At the behest of the English-speaking women’s club in Gent, I did some volunteer work for the University of Gent on Sunday. Volunteers were needed to help run a large symposium, “Making sense of the city” that brought together people from all over the world to discuss concerns about urbanization. Concurrent with the symposium was an art exhibit on the same theme, and I volunteered to help monitor the exhibit to ensure its safety.
The first part of the opening ceremony was held in the assembly hall they call the AULA, an interesting 19th century building in the heart of Gent. At the heart of the building is a dramatic, round auditorium with a high, domed ceiling, but as a volunteer I also got to see some of the more private rooms in the building. They spoke of a former grandeur, with heavy, somewhat frayed golden curtains covering high windows, cracked panels with detailed botanical carvings covering the walls, and a beautiful parquet floor. I sat on a bench with a thick velvet cushion waiting for the other volunteers, looked at the wires that had been added some time after construction to modify the ornate chandeliers for electricity. Some of the wires were hanging off the wall slightly, and I couldn’t help but notice that a number of holes had been punched through the wall panels at one time or another, and not been repaired. A frigid draft whipped through the panel behind me, and considering the scale of the building and the fact that it leaked cold air like a sieve, I never did take off my jacket for the rest of the day. It would have cost a fortune to actually heat the place.
The art exhibits leaned heavily towards the very modern. For example, in one curtained alcove a short black-and-white film played to some high-pitched techno music. A woman in a black leotard, with no expression on her face, was jumping up and down in a concrete, steel, and glass building. Because each jump exactly replicated the last, I surmised that they had filmed one jump, and had looped it. Over about five minutes, two additional scenes were added to the montage, until three different people were all jumping up and down monotonously. Then it would start again. Other exhibits included blurry pictures that had been Photoshopped to incomprehensibility, and a sculpture of a skull with little heads for teeth. There was a small pamphlet that listed the artists and their works, but most of the works were not actually labeled, so we all played a guessing game as to which was which. Ultimately, it all seemed to obfuscate the relationship of man to the city more than anything else, and the techno music gave all of the volunteers a headache.
After the first “We welcome you to Gent” speech was over, they had a reception in the main hall, handing out wine and drinks to all of the attendees. If I had known what was coming next, I would have grabbed a drink myself. They were an interesting crowd, though. Many of the women had artistic asymmetric hair cuts, and wore flowing, unique outfits with (as is required in Belgium) very exciting boots. All of them were thin, elegant, and looked very urbane as they wandered around looking at the art exhibits cradling glasses of champagne and wine. One gentleman from Algeria was wearing a white suit printed with photographs. A young man all in black leather with blue hair who looked vaguely like Trent Reznor, had on a green badge, which signified that he was one of the artists. I asked him which piece was his, and he handed me a flyer to “Meta bo”. That’s the musical show of “neuro techno” that finished off the whole conference on Wednesday.
Anyway, the next step for the volunteers was to direct all of the participants to a _different_ theater a few blocks away. The brilliant way they decided to do this was to dress us all up as ambulatory, demented traffic cones, so we could stand on various street corners and direct everyone. Yes, I was given a bright orange vest, a bright green construction helmet, and a blinking orange traffic light. They paraded the volunteers out in front of the mingling crowd, and advised them to follow us…at which point the head man of Meta bo took out his digital camera and immortalized us in our outlandish gear forever. But this is not the end, NO! Sunday was the last day of the last shopping weekend before Christmas! The streets of Gent were literally packed with thousands of shoppers. As I stood on my appointed corner, directing conference participants towards the NTG Gent theater, it seemed like each holiday reveler that passed me stopped short for a moment, and then examined me curiously with a look of mingled horror and amusement. Small children goggled and pointed. An attractive woman in a magenta scarf shook her head when she saw this awful display, and quickly rushed past me with her bags. A drunken man from a nearby bar stopped and heckled me in Dutch. At that moment, I would have given anything to be one of the people rushing by with the last of my Christmas shopping neatly tucked under my arm, or at least, I would have happily given the vest, the hat, and the blinking traffic light.
22 December, 2006
19 December, 2006
Last Week's Big Story
Several people have e-mailed or commented on a significant Belgian story that emerged last week. CNN covered it on their front page, and mom H. also sent me this article. This was definitely shocking news in Belgium, and the aftermath gripped the country on Friday. It was the talk of the day, and everyone had something to say about it.
In essence, an unannounced, unlabeled “joke” about Flanders declaring independence ran for thirty minutes on a Wallon news station, by a reputable anchor. The stunt included prefabricated scenes of people getting off of the train at the Flanders border to take the bus, people rallying outside of the Royal Palace, the royal family leaving Belgium by plane, and politicians in both regions commenting on the “event”.
Of course, most people on both sides of the border did not find this funny. Embassies sent messages about “developments” in Belgium, people called hotlines crying, stunned people in pubs started yelling, and politicians were confounded. Only deep into the “joke” did the news station print “this is fake” at the bottom of the screen. The whole ordeal has been compared to H.G. Wells’ famous broadcast. In the aftermath, there are already indications heads will roll, and this is going to have some lasting impact.
I suppose now is as good a time as any to comment on the structure of Belgium, and her politics. Belgium declared independence from the Netherlands in 1830, owing largely to religious differences- the Netherlands has a Calvinist Protestant heritage, and Belgium is solidly Catholic. (There are other reasons, consequences of the Napoleonic Wars which ended at Waterloo near Brussels, but that is another chapter). Yet Belgium itself is made up of two major and two minor regions. Flanders, where we now live, is the “Dutch” part of Belgium, next door to the Netherlands. One official language of Belgium is Dutch, though the thick dialect spoken here is called “Flemish”. The other area, Wallonia, is the “French” part in the South. French is a second official language of Belgium. These two components are the “main” parts of Belgium. The “German Cantons” near Eupen are small, but primarily speak German, thus German is the third official language of Belgium. And lastly, in the center there is Brussels, which kind of defies classification, and has its own special status- all Belgium populations are represented here, and it is a very heterogeneous city. Furthermore, 20% of Brussels residents are non-Belgian.
The Flemings and Wallonians have always had a diplomatic relationship, tense at times, and warm at others. Some earlier points of contention were the fact that French was once the only official Belgian language (and the language of the elite), and the French area was once wealthier. Things have changed, and now Flanders is Belgium’s economic powerhouse, which is growing rapidly (case in point: Bekaert). The main current point of conflict at this time is that Wallonian economy is flat, and unemployment is high, while Flanders continues to grow and prosper. Many Flemings resent that they pay very high taxes for their industry, which disproportionately go to pro-socialist Wallonia. There is some truth to this. There is also some truth to the argument that the current spending agreements are inefficient and artificial. For instance, if the government spends 6 million Euros on additions or improvements to the rail lines in Flanders, the government is obligated to spend 4 million Euros in Wallonia. Despite the fact the infrastructure is not needed there. This is of course to create “equal job opportunity” and “development” parity between the two regions, but can be seen as contrived nonetheless.
Of course, there are also counterarguments. There are important agricultural and mineral commodities that come out of Wallonia into Flanders, even if the economy is much slower. The argument that Flanders enjoys the advantage of being next to the sea is also true- Antwerp is the second largest commercial port in Europe, and the ports of Gent and Oostende see much commerce. This has created huge shipping and chemical industries in those areas, among other opportunities. Exactly how much the economic disparity is related to cultural and opportunistic differences is open to debate, but I suspect, as do most Belgians, that the country will adjust to the situation as it has been- slowly granting more autonomy to individual regions until things balance out.
I must take issue with the contention of one of the articles which describes Belgium as a “fragile democracy”. That simply isn’t true- the CIA World Factbook describes Belgium as a “stable, modern democracy”, and the overwhelming majority of citizens in all regions want to maintain a united, federal Belgium. “Complex federation” is a better term. I note the underhanded qualification in the CNN article that reads "Elections show strong support-", which is misleading. Only a few significant political figures favor full independence, most Flemings simply want more autonomy. Suggesting otherwise is not only wrong, its poor journalism.
There are many things that unite Belgians- their common history is one. They all remember Waterloo, their bid for independence, their (shady) history in the Congo, standing up to the Germans (and stopping their advance) in WWI, the underground resistance in WWII. They are united by national symbols such as mussels and chips (the national dish), chocolate, waffles, and the Royal Family. All of Belgium shares Brussels- the capital of Europe, a unique world class city of polyglots and multinationals. Belgium is the headquarters of the EU and NATO, and many other international groups because of, not in spite of, its unique diplomacy and structure.
In essence, an unannounced, unlabeled “joke” about Flanders declaring independence ran for thirty minutes on a Wallon news station, by a reputable anchor. The stunt included prefabricated scenes of people getting off of the train at the Flanders border to take the bus, people rallying outside of the Royal Palace, the royal family leaving Belgium by plane, and politicians in both regions commenting on the “event”.
Of course, most people on both sides of the border did not find this funny. Embassies sent messages about “developments” in Belgium, people called hotlines crying, stunned people in pubs started yelling, and politicians were confounded. Only deep into the “joke” did the news station print “this is fake” at the bottom of the screen. The whole ordeal has been compared to H.G. Wells’ famous broadcast. In the aftermath, there are already indications heads will roll, and this is going to have some lasting impact.
I suppose now is as good a time as any to comment on the structure of Belgium, and her politics. Belgium declared independence from the Netherlands in 1830, owing largely to religious differences- the Netherlands has a Calvinist Protestant heritage, and Belgium is solidly Catholic. (There are other reasons, consequences of the Napoleonic Wars which ended at Waterloo near Brussels, but that is another chapter). Yet Belgium itself is made up of two major and two minor regions. Flanders, where we now live, is the “Dutch” part of Belgium, next door to the Netherlands. One official language of Belgium is Dutch, though the thick dialect spoken here is called “Flemish”. The other area, Wallonia, is the “French” part in the South. French is a second official language of Belgium. These two components are the “main” parts of Belgium. The “German Cantons” near Eupen are small, but primarily speak German, thus German is the third official language of Belgium. And lastly, in the center there is Brussels, which kind of defies classification, and has its own special status- all Belgium populations are represented here, and it is a very heterogeneous city. Furthermore, 20% of Brussels residents are non-Belgian.
The Flemings and Wallonians have always had a diplomatic relationship, tense at times, and warm at others. Some earlier points of contention were the fact that French was once the only official Belgian language (and the language of the elite), and the French area was once wealthier. Things have changed, and now Flanders is Belgium’s economic powerhouse, which is growing rapidly (case in point: Bekaert). The main current point of conflict at this time is that Wallonian economy is flat, and unemployment is high, while Flanders continues to grow and prosper. Many Flemings resent that they pay very high taxes for their industry, which disproportionately go to pro-socialist Wallonia. There is some truth to this. There is also some truth to the argument that the current spending agreements are inefficient and artificial. For instance, if the government spends 6 million Euros on additions or improvements to the rail lines in Flanders, the government is obligated to spend 4 million Euros in Wallonia. Despite the fact the infrastructure is not needed there. This is of course to create “equal job opportunity” and “development” parity between the two regions, but can be seen as contrived nonetheless.
Of course, there are also counterarguments. There are important agricultural and mineral commodities that come out of Wallonia into Flanders, even if the economy is much slower. The argument that Flanders enjoys the advantage of being next to the sea is also true- Antwerp is the second largest commercial port in Europe, and the ports of Gent and Oostende see much commerce. This has created huge shipping and chemical industries in those areas, among other opportunities. Exactly how much the economic disparity is related to cultural and opportunistic differences is open to debate, but I suspect, as do most Belgians, that the country will adjust to the situation as it has been- slowly granting more autonomy to individual regions until things balance out.
I must take issue with the contention of one of the articles which describes Belgium as a “fragile democracy”. That simply isn’t true- the CIA World Factbook describes Belgium as a “stable, modern democracy”, and the overwhelming majority of citizens in all regions want to maintain a united, federal Belgium. “Complex federation” is a better term. I note the underhanded qualification in the CNN article that reads "Elections show strong support-", which is misleading. Only a few significant political figures favor full independence, most Flemings simply want more autonomy. Suggesting otherwise is not only wrong, its poor journalism.
There are many things that unite Belgians- their common history is one. They all remember Waterloo, their bid for independence, their (shady) history in the Congo, standing up to the Germans (and stopping their advance) in WWI, the underground resistance in WWII. They are united by national symbols such as mussels and chips (the national dish), chocolate, waffles, and the Royal Family. All of Belgium shares Brussels- the capital of Europe, a unique world class city of polyglots and multinationals. Belgium is the headquarters of the EU and NATO, and many other international groups because of, not in spite of, its unique diplomacy and structure.
14 December, 2006
In Flanders' Fields
Ieper (Ypres) is a city with a grim past- the site of a vicious four year struggle during World War I, which reduced the city and everything within miles to rubble. The battle was largely fought by Commonwealth forces, along with the escaped Belgian army and some French and French North African units, in the Westhoek- the last piece of Belgium not overrun by the Germans. Ieper has the dubious distinction of being the site of the first poison gas attack in modern warfare, launched by the Germans in April 1915 as the onset of the Second Battle of Iepers. I wanted to get the pictures out of the camera before I posted about my trip there, but I don’t really know why since that doesn’t really do it the justice it deserves.
I set out early by train from Kortrijk on the 11th of November- Veteran’s Day/Armistice Day/Remembrance Day/Jour de’armistice and of course, Wapenstilstanddag. It is just over the hill from Kortrijk, so I arrived just in time to catch the packed Poppy Parade start past the “new” cloth call, and followed the procession to the Menin Gate.
The Poppy Parade was motivated by Lt. John McCrae's iconic poem “In Flanders’ Fields”. If you have never read it, you are obligated to do so now. The Menin Gate, a large dome arching the Menin road in the center of Ieper, is a memorial to the almost 60,000 Commonwealth soldiers who fell at Iepers and have no known grave. To put this into perspective- this represents only people whose bodies were never found, who died at this specific town, among the Commonwealth forces alone. That number is equivalent to U.S. losses during the entire Vietnam War. The names blanket the walls of the memorial- inside and out.
Since the end of the war, the local fire brigade has dutifully stopped traffic at the gate, and played “Last Post” each evening. At 11:00 A.M on the 11th of November each year, this is played by the bands of military units that have a history in the battle. After this moving event, I went to the cloth hall to the “In Flanders’ Fields” museum, which is an excellent exhibition of the horrors of this battle and WWI. Rifles and gas masks, shells and shovels, mud stained uniforms and more accompany interactive multimedia explaining the major events.
To round out my day, I took a bus outside of the town proper to walk in the trenches of Hill 62, a preserved section of trenches and battlements. It was quite chilling to kneel on the firing step and peer over the placid Flanders countryside. Adding to the ghastly mystique of the place was the knowledge that in adjoining sections there are bodies and weapons still buried in the ground above which I walked. There are long lists of specific soldiers that anthropologists know died in certain areas and were never found, and many bodies are still recovered every year, making the “Great War” of almost a century ago seem uncomfortably recent and tangible.
I set out early by train from Kortrijk on the 11th of November- Veteran’s Day/Armistice Day/Remembrance Day/Jour de’armistice and of course, Wapenstilstanddag. It is just over the hill from Kortrijk, so I arrived just in time to catch the packed Poppy Parade start past the “new” cloth call, and followed the procession to the Menin Gate.
The Poppy Parade was motivated by Lt. John McCrae's iconic poem “In Flanders’ Fields”. If you have never read it, you are obligated to do so now. The Menin Gate, a large dome arching the Menin road in the center of Ieper, is a memorial to the almost 60,000 Commonwealth soldiers who fell at Iepers and have no known grave. To put this into perspective- this represents only people whose bodies were never found, who died at this specific town, among the Commonwealth forces alone. That number is equivalent to U.S. losses during the entire Vietnam War. The names blanket the walls of the memorial- inside and out.
