Andanh.com

BRUSSELS, Belgium — London has Admiral Nelson. Rome has Romulus and Remus. New York has the Statue of Liberty. Brussels has Manneken-Pis.

The impish statue of a small boy going No. 1 into a medieval fountain in the heart of the city's trendy St. Jacques District is always surrounded by a delighted crowd, cameras snapping away at his innocent lack of modesty.

One legend says that the little fellow got his name after urinating into the beard of the bishop who baptized him; another says that it resulted from extinguishing — in his own special way — the fuse of a bomb about to set the city ablaze. Whatever the origins, the Manneken-Pis is beloved by Bruxellois (the lovely name of Brussels' residents) and visitors alike.

Most days he is naked, but on special occasions he is lovingly dressed in various costumes, all of which have a discreet opening from which his jet of water flows. The costumes, now numbering more than 700 and donated by countries and groups around the world, run the gamut from Elvis Presley's sequined white jumpsuit to Santa Claus' red velvet knickers and tunic, from the flowing robes of Lawrence of Arabia to the signature bow tie and ears of Mickey Mouse. But perhaps he is never more popular than on festival days when the Manneken-Pis spouts beer rather than water into the fountain for the enjoyment of the revelers.

It didn't matter that he had no staff and no customers other than rescue workers, reporters from around the world and the few stragglers who hadn't either evacuated or been run out of town by the National Guard. There he was day after day, cooking up pots of jambalaya and red beans and rice, and doling them out free of charge to grateful customers.

Prudhomme and a few other chefs were the exception. For months after the storm, you could get a better meal in Shreveport than in New Orleans, and most of the city's celebrity chefs were working their magic in Houston, Las Vegas and elsewhere.

As a resident of the Crescent City for 25 years before moving to Lexington in the aftermath of Katrina, I am happy to report that that is no longer the case. Most of New Orleans' chefs have come home, and its legendary restaurants are again open for business and are better than ever.

You can have breakfast at Brennan's and dinner at Antoine's, and should you get hungry in between, there's lunch at Galatoire's (except on Fridays, when it is reserved exclusively for locals, many of whom have had the same table and waiter for generations).

On a highly personal day, he spoke of his own "spiritual poverty" and said he hoped to be a worthy successor to St. Peter, considered the first pope.

The German-born pope lamented that what he called "the joy of faith" was often choked by cynicism, greed and violence. Yet he drew an analogy to show how faith can overcome distractions and trials.

"The spires of St. Patrick's Cathedral are dwarfed by the skyscrapers of the Manhattan skyline, yet in the heart of this busy metropolis they are a vivid reminder of the constant yearning of the human spirit to rise to God," he said.

In America in particular, he has said repeatedly, the religious intensity stands out in marked contrast to the tepid spiritual emphasis in his native Europe. That makes the United States a testing ground for him in his bid to counter secular trends in the world.