This is an old journal entry from the beginning of June, however, I thought I would still post it since I don't want it to go to waste and I think it's a nice one to share :) Enjoy!
Setting the scene: I am sitting on my white couch in my
bedroom on a Sunday evening, the window above my head (which has a perfect view
into the house of our neighbors across the street, but also of the tall glass
Midi building and the 5th biggest church in Europe off in the
distance) cracked open and a cool breeze blowing on me J Someone is playing saxophone
outside on the street.
Friday June 7th, 2013
In the morning I had my French class (Fridays are
conversation classes with this funny old gay man who insists on us calling him
Mauriceart. He is always very well dressed and coiffured, his perfectly white
hair combed back and wearing his designer classes. He loves to crack jokes and
bring up the most random vocabulary…like for example some strange phrase you
use for a house-warming party but actually talks about a pot you hang over the
fire. Or slang for eating (bouffer) or penis (zizi).
He also loves to talk about how he is a socialist and gay. I
think he is one of those people who accepts that they are getting old, and
therefore think they can say anything and no one can tell them that they are
wrong. He especially loves to talk about how people in Austria are conservative
(there is an Austrian women in my class and he is always making fun of her to
her face because her husband works for Nespresso and she doesn’t work at all
(and he finds this much too luxurious), calling her Mrs. Nespresseo and her
husband Mr. Clooney.
In the school (which is basically just situated inside an
old Brussels house with a long, creaky wooden staircase and oriental throw rugs
everywhere) they have 3 little hairy dogs who run and sit around wherever and
sometimes wander into the rooms during classes. They run under our tables,
begging to be petted and be fed speculoos cookies (A Belgian spice cookie we
get with our coffee during our break in the class…we are all served a
complimentary choice of coffee or tea…very luxurious this school). Anyway, when
they start to get too annoying, Mauriceart shoos them out. All is has to do is
simply point to the door and they run out...he is obviously their master.
Anyway, after French class, it was such a beautiful warm day
(a rarity here in Brussels, especially for this year since it was the greyest
and rainiest they have had here in the past 20 years) I decided to spend my
free hour before picking Niki up to bring him to his dentist appointment laying
the beautiful Park Tenbosch.
It is a small park, but very green and laden with
many different trees and plants and colorful flowers. And it has little winding
stone paths all throughout it, and large areas of grass with trees around so
you have the option to lay out in the sun or under the trees in the shade. When
I got there, I was surprised to find it quite full with people, especially men
in suits who were probably spending their lunch break there. Belgians really
know how to relax. They know they need to take advantage of the sun when it is
there, and they can easily just drop whatever they are doing, forget their
worries, and spend their lunch break enjoying the sun. That is something I
would really love to learn how to do. I’ve realized from these last few months
living here that I am one of those people who always has to be doing something
productive, and if I’m not, I just can’t concentrate. I can’t relax. That is
what happened when I went in this park..I laid down in the grass, ready to read
my book, when I suddenly realized I just could not concentrate on it. I just
kept thinking about all the other more productive stuff I could be doing, like
cleaning my room, writing in my blog or studying French. I really need some
tips from a real Belgian. Walking in the park, looking at the people just
simply laying there and enjoying the sun, I was so jealous that they could
simply let themselves go like that! I mean, they could still be worrying about
something in their minds and I wouldn’t be able to tell, but still...they sure
seemed pretty relaxed to me. Anyway, I am learning. I forced myself to just lay
in the sun and not read or do anything. I even ended up taking off my jeans and
laying in my underwear...thank god the park is quite private and I was behind a
bush. But still, I don’t think anyone even blinked an eye when they walked past
me. People are so open here with their bodies...no one cares about showing off
a “private part.” They are also very lenient about sex. I mean, there is a
poster which seems to be hanging on the wall in every corner of this city with
an ad for some Belgian sex TV show, and had a picture of a naked couple in some
weird sex position with the man eating fries.. I can’t even imagine the uproar
if that poster was even flashed in the public in Clifton Park, NY.. Oh the
horror!
Even Oli and Sylvia are surprisingly very lenient about sex
. The other morning, Niki came over excited to the breakfast table holding a
little book and shouting, “Look what I found in the treasure-room! (The
treasure room is technically the guest room, but Niki likes to go there
sometimes to look through all the old books stashed up there to find
“treasures” about the house (he thinks pirates used to live here, since the
house is so old..110 years) Anyway, Oli grabbed the book out of his hand and
looked at it, beginning to laugh. “Ah, it’s one of my books from my adolescent
years!” , showing it to Sylvie. Niki grabbed it out of his hand and said,
“Oohhh what’s it about??” He can’t read, and probably just picked it out since
it was a mini “pocket sized book” and had cartoon drawings. Thank god he can’t
read though, because when I pulled it out of his hands and read the cover, I
was a bit shocked. The book was titled, “Sex Positions” and had a happy couple
on the front, in some acrobatic position. Wow… Oli then says, “Yes, I had much
different interests back then than I do now!” We all laughed and I put the book
to the side, trying to keep it away from Niki.
