I arrived in Europe with almost no knowledge of world history. While walking through Leuven, I noticed that a bunch of buildings contained identical stones that said “1914″, with some strange symbols on them. It looked like a bushel of wheat or something. A bumper crop year? Adrian had to sit down with me and explain that in that year, most of Leuven had been destroyed by the Germans in World War I. The buildings that were subsequently rebuilt all integrated this stone into their facades, in memory of the destruction.

Every October, Hasselt hosts a Jeneverfeesten. Jenever is a liquor that is typically made from fermented barley, rye, and corn, and then redistilled. It is then flavoured with additives as diverse as coriander, carroway, passionfruit, lemon, or vanilla. The only jenever that I knew of before moving here was what we call gin, which is jenever that is flavoured with juniper berries. Now I have become very partial to chocolate jenever, which at 17% alcohol is delicious but dangerous.

We spent the day in Hasselt, sampling a wide range of their delicious jenevers, and snacking on freshly baked speculoos cookies. My favourite part was watching the cocktail jugglers assemble the winning cocktail, a mojito-inspired concoction of lime and mint.

Charles Marden makes a journey from Vancouver Island to Belgium, tracing a physical path that is similar to my own. His story, though, is one of looking backwards for answers, rather than forwards for adventure. It is 1918, and Marden has just received a letter telling him that his son was killed in Belgium. In order to try to make sense of this tragedy, he travels to Belgium to find the last place where his son stood alive.

Marden is numb and unable to comprehend the personal and global tragedies of the war, his loss so great it was impossible for me to grasp. What really shook me were the descriptions of Belgium after just after the war. I have visited these cities, now so carefully reconstructed, and it is so difficult for me to imagine them destroyed. For me, these are sunlit towns filled with happy memories, so to read of their annihilation was like learning of the abusive childhood of a dear friend.

It was like having heard of heaven and hell, and finding out, in one revelatory moment, that this is what they consisted of – not magic zones of fire, not fleecy zones of clouds, but a vaguely undulating series of muddy fields that looked like a lumpy pudding.
“Voila“, Conner said, smiling ironically. “The Western Front”.
…
Back on the island he had has a friend named Andre Slater who had a farm and grew potatoes. It wasn’t a particularly big farm, not by western standards, and yet the battlefield he stared at could have fit inside with room to spare. In the end, it was this comparison that defeated him – thinking how many boys had tried trying to cross Andre Slater’s farm.

Photo from JaaQ

Adrian’s dad and his wife are visiting at the moment, and last weekend we took them to Namur (in Wallonia) to watch the Combat de l’Echasse d’Or (fight for the golden stilt). This competition involves two teams of twenty men, with either red and white stilts (the Melans) or black and yellow stilts (the Averesses). In a ninety minute battle, the two teams attempted to knock the stilts out from each other. When the last of the Averesses fell, the Melans turned upon each other. Finally, only one man was left standing. Standing on one stilt, he lifted the other up into the air in victory. He won the l’Echasse d’Or, and will return next year to defend his title.

I am so happy that we have moved to Belgium. Everything seems to have fallen together perfectly. I have a great job, we have a lovely apartment, two cute kittens, and live in a fascinating country. Adrian finally has his own lab, and he has a team of students and staff who are benefiting from his wisdom and mentorship. On weekends we are able to explore new places and learn about other cultures. During the week we both go to jobs that we enjoy, and then come home to watch the sun set over the city that is becoming our own.