Since the end of the war, the local fire brigade has dutifully stopped traffic at the gate, and played “Last Post” each evening. At 11:00 A.M on the 11th of November each year, this is played by the bands of military units that have a history in the battle. After this moving event, I went to the cloth hall to the “In Flanders’ Fields” museum, which is an excellent exhibition of the horrors of this battle and WWI. Rifles and gas masks, shells and shovels, mud stained uniforms and more accompany interactive multimedia explaining the major events.
To round out my day, I took a bus outside of the town proper to walk in the trenches of Hill 62, a preserved section of trenches and battlements. It was quite chilling to kneel on the firing step and peer over the placid Flanders countryside. Adding to the ghastly mystique of the place was the knowledge that in adjoining sections there are bodies and weapons still buried in the ground above which I walked. There are long lists of specific soldiers that anthropologists know died in certain areas and were never found, and many bodies are still recovered every year, making the “Great War” of almost a century ago seem uncomfortably recent and tangible.
07 December, 2006
Still life in cardboard
The unpacking is...Progressing. Apartments in Belgium tend to share certain, well, traditional aspects. The stairs are wide enough to allow the passage of a human body, but not, say, actual furniture. There is as much storage space as you bring with you. They generously provide as many as one electrical outlet per room! The refrigerator can hold roughly the same volume as a small picnic cooler, and don't think that this is humorous exaggeration, because it isn't. It's so cute though! I really like this place.
I took a short, (and, apologies, blurry and shaky) video of the place before our stuff arrived. It looked so nice before the army of half-empty cardboard boxes arrived! I finally managed to find the cord so I could get some of the pictures out of our camera, which was a little backlogged to say the least.
We also took some pictures of the movers getting our stuff into the apartment :
Also, you can see in the background of the photo that the street we live on is cobbled. I would go outside and take some more pictures of our street, but it is raining buckets and small sea animals out there.
From our apartment you can hear the trains running, which seems like a comforting sound to me. It's like the ocean.
I took a short, (and, apologies, blurry and shaky) video of the place before our stuff arrived. It looked so nice before the army of half-empty cardboard boxes arrived! I finally managed to find the cord so I could get some of the pictures out of our camera, which was a little backlogged to say the least.
We also took some pictures of the movers getting our stuff into the apartment :
Also, you can see in the background of the photo that the street we live on is cobbled. I would go outside and take some more pictures of our street, but it is raining buckets and small sea animals out there.
From our apartment you can hear the trains running, which seems like a comforting sound to me. It's like the ocean.
30 November, 2006
Dinner out
I am so tired of packing up and partially unpacking our belongings! Right now it seems like we will never be finished, as we inch into our fourth move this year. Normally I like moving, but I guess you can have too much of a good thing. Also we are struggling with the bureaucrat side of this move--it's not so difficult, really. I mean, we are here, right? but the devil is in the paperwork.
We got a break from all this last Friday as Travis' employers organizes periodic expatriate dinners for all of the employees from other countries. This time, everyone met at a Tapas restaurant in Gent. We took the train up to Gent and walked up to the restaurant, which was about a 45 minute walk. In that area of town, restaurants abound. Within a couple of blocks we saw some Mexican food, a Thai place, and Italian place, and too many others to list.
Over twenty-five people came to the dinner, filling up the entire first floor of the smallish establishment. The only language we all had in common was English, so Travis and I got to enjoy a small island of our own language. Even so, we were the only people from the US. At one point in the evening someone counted, and we had 13 different nationalities there! We were at a table with people from England, France, China, India, and Brazil. But there were also people from Russia, Indonesia, Sweden, Luxemburg, and, well, others I can't remember off the top of my head, plus one female employee brought her Belgian boyfriend. Everyone was very friendly, making lots of jokes, and generally being pretty loud.
It was comforting to find that some of the other expats have had some of the same experiences that we have. For instance, one gentleman from Brazil was commenting that the Dutch you learn in class is not the same as the dialect that people actually speak in the area. He related a story about a time when he went to order a sandwich, asking for a "brodje" and the woman behind the counter didn't understand him at all. "Oh, you mean a brOHdje," she finally said, with basically the exact same intonation that he thought he had just said. We laughed pretty hard at that one, because on the way there, Travis had asked for two roundtrip tickets to Gent, and had the exact same problem with the word "terug" (which means return). His pronunciation sounded perfect to me, but it was met with the same puzzlement. The woman behind the counter eventually said something that sounded more like "Trg".
The food was very good, too. We started out with bread and a plate of goat cheese, olives, and salad as a cold platter. Then the hot dishes were potatoes in a tomato sauce, fried calamari, some shrimp, stuffed mussel shells, and more salad. We finished up with a nice cup of coffee. They do take their time over dinner in Belgium, though, and we ended up having to get a ride back to Zwevegem because we would not have been able to catch the last train. There are a lot more expat activities in Gent in general, and I think that when we live there we will get out and participate.
We got a break from all this last Friday as Travis' employers organizes periodic expatriate dinners for all of the employees from other countries. This time, everyone met at a Tapas restaurant in Gent. We took the train up to Gent and walked up to the restaurant, which was about a 45 minute walk. In that area of town, restaurants abound. Within a couple of blocks we saw some Mexican food, a Thai place, and Italian place, and too many others to list.
Over twenty-five people came to the dinner, filling up the entire first floor of the smallish establishment. The only language we all had in common was English, so Travis and I got to enjoy a small island of our own language. Even so, we were the only people from the US. At one point in the evening someone counted, and we had 13 different nationalities there! We were at a table with people from England, France, China, India, and Brazil. But there were also people from Russia, Indonesia, Sweden, Luxemburg, and, well, others I can't remember off the top of my head, plus one female employee brought her Belgian boyfriend. Everyone was very friendly, making lots of jokes, and generally being pretty loud.
It was comforting to find that some of the other expats have had some of the same experiences that we have. For instance, one gentleman from Brazil was commenting that the Dutch you learn in class is not the same as the dialect that people actually speak in the area. He related a story about a time when he went to order a sandwich, asking for a "brodje" and the woman behind the counter didn't understand him at all. "Oh, you mean a brOHdje," she finally said, with basically the exact same intonation that he thought he had just said. We laughed pretty hard at that one, because on the way there, Travis had asked for two roundtrip tickets to Gent, and had the exact same problem with the word "terug" (which means return). His pronunciation sounded perfect to me, but it was met with the same puzzlement. The woman behind the counter eventually said something that sounded more like "Trg".
The food was very good, too. We started out with bread and a plate of goat cheese, olives, and salad as a cold platter. Then the hot dishes were potatoes in a tomato sauce, fried calamari, some shrimp, stuffed mussel shells, and more salad. We finished up with a nice cup of coffee. They do take their time over dinner in Belgium, though, and we ended up having to get a ride back to Zwevegem because we would not have been able to catch the last train. There are a lot more expat activities in Gent in general, and I think that when we live there we will get out and participate.
28 November, 2006
On the Move
It’s been awhile since we’ve posted, though we’re getting ready to move again this week. We’re headed to Gent where we’ll be until we leave Belgium in late 2008. I’m sure Judi will post all about it after the dust cloud has cleared.
I’ve been traveling quite a bit for work. Last week I was in Antwerp for a seminar in optics, and had a meeting in Deinze. The week before that I spent a lot of time in Zulte and Deinze at company facilities at a foundation technology conference and training for my business division. Tomorrow I’ll be working in the Netherlands all day at the research campus of one of our partners, and next week (immediately after the move) I’ll be working up near Eindhoven for the entire week. At least I get a rental car again for that! Hopefully things will then calm down a bit.
In other news, Judi’s brand new notebook computer has just about bit the dust. At less than three months old it started having problems, and barely runs. I think it is a memory or MOBO problem, but tech support for Cyberpower PC is worthless. After three phone calls and three tech support tickets we’ve gotten no response whatsoever. We finally just took it to a local place to at least determine what the problem is. Oh well, we’ll have to suffer with only one computer? Goodness, what we have become!
I’ve been traveling quite a bit for work. Last week I was in Antwerp for a seminar in optics, and had a meeting in Deinze. The week before that I spent a lot of time in Zulte and Deinze at company facilities at a foundation technology conference and training for my business division. Tomorrow I’ll be working in the Netherlands all day at the research campus of one of our partners, and next week (immediately after the move) I’ll be working up near Eindhoven for the entire week. At least I get a rental car again for that! Hopefully things will then calm down a bit.
In other news, Judi’s brand new notebook computer has just about bit the dust. At less than three months old it started having problems, and barely runs. I think it is a memory or MOBO problem, but tech support for Cyberpower PC is worthless. After three phone calls and three tech support tickets we’ve gotten no response whatsoever. We finally just took it to a local place to at least determine what the problem is. Oh well, we’ll have to suffer with only one computer? Goodness, what we have become!
13 November, 2006
The Louvre
We went to the Louvre on All-Saints day, which in many European countries is a nationally recognized holiday. Once again we locked ourselves into the Paris metro system, and rode the line down directly to the museum. The building itself is enormous, stretching on for hundreds of feet parallel to the Seine. We walked under one of the arches leading into the square that we identified as a good route, as we could see “The Pyramide” from across the street. The line appeared to be moving already, and we took our place behind the many hundreds of people already queued. The wait was short, and in no time we filed passed the guards (who held automatic rifles) into the great lobby beneath the glass of the Pyramid.
The scale of this museum is evident as soon as you begin walking around in it. There are four levels, situated in two great wings that despite their linearity still offer plenty of forks, nooks, crannies, and walls to confuse you during your trek. Just ambling into the gallery you wish to see requires nautical skill or an orienteering merit badge, and I say with no sarcasm that a GPS would be useful in there. It is impossible to scan the entirety of the Louvre in even one week, so as European residents we decided we’d spend one day at the Louvre during each of our trips to Paris, and view only two sections per trip to allow ourselves time to really view the art and get acquainted with an area.
I chose the Greek, Roman, and Etruscan sculptures and antiquities section, and Judi chose the Flemish, Dutch, and German paintings section. We went into the classical area first, and were greeted on arrival by the Winged Victory of Samothrace statue, impressively framed by a domed wall and reflected lighting. From there we saw ancient Greek and Roman statuary, pottery, terra cotta figurines, jewelry, sarcophaguses, and an assortment of tools, idols, and decorations. The one section took several hours, after which we were ready for lunch. We ate at one of the indoor cafes overlooking the courtyard and pyramid outside, which was actually reasonably priced and had excellent food. From there, we set off to another several hours in our second section.
The Flemish and Dutch masters produced some amazing work, and really seemed to perfect realism. I find it hard to believe such paintings could have even been made hundreds of years ago, without modern technology. There are many famous examples of paintings from the masters, but it was very interesting to see the recurring themes in the works that aren’t really represented in the “textbook examples” of the lowlands. Dogs are very common in the paintings, in almost every kind of scene- working dogs that were ubiquitous back then, I suppose. There are many scenes with a catch of game fowl or rabbits, and many specifically of baskets of birds and other game. It’s kind of like the modern still life painting stereotype, only instead of fruit it’s a bunch of dead birds and conies on a string, hanging from a tree. We saw the famous De Kantwerkster (The Lacemaker) by Vermeer, which was indeed quite impressive to see. I also liked Jan Victors Jong meisje aan het venster as much (Young woman at her window). We also saw Rembrandt and Seghers self portraits. Of course we also went into the Reubens room, the vaulted chamber dominated entirely by the massive flats painted by Peter Paul Reubens, which were extremely grand in scope.
We crossed the street and had coffee and dessert; a lemon tart and a something-or-other with vanilla ice cream that is apparently a French national dessert. We ended the day by hiking to the Cathedral of Notre Dame- a fitting end to a Halloween/All Saints Day trip we decided. It is an easy walk from the Louvre. The gargoyles were quite awesome, and the building is much more impressive in real life than in pictures. A definite neck-craner. We finally caught the train back to Lille and then home.
The scale of this museum is evident as soon as you begin walking around in it. There are four levels, situated in two great wings that despite their linearity still offer plenty of forks, nooks, crannies, and walls to confuse you during your trek. Just ambling into the gallery you wish to see requires nautical skill or an orienteering merit badge, and I say with no sarcasm that a GPS would be useful in there. It is impossible to scan the entirety of the Louvre in even one week, so as European residents we decided we’d spend one day at the Louvre during each of our trips to Paris, and view only two sections per trip to allow ourselves time to really view the art and get acquainted with an area.
I chose the Greek, Roman, and Etruscan sculptures and antiquities section, and Judi chose the Flemish, Dutch, and German paintings section. We went into the classical area first, and were greeted on arrival by the Winged Victory of Samothrace statue, impressively framed by a domed wall and reflected lighting. From there we saw ancient Greek and Roman statuary, pottery, terra cotta figurines, jewelry, sarcophaguses, and an assortment of tools, idols, and decorations. The one section took several hours, after which we were ready for lunch. We ate at one of the indoor cafes overlooking the courtyard and pyramid outside, which was actually reasonably priced and had excellent food. From there, we set off to another several hours in our second section.
The Flemish and Dutch masters produced some amazing work, and really seemed to perfect realism. I find it hard to believe such paintings could have even been made hundreds of years ago, without modern technology. There are many famous examples of paintings from the masters, but it was very interesting to see the recurring themes in the works that aren’t really represented in the “textbook examples” of the lowlands. Dogs are very common in the paintings, in almost every kind of scene- working dogs that were ubiquitous back then, I suppose. There are many scenes with a catch of game fowl or rabbits, and many specifically of baskets of birds and other game. It’s kind of like the modern still life painting stereotype, only instead of fruit it’s a bunch of dead birds and conies on a string, hanging from a tree. We saw the famous De Kantwerkster (The Lacemaker) by Vermeer, which was indeed quite impressive to see. I also liked Jan Victors Jong meisje aan het venster as much (Young woman at her window). We also saw Rembrandt and Seghers self portraits. Of course we also went into the Reubens room, the vaulted chamber dominated entirely by the massive flats painted by Peter Paul Reubens, which were extremely grand in scope.
We crossed the street and had coffee and dessert; a lemon tart and a something-or-other with vanilla ice cream that is apparently a French national dessert. We ended the day by hiking to the Cathedral of Notre Dame- a fitting end to a Halloween/All Saints Day trip we decided. It is an easy walk from the Louvre. The gargoyles were quite awesome, and the building is much more impressive in real life than in pictures. A definite neck-craner. We finally caught the train back to Lille and then home.
07 November, 2006
The Eiffel Tower
After we checked into our hotel, Travis and I were driven by two needs. Food, and the desire to make the most of our short time in Paris. We took the metro south to the Champs Elysees/Clemenceau stop, and during the ride, we decided to walk to see the Eiffel tower. Most of the museums and other attractions would be closed, it seemed like something that we could do no matter what the time.
We climbed the stairs up to the street, to find the sun sinking as we walked between the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais (believe me, small is a relative term here) towards the Seine. All of the buildings were bathed in a glowing, warm light, and we had to zig zag along the sidewalk as hordes of tourists took advantage of the last light to take one last group photo. The bridge we picked to walk over the Seine was very dramatic. It arched over the river (The Seine is bigger than I thought it would be, Travis commented, delighted) on the other side we could see the Hotel des Invalides, which is a complex of truly grand buildings. And on our right, we got our first peek at the Eiffel tower through the trees, already lit for the evening!
