Arkell's Ark: De Panne
Ian Arkell paints a vivid word picture of a sunny Sunday morning in an attractive Belgian town.
De Panne is just inside the border from France. And on summer weekends the place is crowded with French, Germans, a smattering of Luxembourgers, Dutch, and the occasional Swiss.
It’s Sunday morning and as the sun swings over the roof tops, terraces fill up with holiday makers, visitors and locals watching the passing parade. A terrace is a bar or café, in this case right on the main street. And as with most terraces you sit facing the street and bask in whatever sun there is. You grab a seat if you can, try to catch the waiter’s eye, argue about what to drink and then settle back to watch the world. We sit on our coffees for a while until our friends join us and then order Sangrias.
There is a woman two tables down who seems to be shouting but sometimes people become enthusiastic after a couple of drinks and when they’re speaking dialect it can seem like they’re upset; as opposed to just enjoying a joke and a bit of gossip.
Our table is complaining about the French and their persecution of the Quickstep Team during the opening day of the Tour and agree, ‘Ja, dat is noormal voor de Frans’. They continue bemoaning the lack of any sense of French fair play when it comes to Belgium. I pick up every third or fourth word and find that I can usually reply now in passable Vlaams, occasionally showing my brilliance by dropping in a bit of dialect when I can. Trouble is that sometimes, by the time I work out their conversation and formulate a reply, the discussion has moved on to something totally unrelated. So you can end up looking like a dork.
Beside me a couple arrives with a stroller, organise a table, nod a quick ‘Dag’, then sit down. They are not young so the stroller looks a bit out of place. There is a paraplu attached to the frame which protects the occupant from a strengthening sun. The occupant is a large spaniel, obviously too old to be bothered with walking, but happy to enjoy the passing parade and stay out of the sun.
Over at the bus stop there is a Muslim woman with three young kids. She’s loaded down with shopping, trying to keep three troublesome boys amused and will take the bus to the station, then pick up another to Dunkirk. It’s a long hot process and I suspect it’s not the first time she’s made this trip.
The young couple in a Porsche Boxster with German plates is caught up in traffic and give the woman and her boys a cursory glance as they pull up. They’re both young, good looking and you wonder how they can afford about sixty grands worth of German engineering. The woman says something and nods towards the woman waiting for the bus to Dunkirk. Her companion smiles, answers her and they both laugh. A friend at the table who for some reason, dislikes Duitsers with a passion, says, ‘klootzak’ and we nod agreement. Only thing worse than a ‘klootzak’ is an arrogant one. And I think we have two in the Porsche.
The spaniel is not that worried about the Germans and finds a bowl and starts slurping away, while his owners, also Germans, start to talk with us and share our opinion about the Boxster owners. They are trying to speak Nederlands, which earns big brownie points with our friends.
We have three official languages here; Nederlands, French and German. The north of Belgium speaks Nederlands, the southern part of the country is occupied by Wallons, who are French speaking and over in the east, near the German border, are the Belgian provinces whose residents speak German.
Later today in De Panne, there is a guy visiting who has an unusual business. He walks along the street, dressed in costume, playing a combination drum, whistle and a sort of flute. No big deal? I forgot to mention that in front of him march a row of brown Geese. Brown geese are the best for this type of enterprise. And they have to come from Toulouse. Apparently, brown geese are less aggressive and respond to direction. But you all knew that, eh?
One Sangria becomes two, becomes lunch, becomes, Irish coffee. There is something about watching people, babies and dogs on a sunny day. Perhaps there is also something to be learned from watching brown geese, from Toulouse.
I’ll let you know.
