Well isn't that nifty...

In Amsterdam, we went to visit the house where Anne Frank hid with her family during the Nazi invasion. That was an incredible experience. I saw this article in the news aggregators just today, and was blown away. Simply because... I was there-ish!

So after six weeks... wait, what?

Six weeks? I've been here for six weeks? And midterms are next week? And then my time here is half over? So many unbelievable concepts of time! So many rhetorical questions!

Okay, back to the matter at hand: this blog. Wait (and the distractions continue...). First, let me take the time to thank you, dear reader, for keeping this blog alive. As alive as an inanimate page of HTML coding can be. As the old saying goes, electronically posted writing is only effective if someone, you know, reads it. At least I think that's the phrase. Anyway, I wish so badly that I could be in your kitchen right now, taking a sheet of cookies out of the oven. Because, you know, I'd offer you one-- all warm and gooey with chocolate chips-- as a sign of my eternal gratitude.

Now. Dare I resume where the title left off? Ready? Set? Go. After six weeks, I've learned that certain trends don't wane with geographic distance. For example: laziness.

Case A: I haven't posted in a few days.

Case B: I haven't purchased legit batteries nor have I taken the time to figure out how to fix my camera, so no pictures as of yet (except for the ones I ninjaed from Kristen's online Kodak album... that was an intensely aggrivating chore in and of itself... don't ask).

SO! Who's ready for a "quick" recap? Ready? Set? Go. On Friday I met with my art class in the ticket hall of Centraal Station (not a typo, I promise). What a bustling hive. That morning I watched a homeless man get shoved by a cafe employee into a billboard which went *SMASH* onto the tile floor. I picked up snibits of the employee's shouts. I think he was urinating in her store. Something may have gotten lost in translation, but there you have it.

Anyway, we met up and took the train to Amsterdam. That's right, boys and girls, the magical land of legalized marijuana. And, you know, things like the Van Gogh museum and crap like that.

Just kidding! The Van Gogh museum was AMAZING. It was positively incredible to see his paintings and more specifically, his rudimentary sketches (genius). I kept hearing my mum's words in my head: "This is HISTORY!" For sure... I was looking at antique drawings by a brilliant man. It felt so unreal. Unbelievable exhibit. I highly recommend. I don't feel too badly about my busted camera because no photographs were permitted in the museum. So if you want to see the real deal, buy a ticket to Amsterdam or crack open my brain! (I opt for the former... less painful.)

But sadly, overall, I was unimpressed with the city of Amsterdam. Perhaps it's because my experience was hindered by a pseudo-academic atmosphere-- that is to say, I was never able to fully immerse myself in the culture due to a tight itinerary. Likewise, in general, I never felt safe there. Don't know why. I was so surprised to hear myself think, "Thank goodness!" when I arrived back in Brussels on Sunday night.

Enough of that. Onto the pictorial goodness. As promised, here are the fruits of my ninja skills. Blast from the past! (Err... last week...)

My beautiful sister and myself, enjoying a beer at the high-class Pizza Hut in Bruges.


This picture not only captures our familial ties, it encompasses our ultimate dork factor.


Members of my fantastic family, having our bums' palmed by a giant hand in Antwerp. Because, I mean, why not?



It was stale from the cold weather but it was goooooooooooood candy. Look out for the giant gummie rats! And... to the right... look out... hard-boiled eggs? Yeah. Belgians have a strange take on aesthetically appealing gummies.

The day Kosovo gained independence! Party outside of De Beurs! I don't know much about the political controversies surrounding this event, but when I saw these folks honking car horns and wearing flags and dancing in traditional costumes, I swelled with happiness and wept. So naturally, I made Kristen take a photo of the scene.

Okay, so this chocolate shop in Bruges sold beautiful happy chocolate bunnies and chocolate lambs and chocolate chicks. And chocolate male reproductive organs and chocolate female mammary glands. This is as close to a PG-rated blog as I can get; therefore, no such photographic evidence will be posted here. (If you're 18 or older, check out my Facebook. Bwahahhaha.)

Also, of course, I made sister take a photo of the sick graffiti we encountered. I wish this was my train. Hohum.

And last but not least, the second most glorious moment in the world: right before you bite into a Belgian waffle. (The first most glorious moment, of course, is when you actually taste its sugary splendor.)

