CYCLING IN BRUSSELS: “A VÉLO, MESDAMES!”
Brussels, Belgium
by Paola Fornari

It was ‘car-free Sunday’ when I arrived in Brussels. From dawn till dusk, no motorized vehicles were allowed into the city centre, apart from public transport. The streets filled up with smiling happy cyclists, trikers, Nordic walkers, roller-bladers, joggers and strollers.

What a great opportunity to explore my new surroundings! So, I rented a bike, and joined the throngs. Within ten minutes I was flat on my back with my leg caught under the twisted wreckage of my chain guard. My wheel had caught in a tramline.

My daughter scolded me. “Mum, you have to hit the tramlines at right angles!”

“Fine, but what if you want to go in the same direction as the tram?” I argued.

‘Take lessons,’ she advised. And although I’ve been cycling for almost half a century, I figured she was probably right. It would be a great way to gain confidence, get exercise, and meet a few people. The next day, I called the bike rental shop.

“You’d better join the beginners’ group on Monday so we can assess your level,” the instructor said.

At my first lesson my fellow bikers were from Algeria, Congo, Togo, Algeria and Lebanon. Clad in fluorescent yellow jackets with elegant matching leg-bands, we pushed our bikes to the Parc Royal, where Carmen, our Spanish instructor, yelled “A vélo, mesdames! On your bikes, ladies!”

For some, this was only the second or third time they’d ever been on a bike, so they practised rolling down gentle slopes with their feet on the ground. Carmen soon had me changing gears, riding up and down mounds, and slaloming through trees. I was quickly promoted to the Wednesday group.

My companions in the advanced class two days later were a friendly, confident group of ladies, mostly from Morocco. This time, after a quick warm-up in the park, Carmen led us from the bike shop through busy avenues past the European Institutions.

“Come on, girls! Remember, this is the European Year of Cross-Cultural Dialogue! That means eye contact! And smile!”

We passed the Royal Palace, the Synagogue, and St Michel Cathedral. “Never let a vehicle break up our pack,” Carmen said. “Always stop in front of all the other cars at traffic lights.” Terrified, I stayed as close to her as I could. We hurtled down cobbled alleyways: “Pedals parallel! Let your feet take the weight!”

We paused to admire that wonderful Belgian icon, the Mannequin Pis, and rode past the Guild Houses in the Grand’Place, where preparations were under way for the Christmas light show. We left the city centre and charged on towards Midi Station.

“Maintain eye-contact! Show them who’s boss!” called Carmen, as we spun round a roundabout four times, veils and scarves flying. “Hit the tramlines at right angles!”

I wasn’t going to make that mistake again, especially not while we were crossing six lanes of juggernaut-packed traffic.

After an hour and a half, we locked our bikes in a neat line outside a branch of Exki, the tastiest and healthiest fast-food chain in Brussels. Inside, we recovered over a coffee and a slice of tart. Soon we were on our bikes again for the last, steep leg back up to the bike shop. An exhilarating, adrenalin-filled morning, and all for five Euro, bike rental, coffee and tart included. Well, I know I shall not be twiddling my thumbs on Wednesday mornings for the next few years.

(First published in ‘The Oldie’, March 2009)