The Ommegang has come and gone. This is a pageant that has been going on since the 13th century, with a break for a couple centuries in the middle and starting up again in the 1930s. The whole point of the parade originally was to trot out the statue from the Notre Dame du Sablon that Jack took a picture of and...well, that's about it, as far as I can tell. The nobility were involved and everyone sauntered around town with this statue. There was a painting of it in the museum we went to a few weeks ago: the royals all decked out with a large train of less special people behind them and the statue. Now, they still have the statue (or at least a cheap-looking replica of it) but it seems to be more focused on the traditional trades and handicrafts of the Brussels people. There were archers, crossbow-ers, spear-carriers, musicians, puppeteers, brewers and so on. Trams carrying late-evening commuters occasionally interrupted the slow procession.

This was the most desultory parade I've ever seen. I love parades. I'll go out of my way to find a spot from which to leisurely watch a stream of people pass by doing their darndest to entertain me. Brownie troops, grinning politicians in fancy cars with their sullen children at their side, dogs dressed as superman, guys playing George Washington riding a fiberglass horse on the back of an old truck: allllllll good. This time, there were no crowds lining the sidewalks, cheering, clapping, waving to people they knew. In general there was little chitchat amonst the spectators, who seemed to be mostly alone or in small groups, and only a couple of intermittently playing bands, so it was strangely quiet. There was a thin band of people on either side, not even enough to form an unbroken chain should we have decided to engage in an impromptu game of Red Rover. There was an Asian woman next to us who would indicate by hand gestures that she wanted to take pictures of her and the various participants, but that was pretty much it in terms of the action. The parade participants generally ignored the spectators and talked amongst themselves, aside from two dirty guys with crutches and short dresses who appeared to be beggars and/or lepers and who were working the crowd. I imagine this is pretty similar to how it was in olden times: the nobility snubbing the merchants snubbing the soldiers snubbing the carpenters, everyone snubbing those on the sidelines and ogling the busty milkmaids. The very last thing was a giant cask of beer pulled by a couple of horses. They filled pitchers from it and poured tiny cups for us. That was the best part by far. [Photo from a much better parade, the annual Drag Race in DC, where this guy was hitting on Jack and dropped a Hershey's kiss down his shirt. We unfortunately forgot to bring cameras to the Ommegang.]

Turns out the main action occurs in the Grand Place, where you spend some serious bucks to watch a floor show from bleachers they've set up. There was a crack between the stands where all the cheap people were watching, but I'm sure there was much more to it than what we got a glimpse of: some horses marching around and then a choreographed flag tossing show. Next year, we're making reservations and going to the Place.