Our summer...in 58,000 words

Relive our summer in Europe without having to read a word! Feel free to leave comments...

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Pickpockets, Part II

I must have a sign on my back that says, "Please pick my pocket." (alliteration included) First came the incident on the metro in Brussels (read about it here), then the all-new story I'm about to tell you.

It all started in Marseille, France, as we boarded the Talgo Mediterranean train en route (that's French for "en route") to Barcelona, Spain. Unlike the 250+km/h (150+MPH) TGV (Train à Grand Vitesse) that took us from Paris to Marseille in a little over 3 hours, this particular train trotted along the Mediterranean coast for almost 7 hours until we finally arrived in Barcelona, Spain. Oh yeah, and we had to change trains too.

Anyway, we finally arrived in Barcelona at around 10pm, Saturday night. After asking three different people where the nearest metro stop was (at least we speak the language), we finally found it. Pleased to find out that a 10-ride public transportation pass is only €6,65, we dished out the cash and bought one so we could get to our hostel for the night. I guess some guy was probably watching us take out the few coins we had, and followed me to the entrance gate of the metro (or whatever you call the place where you put the ticket in and walk through). Talyn was behind me and wondered why this man was following me so close, maybe even trying to get through the gate on my ticket. Well, I learned from my last pickpocketing experience (if you still haven't read about it, you can do so now before continuing...) that putting your wallet in your back pocket is just a bad idea, so I have since put it in my front pocket, which is deep enough and much easier to guard. I suppose that the modern pickpocket has also learned of this trick, because the first pocket he tried to loot was my front right pocket. Ha! All I had was a few cents, and that was way at the bottom of the pocket (even I have difficulty getting those coins out). I sensed a fiddling hand and before I could think, I grabbed the guy's index & middle fingers so tightly that I could've done some damage if I wanted to. He seemed surprised, and then nonchalantly told me, "Pasa" - that is to say, "Go on through the gate. I might have tried to ruin your life by taking valuables from an unsuspecting tourist such as yourself, but I have changed my mind now. Go on and take the metro without me." Talyn promptly tripped the unsuspecting fool, who fell flat on his face (ok, that only happened in our conversation afterwards) He then walked away as I glare at him, making sure he knew that I could have broken his fingers if I had the guts. Maybe I should have.

Well, that was that. I have managed to attract yet another pickpocket with my highly visible sign, and yet again, foiled his plans. Of course, I was nice enough to let him go, unharmed. The next guy might not be so lucky.

The Secret Behind King's Cross

We recently had the opportunity of going to London for a four day visit. One great thing about living in Brussels is that we are close to many European cities - Amsterdam, Paris, and London are all within 3 hours by train. London is literally a hop, skip, & a jump away. Having spent two of our days trying to get the most of our London Pass (it's definitely worth it, but only if you're okay with little relax time), we still had two more days to soak in the London air. For those who are interested, the London Pass entitles the user to visit any of the 50+ sites of London that sponsors the pass, sometimes even getting past the lines at the ticket office. I know that sunk costs are irrelevant (anyone who has taken Econ 110 from Kearl at BYU definitely knows what I'm talking about), but it's both human nature and engrained in my character to squeeze every last drop from the pass - I relentlessly planned our days to the hour and let the pass work for me. Heck, why else would we have gone to the Queen Ice Rink & Bowl to skate in circles with a bunch of teenagers? But don't get me wrong, it was very refreshing to have the cool air blow in our faces after a long and sticky day...

Alright, I guess I should get to the point of my little post here: "The Secret Behind King's Cross." Any J.K. Rowling fan could tell you that King's Cross is the train station in London where Hogwarts students board the Hogwarts Express to go to Hogwarts School. (isn't Hogwarts a funny name?) Being Harry Potter fans ourselves, we decided to visit this station during some of the free time we had before returning to Belgium. We were just wanting to see the station, locate platforms 9 & 10, and maybe take a picture where the ¾ mark might be. As we approached these platforms, though, we were surprised to see a sign indicating "Platform 9¾". We felt a surge of magical curiousity, and Talyn even managed to push half of a luggage trolley through the brick wall! But we couldn't push it farther in, and it was impossible to pull back out. Oh well. I'm sure some kids will have fun with it later.

