tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10036888134004399182024-02-08T01:15:04.221+01:00Living the Expat Life...Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-32316698716599654102012-05-04T13:10:00.000+02:002012-05-04T19:22:52.568+02:00Going to the MoviesMiguel and I go to the movies a lot in Brussels, mostly because we have a UGC pass. This allows us to pay a set rate each month for as many movies as we care to see, for this, going to the movies here is great. The rest of it, well, you can decide.<br />
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Last weekend we went to see American Pie: The Reunion (which was surprisingly good) with friends on a weekend night and I wanted to document some of the ridiculousness. Miguel and I arrived 30 minutes before the movie to get our tickets and get seats. The ticket line was surprisingly ok, but when we got to the actual theater we were blocked from entering by a velvet rope. Now, this is standard procedure, they were cleaning the theater or something, but the staff at the UGC made NO effort to control the crowd. Soon it was packed enough with an unorganized mob that had there been an emergency I don't even want to think about what would have happened. Finally, about 5 minutes before the show was supposed to start one staff member seems to remember that there are people waiting and lifts the rope, at which point it's a no-holds-barred free for all. People pushing and shoving, rushing around trying to get seats. The crazy part was, the theater wasn't even full in the end!<br />
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So the four of us settle into our decent seats for the show. Before the movie started we got one measly trailer that came on first and then the ads. My god the ads. The ads for beverages alone were ridiculous! Two for coke, one for pepsi, one for aquarious and one for fanta (and maybe one for sprite). There were ads for Axe body spray, for various radio stations, car dealerships, etc. For. 20. Minutes. Towards the end of this barrage (during which you have to think, did I actually pay for a ticket??) we get one more trailer. <i>For the movie we are about to see. </i>What <i>is</i> that? As if that's not ridiculous enough, it was advertising it saying it opened on May 2nd, and we were sitting in that theater nearly a week before that date. Oy.<br />
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So finally just about an hour after arriving at the theater the movie starts, and already I start to think, uh oh, I have to pee. Of course, I avoided the bathroom before the movie because not only is it pretty smelly, out of toilet paper a lot of the time, only has crappy "automatic" hand dryers (that are basically the equivalent of having someone just breathe on them for about five seconds at a time), no paper towels and no purse hooks (the floor... ew) but I have to pay 35 cents for the privilege. The concept of a "madame pipi" annoys me anyway, but in a theater where even if I don't order a drink I have to sit through five drink ads before the movie even starts and I end up in the same place for <i>at least</i> three hours. COME. ON.<br />
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One last complaint to end on (I swear, I'm not bitter). The idiot girl behind me kept kicking my seat. Actually, to be fair, she had her feet on the back of my seat the entire time and would kick it sporadically. This is despite me turning around in my seat and asking her to stop, turning around and glaring, pushing my seat back when she did it and none of that worked. I understand accidentally kicking the seat in front of you while you cross your legs, but this was ridiculous and incredibly inconsiderate.<br />
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All of that said, we still go to the movies a lot and it's not always that crazy. As always my ranting is meant more for entertainment that to be a scathing review of Brussels. So... enjoy!Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-51406168975619329312012-04-25T23:23:00.000+02:002012-04-25T23:40:54.057+02:00The Perils of Walking in BrusselsOy, I've been putting off this post, knowing it would be a long whiny one, but here goes!<br />
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Walking in Brussels takes quick thinking, stealthy maneuvers, eyes everywhere and constant awareness of the people around you. The uneven cobblestones may give you enough trouble, but then there's the dog (or horse) shit, slow/stupid people, cars, buses, trash and even the odd zucchini! God help you if it's raining, or even if you want to look up to enjoy the scenery on a lovely day! So here is my list of things to look out for if you happen to be visiting (or living) in this lovely city.<br />
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1. Cobblestones. Cobblestones are the most frequent offenders on this list. First of all, they are almost always uneven, many jutting up enough to cause a stubbed toe. This happens to me about once a day and I often see it happen to others. Irregular cobblestones are far better than missing cobblestones, or loose ones that have been dug up and vertically placed. Also, beware of loose ones when it rains or you will be muddy in no time flat. Please scroll for examples.<br />
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2. Shit. Dog shit is everywhere in Brussels and I honestly don't understand why people don't clean up after their dogs. Often you will see a big fresh one with a foot print right in the middle and smears going down the sidewalk. *shudder* Something else I've seen (though not commonly) is horse shit. Granted, that would be harder to clean, but come on, especially when it's right. In. The. Crosswalk. Ugh. People, if you have a dog (or a horse) please be responsible and clean up after it. And walkers, keep a close lookout, the moment you look up and start enjoying a lovely Art Nouveau building there <i>will be</i> poop.<br />
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3. People. If you read my post about the hoard of children you will already have a sense of what I'm talking about. In my neighborhood people are everywhere and if you are in a rush, you had better guarantee that they will be especially slow just for you. Many people will walk slowly and 3 abreast so you cannot pass. If they are slow because they walk with a cane they will swerve around to ensure passing is impossible. Women with hummer-sized strollers will park themselves in the exact doorway of the exact shop you want to go into. The people who are actually walking at a brisk pace will decide to abruptly stop in a random place in the middle of the sidewalk, maybe to talk to a friend, maybe to text someone, maybe just for fun, who knows.<br />
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Also, do not attempt to play "chicken" with these people. They will not move. If they see you coming and keep on walking either swerve or prepare for impact. If it is entirely their fault that you run into them they will be angry and will possibly yell at you. If it is your fault they won't even notice. Never expect an apology but be pleasantly surprised when you get one.<br />
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4. Cars. In theory, cars stay in the road, so the only time you should have to worry about them is when you are crossing the street. In Brussels this is mostly true. When on the sidewalk about to cross and a car is speeding towards you, make sure they see you before stepping into the street (seems logical, right?). There are times when drivers will blatantly ignore crosswalks and speed right through. When this happens I like to yell at the back of the car, most likely "COME ON!!!" or "JESUS!!!", I also like to gesticulate wildly.<br />
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I was trying to cross once and this slow moving car was coming towards me and I nearly stepped into the road. It's a damn good thing I didn't, because this guy (a Congolese man) just kept driving. I gesticulated, as did others, and he looked at us with this big grin and waved. I had to laugh. Maybe he had recently arrived in Brussels thought "Wow, such nice people! All waving at me!"<br />
