Recently in Expat Life Category

Flights, hotels and rental cars are booked,  beds with friends and family are reserved, cat and house sitters arranged – Canada (and California) here we come!

Ok, so I still have a few things to do, like, oh I don’t know, pack for four weeks… ugh. And buy chocolate… can’t forget the chocolate.

As always, I’m excited to go home. I can’t wait to see my friends and family. I can’t wait to shop – cheap drugs, shoes, books… heaven. I can’t wait to eat – garlic fingers, sushi pizza, onion rings, poutine, lobster, corn on the cob, basically anything my mom makes… home food, comfort food, love. I can’t wait to see the ocean, smell the salt, hear the quiet, breath fresh air, and be somewhere that isn’t filled with people. I love Europe, adore it… but sometimes it’s just too… European. That’s the trouble with being an expat… there comes a point when you just don’t quite fit anywhere anymore.

I’m also looking forward to our escape to California, although I wonder how much of it will still be standing when we get there. I almost booked a hotel in Big Sur. Luckily I found a cheaper on in San Luis Obispo. Parts of Highway 1 are closed because of the fires. The one thing I wanted to do with Andrew was drive that road. Last night I was reading about the fires – the lost homes; the miles and miles of forest, gone; the firefighters working so hard to get everything back under control. Mother Nature can be so devastating sometimes. Hopefully the fires will be out by the time we get there, but even if they aren’t I’m still looking forward to a few precious days alone together.

Here in the loft, things have been good. Still no word on the builders but I’ve about given up on that. We put up our bookcase because I couldn’t stand it anymore. Just two boxes left of things to hang on the walls. They will wait until we get back.

On the weekend we walked… Friday night we walked downtown and had Thai, while sitting at a table on the sidewalk, remarking that in Halifax they’d never put tables on such a busy street. Then we walked to my favourite cocktail bar and had overpriced girly drinks (although Andrew’s were girlier than mine) and watched the never ending sea of life pass on the street below us – more entertaining than TV and a true ‘Reality show’. Then we walked home. Saturday, we walked to Ave. Louise to shop with the over-coiffed little old ladies with their tiny little dogs, and the yuppie families in matching over-priced polo shirts. We ate lunch outside. We walked to the wine store and left with a bottle of Belgian sparkling wine and a ‘special day’ red. Then we walked home to rest. A few hours later, we walked to one of my favourite squares and met up with an old friend for pizza at my favourite pizza place. Then we walked to her house. Several bottles of champagne and several hours later we walked home. Add on a lazy Sunday with a kebab from the halal shop around the corner and the discovery of frozen perogies at the Polish store and we had perfection. I can’t remember the last weekend in Brussels that was so good.

I think we moved here at just the right time of year. Belgium is still rainy but we’ve been blessed with some gorgeous days. Brussels is at its best in summer – cafés & people watching…it’s really all you need. I’m remembering to like it here. It’s a nice feeling.

Last week I took a bunch of photos on my way to the butcher. I wanted to show some of the local sights. I was going to post them here but I think I make it too easy on you. You’re going to have to work for it by going to my photoblog every day. It’s not hard… the photo of the day link is right over there to the left. If that’s not easy enough you can RSS the photoblog feed. Google Reader is your friend.

I will be nice and post a shot of my backyard. I love it. I’m waiting for the perfect evening to grab a night shot of the same scene. I’m usually too busy eating BBQ on the nice nights to remember. Mmmm… BBQ.

As of yesterday at noon, I had four less keys on my key ring. The Everberg house is finally not our problem anymore and I feel nothing but relief.

We spent our fourth and final weekend cleaning. We were actually done earlier on Sunday than I expected and in all honesty it looked great. It was not just ‘clean-enough,’ which is usually my philosophy on cleaning. This was ‘even-my-mother-would-be-impressed’ clean.

So Monday morning rolled around and we went back out to the house for the exit inspection. The inspector, of course, was late, so we had to stand around making small talk with the landlords (hard to do at the best of times when you barely speak each other’s language). We haven’t told them where we are living. I’m not really even sure why, because I don’t think they are going to hunt us down or anything like that. I guess it’s just because they are so damn nosy. Anyway, our story was that we are going back to Canada for the summer and then moving to Brussels, maybe, in the fall. Close enough I think.

When the inspector arrived we went inside and he started at the top and worked down. His first question was “Is there anything you know of that is broken?” Well, there’s the wallpaper that the cats scratched, the leaky pipe downstairs that is staining the ceiling, the downstairs wall that is crumbling, the chipped floor-tiles in the living room… “No, nothing,” we chorused.

