A Golden Stream Through Brussels: A Guide to Its Quirky Statues

Most cities have that one big tourist attraction where you get there and you feel a little underwhelmed. In this, Brussels completely outdoes all the competition. The Mannekin Pis is just about the most underwhelming tourist sight you can ever imagine. Of course, no visit to Brussels is worth its piss if you don’t visit the famed pissing boy, but you also must lump that visit in with the pissing girl and the pissing dog. And after that, piss on a church (quite legally)! And then sit back and wonder if there’s more to Brussels than pissing.

I’ve already written quite a lot on this blog about Belgian pissing culture. Though I never shared this anecdote: I had a Belgian friend who was driving through the Netherlands and he really had to piss. So he did what was natural. Pulled over to the side of the highway, found a bush, and let it fly. The police immediately arrived.

“What are you doing?!” the Dutch officer asked.

“What does it look like?” my friend replied, cigarette hanging from his mouth, penis hanging from his hand.

“You are a savage,” the Dutchman said.

“I am a Belgian,” my friend replied.

“Do you not have toilets in Belgium?”

My friend shrugged. Indeed, toilets are often hard to come by in this country. And when you do come by them, they’re often… weird. Again, see my other blog on this.

Anyways, back to Mannekin Pis. Why is that little guy so revered? Let’s delve in.

A short history of Pis

By the way, I’m not overly sure how to pronounce “Pis”. Is it like the French would say, “Pee”? Though my kid came home from French school, and he pronounced it with the “s”, so perhaps it’s true to the Flemish form.

Regardless as to how it's pronounced, the Manneken Pis is more of a symbol of Brussels than just a transparent metaphor for late-night happenings.

The fountain first made its appearance in 1619 when Hieronimus Duquesnoy the Elder completed it. The meaning and purpose behind it has been lost in the mists of the early morning steam of a… sorry, I can’t help myself to the urination metaphors.

Duquesnoy was born in Le Quesnoy and died in Brussels, and was the court sculptor for Archduke Albert and Archduchess Isabella. Most of his life was spent working on church furniture and sculptures for the royal palace and gardens. Along with this piece, you can find a sacrament tower in Sint-Martinuskerk in Aalst and another one in Sint-Jakobskerk in Ghent.

Origin stories

The first story I heard was that when Brussels was under siege by the French, Dutch, German, or some other army, a fire was ignited in the city. A young, heroic boy sped to the task of putting out the fire—or fuse from explosives, or something—the only way he could think of: by pissing on it! I told that one to my 5-year-old; he loved it. Though this probably explains all of his joking lately with his toilet.

Another story, which I just learned from AI—so take it or leave it—is that a wealthy merchant’s son peed on a witch’s door, so she turned him into a statue. Now that I’ve read that, I kind of would like to believe that one’s true, but then, this being Brussels, there’d be a lot more pissing statues about…

The dressing begins

Though we can’t date the statue, we do know when the whole dressing thing started. It started in 1746, after the French took Brussels (then at the time part of the Netherlands) during the War of Austrian Succession and occupied the city. The French, seeing how the Brusselaar had a weird reverence for the pissing boy, often mocked it as they passed. The Brusselaar complained up the chain of command that their boy was being mistreated.

Seeing that French attitudes could cause an uprising there, the French King Louis XV, gifted the statue a royal gown, and he made the order that every French soldier passing the statue would have to salute.

Pissing Louis XV

Since then, they’ve taken up dressing the boy in all kinds of clothes.

All the Pissing Clothes

Over the course of his lifetime, our favorite little Belgien has had over 1,000 outfits. He changes outfits for any occasion, pending a request and donation to the city. That’s right, that means you too can design your own little pissing boy clothes and have him wear it (for the right price). They change him up to three times a day, and being a pissing boy dresser is an official, full-time job of the city.

In a chokha for Georgian Independence Day

I’ve seen him wearing a Georgian chokha for Georgian Independence Day, some Italian national clothes, firefighting clothes, graduation clothes, and so on. Really, I don’t remember all the different clothes I’ve seen on him. Most embassies, though, will sponsor an outfit during the Independence Day of their country, and the Church (or some rich religious guy) often has him dress up for religious days.