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5. Cars+People. This may not be true elsewhere in Brussels, but here in the Matonge it is something to be aware of. People will congregate on the sidewalks outside of hair dressing shops and record shops and basically take over the sidewalk. If you try to walk by more often than not they will refuse to move, forcing you to walk in the street. If this happens, be sure to check for oncoming cars. Take my word for that one.<br />
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6. Construction. Construction is happening all the time in Brussels. It often continues for ridiculous amounts of time and closes off sidewalks for all kinds of digging and ridiculously loud processes. (Side note: this will often start at 6am the morning you can actually sleep in and stop completely at 9am, never to start again.) This may mean there are detours, large boards used to cover up larger holes and other such obstacles. Proceed cautiously. There may also be random detours with minimal explanation. Beware, people may decide that this is the ideal spot to puke. No joke.<br />
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<i>(Of course immediately after taking this picture, in an attempt to avoid stepping in the mess I tripped over the aluminum bars and twisted my ankle. That's what I get for complaining!)</i><br />
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7. Zucchinis? Yep, but this only happened once. There was a giant zucchini in the middle of the sidewalk. I just thought I'd include it because you really never know what you are going to see!<br />
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So there you have it, the perils of walking in Brussels. I think it's fun to put a positive spin on it and pretend you are in a video game. +10 points for not tripping on the cobblestone, +20 points for avoiding the dog poop, etc. Those who are advanced can try this routine with an umbrella in the windtunnel that is Porte de Namur! Good luck! And remember, if it happens to be sunny and warm, the sunny side is that much more likely to smell like piss (or is that just in the Matonge?)Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-86145188248658033452012-04-01T12:25:00.004+02:002012-04-01T12:45:19.947+02:00Seriously?!?!?!<span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">So I know I promised the post on walking in Brussels, but again, circumstances have </span>intervened and I feel the need to share something else<span style="font-size: 100%;">.</span></span><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">We have new neighbors both upstairs and down, the latter came by on Friday night so invite us to their housewarming the following night. They seemed like nice, early 20s flemish guys, so we said we might stop by. We didn't for one reason or another (ok, I was feeling lazy...). When the music started (same </span>bass line<span style="font-size: 100%;">, I was sure it was that Bacardi pre-mixed mojito commercial) at 7pm I chuckled and thought these guys are serious. Then "Circle of Life" from Lion King came on, quirky, I thought. </span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">But the bass continued, rattling our floor, punctuated by cheers. By 2am I started to get fed up and was weighing my options. I didn't want to call the police, that would be extreme. But, if I knocked on their door I didn't want to be <i>that </i>neighbor. They had invited me, after all. </span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">Around 2:30 they started playing a remix of "Big Jet Plane." Another song and then "Big Jet Plane." I'll just skip ahead and tell you that the played it 5 TIMES. In a HALF HOUR. It was around this time that I heard a noise on the staircase going up, but I thought at the time, maybe it's just our neighbors upstairs coming home.</span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">A few minutes later I popped my head out the door to see how loud it was in the hallway. I saw a straw hat on our landing (it's 1 apartment per floor, w. small landings every half flight of stairs) and I muttered under my breath "Seriously?" and threw it down to the floor below. Then I heard another noise coming from above. I looked up at the landing above ours and what should I see??</span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">A BARE ASS PUMPING AWAY. Yep, people were having full on sex on the windowsill a few steps up from my door. No longer in the mood to play nice I said something along the lines of "SERIOUSLY??!!?!?! You should NOT be doing that!! What the hell?!?! Come ON!!" I heard a couple of meek "sorry"'s as I marched downstairs (in my pijamas) and knocked on the door. </span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">My heart was pounding as I tried to ask nicely for them to at least turn the bass down, as it was by this time 3:30am. They were very nice and did indeed turn it down. The guilty couple came down around this point and were trying to explain that I shouldn't worry, this was housewarming party and a one time thing. I said "Don't worry, I know, I was invited."</span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">I finally went back upstairs feeling victorious, but no longer tired at all.</span></span></div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-21030908935078203492012-03-27T12:18:00.003+02:002012-03-27T12:29:01.176+02:00The Battle of the SidewalkAs I was walking to Lidl (a budget grocery store here in Brussels, found all over Europe) today, I got the idea for my next blog post: the perils of walking in Brussels. And that will still be my next post. However, as I was walking <span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; ">back</span><span> from Lidl (and the pet store) with a full granny cart of groceries and cat food, I came upon the <b>real </b>nightmare of walking in Brussels. Children.</span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Now, don't get me wrong, I love children, I want children, I still babysit for crying out loud, but this wasn't just a kid or two. This was a class (or combined class) of 50. All about 7 or 8 years old. On a sidewalk with a workable walking area where 2 adults can walk side by side <i>almost</i> comfortably. And here's me, going in the opposite direction WITH my shopping cart (full and heavy) facing the onslaught. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>There were kids everywhere. Not looking where they were going. Running into me head on. Tripping over my cart. Trampling my toes. Taking over every. Fucking. Inch. Of. The. Sidewalk. And the teachers! The teachers were giving me dirty looks like, how dare I walk on this sidewalk in my neighborhood! How dare I when these kids needed it more! For shame!</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Ugh, anyway, I made it home, cart and toes intact. And you can look forward to my continued ranting about walking the streets, er, sidewalks of Brussels (with pictures!) very soon. </span></div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-38776813554826779902012-02-18T02:07:00.004+01:002012-02-18T02:29:48.580+01:00Coolest Thing in BrusselsLast night I went to see Gotye at the Ancienne Belgique. Having listened to his latest album "Making Mirrors" over and over in the last few weeks I already had a deep appreciation for his musicality and just general awesomeness, but was dismayed to see that the concert was sold out! But thanks to the fabulous Ancienne Belgique website which allows concert-goers (and would-be-concert-goers) discuss shows I was able to find myself a ticket! (In fact, I could have gotten ahold of 4!) Seriously, every concert venue needs to come up with a system like that, amazing.<br /><br />I will also say that I don't think Gotye has really hit in the US, but here in Brussels I had a moment not a week ago in a little delhaize express. I was in the queu with some groceries and "Somebody that I used to know" came on. I start humming/whistling/flat out singing along, and so does the guy behind me! And then the guy in front! And there's the three of us, hardly acknowledging each other but having this connection. It's a feeling I rarely have in Brussels. So thank you, Gotye, for that!