Rome has the Trevi Fountain, New York City has the Statue of Liberty, and Brussels has the Manneken Pis, a statue of a little boy wetting the ground in front of him. As civic monuments go it’s not a terribly noble one, although there are stories that the statue depicts the historic actions of a boy insulting enemy soldiers or, alternately, extinguishing a fire. The statue is smaller than you’d expect, that is, smaller than a real boy, and stands on a high pedestal in a tiny gated corner garden. Visiting dignitaries often come by to pay their respects and dress the statue in their national costume. In the past he’s been dressed in the robes of a Tibetan monk, various football (that’s soccer) team jerseys, and a rhinestone-embellished Elvis-style pantsuit.

The entire tourist district seems to have sprung up around it.  Just across the road are a restaurant called Manneken Pis and a chocolate shop called Manneken Pis. And the curio shops up and down the small cobbled streets sell all sorts of ridiculous souvenirs with the little guy on it, including figurine corkscrews with the screw placed you-know-where. One friend in Belgium, who has lived there for two decades, observed that there was a “chaotic” element to Brussels, something unique to the culture. I think that any city that accepts a pissing boy as their mascot must have a healthy respect for the chaotic, and for the ridiculous and the self-mocking too.  They’re are all rather marvelous qualities.