My German Blood

Adventures to Germany, convincing people that I am German.

I sat on the train, embarrassingly clenching my jaw in silence as I stared at the guy checking my ticket. He rapidly spoke to me in German, and I didn't even know where to begin. I did the usual nod and smile, but apparently that was not appropriate for the situation. After a good 30 seconds of awkward, I said "sorry" and tilted my head down. I can't speak German, and I didn't even know how to tell him, other than in English.

After a lovely train ride, aside from my ignorance in the German language, I stepped off the train and began looking around for my family whom I had never met. Luckily for me, they were smiling and waving, holding a sign that said 'Welcome Katherine'. I smiled and went to them. I proceeded to say hello, and then again, had very few words left to speak. The little boys had learned the phrase 'My name is...'. That was really nice, but I unfortunately couldn't return the sentence in German. I'll know German for next time.

It was really unique getting to spend time with people when we had to work to communicate. I learned some German words and phrases with my Grandma's cousins' grandchildren. They were distant family, but family, nonetheless. The time I got to spend with them was certainly a highlight. There were three little girls, ages 6, 10, and 11. It took a little time for them to understand who I was and for them to warm up to me. After we made it past the first 30 minutes or so, and I had made enough jokes about myself and my inability to count to 10 in German, I was in. They quickly invited me to play games. I even got invited to one of the girl's English classes. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I think she was fascinated by me. Also, once I told her we were in the same family (mind you, this conversation is with someone who has only learned English for a year or so), they were willing to scoot closer to me and to laugh and play a little more openly. It was pretty cute.

We exchanged email addresses and are now pen pals in the most basic level of English. I'm all about that networking. I now have connections all over the world (with a 10 year old...).

All in all, the weekend was a great time. I ate German food. I was treated to afternoon cake and coffee time. I was entertained with afternoon 'programming,' which consisted of castles, churches, and family gatherings. I got to listen to some interesting perspectives on America. 

The Home

My secret bedroom

Office desk at the castle

Cake and Coffee. Erika and Erwin

Family introductions

According to the Movies

Do you know how accurate movies are? They are kind of like the internet; everything you learn on the internet is true. You know? Well, everything you see in movies is also true. Apparently.

According to my experience in this place I am living called Europe, Americans are "Friends," "Friday Night Lights," "Remember the Titans"...etc.

I love asking people what they think of Americans. I love it when Americans become one type of person, when I thought we are supposed to be one big old melting pot. I love it even more though, when assumptions are true.

To begin with, a few days ago, someone came into my office to ask me for chewing gum. I did not have any to give to her, so when she turned to leave, she laughed and said, "I just placed an American stereotype on you." She thought that because I was American I would have gum. I don't know what movie or tv show that came from, but I defied the stereotype for us. No worries. If I wasn't buying only the bare minimum at the grocery store though, I have to admit that I would probably have had the gum.

Then, yesterday I went to a meeting and during the lunch break I ate with an intern from Berlin and another from Argentina who has been living in Italy. It was a great lunch, and we had some good conversations. Of course I had to ask what they thought Americans were like when they started asking me if I did certain things or asked how I was adapting to the European life. They mentioned sororities, and I confessed association with a sorority of my own. They mentioned school lunch rooms in high school and middle school. They laughed at the thought of grouping together by 'clique.' I had to tell them that was a reality.

Then we laughed about the Italians and their concept of time. They don't do time. The Italian said that when things go right and on time, it's a bonus, but no one assumes things will go as planned. Everything will just happen whenever it happens. She also confirmed the crazy Italian driving stereotype, for her own town at least. She told us to NEVER RENT A CAR in her city; she said we wouldn't make it.

I've been asked if I was a cheerleader because of movies and probably my blonde hair. I know it may surprise you, but I am not a cheerleader, never was, and most likely never will be.

I fit the American mold, and despite my attempts to speak French and be one with this culture, I don't pass as European.

On another note, I get to travel to Germany this weekend to visit some distant family. I have never met them before, and I am very excited to take trains and buses and adventure my way into a new country. I am German, so maybe I can pass as German for a while. I just won't speak. That would give it away.

