I’ve lived (happily) here in Brussels for twenty years. But the place’s specificity still (happily) surprises me.
In England there isn’t a day of the year on which there are dedicated bus services to the cemeteries (advertised here at Roodebeek metro station on Friday evening).
And when you ask for an omelette in a restaurant, you aren’t asked, in England, how you want it cooked. (I said medium, which is an acceptable word for tuna, and was sneered at. The options are baveuse – as above, in the Plasch on Place Brugmann on Saturday – or bien cuit. Isn’t it glorious to have a special word for the consistency of an omelette.)