All Good Things

My time in Belgium is really winding down; I've said most of my goodbyes at this point, and in less than twenty-four hours I will be on a plane back home. But I did manage to find time for one last adventure.

Tom spent last week in Liechtenstein at a conference retreat thing for his PhD, so, faced with the choice of spending a week alone in Gent or spending (part of) a week alone somewhere else, I chose somewhere else. My very generous and thoughtful brother Danny had offered me a round trip ticket to Paris as a Christmas gift, so I figured this would be the perfect time to cash in. As I had never traveled anywhere alone (without someone waiting for me on the other side), the whole prospect was a bit daunting, but I figured I would never gain the confidence to do it unless I proved to myself I could, so I booked my train ticket and two nights in a hostel, and tried to tell myself not to panic. 

I was actually surprised at how easy it all was. It's no secret that transportation of almost any kind is an ongoing struggle for me, but being in Europe has given me at least a little bit of confidence in that area. Nonetheless, international trains, changing trains, changing stations, etc. all had me a bit stressed out. But I did it, got to Paris, and arrived at the hostel with minimal complications. I took the wrong streets a couple of times and almost got lost, but I did ultimately find my way with little trouble, so I consider that a success.

I didn't really have any specific plans for Paris, so once I was all settled in, I set out in the general direction of Sacré Cœur (since it was only ten minutes or so from my hostel), and just let myself get distracted on the way. I didn't ever actually make it to Sacré Cœur, though I did find this on the ground, so I must have been close:

What I did find was the Salvador Dalí museum, which was pretty cool.

This was one of my favorites. It's Isaac Newton, famous for the incident with the falling apple, leading to the basic understanding of gravity. The sculpture is supposed to represent Newton's legacy. According to Dalí, history has robbed Isaac Newton of everything he was as a person, and his whole life is summed up with this apple story. So in the sculpture, his mind and heart are just empty space, and he's sort of just an anonymous figure presenting an apple. Anyway, I found it really interesting.

This is a lobster phone. 

I also took a whole lot of pictures that day of buildings and views and whatnot, but I'll just include a couple.

I can only interpret this sign as, "Sorry, no foot amputees allowed."

Usually when people learn a second language, they can understand much more than they can speak. This is how it is for me in Dutch; I can often follow a conversation but don't necessarily have the tools to respond the way I would like to. In French I have always had the opposite problem. I can speak French decently well (although long periods spent NOT speaking it tend to diminish these abilities a bit and it always takes a little while to get back into it), but I have the hardest time understanding it. 

This was confirmed when I took a standardized French test a while back, and my scores were something like:

Reading: 23/25

Writing: 24/25

Speaking: 23.5/25

Listening: 12.5/25

Oops. 

Anyway, I met some French people who I'm sure I could have had absolutely lovely conversations with, except I could hardly understand them. Oh, I caught words here and there, and I understood when they told me I had wonderful pronunciation and spoke French much better than I thought I did, but all of that was a bit useless when they'd talk to me about a building or the weather or something, and I'd just stare back blankly. 

Even my speaking was hindered a bit by the fact that I have spent so long in a Dutch-speaking country. Yes, French is one of Belgium's official languages, and even Flemish Belgians learn French in school, but by and large they do not want to speak it. They much prefer speaking English. (Try explaining this to the French, though, who are quite superior about their own language and don't understand how anybody could prefer to speak anything else.) Anyway, though I have a hard time speaking Dutch in Belgium, my brain was very enthusiastic about it while I was in France. I substituted ja and nee for oui and non constantly, and I'm fairly certain I uttered the sentence, "Je parle niet zo goed français." Smooth, Erin.

Anyway. The second next day I got up early and set out for the Musée d'Orsay, incredibly excited at the prospect of seeing some Van Gogh in person. To get there I had to take the Metro, which I expected to be a challenge in and of itself. Underground transportation has always intimidated me and I had never attempted it alone anywhere in the world. It always seemed so complicated and I was absolutely sure I would get myself lost at least once. Alas, I did not get lost. I didn't even get almost lost. That alone made the day a success for me. 

There are no pictures allowed in the museum, and I'm a rule follower, so I don't have any, but it was incredible. And HUGE. I definitely have to go back because I didn't even come close to seeing everything. Not only that, but they are opening a new Van Gogh exhibition and so they have moved almost all of his paintings to that area which, of course, was not yet open.