Now, here is a lovely picture.

On a Brighter Note: Dreaming of Italy

For Fall Break, we went to Italy.

I think I need to reference Maria and just list a few of my favorite things.

1. Friendly Italian families who make delicious meals. Giorgio and Susanna-shout out to you.
2. Running through the vineyards to catch the sunrise.
3. Painting the sunsets and getting so excited to capture the moments. The colors in the sky changed with every glance up from my paper.
4. Gelato. That's self explanatory.
5. Sailboats
6. Chasing dolphins on sailboats
7. Secret gardens hidden behind giant monastery doors
8. Markets

Fall break was a whirlwind of adventure, and I don't feel like it was real. I have convinced myself that was a once in a lifetime trip, but I would love to go back. Chianti, Italy was a dream, and I don't know that I can put its magnificence into words.

The hills glowed.  The sun beamed down across the valleys, and the vineyards rolled along. We drank wine from the land. According to our host, only 15 people lived in their town of Noce, and those very few houses scattered across the hills to accommodate, meant silence. What a beautiful sound.

The food was light years beyond my spaghetti and meat sauce. The olive oil, better than Canola.

Italians have a different sense of time, and I truly enjoyed it this week while in no rush to be anywhere. Each person we passed on the street looked up and smiled, passing along a 'Ciao' or 'Bonjourno.' I learned quickly, smiled, and said the same.

The Italy I experienced in Chianti this week seemed genuine and kind. Our host would look us in the eye, smile, and say 'Bella.' We were included in meals with Italian families, meeting sisters, mothers, boyfriends, daughters. We just became a part of the family!

It was a good week.

Cooking with Susanna and family

Italian living

The rolling hills of Tuscany

Another painting the sunsets pic

Vineyards

Sailing on the Ligurean Sea

Photo Credit: Hannah

The Tough Stuff

We flew into Krakow, Poland for a class trip. The blustery weathers hit us as we stepped off of the plane and were quickly gathered together by our Polish tour guide. She was not messing around. She asked us to march and told us she would come and 'collect' us for our first tour. Thus began our adventures in Polandia. I'm going to skip mentioning the tours she gave us and begin with the tough stuff.

We went to Poland to learn about the Holocaust, and that included visits to Auschwitz and Birkenau. The stories of the Holocaust have always been terrorizing and tragic, but they were also always just pictures and stories.

Standing in a crematorium, cringing as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in around me, made it real. I saw ovens. I saw a display with two tons of human hair, ponytails and braids. I braided so many heads of hair this summer, and here lay children hair, old people hair, human hair. I stood in front of the children's clothes with my jaw locked and my face in a permanent scowl. I didn't cry. I almost wanted to, but I couldn't. Auschwitz disgusted me. I couldn't understand it.

Children's drawings

Another thing that hit me hard were pictures of the people from before they entered the camps. Again, I have always seen pictures of these people with striped pajamas, shaved heads, and just skin and bones. I think the point of these camps was dehumanization, and that's the image that is portrayed to us still. These pictures brought the people to life. They were young and beautiful. They had families. They were laughing. They were in love.

I saw the book of names. There were 4 million names of people who died in the Holocaust listed, 2 million unnamed. I found a list of Bodas.

I'm glad I went to these places, but it was awful. Truly truly awful.

Flamenco

My most recent adventure was in Madrid, a spontaneous, peer pressured event. I had no intention of ever going to Spain, but Madrid was certainly a showstopper, a favorite by far.

Speaking of showstoppers, Cardamomo, recommended by the New York Times, was a highlight of my Spanish experience. Cardamomo is a flamenco hub-a hub of life and excitement and an amazing show. I am pretty convinced that some flamenco dancers came to teach us their art when I was in middle school, and I was not too intrigued at the time. I am intrigued now.

Let me set the stage- We walked into the building which had a little tiny bar at the front, then we were led to the back where a stage sat in the corner. Since the stage was in the corner, two sides were open to the audience. We sat on the far side of the stage, and another audience sat on the other side. There were little tiny tables set up for the audience, but there couldn't have been more than 50 people there, and the stage no more than 15 ft x 15 ft. It was a very personal experience!

