Yes, it's a real sign...

...posted by the department of tourism, and I'm sure Peter, my favorite Belgian culture expert,  will explain it to us

February 13, 2008

Black is supposed to be slimming

Earlier this week Pete went to the vet to get vaccinations and the passport he'll need to fly out of the country in March. Yes, he had to get a passport to LEAVE Belgium. The U.S. doesn't require it to enter the country, and our dear departed Amy didn't need one to enter Belgium in 2005 but Pete needs one to leave. Go figure.

The vet checking out my glossy black cat noted that he was "overweight." He weighs 6.5 kilos.

Does this coat make me look fat? Maybe I should suck my stomach in?

The vet says he needs more exercise, which is why Petey has been hitting the gym.

I'd rather be kickboxing!  Will this flatten my abs?

Pete has been on light cat food since he was neutered last March, but apparently he eats too much of it. He's like a woman who binges on Snackwells.

Dr. Get Thin said I shouldn't put Petey's food into a bowl but instead hide little kibbles of it all over the house so he has to "hunt" for it. No more rolling off the sofa and grabbing a snack in the kitchen. Nooooo! Now he has to work for every bite that goes into his mouth.

"Where's my food? If I lie down next to my bowl, will it magically appear?"

His friends Sylvie and Martina, the women who saved his life when he was a kitten, hated the idea of Pete hunting for his food and staged an intervention. They saw him when he was only a scrap of feline fur, and now it brings them great joy to know he's "fat and happy." They sent salmon terrine to show their love. No more hunting for light food nuggets!

Thanks Sylvie and Martina!

Sylvie and Martina have rescued many, many cats in Brussels and continue to place neutered/spayed and vaccinated pets into people's homes. If you're in the Brussels area and are interested in adopting a cat, contact me and I'll put you in touch with these lovely, kind-hearted and generous souls. (You can also follow this link which has contact info.)

February 8, 2008

A day at the spa in Spa

Belgium is famous for beer, chocolate, tapestry, and lace, but few people know it is home of the city that inspired the generic term "spa." The city of Spa in the Ardennes is the home of thermal springs that fed an industry of restorative baths, saunas, and relaxing beauty and body treatments.

Yesterday, in a bid to loosen our tight shoulders and unclench our muscles, we headed to the mountains. The drive was longer than I expected. It took us about an hour and a half to get there from Brussels, but this part of Belgium is a world away from the flatlands where I live. The geography reminded me of my childhood home in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, and the landscape was covered with a light dusting of snow that highlighted every tree branch, rooftop, hill, and steeple. It was so pure and so beautiful and transported me to a happy time in my past.

The spa we visited is perched on a hilltop overlooking the city, and offers dramatic views of the valley below and the woods  that surround it. We skipped beauty services (known as "cures") and opted to just enjoy the pool and baths.  The pool, heated to a very warm temperature, also has a whirlpool attached, Jacuzzi-style jets in certain sections, and a "river" exit that takes you outside onto the terrace and into outdoor pools where the water remains warm but the air is winter brisk.

There are lounge chairs, heat lamps to dry under, massage chairs, and a cafe, all under an enormous atrium dome that pulls your spirit upward with stunning skyscapes. I parked my lower back in front of a jet in the pool and just leaned back and admired the line art of the bare tree branches against the everchanging sky--blue gray to heather to pearl white to blue. While the facilities were very nice, it was the setting that really sold me on the experience and helped recharge my batteries and unknot my tense muscles.

I was surprised it wasn't more crowded, considering it was a Saturday. There were people ranging in age from their 20s to their 60s. Lots of couples. Some of them quite enthralled with each other. Sigh.

I really feel old (and cynical) when I realize how annoyed I get when people exchange long tender kisses or gaze passionately into one another's eyes in public. It makes me feel like a bitter middle-aged troll who may be loved but will never be an object of adoration again. Except in my cat's eyes. Thank God for Pete who signals his deep joy and contentment with my presence by purring and stretching his sleek glossy paws out to touch my face. He channels a lot of adoration and sleeps curled against me every night. I ought to buy him a Valentine.

We came back from Spa relaxed and content, but last night E-Grrrl began running a 103 degree fever and came downstairs late at night while I was making art. I sat with her from midnight until 2 a.m., worried at how sick she was, concerned about the headache that was accompanying the fever. When I finally went to bed, I couldn't sleep--meningitis anxiety bubbling up from time to time, drawing me back to her bedside.

Today her fever and aches remain but the headache is gone. I've got a cough, and my son A was complaining of a sore throat this morning. E has to travel this week and has his fingers crossed that health and wellness will be his companion.

So this afternoon I'll be busy making a pot of chicken soup, with extra garlic, hoping for the best....