Another incident was when I opened Manda’s (my best friend
from NY) birthday package for me at the breakfast table in front of the whole
family. Of course, the letter, which was INSIDE the package, only at the very
end, said to open it in the privacy of my bedroom. Oli and Sylvie were staring,
excitedly waiting to see what my best friend sent me. But then, as I pulled out
the card, three condom packages fell out
on my placemat in front of me. I looked down, completely embarrassed, feeling
the redness creep across my cheeks. But Oli and Sylvie just laughed, and when
the kids asked what those things were, Sylvie simply replied, “survival things
for Europe!” laughing to herself. Phew. Thank god my host parents are so
accepting..
Last night, as I was preparing the boy’s school lunches in
the kitchen, I was shocked to see Oli casually starting to take off his black
work suit pants in the middle of the dining room after dinner… He was talking
to Felix, yelling at him for being so messy. I guess he considers me as close
enough to being part of his family that he can walk around in his underwear
when I am present. Should I feel good about this? Not so sure…
Anyway, Friday night I went to a party called Aperos Urbain,
which is basically supposed to be a “chill” after-work party organized by the
city in a different park every Friday. But this one was a bit different than
the others... it was the night of the soccer game with Belgium against Serbia,
and there was a big screen with hundreds of beer-drinking Uni age Belgians
surrounding it, screaming and yelling every time a Belgian player got the ball.
In the end, we won (for the first time in the past 8 years) and everyone went
insane, jumping around, waving flags, blowing horns, dancing on the
port-a-potties, lighting red firebomb things and cheering and chanting. It was
quite a scene! After, I was invited by JT to go to an exclusive party on the
island there on the lake at Borde de la Combre, which has a very nice restaurant/bar
called Chalet Robinson. I was lucky enough to be put on the DJ’s guest list
thanks to good-ol’ JT and got to save the 15 euros entry fee and still get a
free glass of Cava. I felt very special walking in there and telling the
hostess that I was on the guest list. It’s great to have high-class connections
J
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| Belgians cheering on their team. The only issue with this scene is the giant Corona bottle...eh hm, shouldn't that be a Stella Artois or something?? |
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| Fan dancing with flag on top of the port-a-potties |
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| On the boat heading towards the island! |
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| One of my Finnish friends, Minja! |
The party was in a beautiful spot, with candles lining the
large wooden terrace and lounge chairs out in the grass by the lake, where you
could watch the lit-up little boat carry people to and from the island across
the still, dark water, and see the lights glitter of the surface. And you could
hear in the faint distance the DJ starting up the dance music.
Saturday I got up relatively early to meet Felix at the
train station. We were going to Oostende, one of the beaches on the Belgian
coast, with some other Finnish au pairs. I love travelling with Felix, he
always has crazy ideas and makes everything fun. (For example, on our way out
of the train station, he decided to take the “up” elevator down...and force me
to do it with him. The elevators were full and everyone was chuckling at us).
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| Chilling on the platform waiting for the train! |
Oostende was much
more beautiful than I expected. I thought it would just be some empty coast
with rocky sand and ugly apartments lining it. But no, the city was very nice,
with little streets lined with palm trees and barley any cars. The harbors were full
with beautiful big boats and giant, very-healthy looking white seagulls were
flying in every direction, stealing the little shrimps, a North Sea specialty,
from people eating them out of little plastic cups for lunch on the boardwalk.
A big Ferris wheel stood at one end of the boardwalk, and then the beach
started, and went on for kilometers! And the sand was soft and fine, not like I
expected. Of course, it was quite windy (which I did expect) and therefore made
it a little too chilly to lie on the beach. Later on in the day, we found one
area of the beach where they had these wind barriers made out of cloth. When
you sat just behind them, they were perfect for cutting the wind.
The water was much too cold to go for an enjoyable swim.
There was no one in the water, and not even anyone in a bathing suit...except
for a few small children. Our group was a bit disappointed because we were really
looking forward to a real day on the beach, swimming and all. And, we didn’t
let the wind or the cold water stop us! Felix convinced me that we had to swim
before we left, just to say we did it. So, we went the Belgian way and grabbed
some warm beers at the grocery store, drank them to make us a bit warmer and
ready to tackle the water. Then we threw our bags on the sand, stripped off our
layers of sweaters and pants, down to our bathing suits and then raced to the
water, running over the dunes, and jumping into the waves. People from the
beach and on the board walk started at us, obviously thinking we were crazy for
going into the freezing water. But it felt great. OK, maybe I couldn’t really
feel anything because my legs turned numb, but just the feeling of being in the
North Sea, the cold slapping me in the face, it made me feel invincible.
After, we discovered that the giant sand dunes were perfect
for jumping! They were super high, and when you ran and jumped off the edge of
them, it felt like you were flying.