Two men, dressed in all black, sat on the stage. The toque, the guitar. Then the cante, the singing. I couldn't understand the singing, but the music came to life. As the two men got more and more into the performance, their music blended and consumed the theater.

I was already in awe, jaw dropped.

The dancing started as new people emerged onto the stage. First came a heavily made up woman in white satin and ruffles, then came her counterpart, a woman donning an outfit of black lace and not a hint of make up. They danced one at a time, but they all participated in each performance. Hands came together for each clap. Then they all joined in, faster and faster. The dancer's feet started tapping, then stomping. The rhythms beat on the stage. There were two men who danced, their feet flying. They all glanced at one another to keep up these rhythms. There were smiles and faces of exhaustion. There was sweat glowing on their faces, then pouring off of their faces. They shouted out words of which I couldn't understand, again.

The beating of the feet in time to the perfectly syncopated clapping, was none other than exhilarating.

I couldn't keep up with pace of the show, and I couldn't stop smiling. 

It's a different show every night, but here's a link to the kind of show we experienced!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mlh7dTNh73c&list=PL3B25C2B02AC1BD6B

Sunsets in Madrid

Frad Family Reunion. Good Friends.

Our little theater

That man can move his feet

Meant for the US of A

Sometimes I dream of the European life. So posh and attractive.

I don't think that dream is mine anymore. I belong in America.
I have been compiling, in my head, a list of things I miss. For you, I will put the pen to paper, or the words to the screen.

1. Mega stores: Walmart, Target, Kroger, Publix, TJ Maxx
Honestly, I won't be picky. I would appreciate a Walmart here.
I really shouldn't buy anything anyways (because honestly it makes me happier to spend my money on travels), but maybe having one of these stores would encourage me to buy a sponge, or paper towels, or dish soap when we run out. Otherwise, I'll just continue to use the same sponge I have been using for a month.

2. Real peanut butter: The peanut butter here tastes like straight ground up peanuts, maybe including the shells. Where is the fatty American Jif?

3. More than one refrigerator shelf: As much as I enjoy sharing a mini fridge with 3 other people, it would be lovely to be able to buy groceries for more than for a few days.

4. The Boda Clan: Come on over, fam. I miss you guys.

5. Alone time: My walk to work, where I listen to music out of only one ear bud (for safety purposes, obviously), is the greatest alone time. However, that's about all I get. A walk, and the time sitting in my office, but the apartment is a boppin place.

6. Ice: Just not a thing here.

7. Smiling and waving at people when I walk and run: Nosireebob, do not look into the eyes of the stranger walking by you on the sidewalk. I will probably come home an unfriendly soul because I am being trained to look down and frown a little. I'm not sure why, but I'm not taking any chances.

8. Bright lights: Watt? Really though, I could use some more of those.

9. Water bottles, plastic bags, and lunch boxes.

10. Real Deodorant: I don't want that nasty spray stuff. I need the real stuff. This girl has to walk to work and class.

11. A dryer: My clothes feel slightly damp and have that damp smell as well. I don't even know if I would be able to find dryer sheets to rub all over my clothes if I wanted to.

12. Sunshine: Maybe the sun just isn't as bright here. This is serious. It just feels darker, even on sunny days.

13. Fresh air: I shouldn't have to hold my breath every time I walk by a person. I am referring to cigarette smoke. Ew. I'm sorry, but that is tar coating your lungs. I don't want tar on my lungs too.

14. Bright colors: Mom, thanks for the bright orange rain coat and for approving of my brightly patterned umbrella, but I just don't fit in. I like it that way, but I wish for Europe's sake that I did fit in. Black and grey are so 'in' here. **Note: I am wearing all black right now. Black flats, dress pants, and shirt. I fit in today. I could also go to a funeral and fit in.

15. Cereal: I miss American cereal. Also, cereal is pretty expensive here, so I have avoided buying it much. I caved this week and bought these Honey O things and some boxed, unrefrigerated milk. And, let me tell you-best decision I have made in a while. Cold milk, some Honey O's, and a sliced banana on top. I was excited to wake up and eat cereal.

