Okay, so the title of this post is a bad, bad pun. “Maïs” in French means “corn” or, as the Brits would say, “maize,” and is pronounced roughly the same way. So, why the pun?
Well, first off I’m missing fall back in the States and corn-mazes are a big-time fun fall thing to do, though I haven’t done one since me and a certain expert hiker friend of mine and I got lost in a small one while looking for pumpkins for the first annual UConn History House Halloween Party. He knows who he is….
The fall has always been my favorite time of year and one of the few things I really liked about living in CT (and my forty or so minute commute to campus) was the beautiful change of the leaves. It’s just not the same here. I’m waiting, though, for the Christmas season to kick in, that I know will be a lot of fun and just plain beautiful.
The second reason is that in my research I keep coming across mentions of corn and maïs in the documents I’m reading. Most of the time it’s all about how much is imported and distributed. The interesting thing, though, is that corn was not a staple human food in Europe at the time of World War I. At least not in Belgium. Corn was what was fed to animals. People didn’t eat it. The harvests at the time, however, were pretty bad and wheat – to make bread – was not plentiful and the US had – as it usually does – an excess of corn and Americans, especially those in the South, have had a long history of eating corn. So, where does that leave the Belgians?
Well, a big question I’m wrestling with is what happens when humanitarians and locals interact and this corn issue is important. I’ve now discovered some evidence to help with this: Belgian humanitarian leaders saying that American CRB delegates will help “instruct” the Belgian people in the use of corn and corn flower. I’ve also uncovered some recipes that were transmitted to the Belgian Comité National.
Of course, you don’t discover this stuff until you’ve read or skimmed over many, many, many pages of French (or English) talking about things that you just don’t find important, but when things like this pop up it makes for a good day in the archive and justification for missing my friends, my family, my girlfriend, and fall back in New England.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Afraid to get my hair cut....
As my friend PS (yes, ladies, he’s single, smart, and sexy; a real catch) said to me in an e-mail a while back, you soon get a little “non-plussed” with living in Europe. It simply becomes home. Beyond that, though, you start to remember that you need to find new places to do your usual routine. For instance, getting your haircut. Simply, put, I’m a little afraid of going to a place to have it cut. As far as I can tell there aren’t many corner semi-racists, misogynistic barbers near where I live. Most are salons and that’s fine, but I realized how could I convey what I wanted without looking like a total fool to a guy or gal with scissors. So, I’ve made a semi-executive decision to let it grown long and see what happens. (Of course, long for me is still short for most everyone else.) If and when I get the courage I’ll try to go for a really cool euro-style haircut…or not.
Anyway, it’s been a while since I updated, but I’ll make this short. Not much new or interesting has happened. I’ve been biding my time and saving money for when Carly comes to visit on Saturday. We’ll tour Brussels and go to Paris for a day. We may hit Antwerp and/or Bruges. Maybe Ypres. I can’t wait to have Carly here. I keep busy with work and such, am doing fun reading, and my internet has been behaving so I can still kill countless hours there and I did get my care package of DVDs so I can turn the brain off now and again, but it still gets a little lonely so it’ll be nice to have Carly’s company!
I’ve finished with one collection in the archive and have moved on to the big one I’m here to look at: the papers of the Comité National. It’s a newly processed collection and not yet in the online call database so my first attempt to order some documents was a little complicated, but I think it’s been figured out. I’ll see what happens this afternoon.
I did have a great moment on Saturday when I figured out what I can do with some of the stuff I’ve found. See, I came across this great 18 page copy of the minutes from a July 1915 meeting of the American relief delegates. It was full of good stuff, good quotes, and the like, but I didn’t know what larger purpose it had. So I did some – dare I say – research and found that this meeting took place after my man Hoover laid the smack down on the Belgians about his Commission’s role. This delegate’s meeting was to discuss the results of the Hoover Francqui (the Belgian chairman of the Comité National) and demonstrates some interesting things about how the CRB worked, the role of the delegates, their ideas of the Belgians, the CN and the like. It was a good moment and place to start doing some writing.
So, progress is being made, albeit slowly, but that’s the nature of the game. That said, next week – when Carly is here – will be a welcome diversion from my usual day-to-day living and existential crises over haircuts.
Anyway, it’s been a while since I updated, but I’ll make this short. Not much new or interesting has happened. I’ve been biding my time and saving money for when Carly comes to visit on Saturday. We’ll tour Brussels and go to Paris for a day. We may hit Antwerp and/or Bruges. Maybe Ypres. I can’t wait to have Carly here. I keep busy with work and such, am doing fun reading, and my internet has been behaving so I can still kill countless hours there and I did get my care package of DVDs so I can turn the brain off now and again, but it still gets a little lonely so it’ll be nice to have Carly’s company!
I’ve finished with one collection in the archive and have moved on to the big one I’m here to look at: the papers of the Comité National. It’s a newly processed collection and not yet in the online call database so my first attempt to order some documents was a little complicated, but I think it’s been figured out. I’ll see what happens this afternoon.