<br /><br />Wouter "Wally" de Backer was actually born in Belgium, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that people here were excited about the show. The vibe was electric. The opening act, Gabrielle Aplin was welcomed very warmly and played some great original songs as well as a Lana del Rey cover which was fantastic. When Gotye finally made it onto the stage (it took a long time to get the equipment set up) they started slowly with some of their quieter pieces with gorgeous animations on the screen behind them. <br /><br />I'm not even sure how to describe what it was like watching them get into it. Seeing Wally on the drums was... beautiful. I also found it fascinating to watch him make these little signals back stage when there was something that needed adjustment. I couldn't hear any problems or mistakes, but to see how involved he was in the sound that made it out to the audience was just so damn cool to watch. The animations were trippy as hell and just brought that much more to the show.<br /><br />I could try to go more into the setlist, or try to describe the experience more, but I don't know how it could have been better. Well... I suppose if Kimbra had been able to make it it would have been that much more special. As it is I'm scheming how to get into the sold out show in Amsterdam in a few days. Hah, I wish!<br /><br />In the mean time, do yourself a favor. Go listen to Gotye's album: "Making Mirrors." There's something on there for everyone. I am completely and utterly addicted. Can you tell?Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-24030283301651695252011-07-03T23:39:00.013+02:002011-07-04T00:04:01.262+02:00Trip to Tenerife<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKk_imToiXe2OWuONy-BnPh72vIkNMZQCYCsGX6aoGaPjtkBjqiyuxGaBegrgeIhm9JY_jtQ5QTn8qsvHVdtA5VI-fOp3JgGJhtch210VtWcAYY_ejUTmMqvoA0Zvj3j7yR0-g-_ELtGiT/s1600/IMG_1980.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IKaHLOVmJ1HwiF7hTonMvuAXUicMQNU0FF8xOFsYsvEYR4bGoYeKH2dXhI9iApDU_nYavRgpCA-lLIBkGKxNfMWXIjQu8bL2rPRbuXUBM08JzcAkV3eXMlY4SyIWqZP-avM4tDG7C9aC/s1600/IMG_1979.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPucIbYEJlrL6q7ksvIA0rnB4MS8y67ScrxN2w06vmZcMbZESVmhuzw_4oaweC-p4m9dhn-Gl6mhexVsU6L2xLJPRAVPWOOMbRtn4T0g6E_eYfW_bYbK3SxrhNl1pobCjgiImmh4CFAUnc/s1600/IMG_1970.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;">I've been to Tenerife before, in fact, one of my first blog posts was about that trip! Well, we went back again, and this time I got the opportunity to take some pictures of the local wildlife! This mostly includes a few crabs and some lizards (that I bated with a ripe banana, which worked a treat!), but it was a lot of fun!</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WvdKueXPh6sKxeR4MVZnEjHKsBoCIGiYXOm6EjtOmAU6NsozpcTwzLzpwzRsRVimqth1K_xfnFY6ZUPpSFue0I0nCHx4msSRRhrA7_y6NUOIRG7Mk3k9hiqtpQ9-fLJSQDSAPXdElMX5/s1600/IMG_1933.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGtv7tfCxWEvDywJt7FbK58dBvG2UtXHRhILaxVOphOXNB7LhNLakwgvNRoqMVUn0kWxgUpqve33hO2aC5zzZ6YRUz1KuxnUvwKs8fiBOrZpjj45l0HG4eyb2LiCpS2kkRqj7CFkPiuDLt/s1600/IMG_1938.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiblnxKLfs83gu64a6Mi3FeeXggin9zD6dreHeZjXvlflyDlkZbwD3sHxje0ecgxfRBbTmsRz-xNBDECzdhbO887XFr8ZUNgVJaB50ueH2DrsdfIAFpPefzd5GAvbzf8PP6j_RxHAQjLa/s1600/IMG_1937.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiblnxKLfs83gu64a6Mi3FeeXggin9zD6dreHeZjXvlflyDlkZbwD3sHxje0ecgxfRBbTmsRz-xNBDECzdhbO887XFr8ZUNgVJaB50ueH2DrsdfIAFpPefzd5GAvbzf8PP6j_RxHAQjLa/s320/IMG_1937.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625246890050934994" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGtv7tfCxWEvDywJt7FbK58dBvG2UtXHRhILaxVOphOXNB7LhNLakwgvNRoqMVUn0kWxgUpqve33hO2aC5zzZ6YRUz1KuxnUvwKs8fiBOrZpjj45l0HG4eyb2LiCpS2kkRqj7CFkPiuDLt/s320/IMG_1938.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625247055869392658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span><div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WvdKueXPh6sKxeR4MVZnEjHKsBoCIGiYXOm6EjtOmAU6NsozpcTwzLzpwzRsRVimqth1K_xfnFY6ZUPpSFue0I0nCHx4msSRRhrA7_y6NUOIRG7Mk3k9hiqtpQ9-fLJSQDSAPXdElMX5/s320/IMG_1933.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625247301991595650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs01HKrtbijnqojNq2U-T__CRPeTAlKuqlvoObrvUNq45tl8mSEUFeYhKwoBaaMSyW_Hh6dca4WaCJubjk-XuGm5fpA1Nk1-EAj89ADjeonazFjGjdb53_BaR6kHC1hXbr9fPq_N1iAKuV/s320/IMG_1973.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625247624018621042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivus2EGRLHmyk8tlyiWkn0MrfC9cnn-MiZQNh69R4lpBk3ReK8hbrXGtfj0Xixjo_s3Ik0O18n5khZA2hGsSlCOrbExWA_4YffNzWQSm30eCzDxNw1I4JC2WHvwdOG2F-PhgvsAK4OX38U/s1600/IMG_1975.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivus2EGRLHmyk8tlyiWkn0MrfC9cnn-MiZQNh69R4lpBk3ReK8hbrXGtfj0Xixjo_s3Ik0O18n5khZA2hGsSlCOrbExWA_4YffNzWQSm30eCzDxNw1I4JC2WHvwdOG2F-PhgvsAK4OX38U/s320/IMG_1975.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625247834430069746" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBWKmWWausNZy03FwxY3nYzfgyOqrnfG0eif8swVit8jw4ThnsNyzggyMMHZkdE3ECePg-NdeZGlPq5bSs6dbN2-t0Hp1YtLqwVdbo_5S_f-OzY_R-vecYBn2HkopT0wuXMXNSyyvz_St/s320/IMG_1945.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625248191973284338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIThYDfQiy38AKPOkPHa25tQsO5xl410IOFVvxLj8B2ByP5d1YFsWbndOa9km1wCvrOJs2XzCw0baFefUn2So-o__srEC8PfFZIh-fHsPDGY1HHJJdQ8E4mru4YU2cYE2ko16Eb6IgKMza/s320/IMG_1948.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625248495182100898" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm pretty sure these two were having a little fun...</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucDQnGvm6X14LYb-sgNklQORdY37NFw3gutiP8FaAPiPTXy7LUSNhelWoo13MwllWU5ch0NA2nyBQnFYPF3BV_qqlDdMxcYJnKsiZfDSw0CJSgSETWBZuAcI1nXU97e1dDg_Duky7I70T/s320/IMG_1958.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625248702151583282" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPucIbYEJlrL6q7ksvIA0rnB4MS8y67ScrxN2w06vmZcMbZESVmhuzw_4oaweC-p4m9dhn-Gl6mhexVsU6L2xLJPRAVPWOOMbRtn4T0g6E_eYfW_bYbK3SxrhNl1pobCjgiImmh4CFAUnc/s1600/IMG_1970.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPucIbYEJlrL6q7ksvIA0rnB4MS8y67ScrxN2w06vmZcMbZESVmhuzw_4oaweC-p4m9dhn-Gl6mhexVsU6L2xLJPRAVPWOOMbRtn4T0g6E_eYfW_bYbK3SxrhNl1pobCjgiImmh4CFAUnc/s320/IMG_1970.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625248962409805298" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><meta charset="utf-8"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Crabs!</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IKaHLOVmJ1HwiF7hTonMvuAXUicMQNU0FF8xOFsYsvEYR4bGoYeKH2dXhI9iApDU_nYavRgpCA-lLIBkGKxNfMWXIjQu8bL2rPRbuXUBM08JzcAkV3eXMlY4SyIWqZP-avM4tDG7C9aC/s320/IMG_1979.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625249177861663138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKk_imToiXe2OWuONy-BnPh72vIkNMZQCYCsGX6aoGaPjtkBjqiyuxGaBegrgeIhm9JY_jtQ5QTn8qsvHVdtA5VI-fOp3JgGJhtch210VtWcAYY_ejUTmMqvoA0Zvj3j7yR0-g-_ELtGiT/s1600/IMG_1980.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKk_imToiXe2OWuONy-BnPh72vIkNMZQCYCsGX6aoGaPjtkBjqiyuxGaBegrgeIhm9JY_jtQ5QTn8qsvHVdtA5VI-fOp3JgGJhtch210VtWcAYY_ejUTmMqvoA0Zvj3j7yR0-g-_ELtGiT/s320/IMG_1980.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625249382916234578" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a>