One thing we noticed is that there is, in fact, no brick wall between platforms 9 & 10 at King's Cross. There's platform 9, the tracks for the train for platform 9, the tracks for the train for platform 10, and then platform 10. Apparently, J.K. Rowling had been confused as she tried to remember her experiences at King's Cross, mistaking it for another station. That's according to my sources at Wikipedia - we hope that they're credible. At least we had the opportunity of visiting King's Cross ourselves.

Potty Boy and Potty...Girl?

When I was a wee little girl living in a tiny little town in the northwoods of Minnesota, my family used to go for walks. We used to walk down to the river and wander around, looking at cool things there. One trip we took occasionally included a visit to what we called the "Potty Boy." We had a good reason to call it that. It was a little statue of a boy becoming one with nature and letting it go into the river. At the time I thought it was kind of scandalous to have a little naked kid as a statue, but we also thought it was pretty funny. Even after we hadn't made a trip to the potty boy in years, we still talked about him. He became a family icon, if you will. Well, maybe just a family joke.


(Our little potty boy with someone who wants to grow up to be just like him)

This summer I discovered that our little "Potty Boy" is not one of a kind. In fact, there is a potty boy identical to my old friend here in Brussels, only they call him "Manneken Pis." He's right down town and they do a pretty good job making him a tourist trap. They have cardboard Manneken Pises at three times actual size, chocolate Manneken Pises, Manneken Pis pens and t-shirts, etc. Foreign countries who feel sorry for the poor naked boy donate costumes to him and he wears them on special occasions, and once a year he changes from a fountain of water to a fountain of beer. He's become the city's icon.


(One of the tourist ones, at three times actual size, with complimentary Belgian scarf.)

Now, I hear you feminists out there. "We want equal rights!" you say, "If there's a little boy, where's his sister?!" you say. Well, don't worry, the good people of Brussels hear you. Manneken in fact does have a sister named Janneken Pis. She squats at the back of a secluded alleyway behind red bars and surrounded by greenery. (Well, fake, plastic greenery)

Now, one wonders why they - two small, metal citizens - choose to relieve themselves out in the open rather than just finding a public restroom. Where is their mother anyway? "Perhaps the public restrooms are dirty," you say. Occasionally they are, but you can find a clean one without too much trouble. "Perhaps they really are trying to become one with nature," you say. Maybe, but if they were trying to do that, it seems they would choose a location other than the middle of the city, plastic greenery or not. My theory is simple. I think that the children's good mother has taught them the value of being frugal. By choosing a location out in the open they save 20 Euro cents (actually, if their other option were the train station in Luxembourg, they save €1,10). I imagine there are others tempted to join them rather than have to go make change of their 20 Euro bill, and from the smell of the metro stations I can only assume that some have joined the rebellion.

So, as with many things, childhood memories must give way to the reforming influence of two small statues seizing the "rights" that, according to some, should not be protected by the constitution. I for one am in favor of an ammendment to the Belgian constitution assuring me access to a clean, free restroom. Then again, what do I know about politics?

Honking Car Horns and Other Phenomena

Raise your hand if you're in the United States. OK, now keep your hand raised if you've been following the World Cup. Just as I suspected... Now, put you're hand down if you were NOT born in the US. A-hah! I knew it. That leaves, what...3? All right, put your hand down if you played soccer in high school or served your mission in Brazil. As we see, only one hand is still raised. That's what I try to tell people here. For unidentified reasons, Americans think that baseball is more exciting than soccer, leaving soccer only above cricket and curling. Not so in Europe, as I'm sure all of you already knew, but I'm going to write a blog entry about it anyway...