Lucky for you, they even have many of his clothes on display. Right around the corner, there’s the Garderobe MannekenPis just a spitting distance away. So, if you want the complete experience, you can see the fountain, grab a penis waffle at one of the adult waffle vendors, and scarf that down, and then go to the museum.

On the side of the museum, there’s a gigantic mural of “Manneken Peace”, so don’t miss that. The museum is 5 euro to get in and includes a fairly amusing audio tour (it’s also included in the Belgium Museum Pass).

Manneken Peace

The Pissing Ceremony

Whenever they change the clothes, the sponsor of the getup comes out and makes a little speech to their cohort. Then the caretakers change the clothes, and they do some photo ops. At almost every ceremony I’ve seen, one of the caretakers has a lot of fun controlling the flow in the fountain. That means, at any moment, a “golden stream” shoots out across the street like a broken fire hydrant.

And a Pissing Girl…

Manneken isn’t the only pisser in town. There are, in fact, two more pissing statues, as the Belgians are very much aware of how ridiculous their main tourist icon is.

There’s Jeanekke Pis, who squats down in the “Delirium Village” (itself a tourist icon), don’t go at night or you’ll run into an immovable wall of tourists blocking your way to peep at a statue of a baby girl pissing.

Jeanneke Pis doing her business

Just head down the Delirium cul-de-sac (fun fact, though you can use that word the same in French, it also means “ass bag”) and you’ll find her at the end, surrounded by a swarm of curious Asians and Russians inspired by Western degeneracy all trying to snap a pic.

She’s been there since 1987. The artist Denis-Adrien Debouvre wanted to express his solidarity with women’s rights and show that Brussels is a truly egalitarian city. It’s tradition to throw money into the fountain, and that money is collected and donated to medical research and people in need.

At night, they lock her up with the cage doors to avoid getting damaged or humiliated by all the drunks gathering at Delirium. But on occasion during the day, you can find her fully exposed.

And even a Pissing Dog

Meanwhile, a bit on the opposite end of Old Town, we’ve got Zinneke Pis (also the name of a beer), a famous pissing dog that’s marking his turf on a bollard. The last few times I’ve seen it, the water hasn’t been running though, so don’t expect too be overwhelmed by the action.

The unstoppable

Zinneke has been there since 1999 and was installed by Tom Frantzen as a nod to Jeanneke, and was so popular that they made a copy of him in Neufchatel-Hardelot, France. The poor guy met the fate of many street dogs and was ran over by a car, but lucky for Zinneke, Tom was around to freshen him back up. His name is a nod to the River Senne, which runs at a trickle underneath the city.

Final thoughts

So, take a moment to appreciate the playful spirit of this city. Whether you're marveling at the ever-changing wardrobe of the Manneken Pis, having a laugh at the pissing dog, or tourist dodging at the crowded Delirium Village, remember that Brussels is a city that doesn't take itself too seriously. And maybe, just maybe, you'll find yourself charmed by its irreverent wit and silliness. Just don’t mind the smell.

From Beergardens to Panoramas: Why Brussels' Cinquantenaire is a Must-See

Looking at the arches from Merode

Towering above two of the main arteries in Brussels like some sort of crown centerpiece of Brussels, or perhaps a gateway into the EU Quarters, is the Cinquantenaire Arch, named for the park in which it sits. The Arch reminds people of either the Brandenburg Gate in Germany or the Arch du Triomphe in Paris, and though it's its own thing, it is just as monumental and demanding of attention from the average tourist. My favorite way to see the Arch and the Parc du Cinquantenaire in which it stands is from the Merode Metro station, because it feels like you are kind of entering the city in a real triumph.

The park itself is split up by the Arch and museum complex. On one side is the Square de la Bouteille (Square of the Bottle) with a grand fountain. It's part of the Etterbeek neighborhood, and here and the grand plaza is where a great number of festivals are held throughout the year. When there's no festival, it retains the feeling because people like to sprawl out here and sunbathe or sit around with a bottle of wine.

This is true on the other side of the Arch as well. On sunny afternoons, locals sprawl across the manicured lawns, their picnic blankets dotting the grass like colorful confetti. Kids kick soccer balls while couples strolled hand-in-hand beneath the towering chestnut trees. And you can tell who's a local Belgian on warm (not hot) days because they all huddle in the shade like vampires, unused as they are to the sun.