<br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<br /></div></div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-88969000244958901582011-07-03T23:08:00.007+02:002011-07-04T00:05:19.381+02:00Garden Party<div style="text-align: left;">First of all, I'd like to say sorry for the long absence. I honestly don't have much of an excuse, work kept me busy for a while, but for better or worse that is no longer the case (though it was my decision).</div><div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><meta charset="utf-8"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtS6fAoOD2TY6KvNiZUPGqvgUAWLH6ao5-6uwuO96fPvdpvFk4VH0J-4q-K_LekU5ln2JTUYAnTiuZBzSTpA7bJVgs8eC5HsJ-IOrpO6uwlIj7vPOcqH01A5HKANGM73P4xIUn8IJprny4/s320/IMG_2040.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625241688003969330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><div style="text-align: left;">Onto the garden party in St. Boniface! I'm afraid I'm pretty unaware of upcoming events, so these things tend to sneak up on me, though they are always fun. In the morning they started putting grass/turf all over the street and they had already hung mock-laundry between the buildings. A DJ set up, there were drink stands and the part started in the afternoon.</div></div><div><div><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeq6jnSqUkGX7FMR34mjoh3IHydFeX_nTPICmENdDjzf_kx-k7IfVbFs6epYpNW0rPZ9FQRhlR32kSY5aFmix-tRGZ_TUiYR3by5XET7uBoJWiCIHDBaE4y7HhnefHZUWw4O90bd6IZj8o/s320/IMG_2031.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625241457991559394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div></div><div>Once the party really got started in the evening, I have to say, it was eclectic. I saw people of all ages, all races, all sexual orientations just having a good old time. Had I not over-indulged the night before (jello shots are dangerous, people) I would have joined right in!</div><div><meta charset="utf-8"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtBGE7vAqQV-peNupBsvz7eiHA-DjyApwn-XduLdni7jS_9om1mNV_9eLiCakS1I3rb_IcHRuWNYETDxINTmlMsJjm9mylddMcGaHke-Dm_DwNhvytgOBDv6hVZYVodStq_YwjLMcwWlSG/s320/IMG_2026.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625241925118318354" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqR88gVJ2vLUsLRn-_R454-QO-7czmilz7G0RlZYL9FJKYqqIh4M2kYw2q-AbSkHJXHSZ0YN8j9-i8Rs6GPQl94vo3K0ANw9LmTU4oVHVsQ2FFVYMsF50LgGYXGVZucLqjzZqRXArX4pUQ/s320/IMG_2038.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625242972918472946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;">Events like this are what really keep Brussels interesting and fun. You just never know when there will be a party on your doorstep!</div></div></div></div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-9235656096501468562011-03-22T14:11:00.003+01:002011-03-22T14:19:32.502+01:00Only in BelgiumTaken from Brussels Unlimited: <br /><br /><strong>Demands for Courthouse Scaffolding to be Removed</strong><br /><br />The city authorities have orderede the removal of scaffolding at the Palais de Justice, one of Brussels' landmark buildings. <br /><br />The demand comes amid warnings that the rusting scaffolding has been in place so long it is in danger of collapse. <br /><br />It was erected several months ago (I think they mean years) as part of the ongoing restoration work. Deadlines for its removal have come and gone with no sign of it being removed. <br /><br />A spokesman for the committee responsible for the restorations said: "The scaffolding has been there so long now that a whole generation has never seen the Palais de Justice without it."Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-39129929447826596742011-02-02T22:59:00.019+01:002011-02-05T22:00:39.557+01:00Of Beards and Boats<div style="text-align: center;">It occurs to me that I never posted about my Thanksgiving back in the good old US of A! Of course the meal was delicious, my dad and I cooked up a storm and fun was had by all. I could go on more, but I think it might be better to let the few pictures I have speak for me.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhReiDhFecoK9-g9qJs4zEmnCIivdhKPqKCQdkiTJ9vsgQG0T3qodBuMxirWn_O2qQo5Ixi3PNFUQHQhqeRf3n05H5vZldNvTm-dWZmU5yLJaD2zswCksvCOHIiWp9-A9MuVFvdaOceLdQC/s320/IMG_1454.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569216774096902066" /><div style="text-align: center;">Dad and I were co-chefs, in the past I had the title of sous-chef, but he said I graduated to executive chef this year... :)</div><div>
<br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDcuDuqnLxdoxNFr7asICW0zY4-zSO4yLxtXgWQ-y8O6wv1qLUNsL5LgJn3NNtaU-KL_2ox960knAt88vriL0-5LN2v3_JQEr9p8cyJG23S5ImhyX8HpkHEr-g3KPTOp5aCyTdiKaQiTH8/s200/IMG_1453.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569217561533348770" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8F5kINXdygqTSe0qgX0SQVvBH4Mun2QT5b6KkW2DZwDAsb1yWfbmLX11CVEOOvYlkY_OAD_iyLQ-PBbX1SwAwsrjFIMePDvRnV3JVEuiyCUBor7LQvR5lHZEO1uw9LPADQ7h0-LJmF3x6/s200/IMG_1452.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569217300745942402" /></div> The pies weren't the most beautiful things I've ever seen, but YUM. Pecan and caramel pumpkin... how can you go wrong?<div>
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Y_s5cG_2_KMLaY_6isMHOEfGVWvhqZFW3ynXb0PE3DDS9fb93MT2AfER1AlCtyyM6ziOIn3v-HzipHqjgOSjn63zyka-xOudl-gVSDAg39yFPXto-dM7RsJA0Jygyk-xKPzKABVZ-kG2/s320/IMG_1468.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569218200655304706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The gigantic turkey on its rotisserie on the grill. THIS is the way to make tasty turkey!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgET15XFmBFPx68vDOxorQy7aw213heBlWRCe9zdjpKZoji6zXheEnTVtmLEAmiJsxEzqtzdxdb_hbTyZfHlnvc9EKCPqMMJQhMbT04W26Rn8gKeRNUzZ1MuUOFqcslUy11M1D9QW7Bz0gJ/s320/IMG_1472.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569219102111832354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Our awesome turkey-timer was in the shape of a turkey and it's legs stick up in the air when the turkey is done! (it also looks like the mini-turkey is saying toouuuuuuuuchhh dooowwwwwwnnnnn!!!) P.S. This turkey timer was later eaten by the mice that live in the snack drawer. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCrVWv88hIrIlo8t62fHkMBBJKFSTAk416bJ1XW1D3EUNw5PlRQTZlwniOv5PfyYYV7DhuNQEjDn6mdj5vVwQN-SDC0uF-loYbED0HFmnVLKW3FlIZsLwW6VR7kRQVg8ba1hngxdLGVXUu/s1600/IMG_1476.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCrVWv88hIrIlo8t62fHkMBBJKFSTAk416bJ1XW1D3EUNw5PlRQTZlwniOv5PfyYYV7DhuNQEjDn6mdj5vVwQN-SDC0uF-loYbED0HFmnVLKW3FlIZsLwW6VR7kRQVg8ba1hngxdLGVXUu/s320/IMG_1476.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569219607079714642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Dad with the done turkey, post pomegranate-black pepper glaze. Seriously. Best. Turkey. Ever.</div></div><div><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXX61VP7dQ8lGUw0RAw43qNtynhdQCGmLNIfRFV9qCe4-tSHmhtK1_Ic0WplKPoDJLDvfoKNA3E63VNtqlipAQAuUbeeJuUsEYmFW3DBhCMO-3wsI_DM9Z25-cMCCJuFr-YEI_Rr1qd4Nq/s320/IMG_1488.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569219903610429538" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">After dinner things got a bit silly...</div><div><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQgJCH6fgat9DvF6UTaM8QkrhU5nTYXedqIIQuaVItww39hFRO20EQWJfnF-2dAqKPUkm2kbwIAbPMFrfVlHPpcD2BpXOmzKEGkvCAVPIHICsm618pi8PUK62FCgN0nLB_6ikslhc0jls/s320/IMG_1490.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569220192612242914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">And it only continued from there. That's my brother, Jake. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnH0zK2hUV1C7tr-IaC2RrD_eKoVR4tF-dJJDM3ntP_QwxSovN6GUUzlZ761PM-nRUpnHENUbelG7DSI-0ImnZbT1UiFQfCRPK4mA3v4PUjOO8dI4bp5N7SGcKqLI5kphMXG5D0nG3kfm/s320/IMG_1492.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569220506139187906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">He has kind of a hard time growing a beard, so Mom tried to help him out. I think he looks a little amish in this one.</span></span></div><div><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK9iTtWE33FWnmZujT1B_1IjxKRy59BxNUOo8g2nowetd_UT1ehuF0J2mbG5yWnWZrGSF5n6VDlAJLDPDfucuXiUy0bGDJf5WfmtawAp8FYUQpU5GpghQPcUX1haIeeFt71qA4tuGg9c1A/s320/IMG_1497.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569220851353244194" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">See how much fun aluminum foil can be? Now it's ears!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUiriJww92srxDmYLo1cd_qd1VEAtFkaLjGPJ1_qT-y7PcEj3Wlks9ej3d9SDKxP2KOu3323QYH590uRwr-plIBpmOKb9WabhDOvF8cJPvql76JQ0Rf7rqAfu9gYudlpTdh0ZLsRenSFet/s320/IMG_1502.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569221124056720738" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Then of course Nana had to get in on the fun! As you can see, we all take Thanksgiving very seriously.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkupB26dt7oQ9Us3uDV_QNOabpZoILwu28Ihyphenhyphenr4k4RtRHoXgWADjjJQZWZuDqfh5iq1YaT9SisU11M-ACYfK0OXWSxwa4ReEO6IwUYdci6mNt0rbd5uyc5l9jCph7S8xRlnYrrahoQtUe/s1600/IMG_1515.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkupB26dt7oQ9Us3uDV_QNOabpZoILwu28Ihyphenhyphenr4k4RtRHoXgWADjjJQZWZuDqfh5iq1YaT9SisU11M-ACYfK0OXWSxwa4ReEO6IwUYdci6mNt0rbd5uyc5l9jCph7S8xRlnYrrahoQtUe/s320/IMG_1515.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569221504111337810" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Finally, the foil turned into a boat for squash.</div></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><meta charset="utf-8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3vVeNCTjyvNchmSYApL5fF-QEo0KOfIByLNY7-cU5DQsTzh38acTfcb3mTB3362SUJaBLHOckAQO1u_VyQcZ3g7xTJIDWxlGD1PmeDX3t7VYe2hZHrVecw7KvBKdmeK9YbZ5lOPzJ4Cr/s320/IMG_1518.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569221787673707682" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">And here are the chefs the next day... still looking a little silly.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The end.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>*Addendum*</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Mom has pointed out to me that she cooked too! (Though she couldn't remember what...)</b></div>
