Cultural immersion! That’s been one phrase that best describes my experience in Belgium. When I moved to Flanders in 2016, I didn’t speak a word of Dutch or Flemish. So, what’s the difference between the two languages? My American friends always ask me this question. Hmm. What’s the best explanation? The difference is kind of like the difference between American and British English.
English was the official language of the company where I worked in Brussels, so I could get by without learning any of the country’s three official languages: Dutch, German and French. But I wanted to immerse myself in the culture of my surroundings. And I felt that learning Dutch was respectful to my community. I didn’t want to be that “ugly American” who thought the entire world functioned only in English.
Brussels is the world’s second most cosmopolitan city, falling just behind Dubai. It truly is a melting pot with incredible diversity. I wanted to be part of that and participate in cultural immersion.
Cultural Immersion
Cultural immersion meant watching the Belgian Red Devils in their attempt to become world football (soccer) champions or trying new foods like stoofvlees (a Belgian stew). It meant standing along the road as the Tour de France whizzed through my village a few years ago, and figuring out all the traffic rules and road signs that are ever so confusing to the average American. It meant dumping CNN and trying to watch the news in Dutch. Okay, I still haven’t mastered that.
This week, I had another cultural experience. My friend Patrick urged me to experience the Schlagerfestival. He joked, “You can leave your brain at home for this event.” It sounded similar to Oktoberfest in Germany with a side dish of singing. He picked me up wearing a glittery, sequined jacket and a silly hat. I felt underdressed, but a borrowed, silver glitter hat helped glam me up for a musical experience.
Crowds of Music Fans
Now, the first thing you must be thinking is how can this crazy woman go into an arena packed with thousands of people during a pandemic? Safety first! Well, the bus we took was fairly empty, and we wore masks on our private bus, as required on public transport. On arrival at the TRIXXO Arena in Hasselt, we were required to show our government-issued IDs and our COVID “passport,” which was either a screenshot of our vaccination QR code on our phone or a physical certificate. Staff quickly scanned documents and admitted us. I have to admit there wasn’t much social distancing with the throngs of people milling about the arena, but my mask stayed on as we made our way through the crowd.
On entry, white Schlagerfestival napkins were given to the audience so they could wave during the songs. Giant, orange paper hands were awaiting us on our seats. I could already tell this was going to be interesting.
Around me, I saw Belgium in a new light with hundreds of people decked out in wild jackets and hats, old sailor outfits and Oktoberfest-looking garb. Groups wore matching outfits and headgear. For those who arrived with little sparkle, there were vendors selling sunglasses that lit up in bright purple and green, flowers wreaths with flashing lights, and flashing wands. And, of course, there was Belgian beer, waffles, and candy among the offerings.
let There Be Music
The Schlagerenfestival is all about music. For an American who didn’t know a single one of the Belgian icons, I was clueless. Luckily, I did know several songs from the radio and my “Greatest Flemish Hits” CD. Of course, everyone else seemed to know every singer and every word to every song.
The 15th year of the festival meant big names like Raymond van het Groenewoud, Christoff, Laura Lynn, de Romeo’s, Willy Sommers, Yves Segers, Bart Kaell and Jan Smit. I had no idea who any of them were. Some of the incredibly popular singers were in their 70s. Just think Mick Jagger and Paul McCartney. I could sense that these Belgian singers were “hotties” in their youth. The old-timers still had lots of energy, charisma and talent!
The performance was in-the-round. Singers entered to the cheering crowds and ascended a bridge before walking down to the stage. Giving the performances a bit more pizzazz and eye candy, young dancers in sparkly costumes vaulted across the stage in athletic choreography. And the crowd moved with the music, too.
Did Someone Say Dance?
Congo lines snaked along the floor in front of the raised stage. Couples danced in the aisles. People waved their Schlagerfestival handkerchiefs and raised their giant orange hands in the air. During the popular song “Een Ster,” the audience even held up cellphone flashlights and swung to the music.
For those who didn’t know the songs, like me, lyrics flashed on the screens above the stage. Words weren’t provided for every song since most of the Flemish audience already knew all the words. Impressive! It was great practice for my Dutch pronunciation, which still needs work. There was the popular song “Zouteland,” which turned a tiny village into an overcrowded tourist destination, and the worldwide sensation “Bella Ciao.”
The highlight of the evening was a Dutch rendition of Neil Diamond’s hit “Sweet Caroline,” with everyone shouting out “oh, oh, oh” and singing along.
My Thoughts
So, what was my review of the festival? It was definitely a fun, cultural experience. It helped my Dutch and familiarized me with some of the country’s great singers. And it made me love the Flemish people even more than I already did.
My personal “moment” was not a Flemish song, but a tribute to my native state of West Virginia, which was played prior to the concert — in English. I’ll bet I was the only one in the arena born in “The Mountain State.” But everyone knew John Denver’s “Country Road” and sang along, of course. Boy, the Flemish sure know how to have a good time!