This brought us to the next great question: What does a starving vegetarian eat in Paris? I studied the hand-written menus outside of each restaurant we passed, but either I couldn't tell what exactly they were serving, the place seemed very expensive, or both. Increasingly low blood sugar made it harder for my brain to try to figure out what each menu offered, until with great relief we came to a deli-style Asian food place where we could make our selections by pointing, and all of the prices looked very good. "Je voudrais le riz au curry" Travis said, pointing at the curried rice, and sure enough, they got a spoon...Then they asked us a question which neither of us understood. Wondering if they were asking us how big of a portion, I gestured with an inquisitive look on my face. They repeated themselves, and I realized there were asking us if we wanted to take out, or eat there. "Ici!" I replied, amazed that I had figured it out. We finally settled down to some curried rice, vegetable chop suey, shrimp, and two egg rolls for only a little more than 20 Euros.
Much improved, we walked the rest of the way to the tower, which looks even prettier at night than during the day. There are three platforms to visit, and each one is a different price and amount of waiting time. We decided to splurge and go all the way to the top, figuring that when we go back to Paris, we will probably be occupied with other things. Travis and I held hands while we waited at the bottom for the elevator to the second platform, where we would wait to go to the top. Somewhat less romantic were the signs informing us in four languages to watch out for pick pockets. Stepping out onto the second level, I wondered if we should have spent the extra money to go all the way to the top. The view just from the second floor was amazing! All of Paris was spread out before us, lights blazing! Travis and I leaned against the railings with our map on each side, identifying landmarks (the Arc de Triomphe was certainly easy) and taking pictures of the view.
The line to go all the way to the top was about twenty minutes. As each elevator came, people rushed to cram in, sometimes shrugging as they were separated from the rest of their party by a closing door. We finally managed to elbow our way into a car. It started to rise...and rise...and--Oh my god, this thing is really a lot taller than it looks from the ground! A cold wind was picking up, and I could actually feel the tower swaying back and forth with each gust.
"This is fun!" Travis said, as stepped out of the elevator, and suddenly were much higher. I find heights mildly vertiginous, so I think "thrilling" is the word I would use.
I'll try to post the pictures of us at the top later today. I think we both look pretty thrilled. After that, we walked down to the first level from the second level, took the train back to the hotel, and had some Belgian chocolate, with a bottle of champagne that we had saved after our wedding. I'll tell you about our trip to the Louvre next!
We climbed the stairs up to the street, to find the sun sinking as we walked between the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais (believe me, small is a relative term here) towards the Seine. All of the buildings were bathed in a glowing, warm light, and we had to zig zag along the sidewalk as hordes of tourists took advantage of the last light to take one last group photo. The bridge we picked to walk over the Seine was very dramatic. It arched over the river (The Seine is bigger than I thought it would be, Travis commented, delighted) on the other side we could see the Hotel des Invalides, which is a complex of truly grand buildings. And on our right, we got our first peek at the Eiffel tower through the trees, already lit for the evening!
This brought us to the next great question: What does a starving vegetarian eat in Paris? I studied the hand-written menus outside of each restaurant we passed, but either I couldn't tell what exactly they were serving, the place seemed very expensive, or both. Increasingly low blood sugar made it harder for my brain to try to figure out what each menu offered, until with great relief we came to a deli-style Asian food place where we could make our selections by pointing, and all of the prices looked very good. "Je voudrais le riz au curry" Travis said, pointing at the curried rice, and sure enough, they got a spoon...Then they asked us a question which neither of us understood. Wondering if they were asking us how big of a portion, I gestured with an inquisitive look on my face. They repeated themselves, and I realized there were asking us if we wanted to take out, or eat there. "Ici!" I replied, amazed that I had figured it out. We finally settled down to some curried rice, vegetable chop suey, shrimp, and two egg rolls for only a little more than 20 Euros.
Much improved, we walked the rest of the way to the tower, which looks even prettier at night than during the day. There are three platforms to visit, and each one is a different price and amount of waiting time. We decided to splurge and go all the way to the top, figuring that when we go back to Paris, we will probably be occupied with other things. Travis and I held hands while we waited at the bottom for the elevator to the second platform, where we would wait to go to the top. Somewhat less romantic were the signs informing us in four languages to watch out for pick pockets. Stepping out onto the second level, I wondered if we should have spent the extra money to go all the way to the top. The view just from the second floor was amazing! All of Paris was spread out before us, lights blazing! Travis and I leaned against the railings with our map on each side, identifying landmarks (the Arc de Triomphe was certainly easy) and taking pictures of the view.
The line to go all the way to the top was about twenty minutes. As each elevator came, people rushed to cram in, sometimes shrugging as they were separated from the rest of their party by a closing door. We finally managed to elbow our way into a car. It started to rise...and rise...and--Oh my god, this thing is really a lot taller than it looks from the ground! A cold wind was picking up, and I could actually feel the tower swaying back and forth with each gust.
"This is fun!" Travis said, as stepped out of the elevator, and suddenly were much higher. I find heights mildly vertiginous, so I think "thrilling" is the word I would use.
I'll try to post the pictures of us at the top later today. I think we both look pretty thrilled. After that, we walked down to the first level from the second level, took the train back to the hotel, and had some Belgian chocolate, with a bottle of champagne that we had saved after our wedding. I'll tell you about our trip to the Louvre next!
03 November, 2006
Halloween in Paris
We left for paris at noon on our second wedding anniversary with a change of clothes, a map of the city, two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a few other essentials in our backpacks. A light rain fogged my glasses as we rode the 4.5 kilometers to the train station in Kortrijk, but some mildly inclement weather could not dampen my enthusiasm for our first ever trip to Paris! An hour layover in Lille, FR only heightened the anticipation.
By the time the train disgorged us into one of the busiest train stations in europe, Paris Nord, I was grabbing Travis' arm in excitement. The loudspeaker let forth a stream of completely incomprehensible syllables. Travis turned to me with a look of sincere culture shock in his eyes and said, "I don't know any French. You are going to take it from here, okay?"
Sometime in the last century, in the era when only a few people in Seattle had heard of that band named Nirvana, I took two years of high school French. Off the top of my head, I could remember how to count to three, the word for bakery, and the phrase, "Je ne parle pas Francais". I nodded.
"Okay!"
My co-workers in California got me a European phrase book as a going away present, and I had carefully reviewed the French section ten minutes before we got off the train.
The cheapest place we could find at short notice was the Hotel des Batignolle, in the northern most section of our map of the city. To get there from the train station, we would need to take the subway, which in Paris is called the Metro. To get into the train station, you already need to have a ticket. Hmmm. We looked around, and there was a machine on the wall. Travis and I figured out how to get it to display in English, and bought ten tickets for the Metro, figuring we would need a bunch to get around. I already knew we needed the #2 line, and that the trains are listed by the last station in their route, so we looked up on the handy map on the wall, and found that we needed the #2 line towards Porte Dauphine. Sure enough, that took us directly to the Rome stop. It seemed amazing, ten minutes in the city, and we had already figured out how to get around!
At the desk of the Hotel des Batignolle, I approached the desk clerk and tried, "J'ai reserve" (picture accent marks over the first and third e's in 'reserve'). The desk clerk gave us a smile of amusement and said, "And what is your name?"
Next: The Eiffel tower
By the time the train disgorged us into one of the busiest train stations in europe, Paris Nord, I was grabbing Travis' arm in excitement. The loudspeaker let forth a stream of completely incomprehensible syllables. Travis turned to me with a look of sincere culture shock in his eyes and said, "I don't know any French. You are going to take it from here, okay?"
Sometime in the last century, in the era when only a few people in Seattle had heard of that band named Nirvana, I took two years of high school French. Off the top of my head, I could remember how to count to three, the word for bakery, and the phrase, "Je ne parle pas Francais". I nodded.
"Okay!"
My co-workers in California got me a European phrase book as a going away present, and I had carefully reviewed the French section ten minutes before we got off the train.
The cheapest place we could find at short notice was the Hotel des Batignolle, in the northern most section of our map of the city. To get there from the train station, we would need to take the subway, which in Paris is called the Metro. To get into the train station, you already need to have a ticket. Hmmm. We looked around, and there was a machine on the wall. Travis and I figured out how to get it to display in English, and bought ten tickets for the Metro, figuring we would need a bunch to get around. I already knew we needed the #2 line, and that the trains are listed by the last station in their route, so we looked up on the handy map on the wall, and found that we needed the #2 line towards Porte Dauphine. Sure enough, that took us directly to the Rome stop. It seemed amazing, ten minutes in the city, and we had already figured out how to get around!
At the desk of the Hotel des Batignolle, I approached the desk clerk and tried, "J'ai reserve" (picture accent marks over the first and third e's in 'reserve'). The desk clerk gave us a smile of amusement and said, "And what is your name?"
Next: The Eiffel tower
24 October, 2006
Helloooo nurse!
It’s a cold and rainy day here in Belgium, and this is the Day for Good News. If you have any bad news, save it for tomorrow, because for once in my glass-half-empty life, it’s nice to have a day that even I will admit is perfect.
First:
Our stuff came today. It is dusty, wrinkled, and a little dented, but it is here! Opening the boxes was like the best Christmas and birthday wrapped into one. Food from America! The rest of our clothes! Not that I don’t absolutely love the four outfits I was wearing for the last two months, but wow! Now I will have some books to read, chain mail projects to work on, sewing projects, genealogy research, yarn, drawing supplies, and loads of other stuff to keep me occupied. Obviously we aren’t going to unpack everything right now because a.) it is a fully furnished apartment, and b.) we are moving!
This brings us to news item number two:
We were notified this morning that we got our first pick apartment! It is in Gent on Verpleegsterstraat, for those who don’t speak Dutch, a verpleegster is a nurse. Our new place will be a two bedroom apartment on the second floor of a building, within walking distance of the Sint Pieter Station. It has no closets, a tiny balcony, and a small storage space in a damp, ominous smelling basement. We will get to cook on a gas stove. The previous owners painted the walls a nice, neutral cool grey, and the living room has a nice new wood floor. Decidedly strange linoleum covers the bedroom floors, but believe me, this was the nicest place we saw during our search. Plus we found out that we can move in the first of December. But wait, there is more…
The third tidbit of good news:
I jumped onto the computer this afternoon to tell Travis that I had found something that he was looking for in all of our boxes, and found an email informing me that I have been accepted for the spring into the Masters program at CSU Dominguez Hills. I am going to get a second masters in the Humanities with an emphasis in literature, and when I get back to the states, that will really help with my applications to work in an academic library.
You know in the movies when people find out that they have won a lot of money, and they throw it all over a bed and roll in it, laughing? I think I am going to do that with some of our possessions now.
Over and out.
First:
Our stuff came today. It is dusty, wrinkled, and a little dented, but it is here! Opening the boxes was like the best Christmas and birthday wrapped into one. Food from America! The rest of our clothes! Not that I don’t absolutely love the four outfits I was wearing for the last two months, but wow! Now I will have some books to read, chain mail projects to work on, sewing projects, genealogy research, yarn, drawing supplies, and loads of other stuff to keep me occupied. Obviously we aren’t going to unpack everything right now because a.) it is a fully furnished apartment, and b.) we are moving!
This brings us to news item number two:
We were notified this morning that we got our first pick apartment! It is in Gent on Verpleegsterstraat, for those who don’t speak Dutch, a verpleegster is a nurse. Our new place will be a two bedroom apartment on the second floor of a building, within walking distance of the Sint Pieter Station. It has no closets, a tiny balcony, and a small storage space in a damp, ominous smelling basement. We will get to cook on a gas stove. The previous owners painted the walls a nice, neutral cool grey, and the living room has a nice new wood floor. Decidedly strange linoleum covers the bedroom floors, but believe me, this was the nicest place we saw during our search. Plus we found out that we can move in the first of December. But wait, there is more…
The third tidbit of good news:
I jumped onto the computer this afternoon to tell Travis that I had found something that he was looking for in all of our boxes, and found an email informing me that I have been accepted for the spring into the Masters program at CSU Dominguez Hills. I am going to get a second masters in the Humanities with an emphasis in literature, and when I get back to the states, that will really help with my applications to work in an academic library.
You know in the movies when people find out that they have won a lot of money, and they throw it all over a bed and roll in it, laughing? I think I am going to do that with some of our possessions now.
Over and out.
18 October, 2006
You can go to America!
The rest of our stuff will be arriving next Tuesday! Since the end of July we have fundamentally lived without it, and I am looking forward to seeing all of my clothes, art supplies, most favorite books, and the printer for our computers...Well, you couldn't exaggerate how excited I am.
Without all of that stuff, my laptop is the center of my entertainment every day. I spend quite a lot of time on the apartment hunt, of course, and I've been doing some writing. I've noticed some real differences now that I am accessing the web through a Belgian internet service and server! For instance, I like having Google as my homepage. The clear white screen with its graceful, balanced searchbox is serene. It appeals to my sense of simplicity and design. The first time I opened Internet Explorer here, it automatically reset my homepage to Google.be! If you search Google.be, all of your top ranked results are in Dutch, in which I have about a three-year-old comprehension. I wrestled with it for a while, and we compromised on me getting to have Google.com as my homepage, with a prominent suggestion to switch to the Belgian Google linked on the page.
I've also noticed a change in the advertisements that I get in the sidebar on my Yahoo mail. Every day now as I log in, I am greeted with variations on, "Click here to get your American Green Card!" "Live and work in the United States!" "The only official site for a lifetime American Green Card!!". If that goes where I think it goes, I've been to the Immigration and Naturalization web page, and it's not nearly as much fun as they make it sound.
I've also discovered that the websites in America know where I am. I mean, of course they do, they can just ping my server or whatever. But this revealed that all computer users are not equal. The file for one of my games got corrupted, and I do not have the disk with me. I tried repairing the game every way that I could, but in the end, the only solution is to re-install. I figured, well, I can just download the game, re-install it, and I will be good to go, no problem. For those of you who are wondering, it's World of Warcraft. Travis and I talked about it, and we decided that we would pay the $20 to set up a new account and download it, and then when my sister, Nay, gets her new apartment and internet service set up, we could transfer her character off of our current account to that one, and we could all play together. I entered in the number of our debit card from our American bank account, clicked download--and horrors! I discovered that I am not eligible to download the game because I am in Europe!
After much searching, I found a way to download a free trial of the game, but it is trickling into my computer at a blazing 3 to 15 kb a second. It is a 2.8 Gig file, and for those of you who have no picture of how slow that really is, you can figure that it will be done downloading just about when the disk gets here with the rest of our stuff. ;)
Without all of that stuff, my laptop is the center of my entertainment every day. I spend quite a lot of time on the apartment hunt, of course, and I've been doing some writing. I've noticed some real differences now that I am accessing the web through a Belgian internet service and server! For instance, I like having Google as my homepage. The clear white screen with its graceful, balanced searchbox is serene. It appeals to my sense of simplicity and design. The first time I opened Internet Explorer here, it automatically reset my homepage to Google.be! If you search Google.be, all of your top ranked results are in Dutch, in which I have about a three-year-old comprehension. I wrestled with it for a while, and we compromised on me getting to have Google.com as my homepage, with a prominent suggestion to switch to the Belgian Google linked on the page.
I've also noticed a change in the advertisements that I get in the sidebar on my Yahoo mail. Every day now as I log in, I am greeted with variations on, "Click here to get your American Green Card!" "Live and work in the United States!" "The only official site for a lifetime American Green Card!!". If that goes where I think it goes, I've been to the Immigration and Naturalization web page, and it's not nearly as much fun as they make it sound.
I've also discovered that the websites in America know where I am. I mean, of course they do, they can just ping my server or whatever. But this revealed that all computer users are not equal. The file for one of my games got corrupted, and I do not have the disk with me. I tried repairing the game every way that I could, but in the end, the only solution is to re-install. I figured, well, I can just download the game, re-install it, and I will be good to go, no problem. For those of you who are wondering, it's World of Warcraft. Travis and I talked about it, and we decided that we would pay the $20 to set up a new account and download it, and then when my sister, Nay, gets her new apartment and internet service set up, we could transfer her character off of our current account to that one, and we could all play together. I entered in the number of our debit card from our American bank account, clicked download--and horrors! I discovered that I am not eligible to download the game because I am in Europe!