The World Cup is big here. You don't have to follow it to know who's winning their games. You can tell by which flags are blowing out of the open windows of the cars driving around honking. For instance, while we were in Liège, we watched the first part of a game and then went to dinner so we could get home before it was too terribly late. We knew when they scored because of the cheers coming from around the city as we ate, and we knew when Ghana won, thanks to the cars (maybe just one really loud car?) that kept going around honking. In fact, when we got back to Brussels 3 hours later, I was sure the Italians had won the next game, but it was still the Ghanaians honking. (As it turned out, Italy had very little to celebrate, tying with the US after scoring two goals, one for them and the other for us. Although I didn't see the game, our Brazilian friend Eduardo told us that the US actually played really well and the Italians weren't so good. The US kept it tied while playing almost the entire second half short-handed.)

Which leads me to my next point. For some reason it is entirely acceptable for people to tell me that my team stinks. Before the World Cup even started, a girl told me that even though we think we're the best at everything, we're not going to win the World Cup. I assured her that we knew we weren't going to win. It's pretty obvious, even to us, that the other guys are better at soccer than we are. That's why you can't even find World Cup on US television, unless you have satellite or go to the Spanish channel. She was certain that I was the only one who knew we weren't the best soccer team in the world. Come to think of it, I think there're quite a few Americans who never even heard that the US women were the best team once. Since then a couple of other people have come to gloat that the US played a pretty lame first game and had their goal scored by the other team in their second. (No one told me that also happened for England). Actually, I've pretty much been voting for Brazil, Ghana, and Argentina the whole time anyway.

As it turns out, I'm having a lovely time following the World Cup for the first time. It's actually pretty exciting at times, especially since most of the games that I see I watch sitting next to a Brazilian who knows what's going on. (If you want to know what's going on, find a Brazilian. They know. Men, women, maybe even four year old children (though I haven't seen one) from Brazil all scream strategies and plays at the television. Ask them how they feel about Ronaldo too.) So, if you have a few minutes, give it a shot. (Pst! They have really short soccer games that are made of only important plays called "highlights" here. ; )

In search of the secret Liège waffle recipe...

La recherche de la recette secrete du gaufre de Liège continue... Cette fois ci, on est à Liège, le lieu de naissance de ce gaufre si delicieux. Arrivant par train, on descend au Gare de Palais, le gare plus près au centreville. Le premier bâtiment qu'on trouve est le Palais des Princes-Evêques, aussi nommé le Palais de Justice. Donc, on le sait comme le cerveau des opérations du gaufre liègois...

Mais personne est là. C'est vide, comme si c'était un fin de semaine. Tout à coup, je me rends compte - en fait, oui, c'est un samedi. Alors, on part et on cherche plus d'indices qui pourraient nous aider. Marchant sur la rue Feronstrée, on voit ce qu'on cherchait! Un gaufrerie!! En fait, c'est nommé "Le gaufrerie," et l'homme parait content de nous voir.

"Dis-nous la recette secrete du gaufre de Liège et personne va mourir," je lui dis en voix basse.

Il a l'air confus et étonné. "C'est quoi dont tu p..."

Mais on est parti. Nous ne pouvons pas l'expliquer, c'est interdit. Ça sera un peu plus difficile qu'on l'imaginait...

---

(for those who are interested, below is the same story, translated into flawless English by Babel Fish)

The research of the receipt secrete of waffle of Liege continues... This time Ci, one is in Liege, the birthplace of this so delicieux waffle. Arriving by train, one goes down to the Station from Palate, parks it more close with the centreville. The first building which one finds is the Palate of the Prince-Bishops, also named the Law courts. Therefore, one knows it like the brain of the operations of the waffle liègois...

But nobody is there. It is empty, as if it were a weekend. Suddenly, I realize - makes some, yes, it is one Saturday. Then, one leaves and one seeks more indices which could help us. Walking on the street Feronstrée, one sees what one sought! A gaufrery!! In fact, it is named "the gaufrery," and the man appears glad to see us.

"Tell us the receipt secrete waffle of Liege and nobody will die," I say to him in low voice.

He has the confused and astonished air. "It is what of which you p..."

