In Bruges

"Go to Bruges! Go to Bruges!"


That's all I've heard since I arrived in Belgium.  Curious, I travelled there yesterday to see what all of the fuss was about.  I expected a city of gold with canals filled with beer, and what I was greeted with was a conglomeration of stone streets and white people taking pictures.  I feel that I must make a full report in the form of a photo essay.

No milk, no honey.  Not a good start, Bruges.

Water fills these canals.  Water!!

Who is this man, and what has he done for me lately?  
I don't know the answer to either question.

Statue of a man with an erection riding a horse.  Not pictured: dignity.

Arg.

Bell tower.  Too loud!

Just leave me to my waffles...

I said leave me!

Finally!

A quick comparison:

Metro system: Brussels - Yes, Bruges - No

Peeing baby statue:  Brussels - Yes, Bruges - No

Functioning city government: Brussels - No, Bruges - Yes  (Ok, you win that one Brugge)

Has a Starbucks: Brussels - No, Bruges - No  (Tie)

Chocolate waffles: Brussels - Probably, Bruges - Yes

Winner: Brussels

That is my full report of Bruges.  I hope that this will save to from having to go there yourself. 

Leaving the Couch

Rob and I signed a lease today.  The whole process of finding an apartment has been exhausting, and we've been crashing on Holly's couches for a full 2 weeks.  I get the feeling that she and her roommates would like their living room back.  So it's good to have some resolution.

The property manager through email directed us to an unmarked door on a small street.  We didn't know her name, or the name of the property management company, really.  We knew the name of the guy that was living in our apartment currently, and that the property manager wanted us to bring first month's rent, plus two months rent for deposit, all in cash.  So, standing outside the door I was about 30% sure I was going to be hit on the head and wake up in a dumpster on the other side of town without my wallet.  There were 4 or 5 buttons on the outside of the door, all with unfamiliar names, so we pushed the biggest one and hoped for the best.

The woman who opened the door turned out to be the property manger, a nice little Belgian woman in her 50's.  We went up to her office, and she seemed legit enough.  She handed us a contract, all in French.  This was a bit of a problem, but she had an electronic copy on her computer and with the help of Google Translate (insert plug here: Google Translate is awesome) we had an English copy to peruse.  We have to provide our own fire insurance, which is odd, but I am too exhausted of sleeping on a couch to argue over 150 Euros a year.

So, we handed over thousands of Euros in cash to a little Belgian woman and didn't even get any keys (we don't move in until the 1st).  And we're not 100% sure of the apartment number (we thought it was 3A, she insists it's 3G).  And we're on the hook for insurance.  But overall I think today went very well because I did not get hit on the head.

Some Pictures

Here are some pictures of where I am staying.  The outside shot is of Rue de Saint Pierre, the street where our hosts Holly (US), Cait (Canada) and Nana (Ghana) live.  It's a classic Brussels street, windy and narrow with row houses and dog crap on the sidewalk.  The apartment itself has no windows to the outside of the street, it's just a door in a faceless bank of buildings that form a wall against the road.

The inside shot is of the 'war room' where the other couch surfer Rob Zaman from the US (shown doing his thang) and I stay.  My couch is on the right hand side.  It's also classically European with tall ceilings and nothing on the walls.  Rob and I are looking for a place together.  Actually, we've found a place and are signing a lease on Tuesday or Wednesday, but nothing is for sure until we get the keys.  I'm on day 11 or so of living out of a suitcase, so the new apartment can't come fast enough.

Classes are going well so far.  They are interesting and I am learning a lot of things.  Yesterday we had a seminar on how to get an internship, and I feel positive that I will be able to find one for the summer, although chances are good that I won't be paid for my work.  I've met a lot of people so far, we've had a lot of parties at our house and at the homes of other people, and it's a pleasantly strange thing for me to be around people like me that were also restless in their home country.  It's a society of vagabonds doing a semester here and a summer there, and 5 year plans are somewhat laughable.  It's not an easy lifestyle, so it's relieving to be around people who understand.  It's possibly not a bad metaphor for life, to enjoy the company of the people around you while you have your time with them.

Viva La Revolution!

I just got out of my first class of graduate school.  The class was Political Strategy and my teacher is a Bulgarian revolutionary.  I am definitely excited about this class and its lessons on how to deceive your enemies into doing what you want them to do.  Maybe she will include some stuff on how to overthrow a regime if there's time.


As far as the housing situation goes, I'm getting my ass handed to me in this town.  Day 6 of crashing on the couch, and it might be a few more weeks.  The other couch surfer, Rob, just told me that he thinks we have scored a place to live, but even if we get this one we can't move in until the first.  And there are a lot of empty promises floating around the housing market.  I spent 3 hours yesterday walking the streets in a neighborhood writing down phone numbers of places to rent.  My feet hurt.  Waaaah.


Oh, and I had rabbit for lunch yesterday.  It was a good lunch.

Bargain Hunting

So I'm wandering around Brussels after going to the bank.  The bank people couldn't speak English very well and all I could do was shout garbled sentence fragments and point at things in order to convey my message that I wanted to do a wire from a US institution.  Which shouting and pointing did not convey very well.  So anyway, I'm wandering around and I find this shop that sells handguns, switchblades, bongs and anime stuff.  The lesson is that while Belgians may not excel in customer service, they clearly know how to have a good time.

Hello

Bonjour!  Just arrived in Brussels yesterday.  The flight over went flawlessly, and I arrived in Brussels at three in the afternoon, local time.  I wandered to the train, and made it from the airport and into the city, and then navigated the Metro to the part of town where my couch surfing host, Holly, has her apartment.  There are 2 of us crashing here, and 3 residents of the apartment, and all of us go to BSIS (Brussels School of International Whatnot).  So it's a packed house but I feel like I'm already among friends.

My first impression of Brussels is that it mainly consists of non French Speakers struggling to speak French to each other.  Both sides awkwardly butcher French for a bit until they both realize that they speak English as a first language and can actually have a conversation that both sides can understand.  My school is across the street from the Flemish university VUB, which stands for words I can't pronounce.  They speak Dutch there, and aren't fond of the French, so you don't speak French to the Dutch, English to the French, or Dutch to anyone.  It's a lot to remember which language I'm not supposed to use, but it's probably good idea to stick to English for the short term because I always slip into pseudo spanish whenever I'm around a new language I don't understand ("Where is el toileto"?).

So, in summary, first 24 hours on the ground get big thumbs up.  I'm planning on posting here more in the short term, maybe every day or 2, and then dropping it down to once a week or so when I get more settled and notice that all of my posts are about various sandwiches I am making or considering making.  Much love to you all.