After much searching, I found a way to download a free trial of the game, but it is trickling into my computer at a blazing 3 to 15 kb a second. It is a 2.8 Gig file, and for those of you who have no picture of how slow that really is, you can figure that it will be done downloading just about when the disk gets here with the rest of our stuff. ;)
11 October, 2006
Warm, Inviting Colors
I managed to find the one Mexican Food restaurant in Kortrijk last weekend on the way to pick up my Timespiral cards from Albion Games. Grill Resto, painted in the international colors of taco shops everywhere. They have guacamole, which is comforting because I haven’t so much as seen an avocado since we’ve been here.
I think taco shops are kind of exotic in Belgium, what not being next to Mexico and full of Mexicans and all. They seriously need to import some, as their supply of taco shops is dangerously low. This Mexican restaurant in particular is very exotic: they have the rare dish Nachos con Polio.
10 October, 2006
Ik ben jarig
This weekend we did not travel on Saturday, working instead with a grim intensity on our apartment search. I finally have a couple of appointments to look at apartments, so our blitz of calls and emails has yielded some results.
On Sunday we celebrated my 30th birthday. In Dutch you say, “Ik ben jarig”, which translates directly as “I am year-ing”. We celebrated by NOT going out and doing anything stressful. It was a relaxing day, getting me ready for another week of largely incomprehensible menus, signs, newspapers, television shows, bus schedules, and product labels. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an interesting challenge, but sometimes a little tiring.
This week our alternate quest is to get me a bike, which would help a LOT with grocery shopping, recycling bottles, and getting to the train station in Kortrijk so I can take the train to Ghent to look at apartments. New bikes here run a minimum of 200€, not counting a bike lock and a helmet, and you can go up in price as much as you like. We are trying to find a used bike nearby, on 2dehands, which is similar to Craig’s List in the US. I can’t wait to post a picture of my bike when we get it!
On Sunday we celebrated my 30th birthday. In Dutch you say, “Ik ben jarig”, which translates directly as “I am year-ing”. We celebrated by NOT going out and doing anything stressful. It was a relaxing day, getting me ready for another week of largely incomprehensible menus, signs, newspapers, television shows, bus schedules, and product labels. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an interesting challenge, but sometimes a little tiring.
This week our alternate quest is to get me a bike, which would help a LOT with grocery shopping, recycling bottles, and getting to the train station in Kortrijk so I can take the train to Ghent to look at apartments. New bikes here run a minimum of 200€, not counting a bike lock and a helmet, and you can go up in price as much as you like. We are trying to find a used bike nearby, on 2dehands, which is similar to Craig’s List in the US. I can’t wait to post a picture of my bike when we get it!
04 October, 2006
Televisie
Travis and I have not really watched television since we donated ours to the El Cajon library, but here in Belgium, there is really cheap basic cable that pretty much everyone gets. Every once in a while, it has been nice to unwind, sit back with the remote, and be entertained.
There are a surprising number of American shows with Dutch subtitles here. I don't have a library card here yet, as we wait for our visa paperwork to wend its way through the intricacies of approval, so it is a shame that I don't like Friends or Sex in the City no matter what country I watch them in. I have enjoyed the BBC programming we get, both news and the miniseries Jane Eyre that I watched a couple of episodes of last Sunday.
I have had the chance to catch up on a few American music videos that I had not seen yet in the States. We got to watch the Cartoon Network show Samurai Jack dubbed in Dutch, and found that not only was it enjoyable, it was still comprehensible! But the most fun has been watching The Simpsons in English with Dutch subtitles. You can rest assured, no matter what language Ned Flanders is speaking in, he always babbles incomprehensibly-diddly.
There are a surprising number of American shows with Dutch subtitles here. I don't have a library card here yet, as we wait for our visa paperwork to wend its way through the intricacies of approval, so it is a shame that I don't like Friends or Sex in the City no matter what country I watch them in. I have enjoyed the BBC programming we get, both news and the miniseries Jane Eyre that I watched a couple of episodes of last Sunday.
I have had the chance to catch up on a few American music videos that I had not seen yet in the States. We got to watch the Cartoon Network show Samurai Jack dubbed in Dutch, and found that not only was it enjoyable, it was still comprehensible! But the most fun has been watching The Simpsons in English with Dutch subtitles. You can rest assured, no matter what language Ned Flanders is speaking in, he always babbles incomprehensibly-diddly.
03 October, 2006
The thrill of the hunt
This weekend we went to Brugge, which is a picturesque town encircled completely by a moat. It was cute, pretty touristy, and had an interesting flea market. I’ve uploaded a few photos if you are curious.
We also started apartment hunting in earnest. Renting here is a convoluted process, and Travis' company has hired a relocation firm to help us with the operation. So far this help has consisted of emailing me some links to local real estate companies that have rental listings, most of which I had already bookmarked. Later on when we get to the point of having to sign a contract in Flemish, they will certainly be invaluable, though.
Armed with an idea of what area we would like to live in, Travis and I drove up to Gent on Sunday to walk around and write down some possibilities. It was a windy day that threatened rain, and our ears and finger were chilled by the time we had covered the entire Citadel Park area, which is near Gent University, the train station, and not too far from the public library.
When we got home, Travis had some homework to do, while I sat down to call some places. It’s weird; there is no standard way to write a phone number here. Some examples of formats we ran across:
5555.55.55.55
55/555 55 55
5555/55 5555
Anyway, I just started dialing. My search went pretty much like this:
Call 1: Strange beeping noises, and then a dial tone. Could not tell if this was a busy signal, ringing, or alien transmissions.
Call 2: Answering machine message in Dutch. I left an apologetic message in English saying that we were inquiring about the apartment and left our number. No call back yet.
Call 3:
Landlady: Hallo?
Me: Spreekt U Engles?
Landlady: Een beetje.
Me: I’m calling about the apartment you have listed in Ledegangckstraat? How much is it?
Landlady: the sjfof.
Me: Ah…okay. When is it available to rent?
Landlady: right away.!
Me: Hmmm. I’m sorry, could you please say that again?
Landlady: Right away!
Me (still not giving up): Can we come and see it next week?
Landlady: Yes, next week.
Then she hung up.
I’ve repeated that conversation with several other prospective landlords, and since then retreated to sending out emails in response to the real estate company ads instead. I’ll keep you posted.
We also started apartment hunting in earnest. Renting here is a convoluted process, and Travis' company has hired a relocation firm to help us with the operation. So far this help has consisted of emailing me some links to local real estate companies that have rental listings, most of which I had already bookmarked. Later on when we get to the point of having to sign a contract in Flemish, they will certainly be invaluable, though.
Armed with an idea of what area we would like to live in, Travis and I drove up to Gent on Sunday to walk around and write down some possibilities. It was a windy day that threatened rain, and our ears and finger were chilled by the time we had covered the entire Citadel Park area, which is near Gent University, the train station, and not too far from the public library.
When we got home, Travis had some homework to do, while I sat down to call some places. It’s weird; there is no standard way to write a phone number here. Some examples of formats we ran across:
5555.55.55.55
55/555 55 55
5555/55 5555
Anyway, I just started dialing. My search went pretty much like this:
Call 1: Strange beeping noises, and then a dial tone. Could not tell if this was a busy signal, ringing, or alien transmissions.
Call 2: Answering machine message in Dutch. I left an apologetic message in English saying that we were inquiring about the apartment and left our number. No call back yet.
Call 3:
Landlady: Hallo?
Me: Spreekt U Engles?
Landlady: Een beetje.
Me: I’m calling about the apartment you have listed in Ledegangckstraat? How much is it?
Landlady: the sjfof.
Me: Ah…okay. When is it available to rent?
Landlady: right away.!
Me: Hmmm. I’m sorry, could you please say that again?
Landlady: Right away!
Me (still not giving up): Can we come and see it next week?
Landlady: Yes, next week.
Then she hung up.
I’ve repeated that conversation with several other prospective landlords, and since then retreated to sending out emails in response to the real estate company ads instead. I’ll keep you posted.
02 October, 2006
Afval
Sometimes I feel like an anthropologist doing a study on the differences between the US and Belgium. I am always making little lists in my head:
Same/different
American music is on the radio, but they also play a lot more techno on the radio here.
I can still (guiltily) indulge in the occasional Diet Coke, but it’s called a Coke Light here.
They sell Nutella at every store here, but peanut butter is a more elusive prey.
One thing was a complete mystery to us, though. Day one: when we got our apartment keys, it came with a special handout specifically on trash. Because there is very little room for trash here, Belgians have very strict rules regarding waste disposal. For regular trash, you have to use a grey bag with the name of the town where you live. For plastics, metal and drink containers, there is the blue PMD bag. The PMD bags only go out every fortnight, and when they do, you also put out your paper and cardboard, which must be tied together. Glass you must take yourself to special glass recycling bins that are cleverly hidden around the town, the same goes for used clothes, but these bins are in different places. Okay, no problem, we figured. We’ll just grab some trash and recycling bags when we go to the grocery store!
Days two through four: We go to four or five different grocery stores, but at none of them do they have either the grey bags or the PMD bags. Is it some sort of national secret? A game they play with newcomers? I also can’t find the trash can anywhere at our new apartment.
Day five: I begin to suspect that everyone just eats their trash.
Day six: I screw up my courage at the local fruit store. “Heeft jij de PMD zak?” I ask the forbidding woman at the counter, in my panic and poor Dutch, I accidentally refer to her with the “informal” you. Perhaps this familiarity is the magic key! She produces the recycling bags from behind the counter! I spend about the rest of the day high on my success. Later in the day, Travis asks a woman in a different store if they have the grey Zwevegem trash bags. She seems to reply yes, but no bags are forthcoming. He has not used the magic word.
Day 7: We finally both corner a woman at the checkout counter at GB, one of the larger supermarkets here, and get her to admit that they do have the grey bags behind the counter. “Do you want the large or the small?” she asks us, in her halting English.
“Large, Alstublieft,” we reply, thinking of the growing pile of trash at home.
“Sorry, all we have is the small,” she says.
“No! Small is fine, really!” It takes several reassurances before we convince her to sell us the small bags, at 1€ a bag, one package comes to a whopping 10 €.
A local assures us that this is not too bad. In some townships, the bags are clear, and if you put something that is not allowed in them, they put a sticker with a hand gesturing STOP, and leave the bag. If you do not bring the bag inside and fix it, the police will come and fine you. Yes, the local customs here are…interesting. The beer is very good, but don’t drink too much of it before you find the nearest glass recycling container!
Same/different
American music is on the radio, but they also play a lot more techno on the radio here.
I can still (guiltily) indulge in the occasional Diet Coke, but it’s called a Coke Light here.
They sell Nutella at every store here, but peanut butter is a more elusive prey.
One thing was a complete mystery to us, though. Day one: when we got our apartment keys, it came with a special handout specifically on trash. Because there is very little room for trash here, Belgians have very strict rules regarding waste disposal. For regular trash, you have to use a grey bag with the name of the town where you live. For plastics, metal and drink containers, there is the blue PMD bag. The PMD bags only go out every fortnight, and when they do, you also put out your paper and cardboard, which must be tied together. Glass you must take yourself to special glass recycling bins that are cleverly hidden around the town, the same goes for used clothes, but these bins are in different places. Okay, no problem, we figured. We’ll just grab some trash and recycling bags when we go to the grocery store!
Days two through four: We go to four or five different grocery stores, but at none of them do they have either the grey bags or the PMD bags. Is it some sort of national secret? A game they play with newcomers? I also can’t find the trash can anywhere at our new apartment.
Day five: I begin to suspect that everyone just eats their trash.
Day six: I screw up my courage at the local fruit store. “Heeft jij de PMD zak?” I ask the forbidding woman at the counter, in my panic and poor Dutch, I accidentally refer to her with the “informal” you. Perhaps this familiarity is the magic key! She produces the recycling bags from behind the counter! I spend about the rest of the day high on my success. Later in the day, Travis asks a woman in a different store if they have the grey Zwevegem trash bags. She seems to reply yes, but no bags are forthcoming. He has not used the magic word.
Day 7: We finally both corner a woman at the checkout counter at GB, one of the larger supermarkets here, and get her to admit that they do have the grey bags behind the counter. “Do you want the large or the small?” she asks us, in her halting English.
“Large, Alstublieft,” we reply, thinking of the growing pile of trash at home.
“Sorry, all we have is the small,” she says.
“No! Small is fine, really!” It takes several reassurances before we convince her to sell us the small bags, at 1€ a bag, one package comes to a whopping 10 €.
A local assures us that this is not too bad. In some townships, the bags are clear, and if you put something that is not allowed in them, they put a sticker with a hand gesturing STOP, and leave the bag. If you do not bring the bag inside and fix it, the police will come and fine you. Yes, the local customs here are…interesting. The beer is very good, but don’t drink too much of it before you find the nearest glass recycling container!
29 September, 2006
Our new neighbors
We live on Kortrijkstraat, the main road into Zwevegem, and for a small town, it is actually pretty busy. Cars and trucks rumble and zoom past all day. People zip by on bikes, motor by on scooters, and walk by as well. The relatively “urban” setting, though, does not preclude suddenly running across a yard full of sheep. In our case, out back near the garage, our landlord keep chickens. Our new neighbors:
28 September, 2006
Bon Jour
On our third day in Belgium, Travis and I decided to visit the French-speaking city of Brussels. All of our guidebooks are still either in the mail, or on a boat somewhere between the Panama Canal and here, slated to arrive in mid-October, so we decided to just wing it.
Luckily, the company car we have been loaned has the most amazing navigation system! We found the Grote Markt on the menu of historic places, it calculated our route and gave us verbal directions all the way there.
“Next, you will turn right on Koningslplein,” She says, in a calm voice not unlike the computer in 2001: A Space Odyssey.
“In three hundred meters, turn right on Koningsplein.”
“Turn Right.”
It’s amazing, really. Without her, we would have probably ended up in France. So we squeezed the car into what looked like a no parking zone (“They did it first!” protested Travis, gesturing to the other cars) and set off to have an adventure in Brussels.
Obviously, we couldn’t park right IN the Grote Markt, but from where we left the car we had a very general idea of what direction to go. We walked up a block, and there on the corner, were three Japanese tourists taking pictures of a small fountain of a little boy peeing. We had happened upon one of the historical monuments I had most wanted to see, the Mannekin Pis, completely by accident. Call me serendipity, yes.
From there we followed several signs to the Grote Markt, considered one of the most beautiful squares in Europe. We did not get up at 1:30AM on Sunday, but it was still pretty early when we arrived, so the square was mostly empty. I had seen pictures of the buildings online, but the actual experience…well, stunning is the adjective that comes to mind. Travis took a 360 degree short film, which might give a little bit more of an idea of the scale than flat, 2 dimensional pictures.
The helpful city of Brussels has posted maps of the city on various street corners, leading us on a walk through the Parc de Bruxelles, and past a lot of beautiful buildings that reminded us how nice it would have been to have our guide book.
I was getting hungry, so we decided to sample the national dish, Moules et Frites, (mussels and chips) at a French café less than a block from the Grote Markt (aka de Grand Place in French). The café offered menus in French, Dutch, and English, but the waiter really only understood in French. Several confused exchanges later, we each sampled a beer while we waited for our meal. I tried the Rodenbach, and Travis had a triple-something while we tried to decipher our paper placemats, which were in French.
My best high-school-French guess is that the placemat advised us to eat our mussels informally, because it is difficult to eat them with your fork in your left hand, and a knife in your right hand in the manner that most Europeans use their cutlery. No problem! Americans are great at eating informally! We shared a huge bucket of steamed mussels, a plate of frites, and a bowl of French onion soup, and the entire bill came to a little less than 30€. Absolutely delicious! Travis and I practiced saying Merci and a few other French words to the waiter, who bore our accent with practiced despair.