The bathroom was first and took a long time. I expected problems but anything he pointed out, they said don’t worry about it. Mevrouw did look at everything… and I mean EVERYTHING and asked me repeatedly if every appliance worked. “Yes, the 3-year-old washing machine still works… Yes, the 3-year-old dryer still works… Yes, the dishwasher is fine… Yes, the stove works…. Yes, your lawn-mower which is older than Andrew and I combined STILL works…”

Each room we entered, Andrew and I did a silent and unified dance to stand in front of whatever wall was damaged the most. The few things that Mevrouw did point out, the inspector just shrugged and moved on. Andrew noticed that she wasn’t too happy about the garden but the inspector didn’t seem to care about the outside of the house at all so it didn’t get noted. He also commented that the place was very clean – so I guess our hard work and wasted weekends paid off.

In the end, the only dispute was the oil tank. We knew we had left it almost empty and expected that we would have to pay a bit. When it was measured there was 150L left. The inspector claimed that there was 900L when we moved in. Andrew was sure it was only at 300L but we had no proof so we had to eat the cost. The landlords signed off on our deposit, minus about 700€ for the oil and we were out of there. Since we had made some interest on the blocked account we are really only out about 500€ which is annoying when we don’t think it is accurate but frankly could have been much, much worse.

As I said in the beginning, all I feel is relief. I liked our house in Everberg but it was really time to move on. We didn’t have time to deal with the yard, and without the dog it wasn’t getting used at all. The house was much bigger than we needed which resulted in more cleaning. The biggest problem though was the isolation. Now I can get around on my own, I can function in French instead of fumbling with Dutch and I can actually get out and do things without waiting around for Andrew. We can also go out together now without worrying about how much wine Andrew can drink or where we will park the car. Now that we have our weekends back, I can’t wait to enjoy all the city has to offer.

In three years my attitude towards this place my end up being the same as it was with Everberg. I know I don’t want to live in Belgium forever anyway. I can already see some of the problems living in the city will cause. I also question if I’m just one of those people who gets restless and needs to change location every few years. I’m not sure. I do know that my mental health wouldn’t have survived another year in Everberg, let alone three more years. All I can do now is wait and see what the city has in store for me.

After three years of dealing with Belgian bureaucracy, the uninitiated might think that things would get a little easier. They would be wrong.

I made an important discovery during today’s commune visit – workers are only permitted to give you one vital piece of information per visit. You must then continue to visit the commune, collecting your pieces of information, until you have everything that is required to obtain the document you seek. Andrew likened it to a scavenger hunt, where you collect clues to find a prize.

I remember one of the gas stations back home (I think it was Irving but I could be wrong) had a game every summer where you would get a map and with every gas purchase a city token to place on the map. When you collected all of the cities, you won a prize. This is exactly what a Belgian commune visit is like.

We’ve been to the St. Josse commune 3 times now (well 4 if you count yesterday when we went and they told us to come back today because there were already 50 people waiting). I must say that the clerk (as we managed to get the same one each time) was very friendly and helpful. He seemed to agree that it was ridiculous that our old commune couldn’t just send them our file, instead requiring all new copies of our documents. However, our ID cards have finally been dealt with. Our parking permit is another matter altogether.

On our first visit, we were told that we couldn’t get the permit until we were registered with the commune – clue number 1. One our second visit we were told that we had to have the vehicle registration papers with us – clue number 2. Today, we were told that because our car is a leased vehicle, we need an attestation from the company that Andrew is the primary driver. IF (and that’s a big if) we have all of the puzzle pieces next time and get the permit, we will have to return in July when we get our new car and do it all over again. Oh Belgium…

I can hardly believe we’ve been in our new flat for almost a month. Where has the time gone? (And where the heck is my staircase railing?!) Although we’re still busy trying to clean up the old house to hand over (soon, but not soon enough) we’ve had a bit more time for exploring. Last weekend we had a fabulous find – Jack O’Shea’s Butcher shop.

As you can probably tell from the name, Jack O’Shea’s is an Irish Butcher. I first heard about them when Flanders Today did a St. Patrick’s week special edition on the Irish in Belgium. I added it to the “places I must visit when we move to the city” list and miraculously remembered it last weekend.

Jack’s is about a 20 min walk from our flat. It’s a nice walk too – through Maria Louisa and Ambiorix parks, passing some lovely Art Nouveau buildings on the way.

