Skating on thin ice can get you into hot water

England and America are two countries separated by a common language
Language is a funny thing, especially English as we have so many idioms, proverbs, clichés etc. I've found myself flitting between being very English (saying golly, gosh, jolly hockey sticks), and adopting a slight accent which is neither French nor German, but kind of European with a hint of American. It's no wonder that people don't usually have a clue what I am talking about.

I say potato, and you say... patata, pomme de terre, Kartoffel

I was in a shop on Saturday, and asked the sales assistant (in my very best French) if she had a pair of boots in a size 38. She looked bemused, before asking me in broken English if I spoke English. I was rather insulted, as I'd checked my French and have been told I have a good accent. Of course, I then realised she didn't speak French! Classic - silly of me to presume that a shop assistant in the very centre of Brussels would speak French!

Everyone else in the centre seemed to be English... my Romanian friend and I went for coffee at 'Drug Opera - the most famous pub corner in Brussels' - which coincidentally does rather nice crêpes - and were gazing in envy at the sundaes and crêpes at the next table. We then had a short conversation about 'bingo wings' and 'food babies' (her English is very good, but ridiculously colloquial), before realising that the people gorging themselves on ice-cream were English, and were finding our conversation hilarious. Our coffee did come with a scoop of (ice-)cream, a wafer biscuit and a mini chocolate though so we didn't feel too smug and skinny!


I speak as I find
Anyway, it got me thinking about language - something I love, and which I've studied in many variations. I mentioned it to my housemates (who are German), and we traded idioms. These are a few that spring to mind, and they are very wise:

• Was Hänschen nicht lernte, lernt Hans nimmer mehr. (What little Hans didn't learn, (grown-up) Hans will never learn) - You can't teach an old dog new tricks
• Dumm fickt gut (Simpleminded fucks well) - Blondes have more fun
• Eigenlob stinkt (self-praise stinks) - Don't blow your own trumpet

It was quite fun trying to explain them though, particularly 'pot calling the kettle black'!

Toilet Humour

My English friend left work yesterday, so we went to a pizzarium (no idea), and had the 'all you can eat buffet'. It wasn't an option. Either we all did, or we all just had individual slices. 

So the Italian owner (in his slippers), and his wife (drinking wine) brought out wooden boards with pizza slices (and by slice I mean 4cm x 6cm) on. We didn't get to choose... so we got Margherita (on ciabatta bread, but nice), and then Quattro Formaggio (no tomato sauce but OK). Then it got strange. There was (among others):

• Courgette and smoked salmon (none of us tried this)
• Aubergine and parmesan (a bit weird)
• Potato and cream cheese (so wrong)
• Gouda and black truffle paste (tasted like anchovies - bleurgh)... 
• Feta with rocket and sundried tomatoes (different)

After he'd brought out 6 varieties, he told us we could now choose which slices we wanted. Most of us were full, but after 4 'slices' I definitely hadn't had my 10.90€ worth (I am my mother's daughter), so I nibbled another two on principle.

Meanwhile, my Austrian friend had got up to use the toilet, and ten minutes later reappeared from a side door looking embarrassed. She'd only gone upstairs into the owner's apartment... it wasn't until she found the bedroom that she realised she'd gone wrong! I don't know if she confused privée with privy, but it was quite funny, and the Italian guy was in hysterics!

For my part, it was Greek to me
So earlier today I was explaining to my colleague that if he went to London for the weekend he wouldn't have to spend loads of money on eating out because of our voucher scheme. I received an email from Zizzi offering me two courses for £12.95, so I used this as an example.


"I like Zizzi. It's pretty good, and you can often get it for half price. Plus there are loads in London."
He looked at me oddly, and raised his eyebrows. "What?! Is that the name of a restaurant? Do you know what Zizi means in French?"


I looked it up. 


zizi (familier) /zizi/masculine nounwilly (familier) GB, wiener (familier) US, penis.

zizi	nm		ding-a-ling
zizi	nm	Familier Colloquial	dink
zizi	nm		dick

So that was unfortunate...  

In other news...

• I start ice-skating lessons tomorrow
• I know far too much about forklift trucks
• I finally have my lunch vouchers - €6 a day and you get change in cash
• I fly to Cyprus on Wednesday
• I've been here just over one month
• I've read the only books I brought with me
• It's 73 days until Christmas

And on that note... I need to go and do yoga because I have a bikini to wear!

Food, Glorious Food

Introducing the new Brussels Diet
I kid you not. Never mind Low GI, Atkins, Cabbage Soup and all the other ridiculous diet fads. The best way to get in shape is to move to Brussels.


