In our living room...
26 December, 2007
24 December, 2007
Italy and Jeff's day in Belgium
Amalfi
Amalfi Coastline
Positano
Florence
Florence
Sidewalk art in Florence
Pisa
Rome- Pantheon
Roman Forum
Dinner in Belgium
From left: Me, Philippe (host dad), Jeff (uncle), Chantal (host mom), Maxime (host brother), Kaitlyn (Canadian exchange student)
14 December, 2007
new hair.
I almost cried when I saw the hair dresser. She was probably my age, working in her mom's salon. I showed her the color sample I wanted (A dark maroon/plum) and she pointed at the brightest red and said "it's better." Being under the impression that there would be no bleach involved, I went along with it thinking the brown would keep it subtle. No no, as you can see, it is not subtle. Everyone seems to like it though, and I like the cut a lot. I figure that it will settle down in a week or so.
08 December, 2007
Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland... (Germany)
Saturday, December 1, Kaitlyn and I were dropped off in Couvin (the other main town in the area- pop 12,000). We met our Youth Exchange Officer, Louie, and another Rotarian, along with their two families. We began the car ride to who-knows-where, to do who-knows-what, because being the exchange students, we are told squat. After two hours of small talk and loud children, we arrive in Liège, the second largest city in the French part of Belgium; full of culture, history and character; unlike Charleroi, the largest. So we get to the Grand Place and they tell us, go shopping, have fun, meet us back at noon. So we did. I bought a new brown sweater.
Then we had lunch. At Quick. The European equivalent of McDonalds. Of course I got several comments on how I’d enjoy this “American” meal. No, Americans are not all fast food junkies. No, every American is not obese and unhealthy. No, every hamburger is not fast food. And yes, I hate a whole late healthier with what I was fed at home than I am here. So please, stop insulting my culture!
After that it was back in the car for another hour car ride to Germany! I didn’t catch when we crossed the border, only when all the street signs looked like “adfadskfjdskl” to me. Coming to Belgium, I had some French and had an idea what things were saying, what people were talking about. Since then, I’ve only been to England and France. I’ve never studied a Germanic language, so it was a bit fun to listen to.
We went to this tiny long town wedged between two mountains (hills). It was all decorated like Christmas. Lots of food booths, hand made German Christmas decorations, lights. It looked like something you’d see in a Christmas movie, or a fake little touristy town based off of Europe Except, this was the real deal. The original. We stopped to buy apple fritters, which, by the way, were fantastic and ALMOST beat the Belgian waffle. Almost, not quite. Maybe I’m just prejudice. God knows how we managed to order what we wanted. When else will I get the chance to use my second language to talk to a salesman in their second language? Dinner was interesting. We had the typical German meal, A plate of soggy cabbage and mustard with ham. YUCK. For once, I wasn’t the only one who found the meal repulsive.
(Germany)
After returning to the Hotel, I hit the sacks for a real nights sleep. We stayed just over the border in the German part of Belgium, which is only 5% of the country. Thankfully we were there with a baby or else it we probably wouldn’t have been in until two. I’m not kidding either, after rotary dinners I get home at one. My birthday dinner ended at three AM. I was falling asleep and my future 8 year old host sisters were awake as ever. Dinner parties can end anywhere between 12:30 and morning, depending on the size and amount of alcohol involved. They are pretty much all alcoholics, by American standards. Anyways, we woke up at nine and went down for out continental breakfast. American hotels should really learn from this, we had a huge buffet full of five kinds of homemade bread, croissants, everything. And it was all baked that morning. All this for our two families and an older couple that were staying there. I had my first good scrambled eggs since I’ve been here. The host knew that we were a party of French speakers, but I don’t think he knew that Kaitlyn and I weren’t because he kept speaking to us in French (everyone here learns Dutch, French, and English, which is the most important for them). I think he thought we were talking slower to make sure he understood, really that’s just how we speak French. It was fun. Again, I got to use my second language to communicate with someone in their second language.