I did have a great moment on Saturday when I figured out what I can do with some of the stuff I’ve found. See, I came across this great 18 page copy of the minutes from a July 1915 meeting of the American relief delegates. It was full of good stuff, good quotes, and the like, but I didn’t know what larger purpose it had. So I did some – dare I say – research and found that this meeting took place after my man Hoover laid the smack down on the Belgians about his Commission’s role. This delegate’s meeting was to discuss the results of the Hoover Francqui (the Belgian chairman of the Comité National) and demonstrates some interesting things about how the CRB worked, the role of the delegates, their ideas of the Belgians, the CN and the like. It was a good moment and place to start doing some writing.
So, progress is being made, albeit slowly, but that’s the nature of the game. That said, next week – when Carly is here – will be a welcome diversion from my usual day-to-day living and existential crises over haircuts.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
A king lives here.
This time last year I was rushing to get my fellowship application for Belgium written, polished, and sent off. I was freaked out, confident I wouldn’t get it, fearful I would get it and have to go, nostalgic for long days on the couch watching The Wire. Well, I’ve been here in the Kingdom of Belgium for a month and a half already and it’s feeling like a home. I know how to get around without asking for directions or asking others. (In fact I’ve given directions a few times: in English, bad French, and once through lots of pointing). I know where things are. I have “my” places where I get a beer, a coffee, fresh bread, etc.
A friend recently asked if I had become “non-plussed” with living in Europe yet. The honest answer is, yes. After a while you become part of where you live and the humdrum of life takes over from the excitement of being some place new. That said, there are still things that make me stop and remember that I’m not where I’m from; that I’m in a different country. Something that I come back to is the fact that Belgium is a kingdom.
Now, “they” say that Americans are fascinated with royalty since, well, we don’t have one. (The Kennedys aside.) But it’s true, I’m fascinated by the fact that the head of state here is a king, a man who took office only because he was related to the previous occupant.
Now, the Belgian king isn’t like, say, the British monarch with all that pomp and ceremony and history. He has no crown or other outward symbols of royalty, but he does have a huge palace that, when I walk by it, reminds me that the king works there. (He lives in the suburbs.) He is, though, a seemingly unifying force in a country deeply divided by language.
In fact, walking around the government quarter you see the complex nature of the Belgian government. The national government has its seat in the Palace of the Nation across Parc Bruxelles that separates it from the Royal Palace. Then, next to it is the Parliament of the French Speaking Community that governs the cultural aspects of the Francophone part of Belgium. A little ways away is the Flemish Parliament that combines the government of the Flemish Community (the cultural aspect) and the Flemish Region (the economic aspect). The Region of Walloonia has a parliament separate from the community. When you talk about a federal system, Belgium puts the United States to shame!
Now, I probably could have written the dissertation I’m writing without being here or even if I came for just a little while to lock myself in the archive, but it’s walking around and, when I can, talking to people that really helps me understand the nature of this young and divided country. For instance, I learned that Ypres – the living memorial to World War I – is center of Flemish nationalism. I had no idea and I probably could have read it in a book, but it was more interesting hearing it from a Francophone Belgian.
I can also get out and see where the things I’m studying happened. For instance, the former headquarters of the CRB are located on Rue des Colonies (a road named in honor of the Congo). It’s now the offices of a Russian airline. The old headquarters of the Belgian National Committee are just around the corner, now long gone and, in its place, is an ugly modern building that houses Fortis Bank. And the German administration was located down the road from both in the heart of the Royal Quarter in what is now the Constitutional Court of the Belgium.
It’s an interesting feeling to walk around from each address to the next thinking that, well, nearly 100 years ago the people I’m studying were walking the same streets. (They probably weren’t eating a piping hot waffle while doing it, but hey I do have to separate myself some how from my subjects.)
Anyway, the point here is, though I was freaking out a year ago, the choice to apply and the support from family, friends, and my committee has helped put me here and has given me a unique perspective with which to write my dissertation…and, oh year, an excuse to live abroad. Here’s hoping I earn it.
A friend recently asked if I had become “non-plussed” with living in Europe yet. The honest answer is, yes. After a while you become part of where you live and the humdrum of life takes over from the excitement of being some place new. That said, there are still things that make me stop and remember that I’m not where I’m from; that I’m in a different country. Something that I come back to is the fact that Belgium is a kingdom.
Now, “they” say that Americans are fascinated with royalty since, well, we don’t have one. (The Kennedys aside.) But it’s true, I’m fascinated by the fact that the head of state here is a king, a man who took office only because he was related to the previous occupant.
Now, the Belgian king isn’t like, say, the British monarch with all that pomp and ceremony and history. He has no crown or other outward symbols of royalty, but he does have a huge palace that, when I walk by it, reminds me that the king works there. (He lives in the suburbs.) He is, though, a seemingly unifying force in a country deeply divided by language.