16. Furman professors: My professor at the university today walked in at about 1:10 for my 1:00 class and said, "I'll be back in an hour. I have a meeting, and I need to eat something." Good thing I booked it across town to get to class on time!

17. Pandora, Hulu, Amazon Prime. I don't like illegally convincing my computer that I am actually in America in order to use certain websites.

18. Barbeque, Cookout milkshakes, and Goldfish

Just keeping a list.
It's obvious that Atlanta and Greenville are home!

Here are some things I do especially enjoy, abroad.

Alphorns

Free cheese. Free costume museums.

Modeling Sessions in Amsterdam

Clogs: I have dreamed of these for years.

An Image in Ypres

Our class is studying resistance movements in World War II, so on class trips we experience and cover a heavy subject matter.

In brief: The first class trip we took was to Ypres, Belgium, commonly pronounced Wipers by both the English and by our class. We visited two museum and two cemeteries. As much as I probably should have remembered the details of each museum and cemetery, I don't. My memory of the day is simply one image.

Langemark German Military Cemetery, Belgium.

By the time we arrived, I was tired of walking around museums and tired of looking at gravestones. It was a lot to grasp in one day. The sky was gray and misty, and this graveyard, unlike the previous British cemetery, Tyne Cot, was dark and gloomy. The stones were black, and I'm still picturing them as moldy. There were trees looming over the gravestones, and tourists walking in and out of the rows.

We stood right near the entrance, at the grave called the “Kameraden Grab”, the Comrades Grave. It was a small grave filled with twenty-five thousand, unidentified bodies.

Hitler also stood at the foot of that grave.

Let that one sink in.

What do our lives boil down to? A grave with 24,999 other bodies?

Tyne Cot British War Cemetery

In Memory

Switzerland, According to My Senses

The sights, the smells, the sounds. My senses were captured the moment we sat down on the train, winding us through the Swiss lands.

It was past midnight when we first set foot in Interlaken, Switzerland. The town was silent; the wind whistled past the old buildings. The streets lay cobbled beneath our feet. Our laughter echoed in the streets as we realized where we were and what was looming above our heads. The mountains. They encapsulated us in a valley, a bowl.

I'll skip the details of our night at Balmers. #Balmers, the hostile of mountaineers, cheapskate college kids, and of those who didn't even make it to college. We survived, and actually fairly easily at that.

Interlaken had a mountain in store for us. Harder Kulm, 1322 m up and 1322 m back down.

We hiked while listening to "The Climb" by the one and only, Miley Cyrus. While we hiked and sang, we saw wildflowers dotting the fields with purples of every hue and the blues and the yellows. The rocks jumped out of the ground and gave our feet something to dance around. The tree roots did the same.

We tasted the fruits of the Earth-blackberries. It brought back my memories of my cabin in Ellijay, GA where we would pick blackberries and eat them before they even made it into the pies and cobblers. It brought back memories of Papa's garden, where the blackberries were size XL. I ate the berries while the rest of the crew stared at me, scared of my impending death. I know my fruits, no worries, they were safe to eat. I dodged the ones with ants and mold and ate only those, sweet and fresh.

After resting in the fields on the way up the mountain, we made it. We shouted for joy when we looked out over the ledge. The Earth was below us, and the blue-turquoise waters glistened out in the distance.

So that was that. Hike one: complete- well after we made our descent.

We then took a train to Grindelwald, Switzerland. The town was homey and cute. It was another valley, but this time, the houses were few, and the elevations were even higher. Actually, they were a whole lot higher.

The houses were old, and they each had window boxes filled with brightly colored flowers. The houses were labeled by name, carved into the wood. Our house was 107 years old and looked over the valley and up the mountain. It was quaint, and there was an old German-speaking woman who lived downstairs. We tried to talk, but it was mostly smiles and hand motions, some made up German, and a wave goodbye.

Ok, now here come the hikes of my life. Cable car up, where the views got progressively more incredible. There were cows all over the place. (For Christy Hess we played the "My Cow" game all weekend-I should be winning that game by now, by the way.) Their bells rung out, and they mooed their little (large) hearts out. There was a kind of silence that overcame us, then the bells would chime, and the breeze would cast a cool across us as the sun warmed our backs, our hands, our hearts.