Then we headed off for what they told us would be a “walk.” First we stopped at the highest point in Belgium. Its actually 695 meters, but there was a 5 meter set of stairs to make it seven hundred. As Louie said, only Belgium would do something as pointless as that. Well, Sunday we didn’t have the pleasure of sun. In fact, we had the worst weather there has been all winter. The wind was strong enough to push me over and it was pouring. I was not dressed for this weather. We took a 45 minute walk on a boardwalk over the marshes. I thought the wind was going to push me off. The rain was blowing straight into my face and I thought my bones were going to freeze into ice. Afterwards we went and ate and my feet were soaked, and the rain had somehow gotten through my two jackets and 3 shirts and sweater and scarf. It was miserable. We all had soup. Mushroom soup. The only kind of soup that I despise. Oh, and it was quality soup, as in there were huge mushrooms floating around in it. I thought I was going to be sick. Well, we finally took off and I spent the 3 hour car ride squished in the middle of Kaitlyn reading, and Louie’s sick wife who groaned the whole way home. Oh, it was marvelous.
(Highest Point in Belgium)
Then we had lunch. At Quick. The European equivalent of McDonalds. Of course I got several comments on how I’d enjoy this “American” meal. No, Americans are not all fast food junkies. No, every American is not obese and unhealthy. No, every hamburger is not fast food. And yes, I hate a whole late healthier with what I was fed at home than I am here. So please, stop insulting my culture!
After that it was back in the car for another hour car ride to Germany! I didn’t catch when we crossed the border, only when all the street signs looked like “adfadskfjdskl” to me. Coming to Belgium, I had some French and had an idea what things were saying, what people were talking about. Since then, I’ve only been to England and France. I’ve never studied a Germanic language, so it was a bit fun to listen to.
We went to this tiny long town wedged between two mountains (hills). It was all decorated like Christmas. Lots of food booths, hand made German Christmas decorations, lights. It looked like something you’d see in a Christmas movie, or a fake little touristy town based off of Europe Except, this was the real deal. The original. We stopped to buy apple fritters, which, by the way, were fantastic and ALMOST beat the Belgian waffle. Almost, not quite. Maybe I’m just prejudice. God knows how we managed to order what we wanted. When else will I get the chance to use my second language to talk to a salesman in their second language? Dinner was interesting. We had the typical German meal, A plate of soggy cabbage and mustard with ham. YUCK. For once, I wasn’t the only one who found the meal repulsive.
(Germany)
After returning to the Hotel, I hit the sacks for a real nights sleep. We stayed just over the border in the German part of Belgium, which is only 5% of the country. Thankfully we were there with a baby or else it we probably wouldn’t have been in until two. I’m not kidding either, after rotary dinners I get home at one. My birthday dinner ended at three AM. I was falling asleep and my future 8 year old host sisters were awake as ever. Dinner parties can end anywhere between 12:30 and morning, depending on the size and amount of alcohol involved. They are pretty much all alcoholics, by American standards. Anyways, we woke up at nine and went down for out continental breakfast. American hotels should really learn from this, we had a huge buffet full of five kinds of homemade bread, croissants, everything. And it was all baked that morning. All this for our two families and an older couple that were staying there. I had my first good scrambled eggs since I’ve been here. The host knew that we were a party of French speakers, but I don’t think he knew that Kaitlyn and I weren’t because he kept speaking to us in French (everyone here learns Dutch, French, and English, which is the most important for them). I think he thought we were talking slower to make sure he understood, really that’s just how we speak French. It was fun. Again, I got to use my second language to communicate with someone in their second language.
Then we headed off for what they told us would be a “walk.” First we stopped at the highest point in Belgium. Its actually 695 meters, but there was a 5 meter set of stairs to make it seven hundred. As Louie said, only Belgium would do something as pointless as that. Well, Sunday we didn’t have the pleasure of sun. In fact, we had the worst weather there has been all winter. The wind was strong enough to push me over and it was pouring. I was not dressed for this weather. We took a 45 minute walk on a boardwalk over the marshes. I thought the wind was going to push me off. The rain was blowing straight into my face and I thought my bones were going to freeze into ice. Afterwards we went and ate and my feet were soaked, and the rain had somehow gotten through my two jackets and 3 shirts and sweater and scarf. It was miserable. We all had soup. Mushroom soup. The only kind of soup that I despise. Oh, and it was quality soup, as in there were huge mushrooms floating around in it. I thought I was going to be sick. Well, we finally took off and I spent the 3 hour car ride squished in the middle of Kaitlyn reading, and Louie’s sick wife who groaned the whole way home. Oh, it was marvelous.
(Highest Point in Belgium)
02 December, 2007
The View From My Window...
If the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall, then I think we would see the beauty then, we would stand staring in awe, at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges...
-Bright Eyes
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