In fact, walking around the government quarter you see the complex nature of the Belgian government. The national government has its seat in the Palace of the Nation across Parc Bruxelles that separates it from the Royal Palace. Then, next to it is the Parliament of the French Speaking Community that governs the cultural aspects of the Francophone part of Belgium. A little ways away is the Flemish Parliament that combines the government of the Flemish Community (the cultural aspect) and the Flemish Region (the economic aspect). The Region of Walloonia has a parliament separate from the community. When you talk about a federal system, Belgium puts the United States to shame!
Now, I probably could have written the dissertation I’m writing without being here or even if I came for just a little while to lock myself in the archive, but it’s walking around and, when I can, talking to people that really helps me understand the nature of this young and divided country. For instance, I learned that Ypres – the living memorial to World War I – is center of Flemish nationalism. I had no idea and I probably could have read it in a book, but it was more interesting hearing it from a Francophone Belgian.
I can also get out and see where the things I’m studying happened. For instance, the former headquarters of the CRB are located on Rue des Colonies (a road named in honor of the Congo). It’s now the offices of a Russian airline. The old headquarters of the Belgian National Committee are just around the corner, now long gone and, in its place, is an ugly modern building that houses Fortis Bank. And the German administration was located down the road from both in the heart of the Royal Quarter in what is now the Constitutional Court of the Belgium.
It’s an interesting feeling to walk around from each address to the next thinking that, well, nearly 100 years ago the people I’m studying were walking the same streets. (They probably weren’t eating a piping hot waffle while doing it, but hey I do have to separate myself some how from my subjects.)
Anyway, the point here is, though I was freaking out a year ago, the choice to apply and the support from family, friends, and my committee has helped put me here and has given me a unique perspective with which to write my dissertation…and, oh year, an excuse to live abroad. Here’s hoping I earn it.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Seriously, Ikea decorated the State Archive of Belgium
I don’t have much of an ass, so sitting on molded hard plastic chairs for hours at a time isn’t fun. Sadly, that’s what I have to do in the archive. At least the Hoover had soft chairs, even if it was like being in kindergarten from time to time….
In between all this fun, I’ve been getting some good work in at the State Archives. I love living 15 minutes from work. It’s a quick commute in the morning. I come home for lunch and Skype with Carly for a half hour or so and then head back for the afternoon. I do miss listening to NPR on the way to work, though. Last Fall, when I was teaching US II, my students would ask about the economic meltdown and I’d happily recount what I learned the morning on NPR. (Yes, I’m a socialist, fascist, communist, death paneler, MSNBC watching, Obama voting, (now) expatriate.)
Anyway, the work has been slow going. Whoever indexed the Commission for Relief in Belgium files (starting in 1927 and finished in 2000) could had done better than just listing, “various correspondence” and the like in the index. So, I have to leaf through each file and folder because occasionally I will find a gem of a document.
Like today, I was going through another folder (I’ve moved on from only discussions about corn imports) and came across a few serial letters about the Belgian National Committee wanting to get permission from the German government to set up libraries in the Flemish and Walloon regions of Belgium. They were denied as the libraries were not directly related to aid and food relief. Since part of my dissertation is looking at what is “normal” before and during a war in terms of humanitarian relief, this was fascinating to me. Was this an extravagance? The Belgians said, no. In times of idleness and unemployment, libraries are a place for people to do go busy themselves. This was a concern of both the US, the Belgians, and the Germans. Especially the Germans. They would deport people for idleness….but the libraries, at least as far as I know so far, were a no go.
Now, this does not a dissertation make, but it’s interesting color and shows the breath of work the Belgian National Committee undertook. The Belgians wrote to the US minister, Brand Whitlock, for assistance, too!
The core of my project is the experience of the Americans who worked here, but I’m finding more and more that their world was not just “their” world, but a world that incorporated a lot of off beat things to make life livable (not just sustainable) for the Belgian people and that’s a deeper question I hope to explore in this project: what world does a humanitarian mission create and what are the power relationships created? I don’t know yet. Ask me in a year or so.
Anyway for my dissertation committee (if you’re reading this): the work goes slowly, but steadily.
In between all this fun, I’ve been getting some good work in at the State Archives. I love living 15 minutes from work. It’s a quick commute in the morning. I come home for lunch and Skype with Carly for a half hour or so and then head back for the afternoon. I do miss listening to NPR on the way to work, though. Last Fall, when I was teaching US II, my students would ask about the economic meltdown and I’d happily recount what I learned the morning on NPR. (Yes, I’m a socialist, fascist, communist, death paneler, MSNBC watching, Obama voting, (now) expatriate.)
Anyway, the work has been slow going. Whoever indexed the Commission for Relief in Belgium files (starting in 1927 and finished in 2000) could had done better than just listing, “various correspondence” and the like in the index. So, I have to leaf through each file and folder because occasionally I will find a gem of a document.