The sprawling, 30-hectare park was built in 1880 to commemorate—you might have guessed it—the 50th Anniversary of the Kingdom of Belgium, which declared its independence in 1830. The triumphal arch, though, wasn't completed until a few years later, not until 1905. The park was originally a “Field of Mars”, that is, a military parade and training ground, and as such, you’ll find the Military Academy on the north face of the park. In 2030, Belgium will mark its 200th anniversary. So, until then, they’ll be doing random renovations, pop-up sculptures and beergardens, and so on to give the park a fresh new flavor.

By the way, you can walk through all this yourself with me as your audio guide with the VoiceMap app on your phone! Check it out here.

The Arch

The crowning element, featuring a chariot driver at its summit, bears the name "Brabant Raising the National Flag," crafted by artists Jules Lagae and Thomas Vincotte. As Belgium's richest and most pivotal territory, Brabant has consistently maintained its grip on authority in this nation, serving as the historic duchy where Brussels resides. When the Belgian nation emerged in 1830, the selection of Brabant and Brussels as the kingdom's capital was an obvious decision.

Notice the big lady statues at the bases? If you look closely at the inscriptions, you’ll see that each one represents a different region of Belgium. When the monument was built, Belgium was composed of 9 provinces, Brabant being just one. But in 1995, they divided up Brabant to Flemish Brabant and Wallonian Brabant, so the counting is a bit off now.

The Cinquantenaire Arch

Leopold II, the Builder King, was the man with the plan (funded by a "unique" rubber trade, more on that later). His original idea was for a single arch, like the Arch du Triomphe in Paris, and only the pavilions were completed in 1880. They succeeded in constructing a wooden prototype of the lone archway for the 1897 World's Fair, but following the death of Gedeon Bordiau, the initial architect, in 1904, his French successor Charles Girault preferred a more original three-arch set-up. Consequently, they dynamited the whole thing and began anew in 1905.

The King wasn’t overly happy about all this and demanded that it absolutely had to be finished for the 75th year anniversary the next year. Girault had to round up 450 workers to get the arches and the arcade completed in time. The whole affair became a tourist attraction in its own right. The workers were on shifts 24 hours a day and lighting rigs had to be strewn up. They also built a three-level suspension bridge to get the most work possible done at once.

The Museums

When approaching the arch from Merode, you'll find yourself standing on a grand plaza in a U-shaped complex that houses three world-class museums (all available on the Museum Pass).

The first one, through the Arch and on the left are the Royal Museums of Art and History, which hold prehistoric and artifacts from the Merovingian age (remember Clovis from the history chapter?), as well as some from Egypt and Iran. And a lot of rotating global exhibitions.

Then there is the Military Museum of Belgium and Autoworld, both buildings date to 1880. If you’re at all interested in military history, the Military Museum is a must, with uniforms and armor that dates all the way back to the medieval ages and also including weapons and armor from Congo. And then, in a big hall, there are planes, boats, and tanks. If you know French or Dutch, then there’s also a great exhibition on World War II. There's also a huge hall with a collection of World War I weaponry, including all kinds of zany tank designs and aqua suits for Belgian marines to surprise the Germans from the dykes.

The entry to the Military Museum also includes a grand panorama view from the very top, just under the quadriga (the four-horse chariot). The city stretches out before you with a patchwork of medieval spires, Art Nouveau facades, and gleaming EU buildings. On clear days, the vista extends all the way to the Port of Antwerp.

Autoworld has a collection of about a thousand automobiles. They’ve got some of the first cars ever made to the most recent, and examples from all over the world. It's interesting for car fans, but if you're not one and you don't have the Museum Pass, then it's a hard pass, since at an 18-euro entry it's pretty costly. They also often use the big plaza for car exhibitions. I remember once, there was a swarm of Volkswagens that descended upon Brussels—apparently, there was a Beetle convention.

The Monument to the Belgian Pioneers of the Congo

Again, starting from Merode, going through the arches, and wandering to the leftmost far corner of the park, you'll find a few more monuments. Weird ones. The first on that list, is the Monument to the Belgian "Pioneers" of the Congo, which showcases Congolese slaves and crocodiles.

