One Week in the Life of a Brussels Sprout

I thought "Brussels Sprout" would be a fitting name for newbies in Brussels. This led me to wonder whether brussel sprouts the vegetables are indeed named after Brussels the city. And lo and behold, these close relatives of the cabbage & cauliflower are infact grown prolifically in Belgium, as they have been since the 1200's. (More fun facts about Belgium below).

I'm happy to report that I've successfully survived my first week in Brussels, and am gradually feeling less of an out-of-place newcomer. I had somehow forgotten, despite how many times I've been through it, how difficult and emotionally trying it can be to adjust to a new place, new language, new job, new social setting, etc. A part of me loves it for the adventure, of course, or else I suppose I wouldn't do it at all. But the rest of me inevitably realizes that the first days can be tough - figuring out ones place at work and how to actually do your job, learning to communicate in unfamiliar utterances for day-to-day interactions in public, navigating an impossible cob-web of city streets, finding a home, figuring out how to use the laundromat and the metro... Having said that, things are looking positive: a lovely and supportive work environment, a beautiful and interesting city, cozy cafes and delightful restaraunts galore, a warm bed to sleep in for the time being, chocolates to snack on, good people to help me through... I think I'll be alright.

Here are a few photos of my office and current temporary home at the top of the office, followed by some photos from around the city. I took advantage of a rain-free Saturday and the appearance of a few stingy rays of sunlight today to take a long walk and see some of the sites.

Our office. (The red building on the right.)

View of the city from the back window of my room.

My temporary, but perfectly sufficient & comfy pallete on the floor.

My adjoining sitting room.

View from the sitting room window down the street.

Typical street in the neighbourhood.

Beautiful architecture in the city centre at La Grand Place.

Details

More fine art on the square.

Beauty above the square.

My orientation to Belgium just wouldn't be
complete without doing this: eating a Belgian waffle.

One of Brussel's most famous monuments: the Manneken Pis.
Yes, that's right, it's a statue of a little boy peeing.

Shopping hall in the city centre.

A chocolatier. Belgium's speciality.

Yes, let's get a close up on that one...
Mmmmm....chocolate...

Apparently, Belgium is also known for its lace.
(I didn't know it, so evidently it's
known by someone else for that.)

Stella Artois building. Belgium is also famous for its beer.

Unusual grafiti art on the walk home.

A street of beautiful houses near the office.

Walking through the square close to the
office on the way to the supermarket.

Here are some "Fun Facts about Belgium" that I've learned in my first week here:

• Each Belgian eats on average 16 kg of chocolate per year. That’s almost 1.5 kg each month!
• The national pet-peeve: dog poo on the streets (according to a 2005 survey, this irritates more people than anything else).
• Historically, houses were taxed on their width. To help save on taxes, houses were thus built deep & tall.
• On Friday nights, everyone puts their garbage out on the street. This little throw back to medieval times when everyone threw things out their window down to the street below & everything flowed down a central gutter, is the system for having your garbage picked up on Saturday morning. This opens the possibility to a great & cleaner version of dumster diving: people often put out decent furniture or other items of further use, so you can "shop" for free treasures as you walk down the street on a Friday evening.
• The world's first newspaper was invented in Belgium in 1676.
  
• The northern half of the country (very roughly), is called Flanders and is Flemmish (very closely related to Dutch). The southern half, called Wallonia is French. There's a tiny German pocket in the east. Brussels is technically bilingual, though it's located within the Flemmish area and yet French tends to dominate.
• Brussels is the EU capital.
  
• It rains a lot in winter.
  

Brussels, My First Day

Yesterday I lived my first full day in Belgium. My sleep deprived, time-confused body woke before dawn and my spirit prayed for a blessing on my new life. I opened the windows of my temporary room above the office; my 'princess room' at the top of the tower of 6 flights of steep narrow stairs and admired my new neighbourhood in the light of morning.

I donned my new look for European winter (good riddance puffy coat & touque!): my blue Egyptian scarf and my black felt coat on loan from my ever-more-stylish sister. I walked and walked city streets, below narrow houses with balconies and grand windows, between designer stores and enticing coffee shops in the company of a past friend and housemate, and future friend and colleague. I bought an umbrella, a sim card, a metro card and a French phrase book: equipped for my new environment.

I met friends of friends and was welcomed into their kitchen to help them prepare for a great birthday feast. I made the birthday cake: a moist lemon almond. I created cheesy stuffed mushrooms. I broke a wine glass in my hand in the dish pan and sliced my finger, gushing blood into the dish water. I whipped a giant bowl of whipped cream and managed to whip my hand as well. I decorated the baked cake with 40 candles and created a pyramid of brownies. I constructed mini Pavlovas: sweet macaroon mounds graced with fresh whipped cream and robust raspberries. I met dozens of friends of friends, dressed in party clothes and mingling in a room with high painted ceilings with decorative mouldings. I met violin makers and journalists and translaters and fellow humanitarian workers, from Australia, Britain, Columbia and the Netherlands. I was befriended and tried to befriend. With my more-salient-than-ever North American accent and my never-cared-that-much fashion sense, I was brave and gregarious, and attempted to be lovely and eloquent. I may not have succeeded perfectly (somehow I still feel a shy 12-year-old). I felt a part of a lovely environment, a gracious community, yet not quite a part, a little afraid I don't quite belong, but with a pinch of hope I might with time.

And thus passed the first day of my life in Belgium.

To Belgium to Belgium to taste fine chocolates

Did I just say I'd have lots of time to write? Shortly after writing those words I found out that my work permit for Belgium was suddenly approved, my passport was on its way back from its trip to the consulate in Montreal and I rescheduled my flight to leave for Brussels as soon as I could.

