In an era given over to the big-box warehouse outlet, they are the shopkeepers of Europe. Bret Dawson investigates.

Most Belgians are accustomed to and comfortable with most aspects of Belgian life, which is a good thing. A well-adjusted and comfortable populace is one of the prerequisites for a just, stable, peaceful, unassuming, not-too-uppity society.

There is a spot of tarnish on the silver lining of the cloud over Brussels, however. For Belgian society is not the homogenous, unilingual festival of order and sensibility it appears to be at first glance.

In fact, there are two kinds of Belgians: two distinct peoples, each with its own language and hats.

The Flems, who speak a primitive dialect of Afrikaans, live in the north and are most noted for their so-called "Belgian" chocolate. There is injustice in this, as they do not actually produce the chocolate that has brought them such fame and fortune.

Rather, they import it from exotic places like Bolivia, then simply stir it up in a bucket with sugar and lecithin before wrapping it in gold foil and selling it at inflated prices. They do not feel too bad about this practice, however, because their customers are wealthy enough not to mind paying big $$ for the exotic tang the word "Belgian" affords their sweet tables.

South of the Flems and nearer to France live the other kind of Belgians, the Wallooners. They are not the chocolatiers their compatriots are, and neither do they seek out the international spotlight. Slow-paced, humble, devoutly Catholic, they prefer to let their faith speak louder than their confections.

Mostly, they do this by sending their sons off to monasteries, where they quietly serve the Lord by brewing up giant kegs of beer and not wearing any gotch under their robes.