47 hours in England

We just got back from merry old England.  The Brussels location's student government (the JCR, of which I am a part) went to England for a meet 'n greet with the main campus and their people.  We spent the day hanging out with the vice-chancellor, the main student union president, and others from the university.  Our budget got slashed pretty hard last year, so this was part of a PR offensive to make our case that we are doing good things with the university's money, and to better integrate our student government with the main campus.  All in all, it went pretty well.

We drove to France to the seaside town of Calais.  From there we drove the car onto a train (!) and took the underground tunnel.  The trip underwater took about 35 minutes.  We got to the hostel in England at about 11 at night, and went for a quick pint and some take out.  Meetings all the next day, ending with a pub crawl (purely diplomatic, of course).  Then the next morning we packed up and drove back to Brussels.  Bam.

Here are some photos:

Meet 'n greet with the vice chancellor.

The delegation and their take out.  From left: Sandenga, Andrew, Aurora, Phil, Thomas, Leanne, Moi, Kamil

Future role models.

Canterbury campus.  See the abbey in the background, as in the home of the Archbishop of Canterbury.  We didn't have a chance to visit this time but we hear it's some swell digs.

Getting bidness done.  To the left of me, Lauren, Tim and Helen, our English counterparts.

Driving into the train on the trip home.  It's, uh, cozy.

Lunchtime with the "Burghers of Calais."  I honestly did not know that this was the original Rodin when I was shaking hands with the guy.

Ok, time to go, my bathwater is ready.  The hot water is not working in our house right now so I boiled some water on the stove that I'm going to bathe myself with.  Everybody here has had that problem at sometime or another in Brussels, and usually it happens in the middle of winter so I've been warned not to complain.  Ciao.

Learning French

TV! 


By utilizing my extensive training in the field of electrical engineering, and by purchasing a 3 Euro cable and plugging the TV into the wall, we are now able to enjoy the wonders of cable television en Francais.  Yesterday I watched 3 hours of rugby, which apparently is awesome.  I am trying to immerse myself more in the French language, and TV is the most entertaining way to do that.  As I type I'm watching a nature show about using killer whales to fight fires.  What a great country.


I'm still trying my hardest to learn French.  I think I talked about the French class awhile back.  At that time, I concluded that it must be part of some psychology experiment.  Now I'm fairly sure that it is.  Most of the lessons involve the teachers teaching us a handful of words, and then making us read French plays.  We don't know the words that we are saying, so I'm not sure what the educational benefit is.  I can see the entertainment value, however, in having a bunch of non French speakers butcher your cultural classics with their pronunciation.  But what are they studying?  I related my frustrations to Nino, my brother from an Italian mother, who goes to my school and is also in the French class.  He was unconcerned.


"So what?  They're teaching you French for free."


"Yeah, but they're not doing it honestly.  Why are they making us read these plays?"


"I don't care, I think it's fun."


Clearly, Nino didn't get it.  What I am learning about Italians is that they are too closed minded to be convinced of your point of view.  It's a new stereotype I am developing.  But Nino is in my new band, and he's a pretty good guitar player, so I decided to wait to give him his lecture on being a team player.


Basia and her boyfriend have bolted, unconvinced that reading French plays for Belgians' enjoyment was in their best interest.  The Polish are a sensible people, I am learning.  In their place are a group of Estonian and Russian undergrad girls who giggle a lot, and Farsad, a 35 year old researcher from Iran who can't say the sound "eh".  Sample lesson:


Teacher:  "Eh"
Farsad: "Ew"
Teacher: "Ehhhhhhhhhhh"
Farsad: "Ewwwwwwwww"
Teacher: "Better"


But my French is improving.  The proving ground is the grocery store, where I am forced to stutter my way around.  A month ago, I needed to get some more wraps for Moroccan food Marine was cooking at our house.  I took the empty packaging to the store and walked up to the manager and demanded "Ou est ici?  Ou est ici?" ("Where is this?").  He looked at me like he thought I was mugging him for a second, but took me to the wraps.  My French has refined a bit since then.  Yesterday I went to the store and asked an employee "Sil vous plait, ou est les oeufs?".  I had to repeat myself a few times, but she eventually pointed me to the eggs.


So I'll read a few more plays.  But I'm watching them carefully.....