Well, sweet reader, I hope all is well with you and yours. I'm sorry to report that I won't be posting very frequently over the next few weeks- next Monday marks the beginning of midterms, then I have a very special visitor coming, then Spring break (Paris, Barcelona, and Prague). Exhausted yet? Jeez.

I hope you know you're simply the bee's knees.

Fondly,
Lauren

PS- Haha. "Quick recap." I crack myself up.

Mid-Week Moral and Family Fun

The story: Don't buy batteries at a flea market. Glittens, yes. Ugly sweaters, sure. Bananas, perhaps. But NOT batteries. Kristen bought me a pack and those stupid AA delinquents messed up my camera and it's making scary noises and I think I might have to call a young priest and an old priest to sprinkle holy water on it.

The moral of the story: Don't by batteries at a flea market. Deja vu. (Go ahead, say it. I'm unoriginal.)

The point of the story: Nothing. No, wait. It's that my posts will be solely text-based (ho-hum) until I can A) fix my camera or B) buy legit batteries. It's funny, ya never realize how much illustrations enhance a blog until said illustrations cease to exist. Hope you don't get bored to death in the meantime. I don't have blog insurance. And I'm not liable for any lost or stolen items. Just so you know.

The point of this particular post: Okay, on to the good stuff. This is a quickie because I'm off to class in a few minutes. So my sister Kristen and my aunt Barbara left this morning. Their flight is at 9:20 in the morning and they're arriving in America at around 11:30 in the morning. I just love time travel. To the Delorean!

It was so fantastic having them here. I was concerned that it would be blind-leading-the-blind-eqsue-I-love-hyphens. Ended up pleasantly surprised by how quickly I re-got my bearings.

Recap: We toured Antwerp the first day and had a delicious dinner back in Brussels at a charming joint called "Raphael."

Sunday we went to the super flea market (*shudder*... batteries... don't remind me...). Had some yummy drinks at a place near my house called "Monk," then ate fantastic Chinese food (essentially, Belgian's own version of China Town is just around the corner from my house... thank goodness, too).

Monday we toured the upper part of town-- Palace of Justice, Royal Palace, Museum of Fine Art, the Park, a positively wonderful statue garden, and whatnot. Monday night we had a home-cooked meal, beautifully prepared by Kathleen and the homegirls (hah... literally!) and we all chatted about this that and the other thing.

Tuesday I took them to Bruges! Hooray! The trip went well, but it was uncomfortably cold so we didn't stay or wander as long as I would have liked. That night we went to an Italian place where the dishes looked delicious but were incredibly bland. I reaped all of the leftovers. I'm going to dump cloves of garlic all over them. MWAH!

Of course, I was sad to see them go. They made me wish all of you were here as well.

*SIGH*

See how boring my posts are without photo accompaniment? Sorry if stuck around this far. That's some intense suffering. You masochist!

I guess the good news is Kristen took about 34,418,129.05 fantastic photos, so as soon as she posts them, I'll perform some sweet ninja acts and post some up.

Weekend agenda: AMSTERDAM!

Got to dash off to class. Leave your message at the beep.

Happy Singles Awareness Day!

That's what my rebellious, cynical high school friends and I used to call this holiday, anyway. Pretty accurate if you think about it. Today's just another holiday to separate "us" from "them." Pfft. Them.

At least I don't feel too left out of the lovey-dovey loop over here. Valentine's Day... not that big in Brussels. I saw a few people carrying around a rose or two, but they were basically dragging them along the concrete. Miss America would be so offended.

In fact, after scouring numerous shops for a legit Valentine's Day card to send home, Priya and I deduced that American's are some of the only ones who pump this holiday with so much commercialized sweetness. (The search results included a whopping selection of about 5 cards, all in French, so for all we knew they said, "You're sexy, let's mate," or perhaps, "You're cute but this card is to tell you I want a divorce.")

Speaking of love in a foreign language, remember those candy hearts with the adorable messages on them? My favourites were always "BE MINE," "LUV YA" and "BOOK CLUB." Today I saw a bag of Dutch candy hearts at the supermarket. I won't say I wasn't tempted to buy a pack and have my host lady translate them for me. If American candy hearts have messages as ridiculous as "FAX ME" (euphemism?), I can only imagine what the Dutch phrases might be.

So. After all of this complaining, you may ask just how am I spending my Valentine's Day...

Well, this morning I worked on dreadful Statistics homework for about four hours. Then, I took pictures of myself, angling them in such a way to show off my fancy new barrette clips.


