Policier: Central to Unit 27. Jean-Claude Van Damme’s robbing a post office. I need back-up.

I’ve seen so many things. I was born in Belgium, but I’m a citizen of the world. I’ve travelled a lot. It’s hard for me to judge people and it’s hard for them… not to judge me. Easier to blame me. Yeah, something like that.

It has been a very lazy holiday for me (though Adrian has been burdened with grants and reviews). After starting the day with a sleep-in, I might pop out to the boulangerie for a fresh baguette for Adrian to use to make me lunch. Then, after a nap, we might find the energy to pop out and explore the city. We have visited the Leuven Markets and sampled our way through the Winter Wonders (plaisirs d’hiver/ winter pret) Markets in Brussels, returning home with Hasselt speculaas and vanilla snowballs.

Yesterday we visited the Belgian Institute of Natural Sciences (Koninklijk Belgisch Instituut voor Natuurwetenschappen / Institut royal des Sciences naturelles de Belgique) to see the Destination Mars exhibition. I should have noticed that the woman at the door only charged us regular admission even though we got tickets to the temporary exhibition, too. This could have served as warning. Sadly, the Mars exhibition was only a tiny room with a few televisions and, for some reason, plasticine models of little green men. The only highlights were the scale models of two of the Mars rovers – 2004′s Spirit/ Opportunity and 1996′s Sojourner (incorrectly identified as Rocky).

However, the museum redeemed itself with the world’s finest collection of Iguanodons, with a note stating that they were still standing in their incorrect kangaroo-like positions, as they were too fragile to be repositioned into their cat-like posture. We also saw some very delicate crocodyliform fossils from the same coal mine in Bernissart, Belgium. All the fossils were a lusterous black, giving the army of Iguandons an impressive glow as they paused in their march through the gallery.

On Monday, as we had to catch the bus from Jen’s house to the train station, I made poor Adrian leave about five hours early to ensure that we wouldn’t be stuck in some sort of horrendous Roman traffic jam. Roma Termini was full of people – queueing, waiting, sleeping, and complaining. All tickets had been sold out for the rest of the week:

No seats were available in the train station, so we wedged ourselves and our luggage against a wall and waited for the minutes to tick past. We caught the train from Rome to Milan slowly north without incidence, and we were able to check into our hotel around 11:30pm. Our next train was set to depart at 7:10am. Adrian begged me not to make him get to the station five hours early again, and I agreed. I set both phones on to wake us up at 6:00am, and we even had time to grab a panini at the station before boarding our train to Zurich.

This was my favourite part of the route – what a difference between Italy and Switzerland, suddenly we were surrounded by snowy peaks, brightly washed houses, and crystal lakes. At lunch time we were in Zurich, grabbed some pizza and giant pretzels, then found our next train. I was so happy to finally see some sign of our progress:

As all the high-speed trains had been booked out, we had the rare chance of catching the INT90 from beginning to end, stopping at:

Zurich (Switzerland)
Baden (Switzerland)
Brugg (Switzerland)
Frick (Switzerland)
Stein-S (Switzerland)
Rheinfelden (Switzerland)
Basel (Switzerland)
St Louis Haut Rhin (France)
Mulhouse (France)
Colmar (France)
Selestat (France)
Strasbourg (France)
Metz (France)
Thionville (France)
Luxembourg (Luxembourg)
Arlon (Belgium)
Libramont (Belgium)
Jemelle (Belgium)
Marloie (Belgium)
Namur (Belgium)
Bruxelles-Luxembourg (Belgium)
Bruxelles-Schuman (Belgium)
Bruxelles-Nord (Belgium)
Bruxelles-Central (Belgium)
Bruxelles-Midi (Belgium)

At one stage, I thought that the train announcer said “Nous n’arrivons jamais.” (We are never arriving), but quickly realised he was saying “Nous arrivons Jemelle (We are arriving in Jemelle), which was much better news. Later, when we first heard “Dames en heren” (Ladies and Gentlemen), all the Belgians cheered, because Flemish announcements meant that we were getting very close to home.

At 8pm that evening, we got off the train at the very last stop, pointed the way to the Eurostar for some stranded Brits, and then a short walk later were finally home with our kittens.

Nov 2007:
Adrian claims UK citizenship by descent, thus I become married to an EU citizen.

Sept 2008:
Decide to move to Belgium.

Dec 2008:
Submit our Canadian marriage certificate to the Canadian High Commission in Australia for legalisation.

Feb 2009:
Present ourselves to the Leuven Town Hall.
Discover that the marriage certificate actually needs to be certified by the Belgian Embassy in Canada.
A friend retrieves the certificate from Canberra and posts it to Canada.

March 2009:
Receive my legalised marriage certificate.