My Lunch With Michael Leigh

Mom told me to pack my ties and a blazer.  "I don't wear that stuff," I whined.  "They're more formal in Europe," she insisted.  She was right.  Last Friday I was wearing tie and blazer and wishing for the first time that I owned a suit.

As part of a free contest at school, I won a lunch (along with another student) with Michael Leigh, the Director-General of Enlargement for the European Union Commission.  For those of you not familiar with the EU, the shorthand for Director-General is "highroller."  In fact, if you Google "Michael Leigh" and click the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button, the first thing that pops up is his resume, all splattered with Oxfords and MITs.  I learned all of this approximately one hour before I met him, wondering what kind of shitty prize a business lunch is.

So "Miami" Phil Martinez and I headed out to meet him and my Bulgarian revolutionary teacher Albana Azmanova, who knew Michael personally having worked for him in the Commission before.  Lunch was at a classy EU watering hole around the corner from the Commission downtown. We made our introductions, and he gave us a spiel about EU enlargement, basically the process of integrating prospective additions into the EU fold.  We talked Iceland and Croatia, asking a few questions here and there but letting him lead the way.  

Things were going well with the easy countries, on to Turkey.  "So how about Turkey?" I ventured confidently.  "They're pretty Eastern."

"Actually, they consider themselves Western and in fact act as a liaison between East and West while....".  I zoned out trying to regroup.  He finished.

"But they don't have a lot of interaction with the West," I said authoritively, for reasons I don't fully understand.

"They are a member of NATO.   Are you studying Turkey?"  He glanced at Albana.

Hmm, the ABORT sign was flashing.  I needed to quit while I was ahead.  I resisted that impulse.  "Yeah but there's a lot of people there," I pushed on.  "Like, 400 million?"

"About 80 million," he corrected.  

I thought for a second.  "Do you like beer?"  Please God don't let him be Mormon.  But his eyes lit up and we talked beer in Belgium, England and Portland, yeast strains and bacterial variations.  It was his lunch, we'd made him talk about work for a half hour.  The rest of the lunch went well, talking about government and Brussels and why Brussels doesn't have a government.  The food itself was of excellent quality and perfect portions, which made me want to be rich or at least have a job that would reimburse me for lunches like these.

At the end of the lunch, I offered him my business card and he accepted.  He fumbled around for one of his before saying (truthfully or not) that he didn't have one.  I don't expect to get a job or even a phone call out of it, but this is what you're supposed to do at functions like these.  And if I can get in way over my head with a highroller and still pull it out in the end, then I think this networking thing just got a whole lot easier.

Normandy, France

Hello!

I just got back from a few days in France.  A friend from school has a family house in Normandy, France, near the town of Ecouche and she invited a group of us to drive down.  So we rented a minivan and drove the 6 hours down to France.  "Alabama" Dan has a Russian Ural motorcycle with a sidecar, so he followed us down with Holly in the sidecar.  So we spent a few days hanging out and seeing the sights.

The House

Some normal people and a crazy person.  Clockwise from me: "Alabama" Dan (USA), Marine (France), Alexandra (Romania), Rob (Roommate), Catia (Portugal), Leanne (Canada), Nick (USA)

Another crazy person mocking our dinner's head.

Breakfast, cooked by Alabama Dan.

The outside of Marine's family's house. The foundation was built in the 1200's, the house itself was built in the 1800's.

Farmland

The back of the house.

Marine riding a horse.

Lumberjack Paul with an axe that probably dates back to William the Conqueror. 

Gambling with toy trains.

The guest cottage, where the library is housed.  We found a bible printed in 1649. 

Alabama, Alexandra (on bike) and Catia (in sidecar) taking a joyride.

The Chateau

The only picture of Holly I can find.

Saint-Michel

This is an abbey on an island that is built on a rock in the sea, but is accessible at low tide.  People live on this island, and they still hold services in the abbey.

Japanese tourist invasion of Normandy.

Omaha Beach

I don't have to say how huge it was to walk out onto Omaha beach.  This is the site of what is considered to be the largest invasion in human history.  The beach is accessible, Marine says children play here when it's warm.  There is a fantastic museum at the top of the hill, and a cemetary that houses 25,000 graves from casualties of the US campaign in France.  Highly recommended if you ever get the chance, this is one of the most powerful things I have ever seen.

The beach, and oddly, the only time we saw clouds this whole trip.

Monument to the Engineers on top of one of the bunkers.

A bunker.

Part of the cemetery.

Going home...

Alabama Dan hits the open road.