Impressed? I bet. Tonight we're going to tear up the karaoke stage at O'Reilly's for my buddy's birthday celebration. I'm hoping for another stimulating and 1980's-tastic adventure. I think Garret and I made Belinda Carlisle proud last week:


Well, Reader- from the bottom of my pixelated heart, I hope your day is as warm and fuzzy as humanly possible.


Awwww. That's for you, Mom.

Love,
Lauren

Manners: An International Language

With a blog post title like this, I feel confident in my ability to land a spot as a writer for Sesame Street.

Dear reader, as much as I hate to admit it, after my first few days in Belgium I was already forming negative opinions of most of the natives. In general, they seemed so disconnected from one another. I found myself constantly willing folks on the Metro to look at me so that I could exchange a warm smile. I was overwhelmed with nostalgic longing for the good old days of walking down the street in America, nodding "Hello" to passing strangers.

It just doesn't happen here. Not even the dogs would look at me. Not even the babies. Well, if the world wasn't avoiding eye-contact with me, they were casting suspicious or judgmental glares (I felt like I was in Invasion of the Body Snatchers... damn Commies... I mean...). Phew, what a perfect place to end a parenthetical thought. Smooooth.

Anyway, I don't know if:

A) I've begun to look less like a stupid tourist
B) I'm just becoming used to the lack of friendly exchange between strangers
C) I'm becoming a freaking optimist (ahh!)
D) Pleasant weather = pleasant people
E) All of the above...

... but whatever the reason, throughout the past week, I've encountered some lovely random acts of kindness which I believe are blog-worthy. So here's a post dedicated to the warm and fuzzy action/reaction which defines the art of manners. After extensive field research, I have deduced that this subtle yet powerful sentiment is remarkably similar across continents... sort of like the art of folding laundry...

So here goes...

The Art of Manners
(Disclaimer: Sorry, Mom-- exhibits A & B might disappoint you.)

Exhibit A: In a mad dash to catch my Metro to class, I unknowingly dropped my winter cap. What a would-be-woe! My potentially poor poor frozen ears! Fortunately, a gentleman hopped on the same cart just behind me, tapped on my shoulder, and held out my hat. Savior! His manners spared me one head cold and spread a wide smile across my face.

Exhibit B: Similar chain of events when my MP3 wiggled out of my supposedly secure coat pocket (now I know why the coat was on sale... faulty pouches, tsk tsk!). This happened outside of the library- I am extremely fond of library dwellers so perhaps this example is skewed based on location. Anyway, I noticed instantly that something was wrong when errr the music stopped playing. I spun around to find another student holding the teeny weeny uber expensive piece of equipment out in his hand, smiling, and saying, "iPod!" with a heavy Dutch accent.

Exhibit Q: This example may very well be skewed on the fact that I am a weak, physically deficient female (so they say). But heck, it's sweet and chivalrous nonetheless. Last Thursday, housemates and I all gathered for an afternoon grocery store excursion to purchase the fixings from some promising Nachos. They all had class afterwards so I was in charge of toting the neat-o wheeley travel grocery cart thing home. Bloody. Hell. It was heavy. "But Lauren," you rationalize, "it was on wheels. You really are weak, aren't you?" Am not! The sidewalks weren't a problem. It was the Metro stairs... those damn Metro stairs...

I got up them fine. Sort of. I almost peed when I realized how far down I needed to thump that darn cart. Enter stage right: student in my Art class. I think he's a VeCo student-- the fact that I don't even know whether or not he's a study abroad student illustrates the fact that I've never actually spoken to him. Didn't matter. He nodded at my cart, then swiftly picked it up and trotted down the stairs (strapping young lad) making sure to crack a joke in the mean time ("So, what, all this food will last about you a week?"). Successfully made my way onto the Metro car , not before tipping my hat to him and his kindness of course.

"Okay," I think, "now getting back up the stairs to the street shouldn't be too hard." It's quite funny how intimidating a flight of stairs can be when the prospect of tumbling down with a crap load of food is rather... likely. I thumped up one, two, three stairs at a laughable, slower-than-slug-pace before an older fellow standing behind me motioned with his hands and said French things. He picked up the lower half of the cart and helped me lug it up the flight in record time. I managed something like seven or eight "Merci beaucoup!"s and he replied with something that sounded like, "C'est mon plaisir, madmoizelle!" Just the word "madmoizelle" made me smile because I felt like a pretty pretty buttercup princess.