Bring my legalised marriage certificate, passport, and rental contract to the Leuven Town hall to initiate my request for residency.
The police verify my address.

April 2009:
I am granted a five-month temporary residency and work permit until August.

July 2009:
We move house, and present ourselves to the Saint Gilles Town Hall. The police will have to verify our address before they can acknowledge our residency.

September 2009:
The police come to our apartment and go through our wardrobe to ensure our marriage is legitimate. Apparently this is quite normal in Brussels.

October 2009:
I receive an appointment at the Saint Gilles Town Hall. I present proof that we are living in Saint-Gilles. They take my temporary work permit, and tell me I will receive the codes to activate my 5-year permit in 15-21 days.

November 2009:
I go to the Town Hall to inform them the codes have not arrived in the post, and request new codes.

January 2010:
We inform the Town Hall that the codes have still not arrived.

February 2009:
I receive a letter from the Town Hall informing me that my codes have arrived.

I go to the Town Hall, and I am given a ticket to return the next morning at 8am.
I return the next morning, and I am told to return the following morning at 8am.
I return the next morning, and I am presented with my very own “carte de sejour de membre de la famille d’un citoyen d l’Union”.

October 2014:
I become eligible for Belgian citizenship if I demonstrate sufficiency in one of their official languages.

Snow is so strange. To actually see these huge flurries descend on the city, and painstakingly paint everything white, millimeter by millimeter. As I left my French class on Thursday night (exam result: a pleasing 75%), I stepped out into the park to see a lamp-post half covered in snow. A lamp-post! Just like in Narnia. Who knew these things actually existed. I always thought that one had to go to the snow. I never really understood that it could come to you.

We did one final round of the plaisirs d’hiver (winter fun) markets in Brussels with our friends James, Colette and Grace from Leuven. While James and Colette defrosted in a café, the rest of us braved a walk through the insides of the inflatable ice monster chained up outside. Adrian was very amused at my screams due to the loud noises and people jumping out and grabbing my legs. I emerged feeling very unimpressed and it is unlikely that I shall ever walk through the bowels of another monster ever again.

In response to Laura’s challenge, Adrian constructed a balcony snowman, but I added the final touches to turn it into a bonchaton de neige (good kitten of snow). The snow is beautiful, magical, otherworldly, and extraordinarily sublime. It has however, shut down Brussels airport for two days this week. Fingers crossed we can fly out to Italy to meet our cruise today.

A lot of people don’t like the austere and brutal lines of Central Station. It doesn’t have the splendor of Antwerp Station or the charm of Schaarbeek. There are few flowing curvilinear forms here. It is a very blocky, functional building, but I think that it has some hidden charms. In the great hall, glass slabs of light fall down upon the passengers. Its facade is adorned with nine large vertical windows, representing the nine provinces of Belgium of the time.

When I am one of the 140,000 passengers who visit the station each day, I stop to marvel at the fascinating stone from which much of the building is constructed. I think it might be Gobertange, a type of white calcareous sandstone. It is cut against the grain to reveal its layers, and there are occasional fossilised shells buried deep inside its crevices. Like a lot of Brussels, you just need to dig a little bit deeper to find its jewels.

In Belgium, December is like stepping onto a movie set. Tonight we visited the Brussels Winter Wonder festival (plaisirs d’hiver / winter pret) with Laura and Ben. It was magical. It is still hard to comprehend that so many exotic experiences are now so close to home. The cathedral, town hall, opera house, and other majestic builders were lit up by pastel lights. Red and blue fairy lights were strung through the trees. Carols drifted over the crowd. There was an ice-skating rink where couples skated hand-in-hand through a tall tree, behind a giant Ferris wheel. Children rode in carousels full of grotesque and fascinating creatures out of the world of Tim Burton.

We warmed ourselves with hot chocolate, mulled wine, nutella crepes and frites. A long boulevard of tiny wooden houses offered us a range of hand-crafted goods for the winter season. Hats, scarves, chocolates, biscuits, wooden toys, and candles were all on display. I am starting to understand the strange joys of the European holiday season.

Photo by Kmeron

Usually, however, the public transport is amazingly easy. We deliberately chose an apartment that is next to a supermarket, seconds from a metro and minutes from a train station. It is just so easy to get around. I simply look at a map of our destination to find the closest metro station, and then plunge down into the network and then pop up again when I have arrived. On the weekends we can wander down to the station to find a train that will take us to a new city for a quick day-trip.

At lunch time I hear my colleagues complain about having to drive to work. If there is an accident or snow, then it can take up to three hours each way. There are heated arguments over which road rules apply and which ones are only guidelines. Even at our table there is little consensus about giving way to cyclists or how to merge two lanes. I have been told that it is generally custom and habit that determines who gets right of way at an intersection, rather than the posted signs.