Going to a museum by yourself is kind of an interesting experience; I think that was definitely one thing I did not mind doing alone. The great thing about it is that you're only bound by your own whims. So if you want to skip a room entirely, you can do that, or if you want to spend twenty minutes in front of one painting, you can do that too. Or if you're about to leave but remember that there was one painting on Level 5 that you wanted to take a closer look at, even though it's really far away, then you can go back without irritating anyone else. I don't even remember the last time I had been to an art museum (other than the Dalí museum the day before, but that evoked different kinds of emotions), and it's something I should probably try to do more often. Depending on the painting, it can be humbling or inspiring or sad or funny, or sometimes nothing at all if it doesn't really resonate. Of course everyone else already knows this, but it was something I had to remember for myself. And there really is something different about seeing the art in person rather than just googling.

I did take a couple pictures in the gift shop, where I was trying to determine whether a Van Gogh or a Monet coloring book would mess your kids up more. (Or maybe it would just make them really hypercreative, I don't know.)

I only took one picture of the Monet coloring book because they all pretty much looked like this. 

Later that day I decided to walk around the Montmartre Cemetery a bit, because apparently I'm a little morbid like that. I took...a lot of pictures. Here are just a few.

I'm not sure if these are sepulchres or mausoleums, but there were a lot of them. 

Some of them had a door open, which kind of creeped me out.

Roughly translated: "Dead? Just dreaming!"

And finally I decided to pay a visit to Shakespeare and Company, an English language bookstore that I had only ever seen from the outside, and Notre Dame, which is just across the street.

On the way: 

"Rare plants." I guess it's all a matter of perspective.

This is the view of Notre Dame from out in front of the bookstore.

Since I do not trust anyone in big tourist destinations to hold my phone or camera, I tried to take a selfie, but I could only fit half my face in if I also wanted the building itself in there. Oh well.

Paris sure knows how to light up a building. 

So the next day I made my way back to the Gare du Nord, got on my train to Brussels, then from there caught a train back to Gent.  It was nice to be back in a familiar place, sleeping in a room with no strangers (though the three people I shared the hostel room with -- two young Argentinian lawyers and an old man who just slept -- had been very nice). It was also sort of a comfort to be hearing Dutch again. Of course, with my brain apparently always being one step behind, when I ordered a kebab at the train station in Gent and they asked if I wanted chicken, the first word out of my mouth was oui. Apparently I have a hard time switching languages. What comes out of my mouth is never English, but it's also never right.

I've had a nice week back in Gent, but today is the day I wrap things up. Today I close my bank account, have my last dinner and night in Belgium, and try to fit all of my stuff into as little luggage as possible, because tomorrow night I will be home.

"Plans" are sort of funny.

Well, folks, there has been an interesting turn of events here in Belgium. A few weeks ago Joost sat me down and told me that this isn't really working out. Nothing to do with me, really, just a matter of family dynamics and a general feeling like they can't be themselves with someone else living in the house. I can't honestly say that I was surprised by this, nor that I totally disagreed with them. I never really felt like I could be myself around them either, and I had sensed for a while that something was off.

Anyway, my choices were essentially:

1) Find another family
2) Stay rent free in an apartment in Antwerp owned by Joost's company for however long I wanted
3) Go home

I was supposed to go to West Flanders the following weekend with some of Tom's friends from Gent, so instead of waiting until Thursday to leave, I went to Gent that night. It suddenly felt very awkward being in that house.

It was a fantastic weekend, though! We we were in a vacation house in Diksmuide (a little West Flemish town pretty much in the middle of nowhere), and everybody was so incredibly friendly and welcoming. It was awesome but also made me kind of sad because I wasn't sure if I'd ever see any of them again. By Sunday I was dreading going back to Brasschaat, but there were decisions to be made, so back I went.

With only 4 1/2 months left on my visa, I didn't really like the idea of finding another family. It's tough to find positions for such a short time period, for one thing, but I also wasn't crazy about the idea of dealing with so much paperwork again. Most of all, though, I just didn't want to go through getting to know and getting comfortable with another family. Honestly, it's emotionally exhausting.

The idea of staying in Antwerp with no responsibilities (except for my Dutch class) was appealing, but also not really feasible. I would have had no income (not paying rent is nice but I still have to eat) and I would not have been able to get another job. Also turns out it probably wouldn't have been legal anyway. If I wanted to suddenly be here on holiday, rather than for work, I would have had to first go back to America.

