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Knokke, Belgium 1993; when being American was semi-Kool
When I moved to Knokke, Belgium, I was only 13. It’s a small classy town with cobble stone streets, right on the North Sea — a vacation spot, where the French and Flemish gel during the summer to drink aperitifs, melt on the beach and zoom around on scooters.
It was a place where an American girl of 13 could bask and frolic in Belgium's legal drinking laws. And boy was I psyched when I found that this was completely permissible.
Permissible with your parents, friends, grandma-n-grandpa. They in turn showed me it was no big deal. But through the eyes of an American girl coming from a country where it is legal for you go to war before having a Yeungling, this was paradise.
Duvel, Leffe, Chimay, Hoegaarden, all this poured down my innocent gullet by Belgian cherubs…and my best friend. My best mate is a medium sized, blue eyed blonde, Viking-esque girl named Marika; sounds like some exotic island. She was the one who showed me the ropes when I arrived in Knokke. Everyone in town thought, since I was from Miami, I was somehow related to Don Johnson or Tom Cruise, and my life was like The Simpsons. This, of course, was all true, but I would never be allowed to drink Duff beer in the states.
I was on a spree, bad as can be, in cafes, on the beach, and in bars. Until one evening I went out with Marika's family together with my family. We sat at the dinner table, salivating over the fresh mussels and frites which were about to be served, when the garcon asked if we would like some wine with our meal? Marika's father turned to me to submit the reply. So I in turn, looked at my mom, who looked at her boyfriend who looked right back at ME. Well? Marika's father questioned. Wow! This is cool, I thought — a dad asking me if I would like wine with the meal. I answered in my most royal tone "but of course.". They all saw the perplexed look on my face. A child of 13 imbibing, with the permission of my elders? @#$?
They commenced with the explanation: It's a cultural thang! Beer and wine are very much a part of European culture and have been so since the year of the flood (literally, Noah was carrying barrels of beer on the ark). Beer has been brewed by the ancient Babylonians, Egyptians and the Chinese for religious ritual purposes, proper nutrition and good fellowship. As I sat at this restaurant, I observed people not necessarily drinking Budweiser for sport like here in the States, rather drinking beer and eating French fries with mayo; both of which Belgians helped invent, perfect and take very seriously! They seemed to be doing it for sheer cammeraderie, tradition and taste.
In this environment, it became no big deal after a while, to sit down at a café and drink a Kriek. Belgium's lack of prohibition allowed me to enjoy it in perspective. Please do not misunderstand me; one should always drink responsibly and in moderation. Alcoholism is a very real thing no matter which country you reside in. But hey, if Belgian monks are brewing it, how evil can it be?
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