Life in Brussels, the capital of Europe

The other day I spoke on the phone with a friend of mine who managed to get out. He has a high-flying career; after a few years in Brussels he is now tearing it up in Asia. As the demise of the West has been gnawing at me, he outlined where he thinks the journey will go to. In his view, Brussels is the canary in the coal mine for the Western world. I visited him once a few years ago. Back then he had a very nice apartment in one of the most expensive parts of the city. Yet, you couldn’t necessarily tell this when you stepped outside.

Around fifty meters to the left of his place a bunch of homeless were living in tents on the boardwalk. Blacks were swarming the area. Well, compared to what Brussels looks like near the central station, it was paradisiacal. Among the first things he mentioned was that if I left the building, I should ensure to properly close the door as burglaries were not unheard of in the area. Some days later, I was about to leave the house in the morning. Outside, a black guy was waiting. I opened the door, and saw the back of a black guy. He heard that the door had just opened, turned around and wanted to enter the building. This caused a rush of adrenaline, and I reflexively pulled the door shut; he angrily shouted something in French at me; I said, “In a hurry, sorry”, and quickly walked away. I’m not going to sugar-coat it: that felt like a dangerous situation.

I had told him about that encounter later that day; he considered it “quick thinking”. To me it seemed inappropriate to inquire about how dangerous life in Brussels was. Now that he no longer lives there, we were able to discuss it openly. In short, in just a few years living in Brussels, he experienced the following, directly or indirectly:

– three robberies; two times he said he had felt such a rush of adrenaline that he went after the robbers and got his stuff back (he looks pretty tough, but he says that he doesn’t recommend that approach)
– a group of dark-skinned guys scratching up his Mercedes-Benz after he left the car; he didn’t dare to intervene
– having his basement broken into “between five to seven times”
– one of his girlfriends getting mugged in broad daylight on the streets
– the same girlfriend having the window of her car smashed in while attempting to park the car sideways; the thief ran off with her handbag
– another girlfriend not daring to hold hands with him because she was afraid of muzzies attacking her, either in his presence or when they recognize her afterwards when she’s out on her own in the neighborhood
– the same girl being followed by a black guy from a club all the way back home; she closed the door to her apartment while he was briskly walking down the hallway to her apartment; my friend said that this experience deeply traumatized her, and understandably so

My personal scorecard in the West consists of one Arab-looking guy attempting to mug me in broad daylight in Sweden, a black person trying to provoke me to start a fight on a NYC subway while his gang was waiting in the background, ready to pounce; someone breaking into my apartment in Berlin. In addition, I know about half a dozen people who were robbed or beaten up. One even got knifed by an Arab, and another one also fell victim to breaking and entering.

Cultural enrichment indeed.

5 thoughts on “Life in Brussels, the capital of Europe

  1. Selective immigration is a great idea with declining birth rates in the developing world, provided there is a clear desire from both parties to integrate into the existing society. Nothing even close to this has happened in Europe and it is not really the North American experience either.

  2. Wow. And I am the one living in the third world?

    In my entire life, I have been mugged only twice, once at gunpoint. There have been a few more attempts, but unless I am facing a gun, I tend to fight back.

    1. My mom and aunt once got mugged on their own workplace (they’re hairdressers). Later on they found out that the muggers got killed, probably by drug dealers.
      Yet I’ve actually never ever been mugged, even when I’ve walked drunk at night by at least 2 hours. I guess that being taller than average here works.

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