We screamed and leapt around when we got to the top. Hiking around was incredible, each view more and more beautiful with every turn. I ate Swiss chocolate and a crunchy peanut butter sandwich while looking over the mountains. The clouds crept across the mountains as we sat, and the sun peeked in and out.

There was also a marathon going on that day. It was 25 km in Interlaken, then 16 km up THE WHOLE ENTIRE MOUNTAIN. I'm telling you, those people were crazy, but my respect for them is high. Very very high. We watched many people cross the finish line as we hiked. There were marching bands and street vendors and a whole lot of runners. I love that kind of thing, so this was great!

I'm going to now briefly describe the descent back to Grindelwald. Steep. I have new muscles in my shins and glutes now. My favorite part was the stream of water we found though. It was glacier water, and it was clear, absolutely crystal clear. The water was irresistible. We had to dip our feet in. We cleaned our feet and enjoyed the icy cold it provided. 

After resisting gravity on the way down the mountain, we rested when we finally found a pizza place at the bottom of the mountain. It tasted divine. As we sat on the porch balcony of the restaurant, the views were also divine. What a great day. September 13.

Dying on the way up. Not a bad place to rest

Interlaken- views in the clouds

Right before the shoes came off, and we splashed in the clear glacier waters

Flower Boxes and Concentration: Wood

Swiss Flags

Interning

I wake up and dress myself in the most professional of outfits. I choose the blazer and business slacks and throw on some flats. My hair dries to perfection, and I get ready to leave. My lunchbox is in my hand, and I ensure that my name badge is ready to whip out as I walk in the office.

I begin to leave. But first, I take off the flats and stick on some tennis shoes. I begin to sweat as I leave the apartment, so my hair in a bun is the new look for the office. My blazer comes off, I grab my backpack, adorned with a Nalgene and lots of airport tags, and now I am ready for the trek.

My walk to Parliament each morning is about a 30 minute walk. It isn't too bad now, while the weather is decent and lots and lots of people are walking in to work as well. After my first morning of finding myself on the wrong streets, I haven't had any more problems.

Once I arrive at Parliament, I sit down on a bench outside and try to make myself look professional again-the tennis shoes have to go, and the blazer goes back on. I grab my name tag and walk in the spinny glass doors. I swipe my badge across the scanner, and I'm in. Up the escalator and to the left, down one hallway, and I am the first office on the left. Then, here I sit until I receive an email telling me of meetings to attend. Sometimes I am courageous enough to go knock on the door of my supervisor and offer my assistance- This has never led to any further tasks. Sometimes it is  Strasbourg week, and everyone is out of town.

This is a learning experience full of some crazy busy running around days from meeting to meeting (and other days not so much busy/no busy actually at all). My hand writes as quickly as it can in order for me to remember some of the information. Sometimes they have coffee at meetings. Ooh so exciting! It turns out if you dump enough milk in coffee, it tastes great and keeps you entertained. Also, I get to wear a headset. No, not to make phone calls and to look like a secretary, but rather to have every speaker's words translated just so I can have a clue. The words fly off of committee members' tongues, so I get the brief translated versions of each speech.

Well, the lights have turned off in my office, and there are no protests to watch outside of my window today. I guess it's time to grab those tennis shoes and kick it. I have to head to VeCo, Vesalius College, a prestigious institution for scholars like myself.

Bye Parliament. See you tomorrow. I'll be back with probably the same outfit.


Stay tuned for stories from my weekend in Switzerland. My glutes and shins are still feeling it from my mountainous descents.

Parisian Pics

En Paris.

Weekend Trips to Paris

It's kind of crazy that I can decide I want to go to Paris then just hop on a bus. That's exactly what happened though. Our first trip outside of Belgium was a huge success. "Our" includes Hannah, John, Nathan, and I.

We took a four hour bus ride and appeared in Paris. I have been learning about Paris, about French culture, about France for years. I have watched the movies and seen the pictures. The Eiffel Tower, the Notre Dame, Sacre Couer. Well, it's all real.