But one left. We cannot explain it, it is prohibited. That will be a little more difficult than it was imagined...

---

(y para los que prefieren español, aquí es la historia, traducida de inglés a un español divina, también por Babel Fish)

La investigación del recibo secreta de la galleta de Lieja continúa... Este ci del tiempo, uno está en Lieja, el lugar de nacimiento de esta tan galleta del delicieux. Llegando en tren, uno va abajo a la estación del paladar, parques él más cerca con el centreville. El primer edificio que uno encuentra es el paladar de los Pri'ncipe-Obispos, también nombrado las cortes de ley. Por lo tanto, uno sabe que tiene gusto del cerebro de las operaciones de los liègois de la galleta...

Pero nadie está allí. Es vacío, como si fuera un fin de semana. Repentinamente, realizo - las marcas algunos, sí, es un sábado. Entonces, uno se va y uno busca más índices que podrían ayudarnos. ¡Caminando en la calle Feronstrée, uno ve lo que buscó uno! ¡Un gaufrery!! En hecho, se nombra "el gaufrery," y el hombre aparece alegre vernos.

"díganos que el recibo secrete la galleta de Lieja y nadie morirá," digo a él en voz baja.

Él tiene el aire confuso y asombroso. "es lo que de las cuales usted p..."

Pero uno se fue. No podemos explicarlo, él nos prohibimos. Eso será poco un más difícil que era imaginado...

---

DISCLAIMER: The previous story may or may not reflect the opinions of the author and its events may or may not have actually occurred.

The Benefits of Crime

If you've never been pickpocketed before, you may be missing out. Not only does it raise your adrenaline level, but it also gives you a heightened awareness of your surroundings. Ok, I'm being facetious, but I also can't deny that my first pickpocketing experience was quite a rush.

First, the details. Talyn & I were on our way to downtown Brussels so Talyn could try a Greek pita for the first time (they are quite popular here). Because of our long 8 minute wait for the metro (which would be a short time to wait for any UTA bus), there were a lot of people. Talyn got on fine, but I had some trouble, as a few people in front of me wouldn't budge. After having barely gotten on, the guy in front of me pretended to drop his cell phone, and bent down to get it. I then felt him feeling around my shoe and ankle, and being startled, I blurted, "Qu'est-ce qui arrive?" (it's kind of funny that I spoke French in that situation) I then felt my wallet being pulled out of my back pocket by a guy behind me. I immediately turned around, looked the scoundrel in the eye, and fixed my eyes on his hands. My wallet! Without even thinking, I grabbed around his waist as he turned to run off the metro, took my wallet back, and handed it to Talyn. I then took him by the shirt and held him up to the wall until he begged for mercy. (Ok, I didn't really do that last part, but 6'5" Dave would definitely have done it if he were there)

Then came the awkward part. Though the distractor got off the metro, in the kabuffle, the pickpocket didn't have enough time before the doors closed. So, imagine me and him (or, "mean him") standing next to each other as we rode to the next stop, when he quickly got off. It was the most awkward minute of my life. One part of me wanted to kick him and another wanted to just say something to him, but my peaceable side won, and I did nothing. I guess I could have done something like announce to the whole car that they should hold on to their wallets or call the police, but I suppose my feathers were too ruffled up to do anything that gutsy. Plus I didn't have my posse with me to back me up if necessary.

At this point, you're probably wondering what you could possibly be missing out on by not having been pickpocketed. I'll admit, it's not for everyone. But the exhiliaration that comes from recounting this story to people like you and realizing how cool it must have been to watch this whole incident play through made it all worth it. And I guess the fact that they didn't actually get anything from me.

So, how do you prevent such a situation from happening? One thing that I have done is put my wallet in my front pocket. I have been told this before, but it's so uncomfortable and I figured that if my back pocket were deep enough, it wouldn't be a problem. Turns out they get around that. Viddy (one of the other interns) tells me that he keeps a dummy wallet in his back pocket and a real one in his front - if he gets pickpocketed, the only loot would be an Albertson's card and an old BYU All-Sport Pass.

