belgium journal: 18 posts

The idea of picking up and moving to a new place has always seemed exciting to me. I was attracted by the idea of meeting new people, learning a new language, and cooking new foods. So, when it became obvious that my husband’s Belgian project is likely to turn into a permanent one, I fully supported his decision to accept it. The first few weeks of our stay in Belgium were a whirlwind romance, when every single quirk seemed charming and every new discovery a minor epiphany.

My vie en rose started to color grey the first moment I set foot inside the city hall that smelled of dust and desperation.  It suddenly became obvious to me that I’m not going back to the States at the end of the week and that this is not a vacation. As my list of things to do grew, everything became tougher. I didn’t know the rules. I missed the obvious social cues. A simple shopping trip felt like a nerve wracking oral exam in foreign language. One morning I felt so tired of everything that I just curled up under the blanket with hot tears rolling down my cheeks.

Anyone who has moved to a new place knows how hard these adjustments can be. I desperately missed my mom, my friends and my old way of life. Without having yet figured out the way things were done here, I felt very much out of my element. But I had to pull myself together. If I felt awkward and out of place, then I had to find small pleasures to comfort me while I got my bearings. Someone else might have poured themselves a drink, but I reached for another type of alcoholic substance–perfume.

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My ideal weekend would be spent reading or watching my favorite movies, but since we moved to Belgium my routine has been completely upended. Our apartment is so tiny that even the most minimalist notions of privacy are compromised–this is further compounded by the transparent bathroom door. To escape our weird living situation we’re taking lots of weekend trips. Belgium is a small country, but its size belies its impressive diversity. The travel distances are ridiculously short, especially by American standards, and if you are here as a tourist, I highly recommend renting a car and seeing the country this way.

A couple of weeks ago we were once again on the road going south. Belgium is divided into two regions; the Dutch-speaking Flanders spread out to the north, and the French-speaking Wallonia to the south. The line that bisects the country at Brussels may be imaginary, but it’s easy enough to get your bearings. Once the street signs start appearing shorter you’ll know that you’re in French-speaking Wallonia. Dutch, like German, has a tendency to fuse several words together in a string that looks unpronounceable to me.

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“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” Although Mark Twain never actually uttered this phrase famously attributed to him, had he spent the summer in Belgium, he would surely have come up with a quip along these lines. What do you think of when you hear about Belgium? Beer, chocolate, rain, Hercule Poirot? I haven’t spotted much of Poirot around, but beer, chocolate and rain are the leitmotifs to my Belgian impressions. And since I will be in Belgium for the next few months some time, I might as well get used to the rain.

Still, I can’t believe how cold the summer has been. On any given day, I wear a sweater and a jacket. I keep sunglasses and umbrella in my purse, because even if it’s sunny, the chances of rain are high.  The beer somewhat makes up for the cold weather, but since I shouldn’t rely on beer alone, I’ve been seeking solace  in other things. First of all, the warm, oriental style perfumes. Bombshells like Chanel Coco or Guerlain L’Heure Bleue are too much on days when the sun is warm and generous, but incense rich Diptyque Eau Lente, Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente, By Kilian Rose Oud, Chanel No 22 and Christian Dior Mitzah feel just right, whether it’s rain or shine. A recent discovery, Olfactive Studio Lumiere Blanche, with its creamy sandalwood drydown is another perfect warm accessory.

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