Like today, I was going through another folder (I’ve moved on from only discussions about corn imports) and came across a few serial letters about the Belgian National Committee wanting to get permission from the German government to set up libraries in the Flemish and Walloon regions of Belgium. They were denied as the libraries were not directly related to aid and food relief. Since part of my dissertation is looking at what is “normal” before and during a war in terms of humanitarian relief, this was fascinating to me. Was this an extravagance? The Belgians said, no. In times of idleness and unemployment, libraries are a place for people to do go busy themselves. This was a concern of both the US, the Belgians, and the Germans. Especially the Germans. They would deport people for idleness….but the libraries, at least as far as I know so far, were a no go.
Now, this does not a dissertation make, but it’s interesting color and shows the breath of work the Belgian National Committee undertook. The Belgians wrote to the US minister, Brand Whitlock, for assistance, too!
The core of my project is the experience of the Americans who worked here, but I’m finding more and more that their world was not just “their” world, but a world that incorporated a lot of off beat things to make life livable (not just sustainable) for the Belgian people and that’s a deeper question I hope to explore in this project: what world does a humanitarian mission create and what are the power relationships created? I don’t know yet. Ask me in a year or so.
Anyway for my dissertation committee (if you’re reading this): the work goes slowly, but steadily.
Oh, yeah, I live in Belgium
On the way home from the archive today I had a moment that has been fleeting recently: “Oh yea,” I thought, “I live in Belgium.” It seems that after a month and a week that I’ve become a bit acculturated to my life here. I feel less like I need to be “doing something” each day. (Don’t get me wrong, though, I do plan on taking advantage of life here, but the need to have a planned activity is less and less.)
I’m trying to read more…for fun, that is. My usual fare is news on the intertubes, books for work, and non-fiction “fun” reading. But, my internet is somewhat limited now and with no TV, the thought of reading only for work and non-fiction isn’t always appealing. Thankfully Carly has placed into my mind books that she thinks I’d like and, so far, she’s been right. There are two big English language bookstores in Brussels, but a store near me has a good English language selection and so far I’ve made my way through Tom Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (see more below) and Ken Follett’s Pillars of the Earth. I loved Pillars in part because I’ve fallen in love with the church of Our Lady of the Sablon. (See post below for picture.)
For those who don’t know, Pillars takes place in 12 century England and is set amidst the political and religious turmoil of “The Anarchy” in England. The central plot is the building of a cathedral in a small town. Birth, death, rape, war, building, love, humor, and sex – lots of sex – takes place and, well, it’s just a fun world to get caught up in. The descriptions of how a gothic cathedral could be built are vivid and I walk by one each day! It really made me look at the work of the church in a different way. Anyway, it’s a good read – even at over 1,000 pages.
As for R & G Are Dead, it’s one of my favorite plays. It’s absurdist – like Waiting for Godot, but takes Hamlet’s two “friends” as it’s central characters and tells us the story of them off stage during Hamlet and their thoughts and questions and, occasionally, answers. I reread it because I decided to see a production of the play here, in Brussels this past Tuesday. It was well done, very well done. I understood parts of it, but know it pretty well that it didn’t matter. It was actually a lot of fun to be immersed in French….
….which makes socializing a bit difficulty, but I like the challenge. To that end, I went out with my Belgian friend, SC, on Wednesday to see Up. It was spur of the moment and, I think, that has a lot to do with me feeling a bit more “at home.” I wasn’t planning on anything, it just happened. I met him and a couple of his friends who spoke mainly French. I got some of the conversation and they spoke a little English.
Up was great and it was nice to be out doing something “regular.” We got out tickets and then got food at Hecktor Chicken, the Belgian version of KFC. Again, not fast, but tasty. And, of course, they served beer and all the appropriate glasses.
All this fun is good, but the archive awaits.
I’m trying to read more…for fun, that is. My usual fare is news on the intertubes, books for work, and non-fiction “fun” reading. But, my internet is somewhat limited now and with no TV, the thought of reading only for work and non-fiction isn’t always appealing. Thankfully Carly has placed into my mind books that she thinks I’d like and, so far, she’s been right. There are two big English language bookstores in Brussels, but a store near me has a good English language selection and so far I’ve made my way through Tom Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (see more below) and Ken Follett’s Pillars of the Earth. I loved Pillars in part because I’ve fallen in love with the church of Our Lady of the Sablon. (See post below for picture.)
For those who don’t know, Pillars takes place in 12 century England and is set amidst the political and religious turmoil of “The Anarchy” in England. The central plot is the building of a cathedral in a small town. Birth, death, rape, war, building, love, humor, and sex – lots of sex – takes place and, well, it’s just a fun world to get caught up in. The descriptions of how a gothic cathedral could be built are vivid and I walk by one each day! It really made me look at the work of the church in a different way. Anyway, it’s a good read – even at over 1,000 pages.
