This special relationship goes right back in time to when the territory's first inhabitants needed to grow crops. Low-lying and boggy, Flanders was hardly conducive to agriculture. Farmers had to figure out how to make the land fertile.
"Belgium, like the Netherlands, needed to evacuate the water and was compelled to fight against it in order to cultivate the land. It needed to drain the water from the fields," explains David Aubin, a professor at the Catholic University of Leuven.
A specialist in the relationship between water and political systems, Aubin says that the need to construct canals was instrumental in creating communities.
While it might have been a fight in the early years to win land from the water, Flanders' network of canals became one the territory's greatest assets, helping turn it into an economic powerhouse. By the Middle Ages, Bruges had become a world-leading commercial city.
"There was an industrialisation. People needed to transport goods and sell them abroad," says Aubin, adding that this was another reason for the construction of the hundreds of kilometres of canals that run through the region.
Bruges' connection to the sea brought traders from all over Europe, eager to snatch up its beautiful textiles. Because of its network of canals (which still delight tourists today), it became known as the Venice of the North. The period from the 12th to the 15th centuries was dubbed "The Golden Age".
Italians, who arrived in the 14th century, exchanged goods via innkeepers on the square known as the Beursplein (named after the Van der Buerse family), which fast developed into a thriving stock exchange, the most important of the Low Countries at the time.
But water was not always everyone's friend. The harbour silted up, and Bruges' golden age was over. Antwerp, now Europe's second-largest harbour, was ready to take up the gauntlet.
"The decline of Bruges was instrumental in the rise of Antwerp in the 16th century," explains Tim Soens, a history professor at Antwerp University. "You could describe this as environmental determinism."
Antwerp's harbour has made what would otherwise be an average-sized city in a tiny country a global trading hub. Among its many accolades, it is home to one of the world's largest petrochemical industries and handles 80% of the world's rough diamonds.
While its Golden Age may have drawn to a close, Bruges' fortunes were far from over. The inhabitants' struggle with water helped them develop new skills - for which they would become world famous.
"Bruges needed to do a lot to improve its accessibility to the sea. There were major canal works, and dredging activities were developed by the early 14th century," says Soens. "There are not many regions with documented evidence of that activity as early as this."
That Flemish expertise was demanded far and wide. "The water management know-how was internationally famous," continues Soens. It was a time of huge emigration of Flemish to marshlands in England and Germany.
This emigration could even account for the prevalence of Cistercian abbeys. "The Flemish had a tradition for settling in areas that were more remote and on reclaimed land. They had to have certain technical skills to do this."
In fact, even on home territory, there are examples of where the Flemish settled in what would have seemed to many to be inhospitable land with not much going for it. The monks of Koksijde, for example, constructed the Abbey of the Dunes on reclaimed land.
Having to deal with silt in commercially crucial waterways such as the Zwin in Bruges and the River Scheldt, which flows through Antwerp, helped the Flemish develop an expertise, which they deftly turned to their commercial advantage. Today, Flanders' dredging companies have a world-class reputation and operate all across the world in places such as Singapore and Dubai.
The neighbouring Netherlands was to overtake Flanders in the 16th century when it came to water management. Arguably, the Dutch had had a tougher fight for land, and its military prowess would have given them an edge on the world stage.
Flanders did not share the Dutch penchant and ability for seafaring and was something more of a victim on this front. The luxurious city of Ostend, known as the Queen of the Belgian coast, was taken over in turn by the Dutch, the French, the Germans and the Spanish.
But, while its waters and land were of almost constant interest to Europe's military heavyweights, the Flemings' deep understanding of river management has given them many occasions to turn the tables, most famously during the First World War.
Chased down the River Ijzer to its mouth at Nieuwpoort, the Belgian army was fast losing ground to the German advance. Karel Cogge, a Fleming who worked for the water board, suggested opening the sluice gates to flood the plains and drown the enemy.
It was a decisive point in the war, and, while it is the best-known incident, it was not the first time. "This tactic of using inundation as a weapon was practiced on a large scale during the Eighty Years' War," says Soens.
At the same time that Flanders' waterways were making it a trading capital of Europe, Europeans were cottoning on to the healing and recreational benefits of water. Ostend and the city of Spa in Wallonia started to attract the wealthy from across Northern Europe.
Aristocrats from Britain would make the voyage across the channel to either the coast or further inland to the city that owes its name to water treatment centres, stopping in Bruges en route to pick up some lace or tapestries.
The joys of bathing were soon to reach the masses. In Brussels, residents would bathe in the Zenne, which used to run through the centre of the city. After an outbreak of cholera in the 19th century that killed more than 3,000, city authorities decided to cover it over.
Brussels is a very low-lying region, and water quality was a big problem. "It was very difficult to get hold of clean water. It took a long time before public water facilities could function well," says Soens. "The search for clean water was a major issue."
But this was not an end to the Brusseleers' relationship with water. It was not long before municipal swimming pools sprang up across the city. The Baths of Brussels in the Marollen were opened in 1854, providing individual tubs for the district's residents to wash away the city grime.
Many more of these bath houses opened up across the region, although they fast became dens of iniquity, frequented by prostitutes and riddled with sexually transmitted diseases. Hardly a place to get one-self clean.
"Every major Flemish city had these bath houses, but they were also red-light districts," explains Soens. "You can find miniatures of these kinds of houses, and there is often some kind of erotic activity going on in the background."
Despite some qualms in the moral establishment, the bathing houses with their elaborate architecture (many of them are listed buildings) were mostly kept open and are still used today by locals as swimming pools. (See related story)
Flanders is not an obvious region for pursuing water activities outdoors with its whimsical weather and poor water quality - one of the worst in Europe (see related story). Yet many recreational activities are built around water, be it kayaking or trundling along the extensive network of cycle paths.
As well as being crucial to this trade-dependent economy, it has become close to the hearts of the Flemish. In the 1980s, there was a programme for every village to have a swimming pool, and the Flemish flock to outdoor bathing spots whenever there is a glimmer of sunshine.
The territory has had a constant struggle throughout history to control this abundant natural resource (to make its beer - the other Belgian elixir - Antwerp had to ship clean water from the River Rupel).
But all of this history might go some way to explaining the Flemish love of water and the fact that many recreational facilities today are built around this theme. "People are used to living around water. It's a very old practice," says Aubin.
"It's a low-lying region, and the use and control of water has always been very important," agrees Soens. "That creates a lot of opportunities - but also a lot of risks. All of this has given water a very special place in Flemish society."