The shop is small and welcoming and of course has a long counter full of organic meats. The staff was friendly and very helpful. We had some veg from our market adventure that we needed to use up and they suggested the perfect cut of beef for shish-kabobs and even cubed it for us. We bought some chicken that was pre-marinated in a spicy concoction that Andrew proclaimed tasted just like Swiss-Chalet. We also got some sausages and ground beef for the BBQ.

The shop also stocks a wide variety of organic spices and spice blends, sauces, preserves and a large selection of wines from Australia, New Zealand and South Africa among others. The prices were really reasonable and considering the quality and flavour of the meat, I may never buy at the grocery store again!

It’s been a few weeks now, since we’ve moved into La Loft, and already so much has happened. This week alone, I’ve had: my terrace railing installed (finally), a computer virus (or two) that Andrew seems to have rid me of, a trip to the market (three years overdue), a new neighbourhood restaurant, and a new BBQ for Andrew.

Yesterday the builders were here for most of the morning installing the railing. It looks great and I should be able to hang my plants from it. I’ll take some pictures if it ever stops raining. Also new on the terrace is Andrew’s birthday present. A new Webber BBQ – and it’s gas! No more messing with charcoal. Unfortunately we bought it last weekend and still haven’t been able to use it because of all the rain. We’re hoping to grill up some goodness on the weekend though.

Last weekend we were finally able to have some adventures in the city (although until the 23^rd our weekends are mostly taken up with going over to the old house and trying to get it clean enough for the inspection.) On Saturday, after a cleaning and errand marathon, we arrived back at the loft hungry and too tired to cook. We decided to see what we could find to eat in our ‘hood.

Just down around the corner we spied a Thai spot with tables outside. From its unassuming exterior, I thought it would be a tiny take-away with maybe a couple of tables inside. When we entered Saigon - Bangkok, it turned out to be a lovely little restaurant. The décor was simple but tasteful and the menu was extensive and reasonable for Thai food. And the meal – well it was exactly what we wanted – fresh and delicious. Even the staff was pleasant and helpful – not something that is taken for granted in Brussels. All in all it was a very enjoyable meal and I’m sure we will go back.

Sunday was the most interesting experience of the past week. After three years in Belgium, we finally made it to the South Station Market (Marché du Midi). South Station (Midi in French, although I have no idea way) is the largest of the train stations here in Brussels, and every Sunday morning there is a huge market on the streets surrounding the station. I had heard it was big, rumour has it as the second largest in Europe, but I wasn’t ready for the actual size.

Andrew and I took the metro directly to Midi and emerged from the underground at one end of the market. Although, by calling it an end you assume it’s one long street, when in reality it is more like a spider or maze of streets that seem unending. We would emerge at one side and then see four more streets of market stalls surrounding us. I’m sure we only actually saw a small portion of the market.

I had read somewhere that a visit to Midi Market was like going to a foreign country, and it’s true in a way. The vast majority of stall holders are from Morocco, with others from Turkey, Spain, Italy and of course Belgium. The languages of the shoppers at the market are as varied as the stall holders. In one moment I heard English with British and American accents, French, Dutch, Arabic, and a host of others that I couldn’t identify. The quantity of goods is endless. You can purchase anything from clothes and shoes, to toiletries, to house plants, to meats and produce and literally everything in between.

So armed with our shopping bags Andrew and I headed into the fray. Let me say that I am not good with crowds. There were a few times that I had to go to my “happy place.” Like when the woman ran over my foot with her wheelie bag and when I said ‘ow’ she looked right at me and ran over it again. Thank God I thought ahead and wore sneakers instead of sandals.

There are some incredible deals on food to be found. Most of them unfortunately are not so practical for only two people. In our search for food to grill on the new BBQ, Andrew spotted so enormous mushrooms. They were 2€ for a big crate. Andrew asked if he could have half for 1€ but it was all or nothing. They filled an entire large shopping bag. We’ve been eating the things all week and it is safe to say I am sick of mushroom right now.

Aside from the ‘shrooms, we found bok choi (which I have been searching for), asparagus, peppers, garlic, cheese stuffed hot peppers (a favourite of mine), bread, sliced meats, sausages, two potted herb plants, and I’m sure countless other items I can’t remember. It all cost us about 30€. Verdict – I am so going to the market as often as I can.

So far city life is good – sure there are some things that will take some getting used to and I discovered that living right by the EU can be noisy, especially with police helicopters flying overhead and SWAT teams blocking traffic… But hey, it’s definitely more exciting than Everberg…