<br />Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-39083396196258451732011-02-01T22:19:00.004+01:002011-02-01T22:29:46.864+01:00Summer Moon<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Well, it's not exactly summer, in fact, the bitter cold and humidity make that painfully obvious, but in trying to figure out what to post I came across this picture from this past July.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzb26pTcHlccIWi10tgEUJDvJFVQqQdt0zTcFToENTqKx-zhBBf3lTZFq5G87yXh_h6Fg4UwIeLA5ZnzqT48Ze17MsYLEod-XUIvsoLNt_2msusbR1B9-r4ljHyfjaeq07881yDA3GpM8w/s400/st.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568836362930781026" /></div>This is the view from my bedroom window, and I have to say, it's pretty freakin nice. Brussels may not be the ideal travel destination for many people, and dealing with the bureaucracy if you live here can be a nightmare (19 mayors in Brussels and no national government?? Really??), but on certain summer nights it's grand to be in old Belgique.Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-54503306744045587322011-01-30T14:13:00.004+01:002011-01-30T15:01:01.742+01:00Trying to see a movie in BrusselsIt's another lazy Sunday, and Miguel and I are thinking of seeing a movie, so while having coffee over at Blomqvist's, we check out the movie schedule at the UGC on his blackberry. There was one I had been thinking of seeing for a while called "Another Year," though for the life of me I couldn't remember what it was about, so we clicked the title to look at the synopsis. This is what it said:<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(7, 16, 56); "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Printemps, été, automne et hiver. La famille et l'amitié. Amour et réconfort. Joie et peine. Espoir et découragement. La fraternité. La solitude. Une naissance. Une mort. Le temps passe...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(7, 16, 56); "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><span class="Apple-style-span" >Spring, summer, autumn and winter. Family and friendship. Love and comfort. Joy and Pain. Hope and discouragement. Brotherhood. Solitude. A birth. A death. The passing of time...</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" >Riiiiight, so this could be just about any movie ever made. Awesome. On to imdb... </span><i style="font-size: medium; "> </i></span></span></div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-43098144050045718272011-01-25T17:41:00.009+01:002011-01-26T08:23:20.782+01:00Of Rain and Umbrellas<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div>First of all, I wanted to apologize. I have been a very neglectful blogger lately. I guess working 40(+) hours a week in addition to being in the middle of the cold, gray, rainy Belgian winter takes the energy right out of me. Sometimes I think the endless clouds, rain and milder temperatures are worse than the bitter cold with the possibility of snow and/or sun, but what do I know? <div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div>I complain about the rain, but it does make the city shine and sparkle at night. The drops hit the street where a car's headlights are shining and it looks like glitter is falling rather than rain. But then, of course, a big drop falls on your head, or you step in a previously unnoticed puddle and the magic is gone. The rain sucks again.<br /><br /><br />The rain coupled with the constant (and powerful) wind just outside the escalator to the Porte de Namur metro have created an umbrella graveyard along the sidewalk and in the square. Mangled skeletons of umbrellas turned inside-out one too many times litter the area. The smart (if damp) people close their umbrellas before reaching the square risking their comfort to save their umbrellas. Selfless, really.<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div>Since I don't have any pictures of the umbrellas to share for the moment, I will leave you with a picture I took late in the year in 2010. I think it's the appropriate color...<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566172719787089954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEX4CicZZVBxZHMY0Bn9WZDQp9oGjf45KIepvGw5p__Tu5EDca9hfQ5Pkd6cAyXT6dp2NqEXSBZj2eGdvRaTroH8rBTlEk24RvdWEc9MTLs9iWUohQf9bJjmnatQpRap-ZvMQZBi2KC884/s320/grey+lion.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br /><em>When the winter rains come pouring down on that new home of mine, </em><em>Will I still be in your eyes and on your mind?</em></p>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-78957855625023631132010-10-05T11:55:00.010+02:002010-10-05T12:26:37.187+02:00Musée d'Art Fantastique<div style="text-align: left;">Brussels is a strange town. You never know what you're going to find, or where a particular path will lead you. I thought I had gotten used to this, and that there wasn't much left that could surprise me. How wrong I was.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>I went to the Horta Museum for the first time last week with some guests that had been staying over. The house was gorgeous with the feeling of almost being a living breathing being. There was something beautiful to be found in every detail to the point where it became difficult to process it all.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>After being so stimulated and moved by such a work of art, we left to make our way home. It was only a few doors down we came upon something so strange, so bizarre, so completely different that we decided to stop in for some comic relief. This was the <a href="http://www.maisonbizarre.be/">Musée d'Art Fantastique</a>, and fantastic it was. There was a beer festival going on at the time, so we couldn't resist going in. We were greeted by this:</div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAja312Puy6cEBJXnopNoJPajAMwqoSbcARVvnKv20V8e_Lwcku8ZQB9Xph0xq8BILdADv-AfJF1H7IiQmQZGDHnYWm6Mg4dgxLcm6ekEPFNq8JqJc6A7kUypOIpTl3qHi0AXUyV9rP6j/s320/red+bull+baby.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524505940668070898" /></div><div>And this was only the beginning. I don't know if I can properly describe some of the things I saw, so I suppose I will just have to let these pictures give an idea. You had better believe I'll be going back the week of Halloween! So enjoy, and if you are in Brussels and you are up for something... well, like this, go. Gawk. enjoy.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_gtdafAle09cW3PREXdP4kn3R0lT7Kv1WIff-W0IskWSo0ZpQ_QrnL-CRzfiGW1hn1zlS6f9Jb6zQB914rqCuG7UgLl63yZan9lzrXr5R3FUcfBQfmGDFQ9tp64BN97PmX97Y4IHW2G0/s320/rat+mat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524504884440012290" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Ebl3CZvm0alXqoMoCPXLa6OQogeMf6a4mKjfxCd8kLPVT0oQTzFydY-quB6M4jh_oBcufW53rOyzsuEC2Wj6FKYk-fNgIhq3QnqK2Zq0JpB0lKsrziMNvHeIxkkR9ANlNtk2vqe7vL4b/s320/merskeleton.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524504719864331202" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GrnnQt_7Oz52kE_ySd5Rtza0zebW4iz0NotxX8iEHXBSrQ9lM_NpSRSbA_r3OHPLpNBTfw_McTwRIFjgHGO8jFcY7VC3aNIBHVjfou5Nv6_oYY81qXYahYKLla4Wnl3D3bhtkBIhTfPC/s320/man.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524504577537597282" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1e2KSED78XcT0ioT7WDoFlC57a_GK448IMR0OoxlkuRV6RUCSpUTPnaQlgt_8-Kw1LsMpLWORBWNaEx-6ZpHBEZEizlBOESjf_4_MhE8WTKjI_rDDR2ZpL8c6PPFaXgJ6_9gWwB40K0m1/s320/skull+dude+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524504342441050034" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlknGp3tbTnKDDn8rOPitWOVoPi5nqJgbeiGWs5LsTwSFwB5iFQAkWSt4SjXHU8we80GXFUwmjJ2SNWSQYYAAlW45pcoHTkltG3vLqyuu94ecc22bezzXf9gha8ekbRPooY-pAM7cWEd6/s320/skull+dude.