After, we walked down the rest of the boardwalk, eating ice
cream and waffles. We passed an old stone palace with lots of arches. It looked
lovely against the sand and water. I just recently learned that the palace was built by King Leopold II of Belgium right after he started making a fortune off his colony--the Congo. He built palaces and beautiful public buildings (this one was supposed to have a spa and museum) all across Belgium. At one point, the beach had a bunch of
little white beach houses, most likely for all the German vacationers who come
there in the summer. They also made great wind barriers. The Finns had to
leave, so at this point it was just Felix and I. We laid down in the sand behind
the house, the sun perfectly beating down on our faces. I sat there for a good
15 minutes, just listening to the sea and feeling sun on my face, mediating a
bit. After a little while, Felix piped up and said he had some cool ideas for
photos. This is where he made the “clone photo” of me.
Felix is basically like my German brother. We have so much fun together and he is just awesome. He is one friend I made here who I hope to keep forever!
Now, here are some recent pics of the boys I thought you might enjoy:
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Felix turning into a real Belgian, enjoying some fries. I discovered this tiny little fry shack right down the street from where I live. I can't believe I didn't find it earlier..but I guess it is quite hidden and really small! You can't even tell it is a fry place until you are standing right next to it! But the fries are really amazing..I think the best ones I've had here. What makes Belgian fries so good is that they fry them twice-once at a low temperature and then again at a higher temperature. And don't be fooled by a false American name--fries come from Belgium and ONLY Belgium. The story behind the whole "French Fry" thing is that some American GIs were located in Belgium and got hungry--they were given fries. They found them quite delicious and wanted to bring them back to the states. But they needed a name...they thought "Well, where are we? People are speaking French.. guess we are in France. Let's name them french fries!" But oh they were so wrong..they were in the French speaking part of Belgium! And now they have turned fries into a very touchy subject here in Belgium. If you ever say "French fries" in front of a Belgian--RUN!!!!
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| Joans made a pac-man out of his favorite French cheese! |
Dad stopped by on his way to work in Dresden. We spent the time walking around my commune and enjoying the impressive Art Nouveu houses (there is a famous one called Horta House which was built by Victor Horta-a famous architect from Ghent, Belgium. We also enjoyed some tasty Belgian beers and went to a club that night.
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Clubbing with dad... I never thought this day would come!
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This past week, the special Brussels Medieval Festival--the Ommegang--took place. It is a very old tradition, which tarted in 1549 under the Emperor Charles V. They do their best do re-produce it as closely to the real thing as possible. Here is the history, taking from the official website: (http://www.ommegang.be/index2.php?idx=23&lg=en)
"The expression "Ommegang" meaning "procession" is derived from the old Flemish words "omme" (around) and "gang" (walk).
Several Belgian cities had an Ommegang particularly in Flanders. They were always characterised by fervent religious faith, and also included a large, opulent secular participation of the guilds, crafts, and chambers of rhetoric.
The cloth industry had made Brussels rich and tradesmen consorted with the best of society under the supervision of the Amman, an officer of the Duke of Brabant. He owed his authority and competence to the fact that he presided the City Council, saw to the execution of orders and commanded the sergeants at arms.
As tradition would have it, Beatrice Soetkens., the wife of a poor workman in the cloth industry, heard voices one day. She learned that the Virgin Mary, Mother of God, wanted to reward the town of Brussels, and particularly the Crossbow-men's guild for having built a chapel in her honour on the hill at the Sablon. Beatrice was given the mission to go to Antwerp and bring back the miraculous statue of the Virgin venerated there as Our Lady of the Branch (O.L.V. op 't Stokske).
These voices totally upset Beatrice--she could do nothing but obey. She hurriedly rowed to Antwerp with her husband, and ran to the cathedral to get the statue. The Sacristan tried to stop her, but how could he resist divine will?
He was petrified on the spot, voiceless and motionless!
Beatrice returned to the boat in her haste to get back to Brussels. But her husband quickly tired of rowing against the current and the wind. Fortunately the Lord was watching--the boat floated upstream to Brussels on its own volition and landed on the spot where the crossbow-men of the guild were practising.
Intrigued by the arrival of this tiny craft glowing with an unearthly light and piping sweet music, they questioned Beatrice who recounted the cause and circumstances of her expedition to Antwerp.
The event was deemed a miracle. Even the townsfolk of Antwerp who stormed to Brussels, agreed that it was extraordinary. They consented to leave the statue at the Sablon to be venerated there in the chapel. In addition, a solemn promise was made to erect a church worthy of the event and to organise an annual procession to carry the Virgin around the church under the protection of the Great Crossbow-men's guild.
So the Ommegang was born!
The origin of this famous procession was indeed the expression of religious fervour supported by a military authority. Gradually the Ommegang became a great town event. Civil authorities, the crafts, chambers of rhetoric and the guilds took their place in front of the clergy.
It became the magnificent pageant celebrated through the centuries to modern times. Like every year, the " Ommegang Oppidi Bruxellensis" Royal Society continues in the tradition of these centuries-old pageants with historical reference, in the incomparable setting of the Grand-Place of Brussels."
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| Show in the Grand Place |
The costumes these people were wearing were really impressive! I have never seen such a precise representation of such an old tradition. It really felt like you went back in time while you were watching!