The Monument to the Belgian Pioneers of the Congo

This fountain monument was originally built for the “explorers” of the Congo behind the murder and ravishing of massive populations of the region. This included the enslavement of the locals for a growing rubber trade under King Leopold II’s private enterprise. The monument says nothing of the dark history behind the rubber and slave trades, and as such only stands in praise of the imperial system and not a true telling of history. It’s often defaced, with red paint thrown over it, especially since the Black Lives Matter protests in the United States triggered a movement in Europe to re-examine some of their own public spaces.

Rubber from the Congo is what made Belgium rich and is what paid for all the beautiful buildings in this park and many more throughout Brussels, earning King Leopold II the title of "Builder King". You can find more on this history under the King Leopold II statue entry in the Upper Town part of this book.

For a long time, there's been a missing inscription on monument. You might notice the removed bits at the inscription on the bottom left. It mentioned the Belgian “explorers” “wiping out the Arab slave trader” (which is also true, though they just replaced the Arabs in that trade). The mention was removed in 1988 because the residents at the Grand Mosque were offended. This, of course, makes the monument all that more unusual. Both Arabs and Europeans had a huge hand in the slave trade in Africa, so you’d think the monument would be most offensive to the ones who were made slaves, that is, the Africans themselves…

The Grand Mosque

The Mosque has a kind of an interesting Art Deco style going on—though originally in a neo-Moorish style by Ernest Van Humbeeck. It was built in 1897 to house a huge painting by Belgian artist Emile Wauters, which had gone on quite a tour of Europe before coming back to Belgium. The painting ended up in the hands of Count Louis Cavens, who had this imitation mosque built to house the painting.

The minaret towers over a nice sandbox playground

The Mosque-as-exhibition center eventually fell into disrepair, eventually, the painting disappeared, and in 1963 the doors were closed for good. In 1967, King Baudouin lent it to King Faisal ibn Abd al-Aziz of Saudi Arabia in exchange for some oil contracts.

The imitation mosque thus became a real mosque. Unfortunately, rather than a peaceful form of Islam, the extremist Salafism was preached here for the longest time. Two worshippers from this service would later become the terrorists behind the Belgian bombing in 2016, and many more had gone on to join ISIS and other Middle East wars. 

So, in 2018, the Saudis were forced to relinquish control. It was handed over to a new non-profit Islamic group that was much more Eurocentric, but it’s since been discovered they were riddled with Moroccan and Turkish intelligence agents. Who knows about the future of the mosque and if state actors will ever just let average people get on with their worship.

The Temple of Human Passions

Awkwardly situated next to the Grand Mosque is Victor Horta's "Temple of Human Passions". This neo-classical slash art nouveau temple was built by the famed architect in 1896. Inside it holds a gigantic marble relief by Jef Lambeaux. Take a close look at the temple and notice there is an excess of slightly off right angles and slightly bent lines, despite appearing classical. That’s part of the art nouveau touch. Everything is just slightly off.

Horta had originally designed it without the front wall so that it’d be open. But Lambeaux wanted his piece to be more exclusively accessed, and eventually Horta had to slap a wall up after Lambeaux died. The building was given to the Sauds as part of the lease with the mosque, who gave it to the Royal Museums of Art and History after their run.

Horta's Temple of Human Passions

The interior statue was commissioned in 1890 by King Leopold II about all the “passions” of mankind. Rather fitting to the King, it also included the negative passions like war, rape, and suicide. Nobody liked it, and everyone was glad when Horta finally covered it up. You probably can’t see the frieze now as it remains locked through most of the year, but you can look it up online.

Beer Gardens

There are two beer gardens here in the park (and really, that's not enough as they remain quite packed throughout the season). The best one, Chez Maurice, is near the EU Quarters entrance to the park in the Southwest corner. It's in a forested area and they've got great burgers.

Chez Maurice

The other "beer garden", La Guingette du Peristyle, is a new affair, and the first year was the year of my writing this. It may or may not exist in the years to come, depending on how successful the model is. The cafe is hidden up in the History Museum side of the gallery. If it's open, you'll see a huge scaffolding staircase that leads up to it. They've got the same menu and prices as the forested beer garden.

Gates to Schuman

If you're standing with the Arch at your back, then the sculpture you see on the right is called "Summer" by Jean Canneel. The one on the left is "Autumn" by Gustave Fontaine, both made in the mid-1900s.

"Summer" by Jean Canneel

Canneel was a Belgian sculptor coming from a family of artists. He fought in World War I, got injured, and did mostly cubist and expressionist forms afterward. In 1957, he traveled to the Congo for a brief stint doing some awkward sculptures of colonial leaders.