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524504121453372018" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-73174443002304745722010-09-22T18:39:00.003+02:002010-09-22T18:55:35.160+02:00Romance in the Cheese AisleOne thing I've really had to get used to while living in Brussels, and really, Europe in general, is lack of space. In the US, especially in the suburbs, there's nothing but space. The roads are wider, the restaurants bigger, the aisles in the grocery store are big enough for 2 carts at once! Imagine!<div><br /></div><div>Here in Brussels I feel like I'm in the way everywhere I am. Waiting to be seated in a restaurant anywhere I stand I'm in the way. Shopping for clothes I have to squeeze between racks to let other people past. On some of the sidewalks it's impossible to walk by another person without touching them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, this closeness, this lack of space is always made more difficult by certain individuals who seem to have no concept of the people around them. People will walk down the narrowest of sidewalks 3 in a row (slowly) and will make no move when someone tries to go the other way or pass them. Crates are left blocking half an aisle in stores where a child will have parked his or her tricycle blocking the other half. People will MAKE OUT in front of the cheese section of Delhaize making it impossible to reach the parmesan or gouda! I mean, really. The cheese section?</div><div><br /></div><div>So maybe I'm a spoiled American (ok, I definitely am), but at least I don't feel the need to have some tongue with my cheese.</div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-65159712183435054092010-08-28T01:27:00.005+02:002010-08-28T01:31:57.405+02:00The Kitty Dance...<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Inspired by the orange thread.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDqQXhJjm13F92L7UGxkAzftDpinwsLdhNKRARuYeIc6zL9WIlgBJlNxnCSazFCVbTJ1z3ryfl0-T5zlQz-fmHEF9xMGsV7D11WDXhLMx1_cyRU07Soe55wfrxY88pWMa_mCkNbRJyeY6p/s320/crazy+cleo+4.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510236294597528226" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnbvDA-CFAeZYaEKPAXYTgb-RpIY5IbISkU5wduOoKwyY4UvZ1dV3opWDGqnrTbKDf8pgKy-q1aeUoSMI5p4eVVM7_zczR7nOZqqKTcuWoc4-Sg6ULsVUQCxJgaFuE04Zi1XFaP-PrhLT/s320/Crazy+Cleo+2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510235645932267042" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSAlInv1gtMPGkUWSAZRqrLGq-FKp4K3scchfg6CCM9Xxin3sM6JSyG-Wf2Mug225PY_2AatEXSjbaXr5BSMUbM_yB1lpraVm54vDzcQBrjS2DSek3Xe9LWzWTA_vasKm0mPX67lGaw7Ak/s320/Crazy+Cleo.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510235453685110930" />Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-1619877875929211442010-08-23T10:34:00.002+02:002010-08-23T18:55:47.207+02:00Eew, bugs...I hate bugs. <br /><br />I don't think this comes at a surprise to anyone that knows me. I don't even really think this comes as a surprise to those people that don't know me, but have seen me around bugs. The make me do crazy things like jump around and shriek at awkward times. I would not do well in the rainforest. I would almost certainly be making more noise than the monkeys, while my leaping around would frighten off any other interesting wildlife. <br /><br />So now that you have that background... <br /><br />I was in Holland last week, er, 2 weeks ago? It doesn't really matter. In any case, I was in the South of Holland with all the trees, where the average age can't be lower than 65. I was sitting outside with Miguel and most of his family eating dinner at the hotel, when a bug decides to fly over to me and land on my shirt. (They are like cats, the are instantly attracted to the person that is most disgusted with them.) I maintain a certain level of calm as Miguel goes to casually brush it away. Only, it doesn't go as planned. Oh no.<br /><br />I can see by the look on his face that something has gone horribly horribly wrong. And that I'm not going to like it. Yep, that icky little bug has gone DOWN my shirt. Shit. How do you maintain any level of dignity in front of your in-laws whilst digging around the front of your shirt for a bug? A bug that you're afraid to touch? It looked like I was trying to fondle myself. At dinner. Shit. The alternative was to strip. Which is better (or worse?)?? <br /><br />Mercifully, before my shirt was clean off, Miguel said, oh, it flew away, it's gone. Now, I was pretty skeptical, I didn't see it fly away. I thought I could still feel it. But when the alternative was stripping, I thought ok, maybe it really is gone. I tried to calm down, but I was still laughing/crying from panic and sheer embarrassment for a good while.<br /><br />So, the meal ends. (I know you didn't think the story was over yet...) We go back to our room. I had not yet forgotten about this bug, and I was anxious to make sure it had indeed flown away. Miguel had confessed later that he lied, and that he hadn't seen it fly away. Shit. I got undressed with my eyes closed and asked him to check.<br /><br />He laughed. <br /><br />There it was, squished and plastered to my boob. Not that I saw it, my eyes were closed the whole time. He brushed it away. I cried. Then laughed. Then cried. <br /><br />I hate bugs.Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-74439590341455606682010-08-22T18:17:00.008+02:002010-08-22T19:16:49.946+02:00Cat Saga<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I have been meaning to post about this for some time, but have put it off for good reason. Anyway, here goes.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Last month, Miguel and I were walking from the Foire du Midi to De Bruckere to see a movie. We were nearly to Bourse, when across the street we saw a black and white cat in front of a convenience store. We decided to go over and check it out, since we rarely (if ever) see cats on the street here. This cat was hanging out on a busy sidewalk, not flinching at people or dogs, just standing her ground. I thought this was strange, especially since our cats are scared of everything. She came up to us, so I started petting her and convinced Miguel to go to the store we were standing outside of to get some food. As soon as he was near the door she started meowing (she had a deep, loud meow) and going crazy! We tried to get her some water too (by buying a styrofoam carton of figs, taking out the figs and pouring water in there). The moment we openend the tin of food she was at it. She had bits of it all over her face, and we could tell she had been starving.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>At this point I had seen enough and refused to leave her there, though Miguel was worried about making her our problem. (At this point I had guessed she was a girl because many people here do not fix/sterilize their animals.) We asked for a box in the convenience store, which he gave us reluctantly, but when I tried to put her in it she jumped right out. One of the neighbors in the same building as the convenience store had been watching all this played out, and threw us down a roll of packing tape. (We also found out from another neighbor that the cat had been around there for a few days.) I put the cat back in the box and held it shut while Miguel taped it up. She struggled a bit, and meowed as we walked her home (a schlepp from Bourse). As we walked I began to get nervous. I had already called my vet at home (on a Saturday night) as well as everyone I knew that might be able to take her in. I was reluctant to bring her home because I didn't know if she was healthy and I did not want to expose our cats to anything.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>By the end of it, no one was able to help, and I didn't feel right about leaving her in a park, so we took her home and locked her in our (very large) bathroom. After spending some more time with her, petting her (which she loved) and feeding her a bit more, we noticed that she was skin and bone... everywhere but her belly.