By this point, the streets were thronged with tourists and vendors selling snacks from carts. On our way back to the car, we bought deux waffles avec chocolat, s’il vous plaît from a waffle cart, completing our calorie consumption for the next few days. I think the thing that surprised me the most was how much graffiti and trash we saw. Brussels was nice to visit, but I am glad we are going to be living in Gent.
27 September, 2006
By any other name
In French, it’s called Gand, in English Ghent, and in Dutch, Gent. Either way, it is the third-largest city in Belgium, and capitol of the province of Oost-Vlaanderen. I had a vague memory of the Treaty of Ghent being signed there, which a quick look at the Wikipedia informs me ended the war of 1812. On Saturday morning Travis and I woke up refreshed and ready to go at 1:30AM local time, having not quite adjusted our inner clocks. We watched some local television (You haven’t seen the 1976 classic film adaptation of Stephen King’s novel Carrie until you have seen in dubbed in German) and generally waited around until it was a reasonable hour to travel there.
Most of Travis’ co-workers live in Gent, which is more cosmopolitan that the Kortrijk-Zwevegem area where we are staying right now. When we move into our own place, that is where we will look for an apartment. It’s only about a half-hour drive away, and when we arrived the streets were still empty and damp from the early morning rain. The center of Gent has the most amazing gothic medieval architecture. Think tall, pointed stone arches that draw your eye skyward towards heaven (looming over treacherous cobbled streets that will snag your sexy European boots if you aren’t careful).
We spent hours walking around through tiny, winding streets that lead us past one café, boutique, and chocolatier after another. We stopped in at the local library, lingered near picturesque canals, and visited Saint Bavo Cathedral (aka Sint Baafskathedral in Dutch). Sint Baaf was a Roman Catholic Saint who, as far as I can tell, after a dissolute youth, gave away all of his riches to build an abbey, while he himself lived as a recluse in a hollow tree. In his memory, they built the largest, most elaborate church in town. Now, there are all sorts of old things literally crammed into the church in the alcoves. They have a painting by Peter Paul Rubens, and most famously, the alter triptych by Hubert and Jan Van Eyke, Adoration of the Mystic Lamb.
Possibly the most triumphant moment, though, for Travis and I, was figuring out a work of art of a more humble variety. We were practicing our Dutch by trying to translate the signs we ran across. “Honden in park moeten op een leiband zijn”. Hmmm. “Dogs in park must be on a leash” we hazarded. “Bibliotheek” Aha, the library! There were also a lot of brightly colored signs advertising concerts, raves, and other events for us to practice on. Then we came across a bright yellow and blue sign in a shop window, somewhat similar to the party posters. It had two cartoon characters with their hands in the air and…little dots arcing from their crotch area towards little puddles on the ground. “Wild Plassen, 60€”. Travis and I both stood there in a state of complete mystification.
“Plassen means piss,” Travis remembered.
“Wild pissing!?” I realized. “If you get caught peeing outside, the fee is 60 Euros!?”
In a city where most of the public bathrooms charge .30€, it pays to keep a pocketful of change!
Most of Travis’ co-workers live in Gent, which is more cosmopolitan that the Kortrijk-Zwevegem area where we are staying right now. When we move into our own place, that is where we will look for an apartment. It’s only about a half-hour drive away, and when we arrived the streets were still empty and damp from the early morning rain. The center of Gent has the most amazing gothic medieval architecture. Think tall, pointed stone arches that draw your eye skyward towards heaven (looming over treacherous cobbled streets that will snag your sexy European boots if you aren’t careful).
We spent hours walking around through tiny, winding streets that lead us past one café, boutique, and chocolatier after another. We stopped in at the local library, lingered near picturesque canals, and visited Saint Bavo Cathedral (aka Sint Baafskathedral in Dutch). Sint Baaf was a Roman Catholic Saint who, as far as I can tell, after a dissolute youth, gave away all of his riches to build an abbey, while he himself lived as a recluse in a hollow tree. In his memory, they built the largest, most elaborate church in town. Now, there are all sorts of old things literally crammed into the church in the alcoves. They have a painting by Peter Paul Rubens, and most famously, the alter triptych by Hubert and Jan Van Eyke, Adoration of the Mystic Lamb.
Possibly the most triumphant moment, though, for Travis and I, was figuring out a work of art of a more humble variety. We were practicing our Dutch by trying to translate the signs we ran across. “Honden in park moeten op een leiband zijn”. Hmmm. “Dogs in park must be on a leash” we hazarded. “Bibliotheek” Aha, the library! There were also a lot of brightly colored signs advertising concerts, raves, and other events for us to practice on. Then we came across a bright yellow and blue sign in a shop window, somewhat similar to the party posters. It had two cartoon characters with their hands in the air and…little dots arcing from their crotch area towards little puddles on the ground. “Wild Plassen, 60€”. Travis and I both stood there in a state of complete mystification.
“Plassen means piss,” Travis remembered.
“Wild pissing!?” I realized. “If you get caught peeing outside, the fee is 60 Euros!?”
In a city where most of the public bathrooms charge .30€, it pays to keep a pocketful of change!
26 September, 2006
So now for the really important stuff: what sort of shoes are the women wearing?
I’ll get to the shoes in a minute; first, I ought to mention the time difference. Belgium is nine hours ahead of San Diego, so we devised a careful strategy to adjust as quickly as possible. Wednesday night, before our flight on Thursday, Travis and I got huge cups of coffee and stayed up to 1AM. Although we theoretically got four hours of sleep, when we stumbled out of bed at 5AM I felt like I had been up all night.
So by the time we got to Atlanta, GA at 3PM local time, I couldn’t figure out what time it was in San Diego or Europe, but I knew we were at the right gate for our international flight because everyone was speaking French. The next flight was eight and a half hours, with a dinner (pasta, not bad) and a breakfast (croissant and a piece of fruit), and a nice long bit in between where we could sleep. Travis and I ate our food, took a Tylenol PM, and settled in with our pillows and blankets for a good, long nap.
Was it the flight attendant who asked us if we wanted a drink just after we closed our eyes? Was it the two frat boys behind us who raided the drinks cart after lights out and got drunk and churlish? Travis’s breathing had already smoothed out into his sleep patterns, there I was, awake and bored. I spent most of the night reading, snatching an hour or so of sleep.
We touched down at 8:30AM local time on Friday, and started our day!
The driver met us with a sign that said “Mr & Mrs Wirdleharth” after we had gotten through immigration and retrieved our bags. The scenery between Brussels and Zwevegem is very green and lush compared to San Diego, and it was exciting to see the charming little farm houses, signs in Dutch reminding drivers that children smaller than 135 cm must be in a car seat, and all of the tiny little cars they drive here! I love little cars! I had heard of most of the makes before, like Citroen, Renault, and Peugeot, but “Opel” was new to me.
If you go to my Myspace, I have posted a video Travis took of our new place (Look for the link under the picture, it says "view my pics videos"). It was fun dragging in all of our bags, and then getting nosy and opening all of the cupboards. We have all of the necessary furniture, bedding and towels, a few pots and pans, dishes, glasses, silverware, an electric kettle, and, oddly enough, an egg cooker with instructions in 13 languages. Who could live without an egg cooker, right?
So on our first day in Belgium, Travis took me to the town next door, Kortrijk, and showed me around. Cobbled streets! Canals! Chocolatiers on every corner! Through the haze of sleep deprivation it was like having stepped into some sort of beautiful fantasy world. In this world, people can park their bikes in front of a shop without locking it up. There is a little store just for cheese, one for fruit, and one for fish. Others are filled with every kind of bread and pastry you can imagine, with an aroma wafting out that is completely beyond description. In the big central square, crowds of people sit in cafes sipping coffee out of fairy-sized cups and eating elf-sized cookies. At any moment I expected the natives to break out into song and start dancing in the streets.
With great interest, I looked around to see what sort of clothes and shoes the women were wearing. Without exception, I don’t think I saw a single woman wearing sneakers. High heeled shoes, high heeled sandals, and let me tell you, some seriously sexy high heeled boots, yes. Based on some scientific observation of the shop windows, most of those boots cost somewhere between 100 and 300 Euros (1 Euro = $1.30 American dollars). At that price, I would freaking SLEEP in those boots.
Tomorrow: Our trip to Gent.
So by the time we got to Atlanta, GA at 3PM local time, I couldn’t figure out what time it was in San Diego or Europe, but I knew we were at the right gate for our international flight because everyone was speaking French. The next flight was eight and a half hours, with a dinner (pasta, not bad) and a breakfast (croissant and a piece of fruit), and a nice long bit in between where we could sleep. Travis and I ate our food, took a Tylenol PM, and settled in with our pillows and blankets for a good, long nap.
Was it the flight attendant who asked us if we wanted a drink just after we closed our eyes? Was it the two frat boys behind us who raided the drinks cart after lights out and got drunk and churlish? Travis’s breathing had already smoothed out into his sleep patterns, there I was, awake and bored. I spent most of the night reading, snatching an hour or so of sleep.
We touched down at 8:30AM local time on Friday, and started our day!
The driver met us with a sign that said “Mr & Mrs Wirdleharth” after we had gotten through immigration and retrieved our bags. The scenery between Brussels and Zwevegem is very green and lush compared to San Diego, and it was exciting to see the charming little farm houses, signs in Dutch reminding drivers that children smaller than 135 cm must be in a car seat, and all of the tiny little cars they drive here! I love little cars! I had heard of most of the makes before, like Citroen, Renault, and Peugeot, but “Opel” was new to me.
If you go to my Myspace, I have posted a video Travis took of our new place (Look for the link under the picture, it says "view my pics videos"). It was fun dragging in all of our bags, and then getting nosy and opening all of the cupboards. We have all of the necessary furniture, bedding and towels, a few pots and pans, dishes, glasses, silverware, an electric kettle, and, oddly enough, an egg cooker with instructions in 13 languages. Who could live without an egg cooker, right?
So on our first day in Belgium, Travis took me to the town next door, Kortrijk, and showed me around. Cobbled streets! Canals! Chocolatiers on every corner! Through the haze of sleep deprivation it was like having stepped into some sort of beautiful fantasy world. In this world, people can park their bikes in front of a shop without locking it up. There is a little store just for cheese, one for fruit, and one for fish. Others are filled with every kind of bread and pastry you can imagine, with an aroma wafting out that is completely beyond description. In the big central square, crowds of people sit in cafes sipping coffee out of fairy-sized cups and eating elf-sized cookies. At any moment I expected the natives to break out into song and start dancing in the streets.
With great interest, I looked around to see what sort of clothes and shoes the women were wearing. Without exception, I don’t think I saw a single woman wearing sneakers. High heeled shoes, high heeled sandals, and let me tell you, some seriously sexy high heeled boots, yes. Based on some scientific observation of the shop windows, most of those boots cost somewhere between 100 and 300 Euros (1 Euro = $1.30 American dollars). At that price, I would freaking SLEEP in those boots.
Tomorrow: Our trip to Gent.
16 September, 2006
Judi's New Haircut
This is Judi's new haircut. She had it done at "Diesel" on Adams Ave. near the Ken. I approve.
I took it at Lestat's, which is an established and fairly well known cafe on Adams Ave. They have WIFI, so we'e been drinking a lot of coffee as we use the internet here.
07 September, 2006
Brugges
(I am back in the US for short time now, this post is retroactive)
I made an unscheduled trip to Bruges last night. One of my coworkers who visited China last week brought two employees from that location to BTC. The visitors had grown tired of Western food, and so Jan told them he’d take them to a well known Chinese restaurant in Bruges, and invited me along. He lives in the direction of that city, and the four of us headed to pick his wife up on the way. (Note: Ghent is not the “Venice of the North” as I said earlier, Bruges actually is, despite the fact Ghent has far more canals.)
That part of the trip was educational in and of itself. Despite being on the way to Bruges, Jan lives far out in the country, and we used rural roads to get there. For a region renown for being flat as a pancake, the roads here sure are curvy in some places, and this particular route was hardly ever straight, and had about twenty roundabouts in it. I think we were on “Sillystrawstraat”. Judi, add Bonine to your pre-move shopping list.
To make things more interesting, I learned for the first time (both by having it explained to me, and empirically first hand) that there are more pigs in Belgium than people (of which there are ten million). Now apparently this particular area of Flanders is quite heavy with the pig production, and it made me glad we are only cow heavy in the Valley because even a few dozen pigs per field made the entire area smell quite- agrarian. We arrived in what was probably the porcine capital of the Universe to pick up his wife at a ceramics furnace (adjacent to a corn field), who loaded her art pieces into the trunk of the car and filled the last bit of space in the back seat. The day was actually quite hot, and the car very stuffy, and the air very musty, so when we set back upon Rue de Sillystraw the Chinese people and myself began to turn green.
We drove for something like half an hour to “see the country”, before we arrived in another town to drop the art pieces off at a studio. Jan and his wife got out of the car, and took the articles in the trunk into the building. The three of us in the car just sort of tried not to breathe too much, and sat in the uncomfortable stew that the car had become. After a few minutes, Jan came back out and said “my wife wants to know if you’d like to come in and take a look at the amateur art”. Ever heard of a Chinese fire drill?
The art show was pretty neat, and most of the work was actually quite good. In the amateur class they covered several different media, including sculpture, drawing, and painting. From there we got back in the car, and drove out of the country into Bruges. Getting back in the car wasn’t so bad, as the pig smell had dissipated and we had cooled off. On the highway it only takes about twenty minutes to get to Bruges, but I was happy to have seen the scenic route despite olfactory concerns.
Bruges is very nice, and is considered the most scenic city in Belgium. Indeed it is, partly because the many Belgian wars passed the city over leaving it almost untouched, and also because the local government seems to have invested significantly in the image of the city. It does have all of the trappings of a “tourist spot”, the most common criticism of the locale, but it isn’t anything one wouldn’t see in such a place anywhere else (hyper programmed zoning, souvenir shops, overly-“Belgian” merchandise). Still, there are many nice looking restaurants in the city, and it continues to maintain its moat and a few canals which are all buffered by huge trees and green space. The waterways are full of swans and other fowl, and as one might expect boat rides are available to see the scenic parks and historic buildings that abut the waterways. There is a major beginnery there, and a historic seminary for training Catholic priests that is still in operation, pulling in students from all over the world.
I made an unscheduled trip to Bruges last night. One of my coworkers who visited China last week brought two employees from that location to BTC. The visitors had grown tired of Western food, and so Jan told them he’d take them to a well known Chinese restaurant in Bruges, and invited me along. He lives in the direction of that city, and the four of us headed to pick his wife up on the way. (Note: Ghent is not the “Venice of the North” as I said earlier, Bruges actually is, despite the fact Ghent has far more canals.)
That part of the trip was educational in and of itself. Despite being on the way to Bruges, Jan lives far out in the country, and we used rural roads to get there. For a region renown for being flat as a pancake, the roads here sure are curvy in some places, and this particular route was hardly ever straight, and had about twenty roundabouts in it. I think we were on “Sillystrawstraat”. Judi, add Bonine to your pre-move shopping list.
To make things more interesting, I learned for the first time (both by having it explained to me, and empirically first hand) that there are more pigs in Belgium than people (of which there are ten million). Now apparently this particular area of Flanders is quite heavy with the pig production, and it made me glad we are only cow heavy in the Valley because even a few dozen pigs per field made the entire area smell quite- agrarian. We arrived in what was probably the porcine capital of the Universe to pick up his wife at a ceramics furnace (adjacent to a corn field), who loaded her art pieces into the trunk of the car and filled the last bit of space in the back seat. The day was actually quite hot, and the car very stuffy, and the air very musty, so when we set back upon Rue de Sillystraw the Chinese people and myself began to turn green.