I am glad that I was lucky enough to walk away with all of my valuables, and I will most definitely be more careful in the future. Just remember that as people find solutions, others find ways around these solutions. The pickpockets are getting smarter. Are you??

Waffles, Waffles, Waffles!!!

So, I assume you’ve all heard of Belgian Waffles, but I have reason to believe that you really have no idea. Years ago my curiosity had me asking numerous people what the difference between a regular waffle and a Belgian waffle was. The best answer I could get was that a Belgian Waffle has deeper holes. While that is true, that’s hardly even the tip of the iceberg.

There are three main types of Belgian Waffles. First gaufre de Bruxelles, second gallette, and finally gaufre de Liege. I’ve only tried two of the different kinds, but I’ve been doing my research. A Brussels waffle is rectangular and usually topped with powdered sugar and then whatever topping you want to pay for, ice cream, chocolate, and fruit (no syrup). I haven’t tried one, but apparently they’re lighter than gaufre de Liege. They do have deeper holes than the waffel’s we’re used to.

Gallettes are like waffle cookies. They’re small and round with very, very shallow holes. They’re the mother of waffle cones I think. You mostly buy them at the grocery store, whereas you buy the others either at the grocery store or at waffle stands situated wherever you decide you’re in the mood for a waffle. I had a couple of galletes this morning with chocolate spread. They were yummy.

Finally, the Gaufre de Liege, in other words Liege Waffles. These are by far the most predominant, and for good reason. They’re heavenly! They are nothing like any waffle you can get in our hemisphere. They’re crispy and soft and chewy and sweet and buttery and they have little sugar balls throughout. They average €1,50 each plain and hot, but you can find them cheaper. You can buy packages of them at the grocery store, although they aren’t as good as fresh, they’re still leaps and bounds above even the best Ego waffle you’ve ever had. You can buy the same toppings you put on the Brussels variety. But, unlike any waffle you’ve ever had, it needs nothing. You can eat it completely naked, and people do on far more than a regular basis. (You all know I mean that the waffle is naked, not the eater-of-waffle, although we are an Europe).

Naturally, I want the recipe to these guys, because none of you are ever going to believe how good they are until you can try them. So, I started looking for the recipe. I googled it just like any good wife of an IT graduate, and this is what I found…Lots of people looking for the recipe. However, in addition to all of that, I found a fraternity dedicated to promoting and defending the recipe. (Confrérie de la Gaufre Liégeoise) That’s right. It’s a secret recipe!!

So, I thought, “But how do all the street vendors have the recipe?” So I asked one. It turns out that the waffle franchises have to buy the dough already made. All the waffle makers do is take them out of the freezer and cook them. So, I’ve been looking around for the recipe, and I have found some that come close, but I’m afraid that the rest of you are going to have to come here to try the real thing. Here’s the best recipe we have so far. We want to experiment with a bit less yeast and maybe add a pinch of cinnamon.

1 Kg Farine pour pâtisserie (The closest you can get to that at home is cake flour)
350 g warm milk
100 g fresh yeast (not dried!)
4 eggs
20 g of salt
½ packet of vanilla sugar
500 g melted butter
500 g sucre perlé (Those are the little sugar balls. You can’t get them at home. We’re thinking just break some sugar cubes in smaller pieces, but not that much smaller.)

Prepare the dough with all the ingredients except the butter and sugar.
Let it rise 30 minutes
Work the dough little by little adding the butter.
Add the sugar
Make little balls about 100 g each
Let them rise 15 minutes
Cook them about 3 minutes in a 4 by 7 waffle iron.

So, next time you take a bag of cheerios to church to keep you kids happy, think of us in Belgium where the kids carry waffles instead of cereal. (And I'm not kidding either!)

Jet lag? What jet lag?

The exhilaration that comes with international travel can be dampened somewhat by an abrupt change in schedule caused by a difference in time zone, known as "jet lag." Arriving at a destination at lunchtime after having seemingly left at dinnertime on the same day can make it difficult to adjust to the new schedule. Especially after a day of travel, one can feel inclined to go to bed at the standard hour and rise the next day, feeling invigorated.