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>I immediately left the bathroom, grabbed my computer and googled "how to tell if a cat is pregnant." According to what I read, we indeed had a pregnant kitty on our hands. So what was left to do but give her a name? We settled on Fabiola (also thename of the queen of Belgium). We were resolved to at least get her to a shelter, though they were all closed on Sunday, so it had to wait until Monday.<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDGCbzC-z1IhfYe9OizM5xCYK40yH5rlpGet6LnhcM47jyueTB6KKfYxtFkpgUlLcMY9PvRGHQUvhkC3t5vuQZC7uaTRemYN71erWuXzVE9DiM8ZvHY-Gg5SCXAZC1tS25t5rUW5qzpDL/s320/Fabiola+5.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508281453766517778" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>During this time I made sure she was well fed, had plenty of water, a warm bed and a toy to play with. She got plenty of attention, and we began to grow attached. She purred when petted, she purred when she ate, she meowed when we came in the bathroom, she played with us, used the litter box like a pro, but mostly she slept. I became resolved to do everything I could for her, though I knew that adopting her, especially in her condition and with 2 cats of our own, would be next to impossible.<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTS_hVe_0NchOMVoSvxnYUp7fei0YqDvoYGfparM2T_Q0Rb-uMFDQYfasjq6OOVmPtLoFaKpcMFA9Zjcn2AzUonr_rsB5-qqd2d2ygI-JugJkH8iolCUdNjXlX_l1v_u6z_FjSvPt8LtZO/s320/Fabiola+3.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508280650859361298" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>So Monday rolled around and I found a list of all the shelters in the Brussels area and called all of them, asking if they had room for our little, up-the-spout Fabiola. All but one, Blue Cross, were full. When I called Blue Cross all they said to me was bring 10 euros. I can't say that this gave me the best feeling about the place, but there was no other option. Laura, a friend of mine, and I decided to go that very morning. I packed Fabiola up in a carrier (one we no longer use for our cats), and carried her to the taxi hub nearby. 14 euros later, we were at the shelter and talking to the woman at the front desk. </div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_NJwMsV0xL9XkK6yj43Hs8N_xpRzQPf3RYVsDybK_p87oJjyKlxCn9oU2eyt2LFzVscEAc5VTOPOWt71xLZaOAw7VyaO2qSgs2SaCYZazSIl07l2n59k-IJXvUvdwZqo3gEc1HQFpwb1V/s320/Fabiola+1.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508280382538676242" /></div><div>She spoke no English, took my 10 euros, asked a couple of questions and summoned a guy from the back room. He lifted the carrier and took her though a door, down a corridor. Not having had a chance to say goodbye, I asked the woman at the front desk if he could bring her back, she told me in cold French no, and mentioned something about microbes. I tried to argue with her, but my already mediocre French failed me, more so because I was growing more upset by the second. There was nothing to be done. I couldn't get her to listen to me and I could no longer keep the tears behind my eyes. We had to go. </div><div><br /></div><div>The taxi driver was waiting for us, as he said he would, and as soon as we got in the floodgates opened. Thank god Laura was there, if only to give me a much needed hug. We got back and I called Miguel in tears, begging him to come home for lunch, which he did. I explained what had happened, and he decided to call to see if we could get her back. The gist of that phone call was that no, we could not get her back. We had signed the cat over to them. Not only that, but they didn't have to release any information about the cat and it would have been illegal for us to keep her. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I understand that she may have belonged to someone else, but any vet here can check for a chip or a tattoo (which most pets have here). Also, it's entirely possible that once her owners found out that she was pregnant they got rid of her on purpose. It then occurred to me that what if all the shelters had been full? Would it still be illegal? What were you supposed to do then. It turns out, if that is the case, you just have to leave the cat where you found it. To me that is just unbelievable. </div><div><br /></div><div>So we got no more information from the shelter. I would think that when it's a person's job to care for strays and take in animals they would be more compassionate. More understanding. Nicer. I just couldn't believe my experience. One thing is sure though, in case Fabiola's time is running out at the shelter they have my number and will call me. </div><div><br /></div><div>So that is the end of the story. I know it's not the best of endings, but I do take comfort in the fact that she will at the very least be fed and well looked after. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>If you read this and are looking to adopt a cat or kittens, the website for the Blue Cross in Belgium is <a href="http://www.la-croix-bleue.be/">here</a>. Fabiola is not listed yet, but I imagine that is because she is still nursing. </b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-84352493031160678422010-08-22T18:12:00.004+02:002010-08-22T18:17:09.320+02:00Overheard in BrusselsI was walking into town with Miguel yesterday, and as we walked by an Italian restaurant we heard: "Guarda la questa bianca bianca!" (Look at that extremely white girl!) I didn't think much of it, until I turned around and saw that they were pointing at me! I know I'm pale, but I didn't know I was <i>that </i>pale! *sigh*Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-6661641014414935462010-08-09T00:55:00.003+02:002010-08-09T01:02:46.884+02:00Our Nightly Concert...<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwoTSTOw-5__SvzrO3ltg4mHdVQjTmq5wbOl6IIPFJRbUkElHKWwyT-CyRojFG5-0OdS2byNWlMybphw_0yFQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div>This video was taken from our bedroom window at about 12:45am. He had been singing for about a half an hour before the video and is still singing now. Grrr....</div><div><br /></div><div>*Update* He just stopped, it's now 1am. I yelled "Arete!" down there, which seemed to do nothing, and was about to call the police when he left! Miguel said I should have blown my Vuvuzela at him. That's a much better idea....</div><div><br /></div><div>Come back singing guy... Here singing guy...</div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-54041011229134362192010-07-15T01:48:00.005+02:002010-07-15T02:09:47.197+02:00"Now You're in Brussels..."I heard this song on the radio at Delhaize the other day and nearly fell over laughing! And now, thanks to <a href="http://www.belgianwaffling.com/">The Belgian Waffle</a> I have video! I am practically in tears laughing. My god.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">*edit* Scratch what I said before. I actually have tears streaming down my cheeks right now from laughing so hard.</span><br /><br /><object style="background-image: url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/zTbNXMSOBbI/hqdefault.jpg);" height="295" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zTbNXMSOBbI&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zTbNXMSOBbI&hl=en_US&fs=1" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="295" width="480"></embed></object><br /><br />PS., Here is the original song by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys for comparison. And oh, what a comparison.<br /><br /><object style="background-image: url(http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/0UjsXo9l6I8/hqdefault.jpg);" height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0UjsXo9l6I8&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0UjsXo9l6I8&hl=en_US&fs=1" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="344" width="425"></embed></object>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-9432051739410671512010-07-05T01:12:00.006+02:002010-07-05T01:40:08.987+02:00Of Baking and PatriotismSo it would seem that I am destined to be followed around by the letter B. Why, you ask? Let's see. My name is Brody. I live in Brussels, Belgium. I'm a blogger. And now, I bake! Professionally!