Fontaine was another Belgian artist who also did work in Paris and Italy. You can find another famous piece of his in Liege—a huge Lady of Belgium standing at the post of the bridge.

The Trench of Death: A Belgian WWI site

Today is what Belgians call “Remembrance Day”, or in the US what was call “Veterans Day”. The day originally marks the official end of World War I, the grossly misnamed “War to End All Wars”. The Armistice of Compiegne ending the war was signed on the 11th day of the 11th hour of the 11th month on the 18th year after the 20th century between Entente and the last remaining aggressor, Germany.

The Trench of Death (museum link here) is one of the more colorfully named touristic sites in Belgium, though it well-deserves the name. Located near Ypres and part of the famous “Flanders Fields” string of World War I battle sites, it’s a scar across the earth along the Yser River that’s been permanently preserved in concrete.

The Trench of Death

The Trench of Death is one of the last remaining World War I trench networks that can be visited. And like a Nazi death camp, I think it is essential to visit one of these at least once, to let the worst bits of your imagination run rampant and gain some perspective on the horrors of war. At least important for green dummies like me—and I hope for a future where everyone is some kind of green dummy, but, as I write this, that doesn’t look to be in the works.

Neutral Belgium

World War I completely ravaged Belgium, turning the country into a permanent battlefield for the entire war, with fighting stretching from the Flanders Fields all the way to the Ardennes—literally across the entire country. So, after the war, they wanted to make sure that never happened again. Instead of taking a clear side with Germany or France afterwards, they made their official position neutral.

What happened after that? They thought they could relax somewhat on their defenses and assumed that their stated neutrality would be respected in any future conflict. Of course, we know the history: Germany rolled right over them in their invasion of France a couple of decades later, with Belgium occupation nearly immediate.

Lessons learned

When you live between two competing great powers, and you don’t have any proscriptive geography to protect you (a la Switzerland), you don’t have the luxury to be neutral.

I think that’s an important lesson for Ukraine. Many people think Putin’s preference for a neutral Ukraine is in earnest. Where I think it’s better to remember Belgium’s example. A neutral Ukraine, disarmed Ukraine means that Russia can just steamroll through it on their way to Poland and beyond.

The WWI Battle of Yser

The Trench of Death, or the Dodengang as it’s called in Flemish/Dutch is a 300 yard relic of the Great War. It’s part of what makes up the “Dixmude” network of trenches that dot the Flemish countryside and were strategic throttle points set up during the Battle of Yser in October 1914. The Belgian army quickly set up these strongholds and stabilized their front, stopping the German advance.

Entrance of the fortress area

Despite the fields to be mostly flat, it also makes for some horrendous fighting conditions, since they’re super moist lands filled with dykes, canals, and drainage ditches, making armored warfare nearly impossible (which is why the whole dawn of tanks picked up more to the south) and mounted action also impossible given the high visibility and low maneuverability of any attempted charges. Mostly here it was just an awful muddy existence where gas canisters and artillery were constantly being exchanged by the heavily fortified positions on either side of the river.

The End of the Battle of Yser

The ultimate stroke was by the Belgians and British when they decided to just flood much of Flanders. The Germans had advanced forward to the second line of Belgian defense, when the floodwaters started coming in behind the Germans. This prompted a panicked withdrawal by the Germans, and the bulk of the fighting would move to the south towards Ypres.

Into the trenches

What to Expect

At the site, there’s a two story museum (the top two stories of the Visitor’s Center). The museum is fairly short and basic, with a few found artifacts and some very basic presentation of history in Dutch and French (use your Google translate on your phone if you don’t speak either language). In my opinion, for context, it’s better to visit the Royal Museum of the Armed Forces and Military History at the Cinquantenaire Park in Brussels before coming here.

From there you go down the stairs and head to the trenches. The sandbags seem to be made of concrete, or were preserved in concrete, or something. It was a real marvel of concreteering if they went back to replace the sandbags with a concrete wall that looks like sandbags. So, I’m stumped in this one. Did they originally use concrete? Were these actually bags of concrete that took the shapes of the bags that were placed there? I don’t know, and nothing I saw at the site explained this.

