Wishing well, wishing wise

If you are a man, please stop reading at this point, before I go on explaining who Everard't Serclaes is and what he does. Today’s column is one that is strictly for women - about foie gras, champagne, frivolity, underwear during a woman’s travels to the greatest Erospolis of all (Paris, bien sur) and Ethospolis (Brussels, naturlijk).

Everard't Serclaes, known in history as the Lord of Cruyckembourg, has recovered Brussels from the Flemish. His statue now lies in the corner of the Grand Place, the world’s largest theater as Victor Hugo called it when he visited Brussels.

The tourist myth is that if you rub his arms and make a wish, it will come true. So many tourists have touched, or rather rubbed, the statue, and this constant polishing keeps the body depicted by the statue a shining color compared to the rest of the sculpture. Other parts are also touched frequently by tourists such as the face of an angel, a dog and one of the shields. I, never one to go halfway, touch it all around and often!

No need to say, Everard't was not delighted to see me.

Contradictions
"I am sick of you," he said coldly, trying to turn his stone-made back. Really, one expects better manners from someone in Brussels, the center of consolidation and conciliation.

"I told you last time, no more wishes. I cannot deal with self-contradictions. Go make your wishes with your Turkish deities - tie knots around Telli Baba, or pour water on your water deity, wherever he is. Throw coins in Italian fountains, just leave me alone, casse-toi, pauvre conne (Just leave, you jerk), as one great European leader said," he added.

Then, with venom that politicians save for journalists, he explained how I managed to make a fool of him, "You came here and made a wish to come back to Brussels in early 2004. Like the fool I was, I granted your wish. Three months later, you came to me in tears and asked for a job back in Ankara, saying you could not bear Brussels. Never one to resist a woman in tears, I provided you with a job in Ankara. I do not even try counting your inconsistency when it comes to wishes about men and love."

I blushed in shame, rather like a European Union candidate which has been told that it has made no reforms for two years.

"Well, my wish is to live for six months in Paris with an easy, part-time job or preferably no job at all. I would just go museum-hopping, to afternoon sessions of old movies in Rue Cujas, a stroll in the Palais Royal, shop in Aubade and end up writing a book about the French." "Bravo. This is among the top 10 wishes of the last three years," said Everard't. "All English, American and Dutch women ask for it. My God, are women ever original?"

Turks and hopes
"Do many Turks come and see you?" I asked him.

"Not so much," he conceded. "You see, I had collected a number of them over the years. In 1997, right after the tragic Luxembourg Summit, there was this bright fellow with a pensive expression who came to wish for Turkey getting the candidate status. I granted his wish in 1999."

Turkey’s ambassador to the European Communities then, I said silently. "He is now in Venezuela," I pointed out.

"Mmmm, I do not remember him making a wish in that direction," said Everard't Serclaes. "In 2002, a fellow with a mustache came and wished for the opening of negotiations between Turkey and the EU. You know, the one who is soft spoken." "He is in the presidency now," I said. "Has he come here lately?"

"Not really," said Everard't Serclaes. "Some time ago, another one, a garrulous fellow with a jaunty walk, came and asked to play soccer with the EU leaders. Naturally, I granted his wish." He sighed. "I guess I made a mistake. He gave quite a kick to the Austrian Chancellor, who felt the Turkish fellow was a mean player and a sore loser."

"Turkish media feels the same way," I said. "Has a chubby, baby-faced fellow rubbed your hand recently?"

"Yes," admitted Everard't. "But his wish was about a UN seat, not about the EU. At any rate, I would have suggested that he went to Saint Sulpice in Paris to make that wish - or perhaps to Church St Hoch, which is closer to Elysee."

"The problem with you Turks," Everard't mused, "is that your wishes are neither specific nor long-term enough. You ask for candidate status, you ask for the opening of negotiations. But no one actually asked for membership."

"They might have supposed that once negotiations were opened, then the membership would come," I said, becoming a bit peeved with him. "Not at all," he replied. "Accession is an open-ended process. Do they not teach you anything there in Turkey?"

"And my wishes..." I tried again.

"Oh, alright," he said. "I will grant you some of them. Do not think it will please you, for being a woman, you will feel restless."

At least, he smiled. "You will get what you deserve. Now rush off to your national deities and leave me and Saint Sulpice alone."

I walked off to shop before he could change his mind.