Every time I see the “I turtle my home” advertisement for the yearly home-improvements expo, I know that another year has passed since we first settled in Belgium. As we have just passed our two year mark, I am inspired to take a close look at the best and the worst that this country may offer.

Cobblestones. Yes, they look beautiful and add a certain kind of charm to any street, but I am not one of those European women who can traipse across a paved trottoir in stilettos without mishap.

Smoking in pubs. If a pub makes 30% or less of its profits from food, then smoking is still permitted inside. This makes for an unbearable environment in winter, encouraging us to be a little more selective when choosing a watering hole.

No government. Belgium has now beaten Iraq for the world record for the longest discussions to form a coalition government – over 269 days have passed since the last election.

No Sunday shopping. Walking down the main shopping street of Rue Neuve on a Sunday is a surreal experience, with all doors closed and not another person to be seen.

The language barrier. It is often exhausting to have to get by with my very poor language skills. When a two page letter arrives from the commune, or when the apartment syndic is holding its annual meeting, I am completely out of my depth, and I often yearn for the days of effortless communication.

Too much to do. Not a week goes by without another festival or event. Blue sky days are the worst – it is so quick and easy to get around, and so few plausible excuses as to why one needs to stay inside.

The distance from Australia. I did miss the ambiance of a barbeque and the Hottest 100 on Australia Day, and it is too far away to just pop back to Oz for a wedding or birthday celebration.

The lifestyle. On a weekend we can stroll down those treacherous cobblestone streets to find a cute little crêperie housed in an Art Nouveau building. We might then stroll past some antique markets while listening to an accordion player busking outside, before enjoying a hot chocolate and some macarons in a bustling café. With treats like this, each week feels like a vacation.

The language barrier. Learning French is extremely difficult for me. Even with one-on-one lessons twice a week, I struggle with basic conversation. I hate memorising verbs and vocabulary, so being forced every day to talk with neighbours and read advertisements is the only way that I get any practise in.

The attitude to food. The Belgians take their food very seriously. I love that every hot drink is accompanied by a mignardise – a tiny chocolate or biscuit to finish off the experience. Beer is often accompanied by amuse-gueule (literally “mouth entertainers“), such an exotic term for a bowl of chips or peanuts.

The location. There is so much to do within a two hour train ride. Not only can one reach London, Paris, Aachen, Cologne, Rotterdam, and Amsterdam on the high speed rail, but within Belgium the local trains can take us to a myriad of fascinating towns, each with their own dialect, customs, festivals, and specialty beers, tarts, or biscuits. With a metro-stop right outside, living car-free has never been easier.

Puppies. There are dogs everywhere here. They are welcome in pubs and restaurants and often accompany their owners on a gentle promenade down the street. In winter they are also often outfitted in cute little jackets to keep their bellies warm in the cooler weather.

The healthcare . Every resident of Belgium can access the same world-class healthcare. No one over here needs to worry about losing their house if they get diagnosed with cancer.

The people. The people that we meet here have such interesting stories. If they are expats, they tell us stories about their country of origin and the path that took them here. If they are Belgian, they give us insider insights into this curious country. Dinner parties have never been more fascinating.

Family life. There is a strong emphasis on making time for the family. At my work, most people leave at 5pm and working on the weekend is unheard of. Including public holidays, we have over nine weeks of vacation leave every year. Women are entitled to 15 weeks paid maternity leave, which I hope to make use of when Adrian and I hopefully add an extra member to our family in August this year.

As we made our way north across the island, John and Adrian had yet another vigorous debate over what defines a country. North Cyprus is not recognised by the UN as separate from Cyprus, yet we needed our passports to cross the Green Line in Nicosia, the last divided capital in the world. Once on the other side, most prices were quoted in new Turkish lira, the mobile phone provider was Turkcell, menus were in Turkish rather than Greek, and the Turkish flag was proudly flown alongside the North Cyprus flag.

Our first stop was Salamis, the ruins of an old Roman city kingdom first mentioned in 709 BCE. There were few other people around, and it was eerie to be able to walk down an old Roman road, carefully constructed over 2500 years ago and still in reasonable condition, considering its age.

Next, we drove to once opulent port city of Famagusta (Magusa in Turkish), surrounded by 16th century Venetian walls, and perhaps the setting for Shakespeare’s Othello.

At the centre of the town there are crumbling ruins of once-majestic 13th C Lusignan Gothic structures, surrounded by dusty corridors and corroded sandstone walls. We waited out a brief rainfall while enjoying a satisfying lunch, then Adrian was brave enough to try the salepi dondurma (fox testicle ice-cream).

