In progress...

Yesterday I went to Genk for the first time. It's a small town in eastern Belgium, built around coal mining — and the only Italian "colony" in Flanders. Until a few years ago there was even an Italian consulate there. The first time I heard about Belgium I was a child, watching an old singer on Italian TV who always ended his performances with "Many greetings to the Italians in Belgium". I later found out he was a descendant of those immigrants, grew up in Genk, and still lives in Belgium today. I went specifically to find traces of Italy — and I found them. Italian surnames, Italian faces, Italian restaurants. Turkish too, as you can see from the photos. I visited the main old coal mine site, which was impressive. They turned it into event venues, a business hub, an interactive museum. A completely different story from another mine I'd visited before — smaller, harder to reach, more depressing. That one was also the site of a mining accident, and the plan was to demolish it entirely. The former miners fought to keep it as a memorial instead. I also visited a rather peculiar park — somewhere between a small zoo and a contemporary art exhibition. A bit weird, but the concept was interesting. I wanted to explore more of the town, but the trains had other plans. What should have been a two-hour journey from Brussels took three, and since Genk is not exactly walker-friendly, I ended up covering 20 kilometers on foot and ran out of time. On the way back though, I stumbled upon an Italian bowls club — it was funny to see typical "Italian grandpa" faces talking to you in Dutch natively. I also discovered they have a mini-football club for Italians, right next to the Turkish one. I went for lunch at an Italian restaurant. It was again strange and wonderful to hear Italian faces speaking Dutch. There were two policemen at a table at the entrance who were clearly regular customers and a big Italian family table on the other side of the room. At the end of the meal I ordered a coffee — in Italian. The waitress asked small or large, I said normal (big mistake). She must have taken me for a Belgian, because what arrived was a very long, very diluted cup of coffee soup.