Yes I was homesick and didn't eat for a while, but I got over that. Everyone is slim here, and I was trying to figure out why. One key difference is that they don't snack throughout the day like us Brits (no vending machine - what?). But it's actually very simple: it's just too difficult to do!


Don't do lunch - du lunch
We went out for lunch on Friday, and I ordered the chicken, bacon and cheddar club wrap with chips and salad - a tad expensive at 8€, but it sounded amazing. It wasn't. 

• Firstly, it was plastic bread rolled up. 
• Secondly, it was a ham like substance that may once have been waved at a chicken. 
• Thirdly, bacon in Europe is not what it is in England. It's that fatty dark ham. 
• Finally, it was NOT cheddar. Instead it was the plastic square cheese you buy to put on burgers when you're catering for a large number of people. 

To top it off, my accompanying salad was covered in mayonnaise, despite my 'sans oignons, sans mayonnaise' chat. It seems they can't believe you don't want it at all - surely you will want it on your salad?

Also their fries (the Belgians invented chips by the way), are fried twice, so for someone like me who isn't a huge fan of once fried chips, they're basically another no-no.


Luckily, I went to Guides and happily peeled away the innards, and ate my plastic bread dipped in ketchup, leaving the remnants of my 'club sandwich' on my plate.


Supermarket Sweep

I (finally) got paid yesterday, so as I was skipping from the bank to Carrefour I was quite excited about the dinner I was going to cook. Yes, cook. I wandered around the supermarket working out cheaper options (bag of frozen, raw, discount prawns was only €3 for 28-33 king prawns), and choosing my veg, happy as Larry (whoever he may be). As many of you will know, I have a tendency to eat too much ice-cream, so I thought I'd have a browse. White Chocolate Magnums. Yes. 

However, much as I like them, they are quite sickly, and I usually eat half before I start to regret it. Therefore I was rather annoyed to discover I had to buy 8. They were running a promotion so it was two boxes for the price of one, but the boxes were tied and sealed together. I may have wanted a combination of flavours AND I have limited space in my freezer. The fact that I was forced to buy 8 (in England this is a breach of advertising law) annoyed me. Now, because they were in my freezer, I will (eventually) eat 8 magnums. 

Anyway, I went to the checkout, pulled out my ORANGE bank card with a flourish, and put in my pin number. Of course, the machine decided I had insufficient funds in my bank account and wouldn't let me pay. Cue pigeon French explaining it was a new card and I would go and get some cash out.

So off to the cash point I go. Put in my card, and hey presto I have money. Then I realised the machine didn't dispense cash. So I used the other one... which was out of 20€ notes. And 50€ notes. And 100€ notes. So, I waited for the remaining cash machine which dispensed cash, and had 20€ notes.

Back to the supermarket I went. And queued, before smugly announcing 'Je peux les acheter maintenant' (which I worked out whilst queuing). She (of course) then needed to launch into a rant about how bizarre it was that I could take cash out, and weren't all banks full of criminals (I think her fondness for chatting was the reasoning behind the queue)?

All men are equal before fish

After a lot of nodding, smiling and 'oui'ing, I escaped and went back to cook. Of course, having bought the cheap crevettes, I had to peel them. Seriously. I discovered this after defrosting them, so I proceeded to peel wet, raw prawns whilst making pasta. They were pretty amazing prawns though - total bargain.

I then had a magnum... and after eating half I felt sick. C'est le vie!

Luckily, the boyfriend brought me a nice collection of Bri'ish food which will last me a while... once I work out a meal made from Heinz Baked Beans, Heinz Ketchup, Birds Custard Powder and Cadbury's Dairy Milk!

Bikini Ready

Anyway, the main point of this post is that I can now fit into my UK size 6 (US size 2) black skinny jeans. I have 2 weeks until I go on holiday, so let's hope the Brussels Bikini Diet can continue to work its magic on me!

Non, je ne regrette rien

The word that is heard perishes, but the letter that is written remains

Post (if it's the right sort of post) is always exciting. When you're a child, all post addressed to you is obviously something amazing, because you don't get bills, junk mail or appointment notifications, and when you get older, anything handwritten is usually exciting, because it means someone's actually taken the time to remember how to use a pen!

Living abroad seems to make people put pen to paper, to prove that they care about you. I love it. I miss letters, and if it takes moving abroad for people to write letters, then it's a sad day for all of us. 

However, every single bit of post makes my day - I love reading, and letters are one of the nicest things to read, because they're personal and bizarre. It's very rare that people plan out a letter; mostly (or maybe that's just me), I start to write, and I end up waffling on about really random stuff (just like this blog).