But kids! The moral of the story is that manners are internationally invaluable. I didn't know these people. They didn't know me. I didn't have to understand their language to understand that they wanted to be helpful. Hopefully they could comprehend my gratitude through several dumbstruck smiles and butchered French phrases.

In summation, be nice- or me and the members of the Belgian Random Act of Kindness Coalition (newly-founded by yours truly) will come and get you. And by "get you" I mean we'll be so polite and helpful you won't know what to do with yourself, except invite us over for tea and strumpets.

Most kindly (I like to use salutations as a free opportunity to be humorous/lame),
Lauren

Sixteen-- the most beautiful number.

This is a post about my afternoon stroll on a typical Friday in Brussels...

... except it was 16 degrees celsius!!!

For those of you who aren't skilled in mental temperature conversions (it's okay, not many of us are...), 16 degrees Celsius is about 61 degrees Fahrenheit. Compare that to my past four weeks here (consisting of 6-11 Celsius)... I was giddy to say the least.

How did I celebrate, you ask? Well, today's your lucky day, because I'm giddy enough to blog about it (complete with photo illustrations).

After Morgan and I dominated our peer discussion for Introduction to International Relations Theory, I skipped to the library to return books, hopped on the Metro, and power-walked home where I shed my coat, gloves and scarf, donned a denim jacket, and headed back into the sunlight.

"Sunlight?!?!?" you ask, bewildered. "But Lauren," you continue, "I thought the sun did not shine in that country."

Take a look at this.


Not only was it sunny in the park, it was warm in the park. Here I am in the park. I hope my facial expression captures my bewilderment and equally, my gratitude:


I attempted to take a photo which captured my squinting face (squinting? I haven't done that since I've been here) but a shadow of the camera got in the way. I decided that equally illustrated the sun-factor:


"Why Lauren," you ask, "isn't that Saint Katherine's Cathedral? I've seen that before." Yes, you probably have. But have you seen it in the sunlight?!


Now you have. And now, we can move on.

For the whole afternooI happily walked through town, trying so hard not to look like a tourist (I certainly don't feel like one anymore) but I couldn't stop whipping out my camera. Here is a shot of the glimmering gold columns on the hotel in Grand Place:


Grand Place was packed, but there was something more pleasant about the faces of the locals and tourists alike.


I particularly enjoyed this couple sitting in the narrow ray of sunlight streaming between the buildings. I would have joined them, but I didn't want to cramp their style.

I left the city center and walked up to the top of town (holy alliterations, Batman!), a place I toured on the first Saturday I was here. Just in case you're interested, this is where the cute spikey punks hang out after school.


Deciding I was far too mature for their self-indulgent shenanigans, I opted to explore the geeky art of self-timers in the tiniest hedge maze imaginable. Way cooler, right? Right?

On the walk home, I passed down my favourite street I emailed (most of) you about a few days ago (the street crowded with the Italian seafood restaurants).

This is a really poor photograph, and even poorer representation of the whimsical characteristics of this alley, and even poorerer culmination to this post, and even poorererer display of efficient grammar.

Hope your day in the states was just as enjoyable. Off to help with supper.



Warmly (no pun intended... or is there?),

Lauren

Laundry Day is a Very Dangerous Day

I wrote this up to Brandon a few minutes ago and afterwards, decided it was blog-worthy material. I mean, why just post about buildings and day-trips? Why not post about my every day adventures? Don't like it? Well too bad! Just kidding. I love you, reader.

So here goes:

I just got back from my first official encounter with a laundromat. Likewise, this was my first experience doing laundry in a foreign country.

"Big deal," you scoff. Let me tell you. It's not as easy as you might think.

First, I went to the small grocery store around the corner to pick up detergent. If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs, someone was there to film me. I just sort of stared at the wall of products for about 10 minutes. Then I attempted to read labels in French, then in Dutch. Then, I proceeded to open them and smell each one to see which smelled like detergent.

I'm fairly sure I bought Fabric Softener by mistake. I reconciled this by concluding that even if my clothes aren't clean, they're snuggly.

Lather, rinse and repeat the same pattern for when I actually got to the laundromat, except without the smell-test part. I tried for about 10 minutes to ram my coins in the slot (that's what he said) before realizing I needed to put my coins in another machine which dispensed a weird medallion with grooves on it. Of course. That's the coin that goes in the machine.

