial as Hallowe'en in its own way: candlemakers and chrysanthemum growers can retire to the south of France for the winter on the strength of their October sales. Parents take their children to visit the ancestors and to pay homage to the many who gave their lives in defence of their country. This could explain the uniquely Polish absence of any fear of death, which you will have witnessed if you've ever been in the back of a Warsaw taxi.
Ixelles cemetery is a peaceful and tidy place, where the tombs are better kept than most people's front gardens. The section where many soldiers of the Great War are buried is particularly moving, the rows of tombstones laid out as if on parade in straight lines, separated by hedges which recall the trenches where so many of them met their deaths - mostly Belgian, but a large number of French, British, Russian and Italian soldiers too. The fact that the Armistice fell so close to All Hallows makes it all the more poignant.
The cemetery is close to the ULB campus and the large number of young people in the area is a cheering reminder that life goes on. After a pensive stroll among the tombs with Bert, musing on pre-paid funeral plans, we had worked up an appetite, and in the fading light we thought it prudent to leave the eternally slumbering to their everlasting peace and repair to the restaurant across the street for a fortifying apéritif. La Bécasse is a no-nonsense traditional brasserie in rustic style, with efficient waiters in long aprons. The menu is extensive with a lot of beef - particularly raw, in the form of carpaccio, filet américain and steak tartare. It's popular for Sunday lunch, and in fine weather you can eat outside with a cheery view of the cemetery gates. In winter a roaring log fire will keep the cold out.
In Poland, for example, the entire population heads for the cemeteries on All Hallows Eve to light candles and tidy up graves. The overall effect is rather jolly, the cemeteries are like Piccadilly Circus and the flickering multi-coloured candles creat the effect of a sort of nightclub for the departed. The late Late show, you might say. It's just as commercial as Hallowe'en in its own way: candlemakers and chrysanthemum growers can retire to the south of France for the winter on the strength of their October sales. Parents take their children to visit the ancestors and to pay homage to the many who gave their lives in defence of their country. This could explain the uniquely Polish absence of any fear of death, which you will have witnessed if you've ever been in the back of a Warsaw taxi.
Ixelles cemetery is a peaceful and tidy place, where the tombs are better kept than most people's front gardens. The section where many soldiers of the Great War are buried is particularly moving, the rows of tombstones laid out as if on parade in straight lines, separated by hedges which recall the trenches where so many of them met their deaths - mostly Belgian, but a large number of French, British, Russian and Italian soldiers too. The fact that the Armistice fell so close to All Hallows makes it all the more poignant.
The cemetery is close to the ULB campus and the large number of young people in the area is a cheering reminder that life goes on. After a pensive stroll among the tombs with Bert, musing on pre-paid funeral plans, we had worked up an appetite, and in the fading light we thought it prudent to leave the eternally slumbering to their everlasting peace and repair to the restaurant across the street for a fortifying apéritif. La Bécasse is a no-nonsense traditional brasserie in rustic style, with efficient waiters in long aprons. The menu is extensive with a lot of beef - particularly raw, in the form of carpaccio, filet américain and steak tartare. It's popular for Sunday lunch, and in fine weather you can eat outside with a cheery view of the cemetery gates. In winter a roaring log fire will keep the cold out.
After a very posh kir with a maraschino cherry in it (I'm easily impressed) a bowl of piping hot French onion soup warmed me up. Bert, who is something of a carnivore, had a plate of glistening carpaccio. I couldn't resist my favourite kidneys in an unctuous mustard sauce, which came with four perfectly formed potato croquettes - arranged in the form of a cross! And just as well. Bert's steak tartare consisted of a two-inch thick slab of raw prime minced beef with a raw egg, chopped onions, chives, side salad and chips. The cow (vegetarians look away now) was only just dead, and the meat was bright red ... Bert’s fangs flashed once, and then his face was in his plate, and all that could be heard were Teutonic chomping and slurping sounds. I started to feel a bit uneasy when he got very insistent that we be home before dark … there really is something of the night about Bert occasionally. Lucky I eat a lot of garlic. Happily, it transpired that he just wanted to catch Match of the Day! What a relief. Sometimes I let my imagination run wild.
Intimations of mortality make me want to eat heartily to stave off the reaper. I finished off my meal with a Dame Blanche, an appropriate ghostly dessert for the time of year, and a coffee. Count around 30-35 euros a head with wine.
Intimations of mortality make me want to eat heartily to stave off the reaper. I finished off my meal with a Dame Blanche, an appropriate ghostly dessert for the time of year, and a coffee. Count around 30-35 euros a head with wine.
La Bécasse
Chaussee de Boondael 476
1050 Ixelles / Elsene
Tel: 02 649 0641