Anyway, I really appreciate the cards, emails, parcels and post cards from everyone, and a special mention to my 'sister-in-law' and godmother for the Cadbury's and home-made goodies.

Mais soudain je pousse un cri parmi les rires

As my French improves, I start to notice certain elements of English which don't cross language barriers. I almost feel mean when people say things in English which to me means something completely different.

My colleague asked me what my plans were this weekend...Me: Well my boyfriend's coming tomorrow, so we'll probably go to the Atomium on Saturday

Colleague: You like looking at big hanging balls?Me: Err...Lapland and Pole DancingIn England we all moan about public transport, but in Brussels it's something else altogether.I take the Metro to work, and every day one of the escalators (always an up escalator) is broken. There's something very depressing about climbing up a broken escalator, because halfway up you realise how unfit you are, but you have to keep going!Of course, you have to survive the journey itself before you can even contemplate leaving the station. The drivers seem to enjoy harsh (normally random) braking. A woman actually landed in my lap the other day. The train screeched to a halt, and she toppled onto the seat and slid into my lap. Charming!The same is true of the bus - sitting or standing, if you're not holding on tight enough, you'll end up on the floor, or doing attractive pirouettes around the pole. My advice is this: if you can, use your legs, it's safer and - most of the time - quicker! My journey takes 40ish minutes which is walking - metro - metro - walking. If I walked the whole way, Google Maps estimates 52 minutes, which means it would take a normal human about 45.And another thing...

Most importantly, I get to see my boyfriend this weekend, and best of all, he is bringing a suitcase full of toiletries and sundries from Merry Old England! Good ol' Blighty :)

Talon Free & All Cried Out

For someone who doesn't really like tea, I've been craving it a lot recently. Especially now when I'm sitting with a cryptic crossword and a piece of home-made cinnabon. I was going to be entirely British and watch an episode of Pride & Prejudice, but I spend all day staring at a screen so a crossword seemed like a good option to exercise my brain.



Well, I made it a week (just about), and have only got to wait 9 more days until my emergency supplies are brought out to me. I can definitely cope another week or so days without squash, mouthwash and Options hot chocolate. As for Cadbury's well that's debatable - I bought some 'chocolat blanc avec pâté de Speculoos' and it leaves a lot to be desired!


However, I did (after several days of contemplating), buy some nail clippers. I hadn't cut my nails in possibly 3 weeks, and they were disgusting! I mean at least 1cm... so I feel much better now. Who knows, I may even shave my legs on Saturday, as it's been almost 2 weeks! How revolting. My excuse is that it's so damn cold in my office, I need the extra warmth. But I must admit, I have let my standards slip - I haven't even worn make-up this week, and need to pluck my eyebrows. 
I don't want to end up like this:
 


People don't seem to wear make-up in Brussels - there's no stigma attached to not trying. I like it, because I can get up in the morning (I do shower and wash my hair - I haven't quite lost the plot), and chuck on jeans and a T-shirt without feeling like I'll be judged. Maybe it's their culture, why waste time on grooming, when there are far more important things to do. 


Like shopping. I popped into the supermarket on my way to work because I was fed up with drinking coffee with 'coffeemate', it's just wrong! However, the entire Roodebeek community seemed to be doing their weekly shop at 8.45am. And only one checkout was open. Naturally. However the nice lady in front of me pointed out that I could use the express till. Result. Then I messed up barcode scanning and threw my milk on the floor. Nice man came to my rescue. I am the Eeenglish Peeg.


People are nice here - several times people have told me to go in front of them in the supermarket because I've only got a few items. I appreciate that. In England you're more likely to get pushed in front of.


I have cried a bit this week (much to my disgust), but mainly because I was uprooted from the place I was getting used to, and put somewhere else. It's nice enough, although I'm terrified of sleeping in a bunk bed... it's 6 feet off the ground, and there's no way of turning the lights on or off when you're in, meaning it's an obstacle course. I will bump my head on the ceiling, and I will stub my toe on the ladder. I've accepted that. Hopefully I won't fall out, or fall down the ladder. Although then I could come home, and get paid 'incapacity benefit'... 


Seems a popular idea - apparently a girl started at work the week before I did, and went home at lunchtime feeling ill. She then didn't return because she was pregnant. I think she made that up, because I'd thought that would be the perfect excuse to leave. Sneaky sneaky.


I'm fairly sure I'll be here until Christmas, but I can't say after that!l All I need is some British food (that's what will bring back the stiff upper lip), a hug, and a fleece!
 