February 3, 2008

Blahgging

So cold. So damp. So unbelievably windy.

The days howl and moan, the vent cover on the stove exhaust hiccups its discontent constantly, the garage doors rattle menacingly, and I feel I'm living on the set of a horror movie as the gray skies deepen and dusk falls.

It is a bad time of year not to have a car. I walked  to the pharmacy in the rain to pick up meds and then discovered I was three euros short of being able to pay for them. So I had to walk back home, holding onto my hood with one hand, bracing myself. I was nearly stopped in my tracks by the force of the wind gusts.

I raided my son's wallet and then walked all the way back to the pharmacy, looking forward to the day I have my own freakin money, can write checks, and not worry about converting dollars to euros.

It will be so nice to have a car again when I move to America. To not have to worry about the weather when I need to run errands.  To be able to go to the grocery store ANYTIME and get bread, milk, eggs, whatever. With two pre-teens in the house, I always need groceries, and I hate, hate, hate the hassles of using public transit to get them, not to mention the pain of how much everything costs here, especially with the crappy exchange rate.

Yeah, I'm crabby, and I'm bored, and I've had enough of living an empty life in an empty house. But I bet you already noticed that. 

January 31, 2008

Weekend in Antwerp

Friday afternoon E arranged his schedule so that I could meet Di in Brussels and travel back to Antwerp with her by train. Towing a surprisingly heavy suitcase to Gare Soud, we hooked up after Di completed a job interview. She looked sharp and brainy in a black suit, boots, and her Euro-cool glasses and I schelpped along at her side in my faded Levis, Almost-as-Good-as-Sex walking shoes and LL Bean parka. We chatted on the ride to Antwerp then caught the tram and tried to avoid falling on other passengers or sitting in each other's laps. Di says I groped her bum, but I think she sat on my hand on purpose. You can guess who's telling the truth here.

There was e-mail checking. sofa flopping, a walk to the store to get items for dinner, big plates of spaghetti, and quality time with the Wee Curly Grrrl, who dazzled me with hugs and happiness when she put on the luscious pink velvet princess cloak that E-Grrrl had outgrown and did a bit of a twirl. She is a feast for the eyes and the ONLY living creature who likes to admire my middle age belly. It is good to be three.

I'm just a bit older than that. My birthday is next week, and Di surprised me with a very special gift--a bracelet designed especially for me by my friend Lisa in Virginia (photos to follow when the camera batteries recharge!). I'd commisioned Lisa to make Di a bracelet in October, and she'd made one with unakite beads (the state stone of Virginia), silver Bali beads, and a centerpiece featuring a large glass bead that suggested the stones and mountains of New Zealand, Di's home country. I'd requested a silver charm engraved with the word "believe,"  to remind Di to always believe in her talent and her art.

Lisa's bracelet for me also features unakite beads and has Bali silver spacers as well as garnet and topaz Swarvorski crystal beads. The colors echo my favorite season--fall. The silver clasp is shaped like a leaf to honor my love of trees and nature. She added a dragonfly charm as a symbol of renewal and a charm engraved with the word "power." The centerpiece is a bead that resembles jade and is painted with a russet and gold flower that ties the whole color scheme together.  It is nothing short of perfect--and I love that it ties me to Di and to Virginia and to Lisa. Over the years I've purchased about five bracelets from Lisa as gifts, but I'd never purchased one of them for myself. 

Saturday we went to the market in the heart of Antwerp for crusty loaves of Ardennes bread, deep red flowers, and sweet crunchy apples. There was much buzzing about Saturday afternoon in preparation for my birthday party Saturday night. Jess made two pavlovas, Di cleaned, and I mulled over interview questions from Neil.

Saturday night brought E and the kids to Di's door, as well as Peter  and his s/o, Simon  and his wife Paola, Heather and Helen (Kiwi expats), Lut and Maurice (Belgian neighbors), and Ivan and Eva (a Spanish guitarist and his Belgian girlfriend), and Michelle, our favorite Italian from New Jersey. It was a particularly good mix of people and the conversation was lively. Ivan performed a number of songs for us, singing in Spanish and Portuguese.

E took the children home and I spent another night at Di's, embrassed by how much I adore sleeping under a down comforter with my arms wrapped around a hot water bottle . Sunday we were all late risers and slow moving. E came to join us for lunch and Di did a photo session with my family in the park.

And here it is, dusk falling, the weekend over, and pockets full of happy memories, soon to be followed by photos.

Hope your weekend was at least half as good as mine.

Janaury 27, 2008

Simple living

Another day that is such a deep gray that it seems we’re stuck in perpetual twilight. The wind has been howling incessantly since the middle of the week, and it fills me with a sense of unease.

