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Bonjour,
I'm at the beginning of another of my four day weekends. Another week of four hour classes, boring French law, cancelled European business law (3 out of our five classes have been cancelled), impassioned discussions of Malcolm X in my English class, trying to find out obscure words in French and then there's my understanding communication which needs more than a couple of words to sum it up. It is a cross between psychology, management and anthropology and is about the differences in cultures and how to overcome them. Basically, it taught me that everything I have experiences over the past year in Asia, Lebanon, Kenya and France is right and even has academic names. These cultures, it turns out are polychromic, whilst mine is monochromic. So there is now an entire theory as to why nothing ever gets on time, ever seems to get done in any logical way, no one ever gives you any of the information you need and why this occasionally drives me insane. At least I'm not German, or it would have been 10 times worse.
Last weekend I made use of my four days by trading in lying around eating cheese and drinking wine for drinking beer and eating chips and chocolate in the so called capital of Europe, Brussels. I have to admit, I always thought of Belgium as an extension of France and it sort of is until you hear Flemish, which was a bit of a shock. I could never imagine what a language halfway between German and French would sound like but I am now happy that thanks to Flemish I know.
Everyone speaks French in Brussels though, and a lot spoke English, so I had a slight identity crisis wondering which language to use all the time. I then rang my girls for parents day on Saturday and trying to speak Swahili, I kept regressing into French. This is the pain of learning another language, you improve so slowly at it and yet it takes over any other languages including English. I forget English words all the time, and my ability to spell has gone downhill completely (just be grateful my computer has a spell check right now).But all is not lost because a tourist asking me for directions in Lyon the other day told me kindly "You speak English very well." This came the day after I directed a French tourist in French and she actually understood, so I was convinced for a few days that I have mastered both languages.
But the people in Brussels are very patient at listening to stumbling French and will actually help you when they understand what you need, which was another reminder I was no longer in France.
Belgium is famous for food, unhealthy, fatty food which Brittany and I made the most of. The first night we wandered round and could only find Italian food on little streets crowded with tourists. But we were hungry so we ordered pizzas. I ordered a four cheese pizza (of course) and I was given a delicious four cheese pizza. Brittany ordered a vegetarian pizza and was given a vegetarian pizza.But it had an egg on it. A fully cookedegg poached on the middle of the pizza. In a mix of French and English the waiter said "sorry about that, c'est grave?" "Ca n'est pas grave?" replied Brittany a little shocked and we tried to spend the rest of the meal wondering how theyhad managed to accidentally drop and cook an egg on the pizza.
The next day we ate double fried fries, Belgium's pride and joy (I don't understand why they are not all huge!) and we later found out they are fried (twice!) in animal fat which is not so good for Brittany who is a vegetarian. I don't think she's going to be able to eat fries again any time soon.
The beer however went more according to plan. We went on a day trip to Bruge which really is as pretty and as touristy as the movie In Bruge suggests. After wandering around the pretty churches (one of them has the blood of Christ, apparently, so we spent a couple of hours looking for it looking at the maps and shouting tings to each other like "I think the blood's this way"), pretty streets and pretty canals, we got tired and found a little bar that is an expert in Belgian beers with over 300 different types and spent the rest of the afternoon there. We emerged slightly dazed, giggly and confused and I managed to get nearly hit by a car (I didn't survive Vietnam and Nairobi to be killed by traffic in Belgium!).
The next day we skipped the beer and I had a waffle with chocolate and strawberries for breakfast accompanied by a hot chocolate of the melted chocolate and cream variety.
Feeling very full I dragged myself onto the metro bound for mini Europe, a strange invention, it is like a little park where you go on a 'tour of Europe'. Every country in the EU is represented by miniature models of its most famous sites. Belgium had a seriously realistic version of Grand Place which was a strange feeling because we'd just been in the real thing that morning, Berlin had the wall (I heartily enjoyed pressing a button and making it fall down), France had pretty much all of Paris represented. And Malta? Malta had a small falling apart pile of stones representing an ancient village. "That's it?" I asked, "that's all of Malta." "Well, it is a small country," Brittany told me.
But due to my love of propoganda (especially the communistic kind), my favourite aspect was the unashamedly nationalistic (can you say that when it's about 27 nations joined together?) promotion of the EU with much talk of "the values and the spirit of Europe" and ode to joy, the European National anthem, playing every where.
The day before I had been to visit the European Union Parliament and this combined with mini Europe gave me a feeling of unease when I saw the staute that sits outside the Paraliament of a woman holding high above her head the euro while standing on the back of a man who is trying deparately to rise up and take it from her.
But you can't get too worried because Belgium is one of the most multi-cultural places I've ever seen. Nearly every second or third person was of African or Arab descent, as well as many Asians and, fittingly, people from all over Europe. And this
Roma and burqas that have passed recently might indicate this) is an incredibly multi-cultural country itself.
Tired and full, I got back to Lyon late Sunday night and ran to the station for the last train, which of course was late and then had to wait in central lyon for half an hour and fight through a scrum of people for only three taxis that arrived (at a taxi stand, at the main station, in the second busiest city in france, even when everyone was calling and telling the taxi companies to come!).
But that's France for you.
Au revoir.
- comments
Sharon Fisher Wow. My stomach bulges for you. How many countries is that now? SF