As for R & G Are Dead, it’s one of my favorite plays. It’s absurdist – like Waiting for Godot, but takes Hamlet’s two “friends” as it’s central characters and tells us the story of them off stage during Hamlet and their thoughts and questions and, occasionally, answers. I reread it because I decided to see a production of the play here, in Brussels this past Tuesday. It was well done, very well done. I understood parts of it, but know it pretty well that it didn’t matter. It was actually a lot of fun to be immersed in French….
….which makes socializing a bit difficulty, but I like the challenge. To that end, I went out with my Belgian friend, SC, on Wednesday to see Up. It was spur of the moment and, I think, that has a lot to do with me feeling a bit more “at home.” I wasn’t planning on anything, it just happened. I met him and a couple of his friends who spoke mainly French. I got some of the conversation and they spoke a little English.
Up was great and it was nice to be out doing something “regular.” We got out tickets and then got food at Hecktor Chicken, the Belgian version of KFC. Again, not fast, but tasty. And, of course, they served beer and all the appropriate glasses.
All this fun is good, but the archive awaits.
Monday, October 5, 2009
A cool White Night....
This past weekend was Nuit Blanche in Brussels. Translated as "white night" or "all-nighter," Nuit Blanche is a late-night "reclamation" of urban space with music, art, dancing, clubbing, movies, etc. Most museums were open late and for free. A lot of other European cities have their own versions and, well, it's pretty neat.
I hit the town late with my flatmate, AS and his girlfriend and a couple of her friends from back home. AS is Pakistani and his girlfriend is Romanian. It's a mini United Nations here.
Anyway, we didn't have much of an agenda. Our attempt to meet up with some others failed, so we headed over to the Bourse (the old Stock Exchange) and encountered a group playing the drums and a guy playing a kazoo.
We wandered a bit, trying to find more events. Oddly enough, there was nothing going on Grand Place so we headed for another square, Albertine and there we found a small art exhibit and a lot of young Belgians hanging out drinking. (It seems that open container laws don't exist her.)
We wandered some more and happened upon a girl with a huge puppet spider "spinning" its web across a street and "attacking" passers-by.
Now, I was told I needed to go to a European techno-club. Well, I now have -- sort of. There is a big "gallerie" (or shopping arcade) called Ravenstein and there was a huge (and loud) techno dance party going on. We didn't join in, but we just hung around and watched and listened to the heavy bass beat do its thing and move the people on the floor to flail arms and make out. We left about about 15 minutes. I got my hearing back about 30 minutes later.
Then it was the the Royal Park and there was another dance party going on, so it was over to the Royal Palace (not much there) and then to BelVUE....
Now BelVUE is pretty cool. It's an old hotel right next to the Royal Palace. It's been turned into a museum of the history of Belgium. I spent about 2 hours in it earlier in the day on Saturday.
There is a restaurant on the ground floor and for Nuit Blanche it was turned into a ballroom dancing floor with a bunch of couples dancing to music.
We left there and continued to wander a bit and by this time it was late, around 1am and we decided to call it a night. One the way back I again stopped at Quick for a bite to eat and, of course, there was a problem with the order. There always is....and I got home around 1:30 and into bed around 2:30 or so.
All in all an enjoyable evening out with a nice and interesting group of people. Now it's back to the archive where I hope things pick up a bit. It's been slow going with boring records of corn imports and the like....
I hit the town late with my flatmate, AS and his girlfriend and a couple of her friends from back home. AS is Pakistani and his girlfriend is Romanian. It's a mini United Nations here.
Anyway, we didn't have much of an agenda. Our attempt to meet up with some others failed, so we headed over to the Bourse (the old Stock Exchange) and encountered a group playing the drums and a guy playing a kazoo.
We wandered a bit, trying to find more events. Oddly enough, there was nothing going on Grand Place so we headed for another square, Albertine and there we found a small art exhibit and a lot of young Belgians hanging out drinking. (It seems that open container laws don't exist her.)
We wandered some more and happened upon a girl with a huge puppet spider "spinning" its web across a street and "attacking" passers-by.
Now, I was told I needed to go to a European techno-club. Well, I now have -- sort of. There is a big "gallerie" (or shopping arcade) called Ravenstein and there was a huge (and loud) techno dance party going on. We didn't join in, but we just hung around and watched and listened to the heavy bass beat do its thing and move the people on the floor to flail arms and make out. We left about about 15 minutes. I got my hearing back about 30 minutes later.
Then it was the the Royal Park and there was another dance party going on, so it was over to the Royal Palace (not much there) and then to BelVUE....
Now BelVUE is pretty cool. It's an old hotel right next to the Royal Palace. It's been turned into a museum of the history of Belgium. I spent about 2 hours in it earlier in the day on Saturday.
There is a restaurant on the ground floor and for Nuit Blanche it was turned into a ballroom dancing floor with a bunch of couples dancing to music.