The whole place is a bit chilling, considering what those people must have gone through for three years straight of almost constant battle and terror. But by passing up on exploring the lives of the common soldier, the museum fails in really creating a stirring experience.

Key features and notable landmarks within the site

There is an excellent panoramic view from the top floor of the museum over the trenches, and gives you some idea of the battlescape, along with some maps on the top floor providing at least a bit of geographic context.

Looking over the trenches

Life in the trenches

They show you how they built a train line running the length of the trenches to make it easier to transport goods up and down and reinforce places in need. Though I was really hoping to learn more about the daily life of soldiers living in and operating out of the trenches. The museum provides little, and the trench area itself, the bunker/sleeping areas are just hollowed out concrete bits. This was really a lost opportunity for the museum.

Into the trenches

There’s one fortress area on display, which is reminiscent of a medieval fortress without a roof. It’s a maze of trenches, bunkers, and holes. Then there are parallel trenches running up the Yser that you can walk down.

Here, you’ll notice the first row of trenches is zig-zagged. That’s because, if Germans were able to break into the trench, they wouldn’t be able to clear it by just machine gunning up and down the line. And the defender can then machine gun any incoming Germans and don’t have to worry about hitting their own guys.

Notice the how jagged the trench is

The second row of trenches is straight, and that’s where the rail line used to be.

You’ll also notice this marker here at the end of the trench, featuring a laurel wreath and Belgian military helmet. King Albert had these installed across the country to show the “Line of Demarcation”, that is, where the front was at the time of the Armistice.

The line of demarcation marker

Visiting the Trench of Death

How to get there

Getting there is no easy task. To the town of Diksmuide is something of a battle in itself, engaging in various modes of transportation and changing from buses to trains. After arriving in Diksmuide, you’ve got a 30 minute walk. In total, look for this to take a bit over 3 hours one way. So better if you’ve got a car or hit this area up during a visit to Brugge/Bruges, from which it takes about an hour and a half.

Admission fees and opening hours

It’s six bucks to get in for adults, free for kids under 6.

During the summer half of the year, it’s open from 10:00-18:00, seven days a week. During winter months (November-March), it’s only open from 9:30 to 16:00 on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

It’s fairly kid friendly. My kid had a great time playing hide and go seek.

Recommended attire and gear for visiting the site

They recommend bringing wellies, but hiking boots are just as fine. During the summer, regular shoes are probably okay. The trenches do get muddy and wet though during any rains, and since Belgium rain is the normal… well, assume muddy and wet.

Other places in the area

Diksmuide is a fairly small town, and if you’re there on a Sunday, nothing is open. More nearby places cities of interest for tourists would probably be Ypres to the south, or Neiuwpoort or Ostende towards the beach to get something of an industrial tourist zone (beautiful sandy beaches of grey water, and also busy shipping ports).  

Diksmuide town center

Bonus

The poem that made the battlefield famous. This is “In Flanders Fields”, by John McCrae from Canada, who served as a gunner with the Canadian Expeditionary Force. It was from this poem we’ve come to recognize poppies as the symbol of the fallen, since in Flanders red-flowered corn poppies grew heavily around the graves of the soldiers.

In Flanders Fields

    In Flanders fields, the poppies blow

         Between the crosses, row on row,

       That mark our place; and in the sky

       The larks, still bravely singing, fly

    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the Dead. Short days ago

    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

       Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

                              In Flanders fields.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe:

    To you from failing hands we throw

       The torch; be yours to hold it high.

       If ye break faith with us who die

    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

                                In Flanders fields.

Final thoughts

Visiting the Trench of Death near Ypres can be a deeply moving experience that connects us with the harsh realities of World War I and honors the resilience and bravery of those who fought. This preserved site, with its trench system and historical artifacts, offers a reminder of the sacrifices made, the importance of remembrance, and also a bit of an early 1900s “castle” feel.

Visiting there and looking out from the overlook to the busy farms, beautiful villages, and peaceful Flemish countryside, gives me some hope for the future of Ukraine. Even as trench terror grips a quarter of their country, and the horrors of war grasp the entire people, there will one day be an end to it all. When the line of demarcation is no longer Ukrainian and Russian dug trenches and minefields, but just remembered by a set of concrete pillars and museums, and people can remember their grandfathers fighting that brutal war, pinning sunflowers to their breasts (more or less the poetic floral symbol of this war).