That left one option. Up until this point I had considered going home an absolute last resort. Coming home after five months when I had meant to be gone for nine felt like failure, and I didn't want to have to explain to people over and over again that I was back so early because the family didn't want me anymore. But once it became clear that it was the most legal and financially sound course of action, I had to accept it.

I had come back from Diksmuide on Sunday, the 16th. On Monday it was decided that I would go home, and on Tuesday I packed everything and left the house to spend my last few weeks in Gent. I could probably have stayed in the house during that time, but who wants to hang around in a situation like that?

Since then things have gotten both better and worse.

BETTER

• It's a huge relief to be out of that awkward situation.
• It is kind of nice to not have any responsibilities right now.
• It was hard to ever really relax in that house. I guess that's what happens when you live where you work -- as long as you're home you're on duty.
• Living there felt very much like being a teenager again, except this time I was living with parents who didn't really know me. Very weird dynamic.

WORSE

• I got very very sick, almost immediately. A sore throat was developing the day I left and a few days after that I could no longer swallow without excruciating pain, and there were big white spots on the back of my throat. Plus fever, chills, sweats, body aches, etc. I thought it was strep and the doctor suspected mono, but because everything medical here is kind of a hassle (what with my American insurance and everything) and also really really weird, nothing was ever actually confirmed. In any case, I've been improving slowly but surely, and I can swallow with almost no pain at all now! It's great.

Overall, I'm sort of content with everything. It's disappointing that I have to leave Belgium so early (I fly home March 12th), but I will have had almost a whole month longer by the time I leave than if I'd gone home as soon as I left their house. 

I'm probably going to have some seriously mixed feelings about being home, but I'm also excited about seeing everyone again and experiencing all of the things mentioned in my previous post. And as soon as the jet lag wears off, I'm going to Target. I'm just going to walk around the aisles and appreciate it.

God Bless America - it has superstores.

It's been a while. Sorry again for the radio silence; as I become more comfortable here fewer and fewer things seem worth writing about. 

First thing's first: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAMA! It was yesterday, I know. But in honor of your birthday and of what I suspect is probably a constant fear that I am going to text you one day saying, "Staying in Belgium forever! See you when I see you!" I am going to start off this post with a list of things that I really miss about America, in no particular order. (I am excluding the things that go without saying like family, friends, my cat, and Taco Bell.) 

Target

I've always loved Target but I really had no idea how much I would miss it until I did not have it anymore. Not only is there no Target, but there is nothing like Target. There are maybe one or two stores that are similarly themed, with a "we have everything!" vibe, but they are TINY. So yes, theoretically you could buy items from several different categories, but you don't have a lot of options within those categories. And truly, they don't actually have everything. I have yet to see one of these stores with a grocery or food section. So when Kirsten says something like, "I love HEMA. You can get anything you need there!" I just smile and nod politely and keep my Target elitism to myself.

Wide Streets

There's the stereotype of everything being bigger in Texas. I haven't spent enough time in Texas to be able to tell you if that's true or not, but it does seem to be the case that most things are at least bigger in America. It makes sense, since we have a lot more room to work with. Belgium is like a whole country of San Francisco streets. Except narrower. Back home it's rare that I have to make a conscious effort to not hit the cars going the opposite way on the street I'm driving on. Here, it is something that must be actively avoided, with not infrequent swerving, or waiting while the other guy goes because there are cars parked on both sides of the road, making the two-way street only wide enough for one car. 

Things Being Open Past 8 PM

Whoops, forgot to get that chicken you need for your late dinner tonight? Well that's just too bad. There is literally nothing you can do about it. The other night Tom really wanted a cheeseburger, so we went to a fast food chain called Quick. As we were driving into the parking lot, he said, "Oh, I didn't realize how late it was, I hope they're still open." It was 8:14. We have a system where we award our respective countries points for things they do right, so I said, "Point for America, no fast food chain closes at 8pm." We don't actually keep score or anything, but America is totally winning. And speaking of annoying hours...

Being Able to Go Anywhere At All on a Sunday

"I have the day off! I'm thinking about going into Antwerp and going shopping on the Meir."

"What are you talking about? It's Sunday."

Free Water

It is true that in restaurants you can get water for free if you specifically ask for tap water, but they will assume you are exceptionally cheap and give you a look that makes that undeniably clear. I would almost understand this look if it came from an American waiter, whose tip will likely be determined by how much you spend on the meal. But people don't tip here! And if they do, it's usually one euro or less and is absolutely unrelated to the bill. So my ordering tap water has no effect at all on their livelihood, and I don't believe I should be judged for it. But I end up ordering the regular bottled water anyway, because I just want people to like me.