We drove for something like half an hour to “see the country”, before we arrived in another town to drop the art pieces off at a studio. Jan and his wife got out of the car, and took the articles in the trunk into the building. The three of us in the car just sort of tried not to breathe too much, and sat in the uncomfortable stew that the car had become. After a few minutes, Jan came back out and said “my wife wants to know if you’d like to come in and take a look at the amateur art”. Ever heard of a Chinese fire drill?
The art show was pretty neat, and most of the work was actually quite good. In the amateur class they covered several different media, including sculpture, drawing, and painting. From there we got back in the car, and drove out of the country into Bruges. Getting back in the car wasn’t so bad, as the pig smell had dissipated and we had cooled off. On the highway it only takes about twenty minutes to get to Bruges, but I was happy to have seen the scenic route despite olfactory concerns.
Bruges is very nice, and is considered the most scenic city in Belgium. Indeed it is, partly because the many Belgian wars passed the city over leaving it almost untouched, and also because the local government seems to have invested significantly in the image of the city. It does have all of the trappings of a “tourist spot”, the most common criticism of the locale, but it isn’t anything one wouldn’t see in such a place anywhere else (hyper programmed zoning, souvenir shops, overly-“Belgian” merchandise). Still, there are many nice looking restaurants in the city, and it continues to maintain its moat and a few canals which are all buffered by huge trees and green space. The waterways are full of swans and other fowl, and as one might expect boat rides are available to see the scenic parks and historic buildings that abut the waterways. There is a major beginnery there, and a historic seminary for training Catholic priests that is still in operation, pulling in students from all over the world.
29 August, 2006
The Fork Goes in the Left Hand
I have been carefully watching how the locals behave in cafes, restaurants, and in public.
I finally figured out what the Belgium culture book meant by “don’t eat with your main hand”. When people eat here, they hold their fork in their left hand and their knife in their right hand (which is not what I do in the U.S.) And typically if you’re holding one, you’re holding the other. According to what I’ve read, it is considered kind of crude to cut your food with a fork. However, it is perfectly acceptable to put your elbows on the table, eat all communal appetizers bare fingered, and bring your dog into the restaurant. Lastly, tip is included in the bill here, and according to the little Belgian etiquette book and my own observation, pretty much no one puts anything extra on the table. As an American, it feels very strange not putting extra money on the table. Yet when I see the bill, I don’t feel so bad after all.
The Little Burgundy Book also reads “Belgian restaurant service is good but leisurely”. I can attest to that. The servers are friendly, and will do whatever you want- they just don’t do it very fast. Meals are a process here.
A lot of people have asked how people dress out and about. I can only say that I have worked in one company, and seen two cities, so my sample size isn’t very large. Here at Bekaert, the receptionist was wearing some kind of satiny pants and a T-shirt with a puffy print on it. About half the company wears denim pants and T-shirt type outfits, though you do see more belts, short sleeve polos, and trousers. My boss wears pretty much what I wore in San Diego, so I’m safe. I’m told that short sleeves won’t do in winter for practical reasons. About half of my work clothes date from Spring, 2001 (Four pairs of pants and four shirts), and most of the rest are well used, so I am going to spring for about five new weather appropriate outfits. Mom H. suggested I search in Portland, since they are used to colder and wetter weather. The Americans confirmed that Portland is indeed a good benchmark, so while I am there I will do some shopping. So I’m going to clone myself.
As far as clothes on the street go, if you took a snapshot of the people in Grote Markt, and transposed them in a photo of people in downtown San Diego, you’d never know the difference. They have a lot of jeans, t-shirts, some goths and punks and other sub-cultures, as well as some suits and more style-conscious people. People in the evenings in certain restaurants and areas do dress up more (certainly more than what I see at work). So the nice clothes I am more likely to wear out and about in the evenings. On top of everything, umbrellas are indeed ubiquitous here and have taken on the “practical but accessorizing” status of purses.
I finally figured out what the Belgium culture book meant by “don’t eat with your main hand”. When people eat here, they hold their fork in their left hand and their knife in their right hand (which is not what I do in the U.S.) And typically if you’re holding one, you’re holding the other. According to what I’ve read, it is considered kind of crude to cut your food with a fork. However, it is perfectly acceptable to put your elbows on the table, eat all communal appetizers bare fingered, and bring your dog into the restaurant. Lastly, tip is included in the bill here, and according to the little Belgian etiquette book and my own observation, pretty much no one puts anything extra on the table. As an American, it feels very strange not putting extra money on the table. Yet when I see the bill, I don’t feel so bad after all.
The Little Burgundy Book also reads “Belgian restaurant service is good but leisurely”. I can attest to that. The servers are friendly, and will do whatever you want- they just don’t do it very fast. Meals are a process here.
A lot of people have asked how people dress out and about. I can only say that I have worked in one company, and seen two cities, so my sample size isn’t very large. Here at Bekaert, the receptionist was wearing some kind of satiny pants and a T-shirt with a puffy print on it. About half the company wears denim pants and T-shirt type outfits, though you do see more belts, short sleeve polos, and trousers. My boss wears pretty much what I wore in San Diego, so I’m safe. I’m told that short sleeves won’t do in winter for practical reasons. About half of my work clothes date from Spring, 2001 (Four pairs of pants and four shirts), and most of the rest are well used, so I am going to spring for about five new weather appropriate outfits. Mom H. suggested I search in Portland, since they are used to colder and wetter weather. The Americans confirmed that Portland is indeed a good benchmark, so while I am there I will do some shopping. So I’m going to clone myself.
As far as clothes on the street go, if you took a snapshot of the people in Grote Markt, and transposed them in a photo of people in downtown San Diego, you’d never know the difference. They have a lot of jeans, t-shirts, some goths and punks and other sub-cultures, as well as some suits and more style-conscious people. People in the evenings in certain restaurants and areas do dress up more (certainly more than what I see at work). So the nice clothes I am more likely to wear out and about in the evenings. On top of everything, umbrellas are indeed ubiquitous here and have taken on the “practical but accessorizing” status of purses.
28 August, 2006
Sunday
The sky opened up today (Monday), and it decided to rain. It has only rained two days since I’ve been here (the first time while I was in the car…), but this is the first time it has really come down. The sky split with a low thunderous groan that said “your feeble polar fleece is useless against me!”
Yesterday was Sunday, which I spent entirely in Kortrijk, for the most part preparing for this week at work. I did go on two walks, one of which was to the very verdant Astrid Park, which has a miniature golf course, several fountains, playgrounds, and more bird habitat in it. I walked out of the hotel in the late afternoon into a well attended motorcycle rally- which somehow spontaneously sprang up while I was in the hotel. These festivals just sort of pop up when you’re not looking, as this was the second such event to manifest while I was in the hotel for a few hours. The first was “Eat the Beat”; I walked onto a street filled with drummers and scantily clad dancers (both sexes) in the Grote Markt area, high school cheerleaders performing routines, and a brass band.
One of the first nights I was here, a Spaniard of about my own age invited me to his table. His name was Marcos, and it turns out he works for (of course) Bekaert also, only in this case Bekaert textiles. He was fun to talk to, and we spokein Spanglish the entire time. I had breakfast with him once also, and we chat in passing in the hotel. The same goes for Kim, the Chinese controller who was in town all last week (I actually ate breakfast with her every day). So it seems the Bekaert group forms its own little international community here, but that also doesn’t preclude the locals and other travelers from striking up a conversation or inviting you to their table.
Yesterday was Sunday, which I spent entirely in Kortrijk, for the most part preparing for this week at work. I did go on two walks, one of which was to the very verdant Astrid Park, which has a miniature golf course, several fountains, playgrounds, and more bird habitat in it. I walked out of the hotel in the late afternoon into a well attended motorcycle rally- which somehow spontaneously sprang up while I was in the hotel. These festivals just sort of pop up when you’re not looking, as this was the second such event to manifest while I was in the hotel for a few hours. The first was “Eat the Beat”; I walked onto a street filled with drummers and scantily clad dancers (both sexes) in the Grote Markt area, high school cheerleaders performing routines, and a brass band.
One of the first nights I was here, a Spaniard of about my own age invited me to his table. His name was Marcos, and it turns out he works for (of course) Bekaert also, only in this case Bekaert textiles. He was fun to talk to, and we spokein Spanglish the entire time. I had breakfast with him once also, and we chat in passing in the hotel. The same goes for Kim, the Chinese controller who was in town all last week (I actually ate breakfast with her every day). So it seems the Bekaert group forms its own little international community here, but that also doesn’t preclude the locals and other travelers from striking up a conversation or inviting you to their table.
27 August, 2006
Ghent
Saturday I eschewed all work and decided to do something fun. I ate a late and leisurely breakfast at the hotel, and set upon the road to Ghent. Mostly countryside rests between the two, and the drive takes about 25 minutes (going the speed limit)- rather like the San Diego-Escondido drive.
All bets are off with the drivers of East Flanders and Ghent, they became much crazier in the city. Like many metro places, the downtown area became a convoluted mess of bike lanes, one-way streets, intersections, canals, and bridges. I decided that the safest thing to do was follow some other cars for awhile, and followed one down a street that had rail tracks in it- in the middle of the road. I figured it was part of some antiquated and now defunct rail line that was kept around as a piece of history. Nope. I was rather shocked to see a trolley speeding up behind me on those very tracks. The trolleys are in the streets in Ghent, not on their own separate routes, and are apparently treated like any other traffic. It was the first time I have ever been tailgated by a trolley.
I ended up parking in a garage, and mapped its locations with Gothic steeples so I could find it again. From there I zigzagged all across Ghent, peeling ten miles of rubber off of my shoes. I walked past St. Bavo’s Cathedral, and into “Veldmarkt” lane. The city is very cosmopolitan, and shopping, food, clothes, and curios from all over the world are available. I poked my head into two large, modern malls, some clothes stores, a world market, and saw cheese shops, chocoladehuizen, waffle stands, Persian rug stores, and all sorts of neat stuff. The streets in the Veldtmarkt were stuffed with people.
Along with the high density of Gothic architecture, the canals do create a very charming and distinct atmosphere. Many of the canals are lined with cobbled lanes for cycling and walking, and some are allowed to retain trees and wild growth along their banks as animal habitat. Some canals have tiny floating islands, replete with foliage, where nesting birds have taken up residence. The canals do make the air more humid, but that is easily mitigated by cooler temperatures. While not as common as in Venice, the canals are used for transportation and tours, and I saw at least one restaurant boat. Indeed, as odd as it may seem Ghent is a major sea port connected to the ocean via channels. Shipping docks occupy the Northernmost reaches of the city.
I passed Ghent University and University town, went through some very green parks (the fowl have their own cordoned off areas here as well), saw the city hall and city library (quite large, with free daycare), and wound back around downtown. There is a large opera house here, a major local dance troupe, several theaters and at least one concert hall, on top of many museums, towers; and cathedrals. I am sure we will enjoy living here.
Lastly, since it was a short drive further, I crossed the border into the Netherlands and stopped in the first small town I came across, just for fun and to see the drive.
All bets are off with the drivers of East Flanders and Ghent, they became much crazier in the city. Like many metro places, the downtown area became a convoluted mess of bike lanes, one-way streets, intersections, canals, and bridges. I decided that the safest thing to do was follow some other cars for awhile, and followed one down a street that had rail tracks in it- in the middle of the road. I figured it was part of some antiquated and now defunct rail line that was kept around as a piece of history. Nope. I was rather shocked to see a trolley speeding up behind me on those very tracks. The trolleys are in the streets in Ghent, not on their own separate routes, and are apparently treated like any other traffic. It was the first time I have ever been tailgated by a trolley.
I ended up parking in a garage, and mapped its locations with Gothic steeples so I could find it again. From there I zigzagged all across Ghent, peeling ten miles of rubber off of my shoes. I walked past St. Bavo’s Cathedral, and into “Veldmarkt” lane. The city is very cosmopolitan, and shopping, food, clothes, and curios from all over the world are available. I poked my head into two large, modern malls, some clothes stores, a world market, and saw cheese shops, chocoladehuizen, waffle stands, Persian rug stores, and all sorts of neat stuff. The streets in the Veldtmarkt were stuffed with people.
Along with the high density of Gothic architecture, the canals do create a very charming and distinct atmosphere. Many of the canals are lined with cobbled lanes for cycling and walking, and some are allowed to retain trees and wild growth along their banks as animal habitat. Some canals have tiny floating islands, replete with foliage, where nesting birds have taken up residence. The canals do make the air more humid, but that is easily mitigated by cooler temperatures. While not as common as in Venice, the canals are used for transportation and tours, and I saw at least one restaurant boat. Indeed, as odd as it may seem Ghent is a major sea port connected to the ocean via channels. Shipping docks occupy the Northernmost reaches of the city.
I passed Ghent University and University town, went through some very green parks (the fowl have their own cordoned off areas here as well), saw the city hall and city library (quite large, with free daycare), and wound back around downtown. There is a large opera house here, a major local dance troupe, several theaters and at least one concert hall, on top of many museums, towers; and cathedrals. I am sure we will enjoy living here.
Lastly, since it was a short drive further, I crossed the border into the Netherlands and stopped in the first small town I came across, just for fun and to see the drive.
26 August, 2006
Final Post on Work
This laptop I was issued in an azerty keyboard model. It is bizarre, a bunch of the letters are rearranged so if there are typing errors in posts this is probably why. You have to hit shift to get to the numbers and the bloody period. But hey, you don’t need to hit shift for the §, ç, and µ signs that are on the number keys, which is a good thing because I make extensive use of these daily. Apparently the only places in the world that use azerty keyboards are France and Belgium.
I finally got the final grand tour of all of the labs. I was shown all three sections-mechanical, chemical, and advanced characterization. The mechanical lab had all of the usual tests you would expect and more- stress, shear, and tensile, adhesion, friction, geometry, compression, and all that stuff. They have some very high pressure systems there. The chemical lab blew my mind. They had analytical tests I’d never even heard of, and everything I had. And the AC had an ion drill SEM (very expensive scanning electron microscope), a slew of high powered optical microscopy instruments, and a bunch of other high powered equipment. And I can order tests on anything! The BTC is like the General Atomics of Belgium, and is very well known here. I’m not really supposed to talk about specific projects, let alone post it on the internet, but I can give general ideas in person.
The work environment is stellar. Firstly, there are about a dozen static holidays, and I get six weeks of vacation per year. My boss is one of those “can I get you anything?” people, and to a person all of my coworkers have expressed the same. The hierarchy here is blurry, and the lines between “groups” is also fuzzy, and it seems fairly laid back even if there is a lot to do. A catering company comes into the cafeteria with warm meals each day, which you can have if you write your name on the list up to the day before. BTC has free snacks, coffee, and tea, and rather than paper cups you can grab a saucer and tea cup (with the Bekaert logo on it). When you’re done, you just set it to the side of your desk and twice a day the office-keeping staff come along with their cart and take your dishes and trash away. People and groups are urged to share information, resources, and ideas, and basically the only leashes we wear are budgets. The stated goal is to generate an environment that is “creative”.
It does look like I’ll be coming back to the US several times per year (also at least once to Arizona). I’ll also be working some in Eindhoven, NL, and Luxembourg at Bekaert partners’ facilities (day trip range). It now looks likely I will get sent to China once or twice (we’ll save up for an extra ticket for you in that case, Juje!).
So, this is shaping up to be an exciting two years at work. I'll not bore you all with work details for awhile now.
I finally got the final grand tour of all of the labs. I was shown all three sections-mechanical, chemical, and advanced characterization. The mechanical lab had all of the usual tests you would expect and more- stress, shear, and tensile, adhesion, friction, geometry, compression, and all that stuff. They have some very high pressure systems there. The chemical lab blew my mind. They had analytical tests I’d never even heard of, and everything I had. And the AC had an ion drill SEM (very expensive scanning electron microscope), a slew of high powered optical microscopy instruments, and a bunch of other high powered equipment. And I can order tests on anything! The BTC is like the General Atomics of Belgium, and is very well known here. I’m not really supposed to talk about specific projects, let alone post it on the internet, but I can give general ideas in person.