We left there and continued to wander a bit and by this time it was late, around 1am and we decided to call it a night. One the way back I again stopped at Quick for a bite to eat and, of course, there was a problem with the order. There always is....and I got home around 1:30 and into bed around 2:30 or so.
All in all an enjoyable evening out with a nice and interesting group of people. Now it's back to the archive where I hope things pick up a bit. It's been slow going with boring records of corn imports and the like....
Friday, October 2, 2009
A trip to the countryside
Brussels is nice. Really, it is. And, yes, I’m a city boy. Well, as much as a suburban Long Islander can be a city boy. Nonetheless, I like cities. Big cities, though, are, well, big and most have a similar feel. Brussels is, as I’ve said before on this blog, the “Capital of Europe.” It is host to the European Commission and the executive Council. Who knows, if the Irish pass the Lisbon Treaty today Tony Blair may soon be taking up residence in Brussels as President of the European Union….Anyway, because of that it has an international feel which is great, but I’m here to study Belgium to some extent and you can only do so much of that in it’s capital.
I don’t know many people here, but when I arrived I was put up by a former Belgian BAEF fellow, SC. SC and his girlfriend and sister have a place in the university section of town and they were very kind, took me out for lunch and dinner, and helped me get settled before I found my place in Saint-Gilles.
Last weekend was the Fête du Communauté française de Belgique (Festival of the French Community of Belgium) with all sorts of things going on around the French-speaking part of Brussels and Belgium itself. A day or two before the start of the festival, I wandered through Grand Place to see a huge stage set up and a sound check going on for some Belgian pop star. It was an interesting mix of old and new.
It was around then that I got an invite from SC’s sister to join her and her family in their hometown about 30 minutes by train outside of the City for a dance performance called “Décrocher la Lune” (to take down the moon). Heeding my mantra of, “yes, I’ll go!” I took her up on the offer and planed for, well, I didn’t know what to plan for. I had no idea what this was. Evidently the same guy who put together the stage show for Celine Dion in Vegas was responsible for this. Having never seen that Vegas show (or any Vegas show for that matter) I was happily ignorant of the spectacle that was going to unfold on the small square in La Louvière, the small town where the performance was to take place.
I met EC at Gare Nord (North Station) and took the train south into Brabant Walloon. “So, you went to Ypres last weekend,” she said. “Yup,” I replied. “You know that’s a center of Flemish extremism, of separatism.” “No!” I said. I had no idea. The divisions in this country are interesting and I’m fascinated by who thinks what and so on. EC likes her country as one, as do most Belgians when it comes down to it, but there are centers of extremism, especially in Flanders where the economy is booming. The fact that Ypres is a center of it is interesting since that was the place where the Allies took a stand in World War I to stop the Germans to save a unified and free Belgium. (Something for the blog, I thought!)
Anyway, the trip was nice and the countryside was beautiful. We arrived at the station and went with her father to their house, a nice place literally in the country. We drove down a one lane road after we left the town passing fields of wheat, corn, potatoes, and a golf course….the Scots got here, too!
Lunch was very nice – it was nice to have a home cooked meal, though I’m trying my best to cook as much as I can at my place – and then EC, her mom and I headed out for an impromptu tour of the area. I didn’t see this coming. (Oh, and the festival started at 9pm and we all wouldn’t be back ‘till late, I was to stay over. Of course, I had no change of clothes….oh well, when in Belgium….)
First we went to the church in Nivelles. A Romanesque church that, well, um, the US destroyed during World War II. It seems we didn’t have smart bombs then either and missed the target destroying the church, La Collégiale Sainte-Gertrude. In what I’m sure Glen Beck would have thought was a terrible waste of our tax dollars, the US offered to rebuild the church after the war.
Now, the kindness of those I’ve met here has been phenomenal and the tour of the church we took was no exception. EC’s mom hired a very nice docent to give us the tour. Of course, it was in French. Thankfully our kindly tour guide spoke very slowly and, of course, a bit more loudly than necessary (it’s a universal thing, it seems). I got about 1/3 of what she said about the church, 1/3 from the various hand gestures, pointing, and the like, and 1/3 from EC and her mom translating bits and pieces here and there.
Sainte-Gertrude was (is?) a pilgrimage church and there is one part of one pillar that acts as a “portal” where if you step through it, you will go to heaven. I did it. I fit through. I’m going to heaven. No problem. What was really cool was that the stone around this portal was so worn down all the pilgrims who had passed through it over the years. Pretty cool.
After the church we drove by the Battle of Waterloo site. It’s a big field with a man-made hill at one point with a cast-iron lion (the Dutch lion) at the top facing toward France as warning…sadly, the next enemy came from the other direction. Twice. (EC’s mom told me that every so often they have reenactments and people dress up as Dutch, French, Prussian, British soldiers and such. She said, "often people ask, “Where are the Americans….” Um, we weren’t always meddling in the affairs of Europe….)