Anyway, 40 minutes of MP3s and 30 pages of Introduction to International Relations Theory later, it was time for the dryer... which only lets you dry clothes for 16 minutes at a time.

After that though, it was a piece of cake. Folding laundry is pretty much the same in every country. So at least I felt like a champ at that.

Now I've got a nice clean stack of underwear. And that, my friends, is what's really important in the end.

Carnival de Binche

Happy belated Mardi Gras, everyone!

In America, when you think of Mardi Gras, what do you picture? Topless girls, plastic beads and 24/7 consumption of alcoholic beverages? Yeah, me too.

Well, in Belgium, it's a little different. Except for the alcohol part...

Here, there is a parade through the city during which they chuck oranges at bystanders.

Yeah, that's about right.

So yesterday, a bunch of friends and I skipped class (who needs Introduction to International Relations Theory, anyway?) and took the 9:36 am to Binche, a city about an hour south of Brussels. Once we got there, we were greeted by myriad troops carrying sticks, wearing wooden clogs, dressed in what looked like white and orange jester costumes stuffed with pillows and dangling with bells. Well... see for yourself:


We followed the troops to a strange fortified building:


At the end of tunnel they led us through was free champagne. It was qutie crowded. We did not receive any champagne. That was a disappointment. To rectify this, we went to convenience stores (here, they're called "night shops") and bought our own booze. The parade didn't begin for a couple of hours but signs of partying (read: soggy confetti-laden avenues) were everywhere (read: on my shoes).


I've never seen so many interesting characters. Perhaps the most humorous aspect of the environment was the presence of small children.


Aaaaaaaaaand let the orange tossing commence! My friends were great victors.

Morgan

Tom, Ashley and Matt

Tom

Ryan

One of my friends gave me an orange. I gave it to this girl in exchange for a fist-full of confetti.

After I stuffed my face with pasta and (drum roll please) my first Belgian Waffle (yes, they're as flipping delicious as they said they would be...), it was time to go home. I fell asleep on the train and my friends took incriminating photos which you will not find here.

All in all, the Carnival de Binche was citrus-fruit-tastic, and an overall BLAST.

Hope all is well with you, my darling reader. I'm off to help Kathleen with supper.



With love and orange rinds,
Lauren

Bruges... Whoa...

Hi all,

Saturday's trip was to Bruges... what an incredible city. Every time I turned around there was a breathtaking piece of artwork to photograph-- a building, a street lamp, a statue. It is a fairy tale city with the most intricate, whimsical details... even their trees are gorgeous, twisted artwork...



Everything about Bruges demands attention and reverence; it was overwhelming and beautifully intoxicating. We went through a few museums, much much faster than I would have liked, but there's time to return. I just know those who visit me will love this city. I can't wait to go back.

Just before I gave my oral presentation for class, we all climbed this incredible belfry.


Think of the stairs in a lighthouse, how tightly coiled and steep they are, then multiply that by oh, I don't know, a million. More like a trillion. It was so intense. (I really wish I could have taken a photo of the tower's interior but it was like a flipping race to get to the top.)


Yeah, that's about right. On some parts of the trek, there was a railing but it was more or less a rope you had to hang on to so you didn't get vertigo and tumble down. Near the top, the steps were more of a ladder-- that's how steep they were. Good god. It was intense, and I sound like a wuss, but it was intimidating. The view from the top was well worth it... see for yourself:


Needless to say after the hike down, I was disoriented. Don't worry, I was still able to deliver my stimulating presentation on the Medieval Wool Cloth Industry.

We went through some cathedrals as well. Stained glass... oooh....


The canals and rivers, which I hope to explore more on the next visit, basically make Bruges the Venice of Belgium. I didn't get to see too much of the city-canals, but here is some water to prove I'm not lying.


Those of you with Facebook-- I posted a lot a lot a lot of shots up there (I went through two sets of batteries for my camera on this trip alone!) so feel free to check them out. This here is just a small taste of one of the most unbelievable cities I've ever seen.

Upcoming Tuesday looks promising... this is on the agenda. Oranges, anyone?

Other upcoming trips include Ghent and Amsterdam... I'm not posting in this thing nearly as much as I anticipated but hopefully these small updates are to your liking.

Hope all is well! I miss you guys very much.

Love,
Lauren