The work environment is stellar. Firstly, there are about a dozen static holidays, and I get six weeks of vacation per year. My boss is one of those “can I get you anything?” people, and to a person all of my coworkers have expressed the same. The hierarchy here is blurry, and the lines between “groups” is also fuzzy, and it seems fairly laid back even if there is a lot to do. A catering company comes into the cafeteria with warm meals each day, which you can have if you write your name on the list up to the day before. BTC has free snacks, coffee, and tea, and rather than paper cups you can grab a saucer and tea cup (with the Bekaert logo on it). When you’re done, you just set it to the side of your desk and twice a day the office-keeping staff come along with their cart and take your dishes and trash away. People and groups are urged to share information, resources, and ideas, and basically the only leashes we wear are budgets. The stated goal is to generate an environment that is “creative”.
It does look like I’ll be coming back to the US several times per year (also at least once to Arizona). I’ll also be working some in Eindhoven, NL, and Luxembourg at Bekaert partners’ facilities (day trip range). It now looks likely I will get sent to China once or twice (we’ll save up for an extra ticket for you in that case, Juje!).
So, this is shaping up to be an exciting two years at work. I'll not bore you all with work details for awhile now.
25 August, 2006
Things I Said While Driving
“How do you put this thing in reverse?”
“Is that a yield sign? It looks like a yield sign…”
“I wonder what those triangles across the road mean…”
My rental car is a little diesel Volkswagon Golf, which I must say shoots around like a German V1 rocket. Does golf also mean wave in German as it does in Dutch? I like the thought of driving a little wave around. Of course, it does kind of look like a golf cart… Euro diesel cars are awesome.
“Why are there two lanes in the circle thingie anyway…”
“Damn it, where is reverse?”
“Weird, why is that light blinking?”
The key is strange, quite unlike the typical jagged edged key used in the U.S. It is a thin, flat bar of metal with a squiggly groove carved in either side of it, though it is used pretty much the same way. And it pops out of a plastic holder like a switch blade knife, which is kind of cool. I thought it was unusual.
“Maybe I should have figured out how to use the wipers before it started to rain…”
“I guess I’ll need to learn how to turn on the defogger about now, too. Fast.”
“Oh yeah… headlights.”
My adjustment to the scale of the city size was broken when I began driving in Kortrijk, as the narrower streets and hairpin turns presented themselves. There are a lot of “T” intersections in the city, since not everything here is built on a perfect Cartesian grid, and there aren’t many traffic control lights which as you’ll see isn’t a problem. Blocks come in several shapes and sizes, and there are quite a few slithering avenues as well. Also, there are droves of cyclists and pedestrians meandering about, particularly in the afternoon. Oddly, they sort of serve a purpose in traffic control. If you needed to turn left at a “T”, it would be very difficult to execute during the busier times of day due to the chute of tiny Eurocars zipping by. However, pedestrians stop the traffic fairly frequently in the crosswalk on your right, enabling you to turn left. Human stoplights! Ingenious! And whenever there is traffic there are a lot of pedestrians as well, so it all works together.
“Maybe they don’t have a reverse in Belgium...”
“How do you know what the direction is of the lane you’re in if they are all the same color?”
“I guess people don’t use turn signals here either.”
The roundabouts are fun, and so is driving on the sidewalk which can be done in some places here. Because of the roundabouts, one can drive for miles without stopping (so I guess this is in trade for the lack of many freeways here). They do keep traffic moving. It also seems drivers are a shave more polite, and more conscientious of pedestrians.
“Is that a yield sign? It looks like a yield sign…”
“I wonder what those triangles across the road mean…”
My rental car is a little diesel Volkswagon Golf, which I must say shoots around like a German V1 rocket. Does golf also mean wave in German as it does in Dutch? I like the thought of driving a little wave around. Of course, it does kind of look like a golf cart… Euro diesel cars are awesome.
“Why are there two lanes in the circle thingie anyway…”
“Damn it, where is reverse?”
“Weird, why is that light blinking?”
The key is strange, quite unlike the typical jagged edged key used in the U.S. It is a thin, flat bar of metal with a squiggly groove carved in either side of it, though it is used pretty much the same way. And it pops out of a plastic holder like a switch blade knife, which is kind of cool. I thought it was unusual.
“Maybe I should have figured out how to use the wipers before it started to rain…”
“I guess I’ll need to learn how to turn on the defogger about now, too. Fast.”
“Oh yeah… headlights.”
My adjustment to the scale of the city size was broken when I began driving in Kortrijk, as the narrower streets and hairpin turns presented themselves. There are a lot of “T” intersections in the city, since not everything here is built on a perfect Cartesian grid, and there aren’t many traffic control lights which as you’ll see isn’t a problem. Blocks come in several shapes and sizes, and there are quite a few slithering avenues as well. Also, there are droves of cyclists and pedestrians meandering about, particularly in the afternoon. Oddly, they sort of serve a purpose in traffic control. If you needed to turn left at a “T”, it would be very difficult to execute during the busier times of day due to the chute of tiny Eurocars zipping by. However, pedestrians stop the traffic fairly frequently in the crosswalk on your right, enabling you to turn left. Human stoplights! Ingenious! And whenever there is traffic there are a lot of pedestrians as well, so it all works together.
“Maybe they don’t have a reverse in Belgium...”
“How do you know what the direction is of the lane you’re in if they are all the same color?”
“I guess people don’t use turn signals here either.”
The roundabouts are fun, and so is driving on the sidewalk which can be done in some places here. Because of the roundabouts, one can drive for miles without stopping (so I guess this is in trade for the lack of many freeways here). They do keep traffic moving. It also seems drivers are a shave more polite, and more conscientious of pedestrians.
23 August, 2006
First Day at Work
I was up quite early on Monday due to the residual jetlag, which was a good thing because I had to conquer the trouser press. The rooms here don’t have irons; they have these things stuck to the wall called trouser presses that remind me of a kind of pasta maker I saw on the TV once. It has a fifteen minute cycle, and it knows if you try to cheat and take your clothes out early.
I hobbled downstairs, where my free breakfast buffet was waiting. Again, the food was heel goed and everything was excellent quality. Skip the rest of this paragraph if you don’t want to read an entire block of text about food, or if you’re hungry. They had bread for toast, croissants, and two kinds of cinnamon and raisin pastries, the good kind of non-saccharine yogurt with three kinds of granola, oats, and fruit slurry to put in it. Most sorts of fruit and juice were present, along with a spread of meats, cheeses, and two choices of chilled and thinly sliced fish (salmon was one for sure), little quiches, some kind of custard pie thingie, and they had mini-éclairs for dessert. Oh, and crème Brule. And of course the tea and coffee. I could sit in there all morning. You know how hotels have little soaps and sugar packets with the name of the establishment on it? They have their own branded cheese wheels here!
A taxi driver picked me and another person up to drop us off at our respective destinations, which happened to be in the same neighborhood. Her name was “Kim” from Beijing, and was heading to- wouldn’t you know it, the Bekaert corporate office near BTC. We talked during the drive, and she was very friendly and knows some of the senior management I know.
BTC itself is actually located in the town of Deerlijk, just past Zwevegem (8km/4mi) from Kortrijk. It borders some farmland, and I get the impression that it is out there because of all of the crazy things they do (more on that in a later post), but also because as part of their zoning they seem to encourage such places to be on the outskirts of towns. It abuts an industrial complex on one side, and a field of cows on the other. I signed in at the reception desk, and my new boss Peter came and took me to my new office. He was quite friendly as usual, and we exchanged pleasantries about my trip and his recent vacation. From there he drove me to the auto rental lot where I picked up my car (definitely more on that later), and we headed back to BTC.
I got the semi-grand tour of the facility, and met all of the key people who are go-to persons for various things. The HR manager isn’t back from holiday yet, but I met a lot of the people I had been communicating with via e-mail. I met lab mangers, secretaries, and project leaders, as well as associates that I will be working with. I was shown the supply area, cafeteria, and all of the usual places. I
Finally we settled down to business, and my key roles and responsibilities were outlined (I’ll bleed bits and pieces over time to avoid boring anyone with a barrage). For now I’ll just say I’m responsible for the “modeling and measurement” component of the advanced coatings and transformations film team subproject, and though I’ll use some optics, I was surprised to learn I will be using a great deal of thermal, as well as be doing some programming. I’ll be in the CAPSOL training next week (“Computer program to calculate multizonal transient heat transfer”). Peter clunked the manual in front of me, as well as a stack of research papers relevant to my project and pretty much said “get to reading”. I have two weeks to digest the literature and learn the program.
I made it back to the hotel, and ate a dinner of eel in chervil sauce with more pommes frites and bread. I then kept reading my papers into the evening… which will indeed take up most of my time these two weeks.
I hobbled downstairs, where my free breakfast buffet was waiting. Again, the food was heel goed and everything was excellent quality. Skip the rest of this paragraph if you don’t want to read an entire block of text about food, or if you’re hungry. They had bread for toast, croissants, and two kinds of cinnamon and raisin pastries, the good kind of non-saccharine yogurt with three kinds of granola, oats, and fruit slurry to put in it. Most sorts of fruit and juice were present, along with a spread of meats, cheeses, and two choices of chilled and thinly sliced fish (salmon was one for sure), little quiches, some kind of custard pie thingie, and they had mini-éclairs for dessert. Oh, and crème Brule. And of course the tea and coffee. I could sit in there all morning. You know how hotels have little soaps and sugar packets with the name of the establishment on it? They have their own branded cheese wheels here!
A taxi driver picked me and another person up to drop us off at our respective destinations, which happened to be in the same neighborhood. Her name was “Kim” from Beijing, and was heading to- wouldn’t you know it, the Bekaert corporate office near BTC. We talked during the drive, and she was very friendly and knows some of the senior management I know.
BTC itself is actually located in the town of Deerlijk, just past Zwevegem (8km/4mi) from Kortrijk. It borders some farmland, and I get the impression that it is out there because of all of the crazy things they do (more on that in a later post), but also because as part of their zoning they seem to encourage such places to be on the outskirts of towns. It abuts an industrial complex on one side, and a field of cows on the other. I signed in at the reception desk, and my new boss Peter came and took me to my new office. He was quite friendly as usual, and we exchanged pleasantries about my trip and his recent vacation. From there he drove me to the auto rental lot where I picked up my car (definitely more on that later), and we headed back to BTC.
I got the semi-grand tour of the facility, and met all of the key people who are go-to persons for various things. The HR manager isn’t back from holiday yet, but I met a lot of the people I had been communicating with via e-mail. I met lab mangers, secretaries, and project leaders, as well as associates that I will be working with. I was shown the supply area, cafeteria, and all of the usual places. I
Finally we settled down to business, and my key roles and responsibilities were outlined (I’ll bleed bits and pieces over time to avoid boring anyone with a barrage). For now I’ll just say I’m responsible for the “modeling and measurement” component of the advanced coatings and transformations film team subproject, and though I’ll use some optics, I was surprised to learn I will be using a great deal of thermal, as well as be doing some programming. I’ll be in the CAPSOL training next week (“Computer program to calculate multizonal transient heat transfer”). Peter clunked the manual in front of me, as well as a stack of research papers relevant to my project and pretty much said “get to reading”. I have two weeks to digest the literature and learn the program.
I made it back to the hotel, and ate a dinner of eel in chervil sauce with more pommes frites and bread. I then kept reading my papers into the evening… which will indeed take up most of my time these two weeks.
Top ten things I won't miss at the library
Tomorrow is my last day working at the library, and as my time draws to a close, I have been pondering some of the things I won't miss:
10.) Answering the same questions ten or twenty times a day. (Where's the restroom? How can I use a computer here? Where's the copy machine? How much does it cost to print?)
9.) The loud cell phone users who talk away, completely insensitive to everyone around them.
8.) The children who are screaming, shrieking, and wailing at an ear-splitting level while their parents calmly ignore them and browse.
7.) Computers that always freeze up, crash, or time out just as we have a huge crowd of people, several of whom have absolutely crucial things they need to do online like apply for a job, mapquest the hospital where their child is scheduled to get chemo treatments, or update their myspace.
6.) The mentally ill people who come in from nearby half-way houses who are not stable on their anti-psychotic meds and freak out.
5.) The homeless people who come in and sleep in the chairs I ordered for the teen area of the library, frighteneing everyone else away.
4.) The guy they caught, um, giving a solo test to one of the sex manuals in the back of the library, who was not thrown out and still comes in all the time.
3.) The perfectly sane people who cry because something doesn't go their way, blame us, and then stomp out saying how unhelpful everyone has been and they will never be back. (Only to come back next Tuesday to check their myspace and complain about how the library is too chaotic for them).
2.) The perfectly sane people who shout at us because something doesn't go their way, write out nasty comment cards, call the boss, call the board of directors, and then stomp out saying that their taxes pay our salary. (Only to come back next Tuesday, rinse, and repeat).
1.) Poop. Someone left a few piles in several different places in the library today. Yes. This really happened.
Like I said, something to ponder.
10.) Answering the same questions ten or twenty times a day. (Where's the restroom? How can I use a computer here? Where's the copy machine? How much does it cost to print?)
9.) The loud cell phone users who talk away, completely insensitive to everyone around them.
8.) The children who are screaming, shrieking, and wailing at an ear-splitting level while their parents calmly ignore them and browse.
7.) Computers that always freeze up, crash, or time out just as we have a huge crowd of people, several of whom have absolutely crucial things they need to do online like apply for a job, mapquest the hospital where their child is scheduled to get chemo treatments, or update their myspace.
6.) The mentally ill people who come in from nearby half-way houses who are not stable on their anti-psychotic meds and freak out.
5.) The homeless people who come in and sleep in the chairs I ordered for the teen area of the library, frighteneing everyone else away.
4.) The guy they caught, um, giving a solo test to one of the sex manuals in the back of the library, who was not thrown out and still comes in all the time.
3.) The perfectly sane people who cry because something doesn't go their way, blame us, and then stomp out saying how unhelpful everyone has been and they will never be back. (Only to come back next Tuesday to check their myspace and complain about how the library is too chaotic for them).
2.) The perfectly sane people who shout at us because something doesn't go their way, write out nasty comment cards, call the boss, call the board of directors, and then stomp out saying that their taxes pay our salary. (Only to come back next Tuesday, rinse, and repeat).
1.) Poop. Someone left a few piles in several different places in the library today. Yes. This really happened.
Like I said, something to ponder.
22 August, 2006
Prelude
So I am now in Kortrijk, Belgium.
The trip over the pond was mostly painless. I got a little bit of sleep on the plane, but I was in a cabin with twenty-six excited Italians returning from holiday together, which kind of inhibited that. On the first jump from San Diego to JFK in New York there were several infants and very young children, but they had almost everyone’s sympathy despite the noise. The plane wasn’t well stocked when we got on- there were no blankets, and they ran out of water. I guess that is what you get when you ban bottled water on flights, though some of the people who needed to mix formula were upset. I don’t blame them.
I arrived in Brussels, to a very large and very clean airport. It took about twenty minutes to get through customs, which is actually longer than it took me to get through airport security in the U.S. There was a driver with a sign waiting for me, and he loaded me up and drove me to Kortrijk. It is actually less than an hour from Brussels to Kortrijk, and about the same from either of those places to Ghent- much less on a train. The driver didn’t speak much English, so it was surprising that I knew more Dutch than he English. Our conversation was punctuated by long pauses as we took turns engineering shaky sentences in each others language. Still, he was very genial and wished me well before he left.