It is such a relief not to have to worry about parking, or cars, or speeding, or petrol prices. I carry a monthly pass in my wallet that gives me unlimited rides on all buses, trams, and metros within the city. It is like I have a legion of carriages waiting to take me to my destination. The even put the metro stations underground so that I don’t get cold while waiting the few minutes before my chariot arrives.

Photo by Hannes De Geest

Thus, it was a really lovely experience to be formally welcomed into the building with a delicious dinner of home-cooked mussels and frites. We met eleven of our neighbours, including an architect, students, and a radio documentary maker. Best of all, our host finished off the evening with some amazing magic card tricks. Spectacular, spectacular.

Most of the conversation was in French, as only about half the people there spoke English. My French comprehension was worse than useless. When one man asked me if I understood what was going on, I said that his wife was talking about being blond. No, he replied, she was talking about being the only woman in the class when she was studying medicine. I was mortified.

Photo by poluz

We explored the Sablon area, a delightful area to walk through, full of fascinating antique shops and winding alley ways. Adrian also guided us to a delightful park called Le Parc du Petit Sablon. This tiny park was built in the 19th century. In the centre of the park are statues of the Counts of Egmont and Hornes, who were executed by the Spanish in the Grand Place in 1568. It is ringed with 48 statues representing medieval professions, that range from fishmonger, to barrel maker, to baker. It is a delightful little square, a hidden delight of greenery amongst the cobblestones and granite.

In the meantime, I think that I have found a job. In today’s strange world of outsourcing, I have been hired by a Life Sciences CRO (Contract Research Organisation), and they will contract me out to various clients. While my contracts with the clients are temporary, my contract with the CRO is permanent (after 6 months probation). My first assignment is to work for a pharmaceutical company and monitor hospital databases for any problems with the safety or efficacy of their products. The work sounds interesting and challenging, and I am really looking forward to being employed again. I haven’t signed anything yet, but I have a verbal offer and I hope that it holds. My work would be based in Brussels, near a metro stop, and my potential office looks out onto rolling green fields.

In other exciting news, we are off to sign a sale contract tonight for that apartment we first saw in Brussels on Valentine’s Day. It is in an ugly 1970′s building, but it has a great view and is in a convenient location. We were considering another place by Central Station for a while, but it had no elevator and skylights instead of vertical windows. Now we have made our decision, and I can’t wait to choose furniture and start remodelling the bathroom and kitchen. However, we have a six month lease here, so the final settlement doesn’t take place for another four months. This will be our living room, though hopefully with more bookshelves and fewer religious icons by the time we’re finished.

It is a six minute walk to Bruxelles-Midi (South Station) – the international train station of Brussels. From there, we can be in Paris in 85 minutes, London in 111 minutes, Cologne in 140 minutes, and Amsterdam in 164 minutes (soon to be 71 minutes by the end of 2009). It also means Adrian can catch a train straight to Leuven in 29 minutes. It will more of a commute for him – an extra hour a day – but the trains are comfortable, fast, and come with a desk for working or reading. And when I need to get to work I will just pop across the road to the metro station underneath the grass and then pop out the other side in 15 minutes. Our home is marked by the blue pointer:

The kitchen and bathroom both need work, but at least that means we can design them the way that we want. Adrian and I both like clean, modern, and uncluttered lines, so hopefully we can decide on a design that suits both of us. I have never bought a home before, and I am daunted by signing a legally binding contract tonight (in French) for a very large sum of money. However, we have a great notary who was recommended to us, who has examined everything thoroughly, so fingers crossed everything goes smoothly.

Image from brucity

It is amusing to think that for most of my life I have lived in Canberra, which according to Australian consensus, has terrible weather, and the “harsh climate” is often given as a reason for moving up north. Yet compared to Montreal, it is a paradise of sun and warmth (Canberra data shifted 6 months for comparison):

As a scientist, I make most of my judgements with numbers. I do experiments, collate the data, and conduct statistical analyses – t-tests, ANOVA, regressions – I can do them all. If it can be quantified, I will try to summarise it, graph it, compare it. If only the Euclidian distance of Brussels and Montreal could be calculated, and a definite number could be calculated. 

Instead, we are left with pros and cons. Is it better to have sunny freezing days or warmer gloomy days? Lower wages in the center of Europe or higher wages on the other side of the Atlantic? English as an official language that seems unwanted or as an unofficial language that seems embraced? A costly plain apartment that is one hour from Paris, or a beautiful Victorian stone townhouse that we could pay off in five years? Living next to Brussels Central Station but working a long train ride away, or living in the tranquility of Plateau and working a short bicycle ride away? Superb education and cheap childcare in a bilingual city, or very good education and costly childcare in the capital of the European Commission? Biodome or Atomium?

How are we supposed to answer these questions?

The best things about these cities:

(Word clouds from wordle.net)