----

I realize that so far my blog has largely consisted of things I DON'T like about Europe, but I do want to make it clear that most of these things are actually somewhat endearing, if occasionally inconvenient, and don't invoke any actual anger in me. In fact, there are some things I suspect I will probably be doing differently when I do go back home. Those things mostly involve bread and cheese, now that I think about it, but it's something, right?

Now, to summarize what I've been up to since my last post! 

Sinterklaas came and went, but not before I saw more people in blackface than any modern American could ever be comfortable with. Sinterklaas and a few of his Zwarte Piet also came to the kids' school. Now, usually he rides in on a white horse, but the PTA only has so big a budget, so Sinterklaas was instead driven in and out in Joost's Mercedes. I mean, if he's not on a horse, he's probably in a luxury sports car, right?

Next up was my Dutch exam! I ended up doing fairly well, at least according to my frustratingly nonspecific scores of "Very Good" in speaking and listening, and "Excellent" in writing and reading. 

My first birthday abroad was really great, actually. I knew Tom was taking me somewhere, but I had no idea where. Originally I suspected it was going to be Bruges/Brugge, but then we ended up going there a few weeks before:

Turned out, it was Germany! We went to Aachen/Aken, where they have one of the most famous Christmas markets in Europe. Christmas markets are everywhere here, but they range from small to large, and from kid-centric (carnival rides and game booths)...

...to a bit more toned down, enjoying-the-atmosphere types of places. The one in Aachen was definitely the latter. I don't think I got any pictures of the market itself, for some reason, but I did get a couple of the lights around the city.

I promise, the whole thing was much more beautiful than those pictures would have you believe. We also saw the cathedral in Aachen, which was gorgeous. Again, the pictures don't really do it justice.

Clearly I was enamored with the ceiling because the only other picture I have is this one:

I couldn't tell you why I was making that face because I do not remember. I had had a cup of very strong glühwein (like hot spiced wine), though, so that might have been influencing my state of mind at this point. 

After that was our holiday in the Netherlands! We went up to a resort type of place in the north of Holland (because it just wasn't cold enough in Belgium) and spent Christmas there. 

This was Christmas morning, with Karlyn and Julian in their new Mega Mindy and Mega Toby costumes, respectively. These are superheroes on a Flemish children's show that I will probably go into more detail about another time, because I am weirdly really invested in it.

Yep, that's a whole pig, folks.

BEFORE Christmas, though, Tom was up there with us for a few days and he and I went out to explore the nearby city of Groningen a bit.

"Big Crooked Elbow"

My favorite sign! The Flying Hollander.

After Christmas I took the train back to Belgium for New Year's Eve so I could spend it with friends here in Brasschaat. Turned out to be a lot like a New Year's Eve I might have at home, but with more fireworks and less general comprehension of what was happening around me. 

Right after New Year's, Tom moved to Gent to be closer to work and school, so I went to visit last weekend. I think Gent might be my favorite city so far.

I also went inside my very first castle ever! I'm in the middle of reading the A Song of Ice and Fire series, so naturally I spent the whole time pretending I was in Winterfell.

An original blade!

Not an original headsack.

My attempt at "angry monarch" came out looking more sad than intimidating.

A lot of the doors were too short for Tom.

And some fantastic views from the roof:

That's the Flemish flag.

Apparently that is too? I asked Tom what was up with the different colors/backgrounds, but he didn't know.

Afterward we went to a jenever bar owned by this guy:

And yes, it is every bit as illegal to smoke in bars here as it is back home, but he did not seem to care. After some googling, I discovered that jenever is apparently also known as Dutch gin, for some context. But this guy makes his own and there are a bunch of different flavors. I tried the chocolate and the vanilla. I hate the taste of alcohol, so neither was especially pleasant, but I was kind of expecting that anyway.

I have also begun my Dutch Level 2 class. I have the same instructor, but almost none of the same classmates, except for Piya from Thailand, who stresses me out a bit. But there is a girl from America! Well, she was born in China but her parents sent her to be fostered in Alabama when she was 10. We bonded over Target and buffalo wings. 

I think that gets me all caught up. Sorry that this entry was a bit of a play-by-play. Hopefully I won't procrastinate so long before writing again and so I won't have so much to recap.