Then we visited the ruins of an abbey. We got there late and only had about 20 minutes, but it was beautiful and peaceful. There was a bride and groom having their pictures taken in the nave of the old church, left half standing after a local businessman had sold, brick by brick, the stone buildings of the abbey for the building of new houses. This all happened after the French Revolution. Nonetheless, the place was hauntingly beautiful.
This is a long post, so I end this one here because the next bit of fun was the festival and, oh year, watching WWF wresting dubbed in French….
I don’t know many people here, but when I arrived I was put up by a former Belgian BAEF fellow, SC. SC and his girlfriend and sister have a place in the university section of town and they were very kind, took me out for lunch and dinner, and helped me get settled before I found my place in Saint-Gilles.
Last weekend was the Fête du Communauté française de Belgique (Festival of the French Community of Belgium) with all sorts of things going on around the French-speaking part of Brussels and Belgium itself. A day or two before the start of the festival, I wandered through Grand Place to see a huge stage set up and a sound check going on for some Belgian pop star. It was an interesting mix of old and new.
It was around then that I got an invite from SC’s sister to join her and her family in their hometown about 30 minutes by train outside of the City for a dance performance called “Décrocher la Lune” (to take down the moon). Heeding my mantra of, “yes, I’ll go!” I took her up on the offer and planed for, well, I didn’t know what to plan for. I had no idea what this was. Evidently the same guy who put together the stage show for Celine Dion in Vegas was responsible for this. Having never seen that Vegas show (or any Vegas show for that matter) I was happily ignorant of the spectacle that was going to unfold on the small square in La Louvière, the small town where the performance was to take place.
I met EC at Gare Nord (North Station) and took the train south into Brabant Walloon. “So, you went to Ypres last weekend,” she said. “Yup,” I replied. “You know that’s a center of Flemish extremism, of separatism.” “No!” I said. I had no idea. The divisions in this country are interesting and I’m fascinated by who thinks what and so on. EC likes her country as one, as do most Belgians when it comes down to it, but there are centers of extremism, especially in Flanders where the economy is booming. The fact that Ypres is a center of it is interesting since that was the place where the Allies took a stand in World War I to stop the Germans to save a unified and free Belgium. (Something for the blog, I thought!)
Anyway, the trip was nice and the countryside was beautiful. We arrived at the station and went with her father to their house, a nice place literally in the country. We drove down a one lane road after we left the town passing fields of wheat, corn, potatoes, and a golf course….the Scots got here, too!
Lunch was very nice – it was nice to have a home cooked meal, though I’m trying my best to cook as much as I can at my place – and then EC, her mom and I headed out for an impromptu tour of the area. I didn’t see this coming. (Oh, and the festival started at 9pm and we all wouldn’t be back ‘till late, I was to stay over. Of course, I had no change of clothes….oh well, when in Belgium….)
First we went to the church in Nivelles. A Romanesque church that, well, um, the US destroyed during World War II. It seems we didn’t have smart bombs then either and missed the target destroying the church, La Collégiale Sainte-Gertrude. In what I’m sure Glen Beck would have thought was a terrible waste of our tax dollars, the US offered to rebuild the church after the war.
Now, the kindness of those I’ve met here has been phenomenal and the tour of the church we took was no exception. EC’s mom hired a very nice docent to give us the tour. Of course, it was in French. Thankfully our kindly tour guide spoke very slowly and, of course, a bit more loudly than necessary (it’s a universal thing, it seems). I got about 1/3 of what she said about the church, 1/3 from the various hand gestures, pointing, and the like, and 1/3 from EC and her mom translating bits and pieces here and there.
Sainte-Gertrude was (is?) a pilgrimage church and there is one part of one pillar that acts as a “portal” where if you step through it, you will go to heaven. I did it. I fit through. I’m going to heaven. No problem. What was really cool was that the stone around this portal was so worn down all the pilgrims who had passed through it over the years. Pretty cool.
After the church we drove by the Battle of Waterloo site. It’s a big field with a man-made hill at one point with a cast-iron lion (the Dutch lion) at the top facing toward France as warning…sadly, the next enemy came from the other direction. Twice. (EC’s mom told me that every so often they have reenactments and people dress up as Dutch, French, Prussian, British soldiers and such. She said, "often people ask, “Where are the Americans….” Um, we weren’t always meddling in the affairs of Europe….)
Then we visited the ruins of an abbey. We got there late and only had about 20 minutes, but it was beautiful and peaceful. There was a bride and groom having their pictures taken in the nave of the old church, left half standing after a local businessman had sold, brick by brick, the stone buildings of the abbey for the building of new houses. This all happened after the French Revolution. Nonetheless, the place was hauntingly beautiful.
This is a long post, so I end this one here because the next bit of fun was the festival and, oh year, watching WWF wresting dubbed in French….
To Take Down the Moon
The French word for “show” is “le spectacle” and, well, what I saw on Saturday night the 26th of September was certainly a spectacle!