When we arrived in Paris, it was around 11:00 pm, so we were all a little tired. Some people stood up to get off the bus when all of a sudden they turned back around and sat down. Then, some terrifying police with large guns and a huge dog got on the bus. Nothing like a 'welcome to Paris.' It was a drug dog, and what do ya know, he found some drugs. Not mine. Drug Bust in Paris.

After we were so warmly welcomed to Paris, we quickly realized Paris is nothing like Brussels. It is alive and everything is open well past midnight. People are strolling, doing their thing at every hour.

The next day we did the 'touristy' things. We went to the Notre Dame, where we not only climbed 422 stairs to the top, but we also ate some nutella crepes. The crepes were delicious, and the views from the top of the Notre Dame were incredible. The gargoyles were looking especially excellent that day as well.

We went to the Sacre Couer and the Eiffel Tower. We went to the Lock Bridge and l'Arch de Triumph. It was just really really great. We took rides on the metro and only ended up on the wrong one once, which we were quickly told was just a non-functioning metro. We saw some performers on the metro-they were so incredibly bizarre. I didn't know where to look because there was no way I was paying them to rip off their velcro pants and climb around on the poles and dance with their bus tickets. The only problem was that I could not contain my laughter.

The next day we went to Versailles and saw the beautiful gardens and the palace. The sun was shining, and the grass was so luscious and green that we had to lay down and relax for a long time.

We needed to lay down for a picnic under the Eiffel Tower for 4 incredibly beautiful hours that night as well. There may have been baguettes and cheese and swing dancing involved as well.

We finished our trip with the Louvre and D'Orsay-both of which were incredible. Then we hopped back on our bus and arrived back to the sleeping town of Brussels where people only come in for the work week.

-Au Revoir-

Also, have no fear, there are pictures to come. I just don't believe my Parliamentary Colleagues would want me downloading pictures of Paris on their computers.

Lessons Learned

1. I was thoroughly confused the other day when my professor gave me a syllabus, and it didn't fit into my folder. Naturally, I just assumed my folder had a weird pocket or something was stuck in it. Nope, it turns out Belgians (and possibly other Europeans as well) print on extra long paper. Who would have known?

-Belgians like the extra long printer paper.

2. While I'm packing for school or vacation or whatever it might be, my parents always laugh at me and say "You know they have stores in Greenville, or Brussels etc." aka You can go to the store if you forget something. I had that mindset while packing for Brussels and decided to buy my shampoo and face wash and things of that nature once I had arrived. I found some shampoo, but face wash looks different here, I am convinced. All of the labels are in French, and Dutch, and German, and no English. So, when I went into a beauty type store to find my face wash, I decided to just ask where to find it. The cashier only spoke French. I can understand some French and can speak some French, but I have to plan out my conversations in advance. "Bonjour! Est-ce que vous avez une chose pour menager mon visage?" I accidentally asked "Hello! Do you have something to 'to do housecleaning' my face?" No wonder the cashier stared at me like I was crazy. I thought I had used the proper verb for "to clean." Nosireebob.

No fear though, I brought some friends back into the store with me, and I used an app called "Word Lens" that translates labels or menus into English on the spot. I found the face wash, and I awkwardly smiled at the cashier as I bought it and tried to escape as quickly as possible. So much for any knowledge of French I thought I had.

-Everyone does not speak English.

3. Brussels has laws about recycling. In 2010, recycling was made obligatory, so we had to learn the rules pretty quickly upon our arrival. There are three trashcans with three different colored bags: white, blue, and yellow. Trash, plastic, and paper. We have been throwing away our trash in the proper trashcans, as far as I know, but the house cleaning person will apparently look through the trash and confirm that it is done properly. Brussels, props to you for being green and so eco. So eco.

-Recycle. Go green.

4. I literally can't see anything the light bulbs are so dim. Also, our refrigerator is barely cold. My yogurt and eggs are a nice room temperature. Also, they sell milk and eggs that don't need to be refrigerated. I, for one, was not aware that that was a thing. I will be putting all regularly refrigerated things in the refrigerator.  Lastly, the hairdryer is not heated at all.

