I’ve put together these five fascinating mysteries of Flanders. I hope they tickle your fancy!
Flanders is full of legends, surprises, and curious tales. So I thought I’d give Flanders the X-Files treatment. Cue that spooky music! The Truth is Out There folks! (Younger readers probably have no clue what I’m talking about).
1. Why so many Portuguese families settled in a small Flemish village
Herenthout, a small town in the Antwerp Kempen, has something unusual about it. You may notice it while walking the streets. Are you in Herenthout or Porto? Surprisingly, one in twenty residents comes from the very same city in northern Portugal – Guimarães. How did this remarkable link between two distant places begin?
The answer lies with one determined family. In the early 2000s, seasonal workers from Portugal arrived in Herenthout to work in greenhouses. Among them was a young woman who later decided to stay permanently. She quickly found work as a cleaner, then used her energy and entrepreneurial spirit to build her own cleaning company. Word of opportunities spread back home. Relatives and friends followed, and soon entire families were moving to Herenthout, and found jobs, houses, and schools.
Two decades later, the Portuguese presence is woven into daily life. A café on the market square serves sandwiches with steak and spicy sauce alongside Belgian beer. Carnival floats include Portuguese dancers. Local poets have written odes celebrating the bond between newcomers and long-time residents. What began almost by accident has grown into a story of resilience, community, and cultural exchange. Don’t you just love this example of how migration can transform a town in the most unexpected ways? I do!
2. The world’s oldest monstrance hidden in Limburg
In the Limburg city of Hasselt, a glittering treasure quietly rests in a museum display case. Known as the Herkenrode Monstrance (a vessel designed to hold consecrated bread, also known as the “host”), it dates back to 1286 and is regarded as the oldest monstrance in the world. But its story is even stranger.
This ornate vessel – made in Paris by master craftsmen – was originally created for the Abbey of Herkenrode. In 1317, something extraordinary was reported: the host inside began to bleed. Word of the miracle spread quickly. Pilgrims flocked to Herkenrode to pray before the golden tower-shaped monstrance. Gifts were left in exchange for blessings of protection or healing.
For centuries, the monstrance remained in the abbey, surviving wars and upheavals, until the French Revolution forced it to move. In 1804 it found a permanent home in Hasselt Cathedral, and today it can be admired in the Stadsmus city museum. I can happily report that it’s recognized by the Flemish government as a “masterpiece,” and cannot leave Belgium without special permission. Its very survival is a marvel – and I guess its mysterious bleeding host is a reminder of the mix of faith, legend, and history in medieval Flanders.
3. The rise and fall of Ghent’s giant chimney
Today, it’s huge office buildings that generally shape the skyline of cities. But in Ghent from 1937 until the late 1980s, it was a huge chimney! Built for a pigment factory producing “Bleu d’Outremer,” the chimney soared 105 meters into the sky. It’s tip alone measured 30 meters. I wouldn’t have liked the job of cleaning that!
Or maintaining – as the structure required constant repairs, with workers dangling from a moving platform high above the city to carry out repairs. Yet the chimney had a darker side. The factory burned coal that released clouds of sulphur dioxide, polluting local trees and plants. After decades of complaints, authorities refused to renew the factory’s license. The business collapsed, and the chimney’s fate was sealed.
But dismantling such a giant was no simple task. Explosives risked shattering nearby windows and homes. Instead, demolition experts took an unusual approach: they set it on fire from the inside! The chimney was filled with tyres and wood, soaked in petrol, and a match was struck. It took a while but the chimney slowly weakened until it finally toppled with a resounding crash in 1988. Today, little trace remains, but locals still remember the “monster chimney” that once dominated their skyline. (Do you?)
4. A Forgotten Relic or a fake? The stone table of Kluisbos
Climb the forested slopes of the Kluisberg in Ruien and you may stumble across a massive stone table made of three upright boulders topped with a huge slab. “Aha!” you think, “I know what this is – a Celtic altar or a prehistoric tomb!” It’s understandable. Children have been told stories that the ancients once sacrificed people here – yuk! But is there any truth to the legend?
Old photographs suggest otherwise. A century ago, the stones were lying apart from one another, scattered on the hillside. In fact, the “table” only appeared in 1974, when the local mayor oversaw a reconstruction. Inspired by stories of ancient monuments and hoping to boost tourism, he had the stones arranged into their current formation! Since then, they have appeared in countless tourist brochures, often under the nickname “Peetje en Meetje” (“grandfather and grandmother”) because their shapes resemble bent old figures. I’m sorry to disappoint you if you thought you’d just photographed an ancient altar!
5. Did goats climb a church tower in Neerpelt?
Now that’s a question I never thought I’d ask! But in Neerpelt a strange tale is doing the rounds: that goats once grazed on top of the church tower. Over to you Mulder & Scully: is this fact or fiction?
Fact: during World War II, the spire of Neerpelt’s St. Nicholas Church was destroyed by bombing. Later attempts to rebuild it were swept away by storms, leaving the tower capped with a flat wooden roof. For years, weeds, grass, and even a birch tree sprouted from the top. So far so very plausible, but where do the goats come into the story?
Fiction: It comes from the neighbouring town of Overpelt. Both communities delighted in mocking each other. In the 1960 carnival parade, Overpelt pranksters built a float shaped like Neerpelt’s ruined tower, complete with a live goat standing proudly on top. A photograph of the float survives (below), and many mistook it as proof that goats really had clambered up the real tower.
But I am afraid to say that no goat ever scaled the 50-meter-high church. Today, you can go inside the rebuilt tower and see exhibits of old photos – including the goat parade picture that gave life to the myth. I think it’s a great story though! Don’t you?
If these mysteries of Flanders have captured your attention, you can dive even deeper. The original “Mysteries of Vlaanderen” podcast explores these and many more intriguing stories (in Dutch). You’ll find it available on VRT MAX.
I created Discovering Belgium in 2011 to share the country’s hidden stories, fascinating places, and remarkable people. Through articles, photography, and audio walks, I share discoveries that reveal Belgium beyond the obvious. Hope you enjoy this site.
Fascinating stories, Denzil!