So, I'm off to start a new life adventure tomorrow. We shall see what time my new life affords me for visits to my blog, but I hope to be back soon. The story of my Christmas in Canada is down below.

Here's to a new year in a new place with new joys & goodness.

Greetings from Grandmother's House

First, the basic facts out of the way, for those with short attention spans who will read no further, or for those of you who need a quick review:

1) I’m currently in Alberta and have been back in Canada since late November.
2) I’m on pure holiday, with my primary aims being: rest, reflection, family time & preparation for new job.
3) I’ve been working in Sudan doing development work for the past 2+ years.
4) I was supposed to leave Jan 1 for my new job in Belgium.
5) My visa is delayed, so I’ll likely not leave for Belgium until February.
6) I’m happy, healthy, loved & overall a-ok.

Skating on a lake on a snowy Alberta afternoon. With my sister.

Now, on to the more poetic re-tellings, for the more literarily-inclined among you.

‘Tis the season of merriment, food & family – all of which I’ve been engaging in fully over the past few weeks. I’ve been walking around with many a story to post bouncing about in my head, but with my intensely locally-nomadic lifestyle (last week I slept in a different beds 6 nights running), lack of personal computer (just got a new one), and busy occupation with family, friends & festivities, I’ve yet to find some nice quiet computer time in which to present my thoughts.

happy examples of the season of merriment.

Now the Christmas hubbub is over (which I always find so much more hubbub-ful in North America than anywhere else in the world), and it’s just been confirmed that my start date for my new job in Belgium will be delayed for another month due to my current lack of passport with which to travel and visa in passport with which to stay & work in Belgium. Thus, I have some time, and thus I write.

I’d like to use this gift of time in the coming weeks to work backwards and write about some of the “posts that never were” - stories that I believe warrant re-telling, reflections that have been demanding solidification in word, photos that venture to bless the eye - posts that I simply didn’t have time to write in my final crazy months in Sudan, or on my long journey back to Canada.

First, I begin with the present: with Christmas-time in Canada, but over the next while, will be reflecting on the months past, and posting back-dated updates below in tribute to the Sudan I left and have grown to love.

Christmas in Canada: Food, Family, Fun & Frostiness

My Canadian Christmas was a marvelous time of all things merry & traditionally Christmas-like. It was celebrated in a series of family events.

The first was celebrated with my immediate family, all but one member, as Josh celebrated in Juba this year, joining us virtually for part of the evening. We had an exquisite dinner in Havilah & Scott's new home, which has been undergoing a magnificent transfiguration, and was made livable and ready for such an occasion just in the nick of time.

Exceptional lamb-roast dinner by Havilah.

Then, in the spirit of Christmas surprises, we put on our elf-like thinking caps and planned some home-makeover projects for the grandfolk in our lives.

For Nanna, a much pined-for fireplace (it's electric,
but it still feels very cozy) and a newly arranged
living-room to accommodate it.

For Grandma & Grandpa, new lift recliners
set up in a more ergonomically-correct tv room.

Next on the family fun schedule, Christmas Eve with Grandma & Grandpa Jespersen.

A special day kicked of so perfectly with grandma's
special waffles with raspberries and cream fresh from the dairy.

Grandpa & Dad exchange stories while I focus on the waffles.
(While simultaneously listening, of course.
I wouldn't miss a good storytelling from Grandpa J, the story master.)

Grandma J, the waffle master.

Grandpa J, looking handsome
in his Christmas tie, ready for church.

Next event, Christmas morning at Nanna's house.

Stocking bears all ready for their annual big day.

Nanna with all the grandkids.

Snowy berries on crisp Christmas day walk.

Post-dinner family fun the Ford-Stonehocker way.
Ridiculous games, greedy gift exchange & family film time.

Next event: Boxing Day with the Jespersen family.

Post-dinner family bonding & presents for the little people.

Post-Christmas fun: Skating & Cinema in the City

The fam on ice.

The fam in action.

What grandmother's do when the Christmas hooplah is over.

More Post-Christmas fun: Scrabble, Sushi & Sauna Night

2 intensely competitive simultaneous scrabble games.

Getting nice & hot in the Sauna.
Sigh...memories of Sudan. In fact, is this the first
time I've felt warm since I've been back??

Getting nice & warm so we can do this!
(Yes, this is the sort of thing Canadians do for fun. Us & the Finns)

"Sauna Extreme Sports" (now an annual event at
the Stonehocker household)

To the hill!

Sledding in style.

Good times were had with friends long-unseen as well. Evidently my family aren't the only ones that like to have fun in creative ways. Here's New Year's Eve: James Bond Theme Party.

The "Bond Sisters": Havilah & I on a brief
foray into the world of international espionage.

My alter-ego: Svetlana, visiting Russian Spy.

And of course, much time was spent embracing (and reminding myself how to embrace) cold cold Canadian winter. It was an exceptionally chilly time, with temperatures averaging around -25-30C, and dropping as low as -41. To survive I quickly remembered & fine-tuned the art of dressing for the cold: layers & layers of down feathers, long underwear perpetually, slippers, blankets, don't forget the touque (Canadian for 'woolly hat'), always a well-wound scarf, & mittens, not gloves. Or simply remember this rule: Degree of puffyness, degree of dorky-lookingness & degree of warm feelings are all tightly correlated. When the coldest of the cold spell subsided, we were dumped upon with snow and snow and snow. At this point I remembered & fine-tuned the art of shoveling snow for each of the homes I've been borrowing beds at: sister's house, Grandma & Grandpa's house & Nanna's house.

But occasionally, one must give in to the irresistible temptation and throw oneself upon the fluffy heaps of snow, lie in its softness, taste the snowflakes & leave your angelic snow impression. It is good.