<br /><br />I had the absolute luck to be approached by the owner of a rather nice cafe here in Brussels to begin baking for them! He had heard I baked from another cafe owner and friend, and decided to give me a shot! Now, I have never in my life baked on such a large scale as I am required to do with this job. 12 cakes at a time, measuring flour and sugar by the bag, but, though I was daunted at first (and still am a bit) I find that I'm getting used to it, and actually really enjoying it. The only downside is... the heat. I know, I know, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. And really, once I get going, it's not so bad. But when the weather is right around 90F (32C), and you are stuck in a basement kitchen doing heavy lifting with ovens blazing, well, then we can talk!<br /><br />The great thing is, I love doing it. I've always loved baking (probably because then I have something tasty to eat), and so far I still do. I was posed the question last night that since I bake so much now, do I still enjoy doing it on my own time. I tested that out today, the 4th of July, by making an American flag cake. That was my plan for my big show of patriotism (as of last night after some bowling and a few beers).<br /><br />My idea was to get some food coloring at Delhaize and use 3 different colors of frosting to decorate. Easy, right? Well, this is Belgium, so, wrong. No food coloring to be found (where I could have sworn I saw it before), so I decided to get a bag of M&Ms thinking to use those instead. When I got back home I found that I did have blue food coloring and colored red sugar sprinkles, score! Here are pictures, it's not the most beautiful cake ever, but at least it was tasty!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6WowLh-KjODrbr8UgvAwbJbId-dBCZjuM9JLdpADsYStCFxVV3E7-Yl2omRzNgGKVqN6zIM-zrZfm5UzXnP2mm809pBdPsaVw2QbWfUNhHDVcFDIJyQKNMf4cF4XWcUeAJz5MtpKobNB/s1600/IMG_8040.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6WowLh-KjODrbr8UgvAwbJbId-dBCZjuM9JLdpADsYStCFxVV3E7-Yl2omRzNgGKVqN6zIM-zrZfm5UzXnP2mm809pBdPsaVw2QbWfUNhHDVcFDIJyQKNMf4cF4XWcUeAJz5MtpKobNB/s320/IMG_8040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490198971389157746" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhll-V2zLuhSGzaRpBKoSSamBAW1K0NQrxag4N7LUmi75GSswZybeWzN2hvWjLckGljqwANTTTcROQWtMLrIEQmRwYA5vZ1aA0iHAxzLeJu3-Tv81bBOPZ8FMBj1Uknvp9dh5nyF7mymgyC/s1600/IMG_8042.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhll-V2zLuhSGzaRpBKoSSamBAW1K0NQrxag4N7LUmi75GSswZybeWzN2hvWjLckGljqwANTTTcROQWtMLrIEQmRwYA5vZ1aA0iHAxzLeJu3-Tv81bBOPZ8FMBj1Uknvp9dh5nyF7mymgyC/s320/IMG_8042.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490198165533179810" border="0" /><br /></a>My friend Laura, also American, came over to share the cake with us. Fun was had by all!<br /><br />So there you have it, I still enjoy baking, especially when it's an imperfectly rendered symbol of patriotism!Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-85273336102594180152010-06-17T12:43:00.005+02:002010-06-17T13:02:18.660+02:00A Sign from AboveYesterday was the kind of day (with regard to weather) that makes you feel lucky to be alive. It was that perfect temperature, warm in the sun with a stiff cool breeze, and not a cloud to be seen. I decided to go for a walk in the royal park, bring a book, get some ice cream, make an outing out of it.<br /><br />After a nice walk, I got an ice cream cone and sat down at the perfect empty table, partially in the sun, partially in the shade. I was concentrating on not letting the dripping ice cream get all over me and thinking to myself: "Today, I really like Brussels." No sooner had I finished that thought in my head... *<span style="font-weight: bold;">SPLAT*</span> A bird shit (or shat?) on my table, the splatter narrowly missing my purse. And I mean a big shit. That thing rocked the table!<br /><br />I laughed, a little stunned, wondering if I should move (but where to? All of the other tables were taken) or if I should worry about getting a special delivery on my head or even in my purse. Is bird poop like lightening? Will it strike the same place twice?<br /><br />I tried to maintain my calm, ice cream-in-the-park attitude, but all I could think about was what would I do if a bird pooped on my head, like, would I laugh or cry? Would I take the metro home or walk? And so, the mood was effectively ruined and I decided to head home.<br /><br />So what do you think, was it a sign?Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-18718661216407844212010-06-15T23:57:00.002+02:002010-06-16T00:01:49.819+02:00This probably shouldn't be funny, but...<div style="text-align: center;"><object style="background-image: url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/2mNB_VG_shc/hqdefault.jpg);" height="295" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2mNB_VG_shc&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2mNB_VG_shc&hl=en_US&fs=1" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="295" width="480"></embed></object><br /><br />I can't stop laughing!</div>Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-29249534463407044582010-06-14T12:40:00.006+02:002010-06-14T15:14:54.478+02:00Camera Troubles...So I have had bad luck with cameras lately! I bought my camera (a nice little Canon Powershot SD870 IS) 2 years ago, and up until recently it has served me very well. Now, not so much.<br /><br />First, the screen started to give out, strips of pixels just died. Then more patches were gone! Because the camera doesn't have an optical viewfinder, this is very annoying. But ok, I was willing to deal with it, since the spots didn't show up on my pictures. Fine.<br /><br />Well, I decided to break out the camera yesterday to try to capture a pic of Cleo and Sophie getting their play on. I was taking pictures and video, no problem... until I decided to look at them. In every picture there was a fuzzy black line from the top of the screen to the bottom, and it was darker when I had the camera zoomed in. Ok, I thought, maybe it's just the camera and it won't show up on the pictures! WRONG. Examples:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZGap2finQl6WpPk-2LiAph0gt9i04nM5c9FFKL0DXDSw3yR7X-_qggCCR2AQY7BslsNkuIsEyOPw_lcrWX5vvNRurBQ9B03UmD6qSa-EvzfDkAm2htdmKRgnK88C_Qt1WOFDenHS6xAMd/s1600/IMG_8011.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZGap2finQl6WpPk-2LiAph0gt9i04nM5c9FFKL0DXDSw3yR7X-_qggCCR2AQY7BslsNkuIsEyOPw_lcrWX5vvNRurBQ9B03UmD6qSa-EvzfDkAm2htdmKRgnK88C_Qt1WOFDenHS6xAMd/s320/IMG_8011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482615238181738066" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJpM3NVcxoeXOhKk_AqvcYR7xadxLVJZ17sUmZyNq9Ob04ECcQ3glVPuPwehT3SQR1ywAEofd5fspoHkf9N4MjvL6_VdRZ8vMNVsezG1pRXG3H1RBIFmLf7ev3SQrmd1cqtmCrhU5dJJp/s1600/IMG_8015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJpM3NVcxoeXOhKk_AqvcYR7xadxLVJZ17sUmZyNq9Ob04ECcQ3glVPuPwehT3SQR1ywAEofd5fspoHkf9N4MjvL6_VdRZ8vMNVsezG1pRXG3H1RBIFmLf7ev3SQrmd1cqtmCrhU5dJJp/s320/IMG_8015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482615402420579394" border="0" /></a><br />It's just my luck, too, that the flower carpet is this year! It only happens every other year, and here is a picture someone else took of it:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/97/213545725_ed0ed26fc3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 399px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/97/213545725_ed0ed26fc3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>So while normally I would be content enough to wait a few months and save for a camera, all I can think of now is NEED CAMERA NOW. It doesn't help that after playing around with Dad's camera for a while, I am seriously coveting a Canon Powershot G11.<br /><br />Time to get schem- er, saving...Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1003688813400439918.post-19793931954519009492010-06-05T00:36:00.002+02:002010-06-05T00:42:05.471+02:00ObservationThe weather has been really lovely here the last few days, and it has put me in a great mood! I was walking around in the sunshine 2 days ago, going to check out <a href="http://www.dod.be/">DOD</a> (why have I not gone there before?) and I was paying no attention to the sidewalk. Then it occurred to me: It is risky to walk along and pay no attention to the sidewalk in Brussels. One of two things will imminently happen. 1) You trip on the cobblestones, or 2) step in dog poo.<br /><br />Ah, the sad truths of living in Brussels. Good thing there's plenty of chocolate!Brodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06511297219592123121noreply@blogger.com0