The house we’ve rented here in Belgium is bigger than any house I lived in in America; it has three floors, five bedrooms, plus a full basement. Now it holds memories of our three years here and not much else.

It’s currently furnished with three beds, three dressers that look like filing cabinets, two ugly upholstered chairs, one ugly sofa, three end tables, three lamps, a kitchen table and chairs. Every cushioned surface, from the living room furniture to our mattresses, is sealed in some sort of plastic beneath the covering. When you sink into the sofa or chair or rollover in bed at night, there’s loud crinkling. It’s a bit like living in a doctor’s waiting room.

The kitchen is stocked with one plate, fork, spoon, and knife for each of us, about six cups, plastic tumblers, four sharp knives, a colander, and a basic set of cooking pans. The round table next to the window and our familiar dishes make this the part of the house that still feels like home.

The bathrooms hold one towel for each of us and our toiletries are scattered on the floor because they took all our shelves and the house has no built in cabinets or vanities.

My laptop is perched on a pile of empty cardboard boxes—my new desk courtesy of the movers. Two small laundry baskets hold a jumble of office supplies and papers and files on the floor.

My wardrobe consists of three pairs of pants, three pairs of shoes, four turtlenecks, five t-shirts, five sweaters, one vest, one sweatshirt, one set of pajama pants, a jacket and a raincoat. That will hold me until mid-March.

I miss my hot pink down vest, an item I didn’t keep with me because it’s not the most versatile color. It is, however, just the color you need to punctuate the mid-winter gloom and claim some cheer. Still, I’m glad for my heather gray wool cardigan. It’s trying to conjure a bit of levity with its pink striped sleeves.

This is the ultimate in downsizing. This is the simple life for a spoiled American grrrl.

Some how, despite all the planning, things got a bit scrambled during the packing.

I remembered to set aside my watercolors, but not my brushes or watercolor paper. I have my colored pencils, not my sketchbook.

My art journal got packed up, and I’d wanted to keep it with me. I’d planned to mail my photo negatives back to the U.S. in a tracked package but I just lost my will at the end. I did grab photo CDs and professional prints.

I only set aside three books because I don’t normally read a lot of books. Now I long for the distraction of a good story and the floor to ceiling bookcases that teemed with them. I need to get to the library, but I no longer have a car, so I have to pick a day when the wind and rain won’t punish me while I’m walking and waiting for the bus.

I picked up four magazines yesterday so I’d have something to flip through when I’m drinking tea at the kitchen table, a favorite escape now that the cleaning is done.

I have to admit, our Spartan bedroom has its own serenity, almost like a yoga studio. Bare wood floors, white walls, and a double bed with a single blanket on it. A lot of empty, yet a lot of comfort. When the lights go out, we lie on the narrow mattress, our backs touching, and we stare silently into the darkness, waiting for our dreams to roll in.

January 20, 2007

Eight days, eight weeks

Eight days until the packers show up.

As E, who was tense about the move and all the details to attend to, begins to relax a little bit, I find myself getting freaked out and shifting into high gear.

I wake in the night with anxiety over issues I can’t identify. I walk through the house with my stomach churning, jotting down my thoughts and watching the list of tasks to accomplish before the packers arrive next week get longer, not shorter . The better organized we are on this end, the easier the next three months will be.

Here’s how an international move is different than a local one. The movers will come next week and pack out almost all our stuff. Almost being the key word. A thousand pounds of household goods can be left behind for our second shipment, which will leave Belgium in late February.

When the first shipment leaves next week, we’ll be left in our house with a bare bones selection of borrowed furniture plus a  thousand pounds of our own household goods—which has to include clothing, dishes, flatware, basic cookware, sheets, pillows, blankets, linens, school supplies, and any tools and cleaning supplies we’ll need to get the house in shape for its final inspection.

A thousand pounds goes fast. You have to be selective and anticipate your needs. From experience I know It’s the little things that drive you nuts—reaching for a paperclip, rubber band, emery board, Ziploc bag, pencil eraser, lens cleaner, envelope, or a pair of scissors and realizing you don’t have them. Or longing desperately for an afghan to curl up under at the end of the day or a favorite sweater, jacket, or pair of shoes that was too bulky to be packed in a suitcase and was already shipped.

It will be EIGHT weeks before we catch our plane to Virginia and move into our house there. Eight weeks of living out of a suitcase, without a car. So I have to think big and think small and make smart choices, not just in terms of being practical but also in staying comfortable from now until mid-March.

Wish me luck!