Still not convinced, but who knows...

Jeanneke Pis et Madame Pis

 

Today was a good day :) 


I smartened up at work to meet a client who I spoke to for all of 5 mins because he was busy with someone else. 


Tried to explain things to my assistant but having been here all of 3 days I didn't really know what to tell her.


'Waltzed in, in my sexy see through blouse and fannied about with the press releases' until I was told "Oh, you don't have to do that, you can delegate that to someone else, it's not your job". Good to know, after I spent 3 hours doing it! 


I've almost survived my first week in Brussels... scary biscuits! I've not had any waffles, crêpes or chocolate since I've been here though, mainly bread and cheese with the occasional Lotus biscuit (you can get them chocolate coated here, which I will be trying at some point).


However, I did start speaking French, and asked my French colleage "What's the French for croissant?" He didn't find it that funny!


Random discoveries of today:

• There's not only the statue of a boy peeing, but also one of a girl (not a very ladylike position though), the Jeanneke Pis

 

• Men randomly play the accordion on the Metro and people sing along
• Classical music is played at most Metro stations except the one I use where they play the Beatles and (why?) Coldplay
• Place du Luxembourg is full of people from every country in the world - you buy your drink and then go and sit on the grass
• I am still suffering from Tourettes "Bonjour, je voudrais un verre de vin blanc s'il vous plait. Gracias. Fuck. Sorry. Merci" Ahem.
• You have to pay to go to the toilet. It's only 30c, which you give to the suitably named 'Madame Pis' - this is possibly my favourite thing about Brussels

• I can speak French (and Spanish) very well after two glasses of wine
• The guy who lives below me (and is having my room once I find somewhere to live) is English, and a rugby fan and has persuaded me to get up at 7am to go and watch it with him in the centre on Sunday... I must be desperate for company!
• Tesco mobile have texted me FIVE times today to remind me that I get triple Clubcard points if I top up - their staff are rubbish ;)

Belgian housemates aren't working so they have friends round; one of them is staying for  ten days apparently. Interesting... I need a hot water bottle, my  'Eau minerale naturelle' (fizzy although it's not clear), and mon lit :)

Just Landed

Well, it's Wednesday and today I have not cried. Excellent. Doesn't sound like an achievement but I've been living in Brussels since Sunday, and have been more homesick than I could ever imagine. Oh boo hoo I hear you say.


BUT:

• I don't speak French
• I don't have anywhere to live
• I don't know my way around
• I don't have any friends
• I don't have any Cadbury's

It may not sound entirely awful, but when you're used to living with your boyfriend and best friend, it's a massive change.

It would've been better if I'd had an easy ride of it, but no.

Sunday

Arrived in Brussels about 6pm and clearly looked like I knew what was going on as 4 people asked me (in French, Spanish, German and English) random questions. Struggled to get the Internet working, and realised I was all alone in a foreign country, and was starting a new job the next day. Bawled. My. Eyes. Out.

Monday

The metro system is simple, yet on Monday I still managed to get on the wrong connection, and ended up going back the way I'd come, realising in the process that I hadn't 'punched' my ticket and was therefore going to be in trouble when a (very likely non-English speaking) train guard asked me what the Hell I was doing! I had dinner with friends of a friend of a friend which was lovely, although it got a bit too much when I was asked if I'd brought DVDs with me, and I burst into tears (I've also cried looking at a sprinkler before - I never cry... until weird things, that are somehow linked to my inner emotions, are mentioned).

Tuesday

Apart from my inability to answer French in French, choosing instead to respond in Spanish - very odd looks from people - Tuesday was fine. Then I had to get off one stop before my connector stop because there had been an 'incident'. So I was stranded somewhere with no map, no French and no change. One (possibly) illegal tram ride later and I was back, and ready to tackle the supermarché... Aside from Special K costing €5 and almost forgetting toothpaste, this was quite satisfactory, although everyone in the shop seemed to be speaking English with an accent.

Of course when I staggered back with my shopping, all the lights were off so I couldn't see to open the door, my pizza was covered in onion (it makes me ill), my mineral water was fizzy, and my laptop refused to play a DVD. Maybe I cried a little bit, just maybe.

Wednesday

However, even though someone turned out the lights when I was on the toilet, and the office had run out of coffee, today was manageable. There was a nice person to take me out this evening for ice-cream (glace de ananas et butterscotch). Always a winner. 

One good thing about living here is that I have a flat stomach again as I can't afford food, and for the past three days have been feeling too sick to eat. Every cloud! :)

PS My job is awesome, and I am totally busy and important and stuff.