Décrocher la Lune only happens once every three years (it was every two, but, it’s damn expensive). This was one of those times when I was thinking, “I may very well be the only American at this thing!” There was going to be, I was told, between 10,000 and 20,000 people at this show. EC, her mom, dad, and a friend of the family and myself all squeezed onto the Grand Place of La Louvière (a name derived from “wolf”). There was a huge stage with what looked like organ pipes, the town in the center had a moon on it, and there was a huge crane about, too. The fire department was there, TV crews, and everything! I thought I was going to see a local dance performance, not a huge community event!
I soon discovered why the fire department was poised with water cannons and why the stage was full of pipe organs….a man in white began to light them like candles and, then, a few huge plumes of fire. This was going to be interesting, I thought.
The performance began and, sadly, I don’t have pictures – I was too mesmerized – but it was awesome. At one point a dancer danced up the façade of the tower with the moon on it, dancers suspended from the crane danced in the air, children let balloons go, there were a lot of drums (Carnival-type drums), and lots and lots of fire. At one point, music was played on the pipes on the main stage with fire. Not sure how that worked, but it was pretty cool.
Puppetry is a big thing in Belgium, (here is a museum in Brussels, just like at UConn!) and a number of puppets were dancing around, too. There was a story to go along with all this and a very energetic emcee was telling the story, but unlike in the church tour (see post above) I couldn’t follow all that well.
In the end, one of the puppets, Sancho I think was his name, literally climbed the tower and took down the moon. (Well, turned it off….) Not for long, though, because we need the moon and soon it was lighted again and then….fireworks, lots of them.
The show ended, of course, with a Michael Jackson impersonator performing Billie Jean. It was then back to the family friend’s house for a beer (I had Chimay, a good, strong trappist brew) and then back to the C’s house. I crashed in one of the spare rooms and never slept so soundly.
It was back to Brussels in the morning and a harried car ride to catch the right train, during which I found out that French drivers may very well be the Belgian equivalent of Jersey drivers or drivers from Florida. (Even with the bad driving of the car in front of us, I made the train)
I had a fantastic time and the hospitality of the C’s was just wonderful. As Mrs. C said, it’s nice to see something that you would know to look for unless you were a local and this was certainly something like that. This reminded me of my time in Orvieto in Italy when a friend and I stumbled upon a spectacle on a plaza there, with performers on stilts carrying flaming swords and reenacting an ancient myth of some sort. Just good times
Décrocher la Lune only happens once every three years (it was every two, but, it’s damn expensive). This was one of those times when I was thinking, “I may very well be the only American at this thing!” There was going to be, I was told, between 10,000 and 20,000 people at this show. EC, her mom, dad, and a friend of the family and myself all squeezed onto the Grand Place of La Louvière (a name derived from “wolf”). There was a huge stage with what looked like organ pipes, the town in the center had a moon on it, and there was a huge crane about, too. The fire department was there, TV crews, and everything! I thought I was going to see a local dance performance, not a huge community event!
I soon discovered why the fire department was poised with water cannons and why the stage was full of pipe organs….a man in white began to light them like candles and, then, a few huge plumes of fire. This was going to be interesting, I thought.
The performance began and, sadly, I don’t have pictures – I was too mesmerized – but it was awesome. At one point a dancer danced up the façade of the tower with the moon on it, dancers suspended from the crane danced in the air, children let balloons go, there were a lot of drums (Carnival-type drums), and lots and lots of fire. At one point, music was played on the pipes on the main stage with fire. Not sure how that worked, but it was pretty cool.
Puppetry is a big thing in Belgium, (here is a museum in Brussels, just like at UConn!) and a number of puppets were dancing around, too. There was a story to go along with all this and a very energetic emcee was telling the story, but unlike in the church tour (see post above) I couldn’t follow all that well.
In the end, one of the puppets, Sancho I think was his name, literally climbed the tower and took down the moon. (Well, turned it off….) Not for long, though, because we need the moon and soon it was lighted again and then….fireworks, lots of them.
The show ended, of course, with a Michael Jackson impersonator performing Billie Jean. It was then back to the family friend’s house for a beer (I had Chimay, a good, strong trappist brew) and then back to the C’s house. I crashed in one of the spare rooms and never slept so soundly.
It was back to Brussels in the morning and a harried car ride to catch the right train, during which I found out that French drivers may very well be the Belgian equivalent of Jersey drivers or drivers from Florida. (Even with the bad driving of the car in front of us, I made the train)
I had a fantastic time and the hospitality of the C’s was just wonderful. As Mrs. C said, it’s nice to see something that you would know to look for unless you were a local and this was certainly something like that. This reminded me of my time in Orvieto in Italy when a friend and I stumbled upon a spectacle on a plaza there, with performers on stilts carrying flaming swords and reenacting an ancient myth of some sort. Just good times
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