Adjacent to old Famagusta is the area of Maras (Varosia in Greek). It was a popular tourist resort town with spectacular beaches and bright tower blocks in the 1960s up until the conflict between the Greek Cypriot Army and the Turkish Army, and subsequent division of the island. In 1974 the Turkish advances panicked the Greek population, and its inhabitants quickly fled their homes. What they thought would be an exile of a few days turned into several decades, and this suburb remains abandoned today, filled with weeds and with warning signs and barbed wire to keep out the curious

The year 2010 was a pretty big year for us – our first full year living in Belgium, with lots of adventures in and out of the country.

Career wise, I moved from an external consultant to an internal employee of my pharma company. I presented my work at the World Parkinson’s Congress in Glasgow, had my first epidemiology paper accepted for publication, and received an excellent end-of-year performance review. I am really enjoying my job, and I feel that I am very suited to the work that I am doing.

I also received my diploma for my Masters of Public Health, so I can now add a few more initials after my name.

Adrian won over 3 million euros worth of research grants this year, permitting him to expand his lab to include several technicians as well as seven PhD students. He published seven review articles, with several primary papers soon to be completed.

We are becoming more comfortable in our new home. I now have a Belgian driver’s licence and permanent residency, and my French has progressed from beginner’s level to intermediate. I can now have a basic conversation in most stores and usually walk out with the item that I required, as well as helping a person on the street with directions to a nearby landmark.

We have made a small but warm circle of friends in Brussels and Leuven. I have enjoyed Ladies’ Night in Leuven, as well as celebrating birthdays, Halloween and New Year’s Eve with some wonderful people. I have been welcomed into a dynamic English-speaking book club full of intelligent and articulate women.

Pepper and Mint are thriving. Through a regime of clomipramine, feliway, and regular treats, they are now relaxed and happy. No longer hiding under the couch, they run to greet us when we return home and seem to enjoy our company.

Our spare rooms were put to great use this year. Michelle and Grant were regular visitors, arriving with a bag full of home-made jam and Cadbury’s chocolate and leaving with a suitcase full of Cantillon beer. In January, Sydneysiders Robin and Neil used our place to rejuvenate during a round-the-world trip, sampling every gâteau that Pierre Marcolini had to offer. Luke and Shyla came to visit us from London to see and taste a bit of Belgium. Canberran Anna stopped by to help me celebrate my 30th birthday with cupcakes and cosmopolitans.

In July, Adrian’s mum Lynne took her first international flight to see her family in the UK as well as us here in Brussels. We took her on a road trip to Burgundy, France, where she met my mum and Josef for the first time.

In August my sister Amy stayed with us during her eurotrip, and we shared moules et frites in the Grand Place with our uncle Greig and aunt Margaret who also happened to be in Brussels at the same time.

In August, Mum and Josef arrived in Belgium to see our home and our new life. We took them to our favourite restaurants and shared with them the best sights of the region.

We have also managed to see a bit more of Europe. After starting the year in Milan, in February we took our young friends Lila and Grace to see Disneyland Paris in the snow.

Our Canberra friend Lina joined us in April to visit Slovenia, Italy, San Marino, and the Vatican City.

In June we spent a day in Cologne, Germany, to see the Cirque du Soleil perform. A few weeks later, after a couple of days in Belarus we met up with NYC John to journey through Armenia, Georgia, and Azerbaijan.

We visited the UK several times – to explore Michelle and Grant’s new hometown of Cambridge, to see Luke and Shyla’s new flat in London, and I spent some time with Mum and Josef while they were house-swapping in Chichester.

In November a quick trip to Paris reunited us with the old Seattle team of Jeong, Lianne, Shyla, and Luke for some gourmet meals and spectacular sights.

Sadly, the year 2010 also had its moments of loss and grief. Some were dealt a very personal and heartbreaking loss, while others marked the anniversary of loved ones who had passed away in the years before. My nephew Jayden passed away in July from a sudden illness – this January 7th would have been his 17th birthday.

We are reminded that every day is precious, and we see how lucky we are to live and work in such a beautiful and interesting country. We are thankful for all the experiences that we shared with our friends and family in 2010, and we are looking forward to even greater adventures in 2011.

One of my favourite discoveries is the Yoplait saveur d’autrefois (“flavours of old”) yogurt that I can get at the Brussels-South train station. It consists of thick and creamy traditional cultured yogurt sitting on a bed of fruit, in an old fashioned glazed terracotta pot. A world of difference from the runny fluorescent pink yogurt they sell in America in those strange plastic inverted cups. Just one of the many reasons I much prefer living on this side of the Atlantic.