The way Belgium is zoned is one of the first things I noticed. For a country reported to have the second highest population density in Europe, they still do have a lot of farm land between urban areas. It must be offset by the way the cities and towns are designed- the sprawl seems to be different. The smaller cities, Deerlijk, Kortrijk, Zwevegem are all “tighter” than towns in the U.S. The streets are narrower, apartments and houses smaller, and private yards are small to non-existent, replaced by larger communal areas scattered about (de Grote Markt being the center of Kortrijk). Also, all of the towns are hinged around their downtown hubs. The result is a town with a population of 73,000 covering about the same area as Brawley (pop. 22,000). Interestingly, one hardly notices the size difference as everything is to scale. The Belgian countryside also has a very low cow density, with about two cows per acre and no feed lots. (Yes, I noticed the cow density). And they are clean. No wonder they have good cheese.
The driver dropped me off at the Parkhotel in Kortrijk, which is adjacent to the train station there, and at the edge of the downtown area. I checked in, and wandered the neighborhood for a short time to get my bearings. Judi and I will post some photos and tourist type posts next month after our permanent move. For now I’ll be pretty busy with work, as I have a lot to learn during my current stay. This is a two week training and orientation period, and the information I learn now I will have to immediately deploy in San Diego on my return trip, as well as troubleshoot a data collection program there. I have a tome of papers to read, and some new programs to learn.
I dove right in with the language, and try to use Dutch/Vlaamse as much as possible. I feel like every time I say something to someone in Dutch it is like hitting the “execute” command on in-process code. I either get some kind of useful output, or a blank stare: “syntax error”. I guess the only way to debug my language is to practice.
I didn’t explore too much on Sunday, as I slept off my jet lag a lot of the day. I ate a very fine dinner in the hotel, however, courtesy the Bekaert credit card. Shrimp salad with tomatos in crème sauce, with French green beans and pommes frites (chips/French fries). And I tried a Belgian beer which I must say has entirely changed my attitude toward beer, they aren’t joking when they say Belgium has the best beer in the world. I realized that my entire life it isn’t that I haven’t liked beer, it is that I have never really had one. One beer is still quite enough, especially these.
After dinner I headed to bed, so I would be rested for work. As it is I am a day behind on posts, but I’ve been preoccupied. Tomorrow: my first day at work.
The trip over the pond was mostly painless. I got a little bit of sleep on the plane, but I was in a cabin with twenty-six excited Italians returning from holiday together, which kind of inhibited that. On the first jump from San Diego to JFK in New York there were several infants and very young children, but they had almost everyone’s sympathy despite the noise. The plane wasn’t well stocked when we got on- there were no blankets, and they ran out of water. I guess that is what you get when you ban bottled water on flights, though some of the people who needed to mix formula were upset. I don’t blame them.
I arrived in Brussels, to a very large and very clean airport. It took about twenty minutes to get through customs, which is actually longer than it took me to get through airport security in the U.S. There was a driver with a sign waiting for me, and he loaded me up and drove me to Kortrijk. It is actually less than an hour from Brussels to Kortrijk, and about the same from either of those places to Ghent- much less on a train. The driver didn’t speak much English, so it was surprising that I knew more Dutch than he English. Our conversation was punctuated by long pauses as we took turns engineering shaky sentences in each others language. Still, he was very genial and wished me well before he left.
The way Belgium is zoned is one of the first things I noticed. For a country reported to have the second highest population density in Europe, they still do have a lot of farm land between urban areas. It must be offset by the way the cities and towns are designed- the sprawl seems to be different. The smaller cities, Deerlijk, Kortrijk, Zwevegem are all “tighter” than towns in the U.S. The streets are narrower, apartments and houses smaller, and private yards are small to non-existent, replaced by larger communal areas scattered about (de Grote Markt being the center of Kortrijk). Also, all of the towns are hinged around their downtown hubs. The result is a town with a population of 73,000 covering about the same area as Brawley (pop. 22,000). Interestingly, one hardly notices the size difference as everything is to scale. The Belgian countryside also has a very low cow density, with about two cows per acre and no feed lots. (Yes, I noticed the cow density). And they are clean. No wonder they have good cheese.
The driver dropped me off at the Parkhotel in Kortrijk, which is adjacent to the train station there, and at the edge of the downtown area. I checked in, and wandered the neighborhood for a short time to get my bearings. Judi and I will post some photos and tourist type posts next month after our permanent move. For now I’ll be pretty busy with work, as I have a lot to learn during my current stay. This is a two week training and orientation period, and the information I learn now I will have to immediately deploy in San Diego on my return trip, as well as troubleshoot a data collection program there. I have a tome of papers to read, and some new programs to learn.
I dove right in with the language, and try to use Dutch/Vlaamse as much as possible. I feel like every time I say something to someone in Dutch it is like hitting the “execute” command on in-process code. I either get some kind of useful output, or a blank stare: “syntax error”. I guess the only way to debug my language is to practice.
I didn’t explore too much on Sunday, as I slept off my jet lag a lot of the day. I ate a very fine dinner in the hotel, however, courtesy the Bekaert credit card. Shrimp salad with tomatos in crème sauce, with French green beans and pommes frites (chips/French fries). And I tried a Belgian beer which I must say has entirely changed my attitude toward beer, they aren’t joking when they say Belgium has the best beer in the world. I realized that my entire life it isn’t that I haven’t liked beer, it is that I have never really had one. One beer is still quite enough, especially these.
After dinner I headed to bed, so I would be rested for work. As it is I am a day behind on posts, but I’ve been preoccupied. Tomorrow: my first day at work.
14 August, 2006
Items to be Taken Not Clearly Marked
I almost gave Amvets half of our possessions.
In an unlikely misunderstanding, I confused a phone call from an Amvets driver for the gentleman who was to estimate the cost of shipping our possessions to Europe. I was running ten minutes behind from dropping Judi off at work, and I knew the estimator would arrive at our apartment before I made it back to the property. Of course, I didn’t expect the Amvets driver to show up at exactly the same time the estimator was supposed to, so when I got a call from a gentleman telling me he’d arrived for our “stuff”, I didn’t make the connection that this wasn’t the shipping estimator.
I told him I’d be there in a few minutes, so he asked me a few questions while he had me on the phone. “What am I taking?” he inquired. I explained that he would be taking two dressers, a table and two desks, and all of the boxes he could see through our front window. “What’s in them?” he then asked. I imagined his nose to the glass, his hand over his eyes blocking the glare as he scanned our possessions.
“Oh, a few boxes of clothes, some art supplies, books, and games, linens and bedding, and some camping gear.”
“I’m taking all that?” he asked, with suspicious incredulity.
“Yep.” I explained that I had already stored about a third of our possessions, and sold off another third, and that was all that was left.
“Are you moving”
“… um… yes?”
“Wow, where are you moving?”
“To Belgium- Ghent, for two years or so.”
“Ah, that explains it” he then replied, his surprise seemingly sated. The confusion subsided for awhile, since we had then reached a misunderstanding and were perfectly happy to drop the issue. He thought I was getting rid of everything because of the move to Europe, and I thought he now knew exactly what was going on.
Of course, a few minutes later everything came to light when I finally arrived and saw the Amvets truck outside of our apartment. This man wasn’t the estimator- he was there to take our donations!! He was rather irritated when I explained who I thought he was, and as he grumbled and walked away the true estimator walked up the steps. The driver didn’t even take the items we’d left outside. I immediately busied myself with the true estimator- so without saying a word, he just left a note behind reading “Items to be taken not clearly marked” and drove away.
In an unlikely misunderstanding, I confused a phone call from an Amvets driver for the gentleman who was to estimate the cost of shipping our possessions to Europe. I was running ten minutes behind from dropping Judi off at work, and I knew the estimator would arrive at our apartment before I made it back to the property. Of course, I didn’t expect the Amvets driver to show up at exactly the same time the estimator was supposed to, so when I got a call from a gentleman telling me he’d arrived for our “stuff”, I didn’t make the connection that this wasn’t the shipping estimator.
I told him I’d be there in a few minutes, so he asked me a few questions while he had me on the phone. “What am I taking?” he inquired. I explained that he would be taking two dressers, a table and two desks, and all of the boxes he could see through our front window. “What’s in them?” he then asked. I imagined his nose to the glass, his hand over his eyes blocking the glare as he scanned our possessions.
“Oh, a few boxes of clothes, some art supplies, books, and games, linens and bedding, and some camping gear.”
“I’m taking all that?” he asked, with suspicious incredulity.
“Yep.” I explained that I had already stored about a third of our possessions, and sold off another third, and that was all that was left.
“Are you moving”
“… um… yes?”
“Wow, where are you moving?”
“To Belgium- Ghent, for two years or so.”
“Ah, that explains it” he then replied, his surprise seemingly sated. The confusion subsided for awhile, since we had then reached a misunderstanding and were perfectly happy to drop the issue. He thought I was getting rid of everything because of the move to Europe, and I thought he now knew exactly what was going on.
Of course, a few minutes later everything came to light when I finally arrived and saw the Amvets truck outside of our apartment. This man wasn’t the estimator- he was there to take our donations!! He was rather irritated when I explained who I thought he was, and as he grumbled and walked away the true estimator walked up the steps. The driver didn’t even take the items we’d left outside. I immediately busied myself with the true estimator- so without saying a word, he just left a note behind reading “Items to be taken not clearly marked” and drove away.
04 August, 2006
Exodus
So August has come, making the date of our departure seem that much closer in the mirror as it speeds toward us. We managed our grueling weekend move, which included a caravan of Rick, Erica, and us taking three vehicles worth of furniture and boxes to Travis’ parents’ house in the Imperial Valley for storage. We managed to fill two of their closets and a small part of the garage with various items, which they have offered to store while we’re gone. Thanks for the storage space folks, and thanks so much for driving all the way from San Diego to help us get moved out Rick and Erica! I don’t know how we could have done it without you.
After lunch, Judi, Rick, & Erica headed back up to San Diego, and Judi spent Saturday evening cleaning while Travis hauled the boxes upstairs at his parents’ house and organized them. Sunday the 30th was still worse than Saturday, as it included moving everything else out of the apartment. Unfortunately, the moving company didn’t have the contract in time to take all of our stored items directly from our old apartment, so we had to make five runs to our temporary residence in Tierrasanta at Doug & Lana’s house to store these things. We then cleaned the apartment and returned the truck to Escondido. After everything was said and done, it was 7:30 on Sunday evening, making for a fatigued week.
As of now we are living out of a few bags, suffering from “intermittent WIFI connectivity syndrome” (a severe psychological disorder), and are doing our best to keep the house as clean as possible. On the up side, our part of the moving is finished, and only having to worry about a few bags of items is a liberating feeling.
Lastly, Travis has his plane tickets for his pre-employment training at the Belgium lab for the latter part of August. He’s leaving August 19th, and returning directly to Portland on Saturday afternoon (the 2nd of September), immediately prior to the wedding rehearsal. There is still no word on which day we will be leaving in September for our ultimate move, though I imagine we’ll know this by the time of the wedding. In all this visa/passport/travel/moving business I still don’t envy Nay and her wedding/school/exams flurry of activity, she has my sympathy.
After lunch, Judi, Rick, & Erica headed back up to San Diego, and Judi spent Saturday evening cleaning while Travis hauled the boxes upstairs at his parents’ house and organized them. Sunday the 30th was still worse than Saturday, as it included moving everything else out of the apartment. Unfortunately, the moving company didn’t have the contract in time to take all of our stored items directly from our old apartment, so we had to make five runs to our temporary residence in Tierrasanta at Doug & Lana’s house to store these things. We then cleaned the apartment and returned the truck to Escondido. After everything was said and done, it was 7:30 on Sunday evening, making for a fatigued week.
As of now we are living out of a few bags, suffering from “intermittent WIFI connectivity syndrome” (a severe psychological disorder), and are doing our best to keep the house as clean as possible. On the up side, our part of the moving is finished, and only having to worry about a few bags of items is a liberating feeling.
Lastly, Travis has his plane tickets for his pre-employment training at the Belgium lab for the latter part of August. He’s leaving August 19th, and returning directly to Portland on Saturday afternoon (the 2nd of September), immediately prior to the wedding rehearsal. There is still no word on which day we will be leaving in September for our ultimate move, though I imagine we’ll know this by the time of the wedding. In all this visa/passport/travel/moving business I still don’t envy Nay and her wedding/school/exams flurry of activity, she has my sympathy.
26 July, 2006
Where we'll be staying
This is a picture of the front of the washing machine, all in dutch, at the company apartment where we will be staying in for up to 90 days in Kortrijk. Does anyone have any idea what settings you would use for dark knits?
25 July, 2006
Comic Con!
Yay vacations!
We just got back from the Comic Convention, what a fun vacation! Sure we have all of our worldly possessions to pack up, and our entire apartment to clean out, but why should that stop us from taking four days to relax and take in some pop culture? I think some of the highlights for me were (as always) the costumes we got to see, buying a few graphic novels that I had been really looking forward to getting, and the web comic panel that included penny arcade and unshelved , two of my favorite webcomics, and the guy from PvP who I despise (fireworks ensued).
For those who have a MySpace account, I've posted some other photos here:
http://myspace.com/hexseraph
~J.
17 July, 2006
Add a few more days to the counter...
I imagine that as we travel to Europe and visit places we’ll be adding mostly anecdotes and pictures, but you’ll probably get to experience bad Dutch and Flemish as well.
It looks as though our trip has been pushed back two weeks based on the “unexpected expected delay” in my visa approval. As it stands now, my work visa paperwork is just now being received by the proper authorities in the Kingdom of Belgium. I’m told it can take two months, but a month is more like the norm. In the mean time, two companies are bidding on the account to ship our property across the pond. Whoever gets it will have an easy time of it, as we’ve packed for storage or sold most of our property. We’re only taking about a third of our previous possessions with us. In the mean time, we’ll be staying at my aunt and uncle’s house.
That didn’t preclude BTC from sending a ticket for me to go to Belgium for intensive training in August. Apparently this particular training was immediately relevant to the project I’m going to own there, and entirely inflexible. So on August 19th, away I go. I’ll be arriving directly in Portland on Friday, September 1st, so I’ll have a pretty busy week and a lot of frequent flier miles earned.
- T
It looks as though our trip has been pushed back two weeks based on the “unexpected expected delay” in my visa approval. As it stands now, my work visa paperwork is just now being received by the proper authorities in the Kingdom of Belgium. I’m told it can take two months, but a month is more like the norm. In the mean time, two companies are bidding on the account to ship our property across the pond. Whoever gets it will have an easy time of it, as we’ve packed for storage or sold most of our property. We’re only taking about a third of our previous possessions with us. In the mean time, we’ll be staying at my aunt and uncle’s house.
That didn’t preclude BTC from sending a ticket for me to go to Belgium for intensive training in August. Apparently this particular training was immediately relevant to the project I’m going to own there, and entirely inflexible. So on August 19th, away I go. I’ll be arriving directly in Portland on Friday, September 1st, so I’ll have a pretty busy week and a lot of frequent flier miles earned.
- T
14 July, 2006
55 days to go...
Welcome to our Euroblog, we are moving in 55 days!
So far we have gotten our passports, taken dutch lessons, packed most of our apartment, made difficult decisions on what to keep and what to dispose of, sold off a lot of furniture and possessions, found homes for our pets (albeit some temporary!), surfed for apartments, looked up maps, shared some dreams, and some fears too! And this is only the beginning...
Join us again soon for more adventures of
~The Intrepid Travelers
So far we have gotten our passports, taken dutch lessons, packed most of our apartment, made difficult decisions on what to keep and what to dispose of, sold off a lot of furniture and possessions, found homes for our pets (albeit some temporary!), surfed for apartments, looked up maps, shared some dreams, and some fears too! And this is only the beginning...
Join us again soon for more adventures of
~The Intrepid Travelers
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