Many, however, have experienced the undesired consequence of waking up, fully rested, in the middle of the night or not being able to wake up until early afternoon. Their biological clocks are still running on their local time from back home, and unless sleeping habits are changed, then can go many days on this irregular schedule.

So what's the solution? How do you minimize or completely avoid this jet lag? The answer is simple, but it takes willpower. Adapt your schedule to the local time. In other words, even if it's already 1:30am for you and it's only 7:30pm where you are, stay up for another 4 hours until the regular sleeping hour. Or even it's only 8:00pm for you but midnight where you are, go to bed and do your best to fall asleep. (I usually don't have this problem because traveling in itself makes me feel like it takes 4 hours out of my day) In fact, the same advice goes for meal times - assimilate to the local time.

Although I haven't traveled too much, after talking to others who have and trying out this advice for myself, I am convinced that this is how you can minimize jet lag. Adjust yourself to the local schedule and make the most out of your vacation.

A Taste for Chocolate

When one hears the word, "Belgium," several things come to mind: fries, waffles, pastries, lace, and invariably, chocolates. I've had the lifelong misfortune of being allergic to dairy products - not an intolerance to lactose, but an allergy to milk protein (caseine), which is even contained in other foods such as canned meats (except Spam, which, contrary to popular belief, is quite good when prepared properly). I came to Belgium expecting to enjoy the fries & the waffles, and leave the chocolates to everyone else. However, my curiousity got the best of me, and I started looking at the ingredients of Nutella (a hazelnut chocolate spread) and similar products, and I found one that had no milk! That lead to more important discoveries. Côte d'or, the brand of the spread, is a popular chocolate brand here, so I checked out their regular dark chocolates - they also contained no milk!! I later found out from a Belgian that real chocolate (that is, dark chocolate, not milk chocolate) usually doesn't have milk! What a discovery! It has opened many doors of opportunity and has awaken a liking for chocolate in my tastebuds - a interest that hadn't before existed. I suppose that, of all places, this is the best place to have first tasted chocolates.

The Brussels Jazz Marathon

The annual Brussels Jazz Marathon is a spectacular event for jazz lovers everywhere. Where else can you see up to 400 artists/groups at 125 different concerts, absolutely free? I knew that this was an event not to be missed, so I put aside plenty of time last weekend to go. The concerts were organized in different genres: traditional, modern, blues, and latino, and they were all of top quality. There's nothing like good jazz music to soothe the soul. We had the freedom of going to many different concerts at different restaurants, bars, and at such public places as the well-known Grand Place. It was quite the experience.

A Worldwide Church

One of the scariest things about moving to a new country is making new friends. Sure, it's easy enough to meet your neighbors and say hi to them when you walk outside, but it's another thing to actually get to know people. If it weren't for the church, getting to know people here would be very hard for me.

But the gospel is the same wherever you go, in no matter what language. And that foundation brings people with entirely different backgrounds closer together. Instant friends are made, and people understand each other more easily. When I first came to Belgium, I was excited about the chance I'd have to talk to people in French. But there is only so much you can say to a shopkeeper or a waiter - and there is not too much substance to the conversation. But I was excited to go to church to meet the members of the church. There I would learn about where they came from and what they do. They, in turn would strive to get to know me, and a friendship is formed. There is strength in the church and its members. We come together to edify and lift each other up - when we have the same goal, we can all work together.

The Capital of the European Union

Not all people know that Brussels in the capital of the EU (European Union), which now has 25 member states, and more on the way. And perhaps even fewer know that the buildings of the EU are only open to the public at most once a year. So, being the big political buff that I am (or maybe not), I decided to go to this Open Day and learn a little more about this side of the world. I mean, I did just finish learning about the Founding and American government - why stop now?