January 8, 2008

Party's over in Brussels

Right before Christmas, the American Embassy issued an alert to all American citizens in the Brussels area, telling us to keep a low profile, avoid the Christmas markets and shopping centers, and be wary of using public transit in the city. The reason? Belgian police had arrested fourteen terror suspects and were concerned an attack was imminent.

And now terror fears have led to the cancellation of one of our favorite Belgian traditions: massive fireworks displays at midnight on New Year's Eve. Our house is situated so that we can watch the fireworks over Brussels from our third floor windows. It's always a spectacular display and one we enjoy with champagne glasses in hand.

Details from BBC News:

Terror fear douses Brussels party

Traditional New Year's Eve fireworks in the Belgian capital Brussels have been cancelled because of a security alert.

The Christmas market will close at 1800 instead of staying open all night, and even the ice rink will close early.

"We are still facing a potential threat," a spokesman for the Belgian capital said.

The alert follows police saying they had discovered a plot to free a jailed al-Qaeda suspect, Nizar Trabelsi. He has denied any such plot.

Last week police detained 14 people suspected of taking part in the alleged plot. But a judge said there was not enough evidence to hold any of them.

Trabelsi himself wrote to a Belgian newspaper to deny any attempt to carry out a jailbreak or terror attack.

The government raised security levels, with increased patrols at Brussels airport, transport systems and commercial centres, and says it sees no reason to lower them.

"We've reviewed the situation and the conclusion is that there is no reason to scale back the current level of (terror) alert," Jaak Raas of the government's Crisis Centre said.

Trabelsi, 37, is a Tunisian who came to Europe to play professional football in 1989.

He was arrested two days after the 9/11 attacks on targets in New York and Washington, and is now serving 10 years for plotting to blow up an air base in Belgium used by US personnel.

***

December 31, 2007

Christmas is over, time to get moving

Christmas is over and as the grey days stretch into dark nights, E and I are working to get ready for our move. In mid-January, our lives will be tucked into boxes and crates, covered with shrink wrap, and begin their journey toward America. We’ll catch up with our belongings in mid-March when a gigantic truck parks in front of our new house.

E spent part of an afternoon trying on clothes, releasing hopes of fitting into old pants, and assembling a big bag of giveaways. He’s been winnowing through his stash of tools and household chemicals in the garage. He dedicated the better part of a day to backing up our hard drive and removing excess files and programs. The filing cabinets and desk drawers are next to be purged.

Some neighbors stopped by to look through our giveaway piles. It was sad to see our croquet set go. We’ve had a lot of fun as a family playing croquet in the yard here, but our new home sits on a wooded lot with every inch of land near the house landscaped with beds and greenery. No grass. No croquet.

I have toys set aside for the Wee Curly Grrrl at Di’s, clothes set aside for charity, games set aside for an orphanage, books stacked up for the Boy Scout book sale, and electrical appliances and accessories set aside for Expat-CIT who will arrive here in January. I’ve been unpacking items that are currently packed in boxes so the movers can put them in sturdy new boxes. I have mountains of Tupperware, stacks of dishes, and enough mugs to serve coffee to the whole neighborhood—and this is after getting rid of some stuff earlier this fall.

Still despite all the evidence that our life here is ending and change is in the air, the reality hasn’t hit me yet. E is engaged mentally with the move on a dozen levels but my brain is processing information in slow motion. While he’s enjoyed his time here, he is eager to assume new responsibilities in his job near D.C. and put the bureaucracy he’s struggled with in Belgium behind him. My feelings are decidedly mixed. I look ahead to our new life and home with excitement AND trepidation. I’m eager to see old friends and be closer to family, there are places and things that I’ve missed, but I also live in fear of being smothered by an “ordinary” life in Virginia.

Being an expat has sometimes been frustrating or lonely, but it’s continually challenged me to think differently, live differently, experience the world from an entirely new perspective. I re-invented my life in Belgium, started this blog, discovered so much about myself, and thrived on being part of a diverse community while seeing Europe as both an outsider and as an insider. It’s been liberating to shake off all the expectations I had for myself and that others had for me and start over, to step outside my comfort zone and stretch my limits.

I don’t want to move back to Virginia and slip mindlessly into old routines and ways of thinking. I want to dwell in possibility and see my life and my self as works in progress. I don’t want anyone to chart a course for me. I want to travel through life without an itinerary. At this stage in my journey, I need to believe that I’m not done surprising myself, discovering new interests and talents, making new friends, embracing challenges, and finding new sources of wisdom and strength.

December 26, 2007

I have animal magnetism

Photo by Di Mackey. www.dimackeyphotography.com

Di caught me sharing a hug with Santa's reindeer in Valkenburg, Holland. I like the desperate, wild look in his eyes.

December 20, 2007