Falling victim to a hate crime taught me a dark lesson about Europe
As a Brit, and in spite of a little Brexaustion, I hold a certain romanticised view of central Europe. I know I am not alone. It is, I am sure, a place of high culture, animated coffee shop conversations, and romantic walks through cobbled streets. The sun is always warm, and life plays out at a more relaxed pace than here in Britain – as three flags flying in Brussels’ Grand Place confirmed for me, it is a place to ‘love’, ‘live’, and ‘unite’. As they muscled towards us, in mixed Islamic dress, liberally spitting at our feet, we struggled to respond With a weekend to kill in Brussels, I