First of all, there are several different buildings in the complex, and each has its own function. The European Council is where all of the country representatives meet to discuss important matters. As you can see to the right, I had the privilege of arguing in favor of the United Kingdom, even if I've only been there a mere 3 hours (and in the London-Heathrow airport, no less). I learned that the presidency of the EU systematically changes every 6 months (how's that for a turnover rate), and the country in the presidency has the privilege of decorating Floor 50. (unfortunately, the building has nowhere near 50 floors - the Floor 50 is in fact, the 5th floor) Currently, Austria is in the presidency, and they have decorated the floor with such artifacts as some of the original manuscripts of Beethoven & Mozart. It was very interesting to see.

The European Commission is where they deal with such matters in the EU as humanitarian aid, agriculture, etc. Finally, there's the European Parliament, but I'm not too sure what they do there.

All in all, it was a great visit, which expanded my political mind and opened my eyes. I left with free juice (which was surprising, because not even drinking water or using the public bathrooms are free) and a copy of the EU constitution (which is much longer than the US Constitution), plus free stuff galore. Needless to say, I left happy.

First Impressions of Belgium

Brussels is a beautiful city with a rich cultural heritage, and is home to almost a million people from many different countries. It is the capital of the European Union and its official languages are Dutch & French. As my first time in Europe and really the first time I've live outside of North America, there are a few things that have caught my attention.

Language
For the day that I've been here so far, I've noticed that the majority of the people speak French, which is what I expected. Luckily, they understand my French, but I can't help but wonder if they know right away that I'm a foreigner. (note: I've seen a good number of Asians speaking French around here) With the exception of the library, I've spoken French at all of the places I've been too, including stores & restaurant. From what I'm told, the Dutch speakers can speak better English than the French speakers can. Those French prefer to stick to their own language.

Transportation
It is quite well known that most countries outside of North America has excellent public transportation, and Belgium is no exception. Trams rattle the windows of my quaint apartment every few minutes, and those are only a few of the choices one has to get around the city. In addition to trams, which run above the ground on electricity, there are the metro (subway), busses, taxis, and trains. One only has to wait a few minutes before getting on one of these, and they are very efficient.

There are also a lot of cars in Brussels, and parking is a problem. Unless, of course, you have a SMART car, which is barely 2m (6ft) long. "Quel problème de parking?" a popular billboard says. Streets are narrow and drivers are crazy. Road rage is common. So is honking. One can easily see the emphasis on public transportation as many streets have the tram tracks in the middle of the street with only one lane for each direction given to cars (busses & trucks can drive along the tracks). Of course, that doesn't prevent anyone from driving up the curb and driving on the tracks, at least for a little while. Pedestrians jay-walk all the time, and cars slow down for them without any hassle.

Food
Small markets are common, but there are a few grocery stores around. Prices here are a little higher than in the US, but most things are still reasonable if you shop around. Oranges typically go for €1/kg, baguettes cost €0,60, and waffles are €0,60 or, if you prefer them hot, €1,50 at any of the many waffle stands along the streets. The waffles are everything they're made out to be. Hot and crispy on the outside, soft and slightly chewy on the inside. Most are coated with a sugary syrup, but you can also get them chocolate dipped... (I won't be trying that anytime soon) Fries are also common (with their specialty being "moules et frites" or "mussels and fries"), and I had the joy of trying them tonight (but just the fries - the mussels will have to wait). Lesson learned - going to tourist attractions: good; going to a restaurant close to the attraction: bad. The fries were €2,30, but we were charged €0,70 each for mayonnaise & ketchup (which are thicker and more flavorful than in North America) - that's crazy, but at least they were good. Talk about a tourist trap. And Belgian chocolates? I guess I'll just have to wait for Talyn to get here so she can give her opinion.

Architecture
The buildings here are quite amazing. There are many gothic cathedrals with impressive and intricate sculptures and decoration. The architecture of parliament buildings, malls, and even parks are all of such high quality - it's as if I were in Europe...oh wait... Cobblestone streets and sidewalks are common, which gives everything a very historic feel. (you can probably tell that I grew up in North America)

Those are just some of my first impressions on Brussels - there will be plenty more to come!