-Europeans don't like to use electricity or power.

Day Trip to Gent

We were told this was the world's most beautiful tree and that we needed to dance around it.

Delhaize and Colruyt

I began my trip to Brussels at 4AM Saturday August 16. It was dark and early. 7 AM Flight to Charlotte. 9:20 AM Flight to New York. 5:55 PM Flight to Brussels.

Traveling was long. I love tiny seats with too many people all around me. We also didn't sleep until 8:30 PM Sunday night. Anyways, I am now here, living it up in Brussels, Belgium.

There is absolutely no way I could cover everything that I am getting to do and see, even just here in Brussels. Everything is new. I am at a new college, Vesalius, which is one building and only 300 people. I am living for the first time in an apartment, where I am attempting to feed myself three meals a day on a pauper's budget (you have to live cheap to go on weekend excursions to places like Paris and Interlaken). I am planning travel adventures for the first time. I am in a country that speaks a different language. However, I think my most new experience has been grocery shopping.

We tried a convenience-esque store on our first day here. Sustenance was really all we were looking for. But, the store made us want to cry. There were just a few shelves with very few options. Also, the cashiers only spoke French, so I attempted to converse with them. They couldn't understand my translation of 'brown sugar,' but aside from that, we really just couldn't find anything, or anything cheap. I ended up leaving the store with a box of oatmeal packets. Hey, breakfast for 8 days?

This store gave us very little confidence in how our shopping and eating would be for the next four months. A few days later we found the Publix of Brussels' grocery stores, Delhaize, just across the street. We found peanut butter, or something like it, and we found other regular foods.

One weird thing about stores here is that they charge based on flavor. For example, I can buy the strawberry yogurt for cheaper than peach, but I can buy a mixed assortment for even cheaper. That throws me off and just adds one more factor into my decision making process. I am an indecisive shopper to begin with, so French and Dutch labels, prices in Euros, and new foods all cause for long shopping trips.

However, after being satisfied with Delhaize, we found Colruyt. This store was the Costco/Aldi of grocery stores. It was very cheap, and also, I'm pretty sure everything tastes better when you buy it and make it yourself, despite the quality of food. We have a pretty good schedule planned where we buy a week's worth of groceries and then share meals throughout the week.

Also part of our grocery schedule: Buy drumstick ice cream cones and eat them on the way home from the store.

And, shout-out to Brian for recommending the pre-cooked Rotisserie chicken that lasts many many meals. We bought one of those, and 6 meals later, no more chicken.

Here's to my first glass of wine. So classy.

Morning Markets in Gare du Midi

Preparation

I've just completed 11 weeks of life in a cabin where I spent life making a fool of myself by playing the nose whistle, dressing up like a grandma, and playing weird canoe games in order to evoke the laughs of little girls. Time alone was not a thing-I woke up to little girls scooting across the cabin in their sleeping bags, completely nude, aside from some sunglasses. I went to bed, after tucking in each girl, by crawling into my very own, dirt sprinkled, damp and sunscreen scented sheets.

I am back home now after an exhausting summer. My sheets smell like fresh linen, and the house is quiet. 

Access to internet was limited this summer, and my focus was so camp oriented, that it is just now hitting me that I leave for Brussels in five days. Count them, five. 1,2,3,4,5. Bye bye America.

I will be studying abroad in Brussels, Belgium August 16-Dec 14. I will be traveling with 20 other Furman students and a professor. I will be taking 'European Communication Policies' and 'Business and Media Ethics' courses at Vesalius, the local college. With Furman, we will take a European Women, War, and Resistance course. I have an internship with a German MEP (Member of the European Parliament). Let's just say I have a lot to learn. I will be speaking on his behalf and hopefully getting a chance to work with the Press Service in the EU.

I have taken my shopping trips to buy the essentials. Super cool mini travel toothpaste, Cold Eeze to please my father, some business-y looking clothes etc. Who knows what I'll actually need, but
as long as it all fits into my suitcase and duffel bag, I'll take it. How am I supposed to compress school books and shoes though?! Magic is going to have to happen to pack everything in for a 5 month adventure.

Bye Camp. Bye America.