Dining out and eating in

Last night, I dined at Blanca's apartment in Liege. She is from El Salvadore and she had invited me and a couple of other adult students from our French course to dinner. As I was finishing late at school ( I finish at 4:10 on Fridays - but I don't start until 11am), I decided to have a wander around the city centre before going to Blanca's. I was in luck because it turned out that last night was the first night of the Christmas markets. They set up lots of little wooden chalets which sell anything from alcohol to Christmas decorations. Mostly they have something to do with Christmas. It gets dark here about 5.30 now so all the Christmas lights were on and it looked quite stunning in St Lambert. As they say in French, there was 'beaucoup de monde' - lots of people and I felt just a little bit homesick. Luckily about that time, Blanca phoned to say all was ready and did I need any further directions to find her place.

Not long after, I had climbed the seven flights of stairs and was comfortably ensconced on her sofa sipping water (she did offer wine but I thought I'd wait for the others).  I then learnt a little of her life story - she left El Salvadore over 20 years ago and  is married to a Belgian man. She lived in Greece for 5 years but when her husband got cancer, they moved back to Belgium. He is currently back in Greece after having survived cancer. Blanca wants to return to Greece as she enjoyed it there and has a workshop - she is a ceramic artist, but she is currently studying French and Greek and making ceramics while she waits for the Greek economy to improve. (She showed me some jugs, plates and bowls she had made and they were magnificent - sorry no photos as I didn't think to take my camera with me.)

Soon the other guests arrived: Michel, a Belgian neighbour; I think he was retired  - he certainly had travelled a lot; Sashinka: a Bulgarian classmate plus her daughter and boyfriend; and Monique: a Belgian woman who takes Greek classes with Blanca. She told me she was an independent midwife but you had to be very careful of the hours you worked or you would pay a lot of tax. Mostly, we spoke French - we would have been speaking French only but Sashinka's Bulgarian  boyfriend spoke Bulgarian and English - no French. Of course the speaking became freer as the red wine flowed.

Dinner was  international - a Thai dish of poulet au coco, rice, a couscous salad, a Belgian green salad made with chicons (endives) and ratatouille. Delicious! This was followed by Poivres Belle Helene - pears cooked in a syrup which are then covered in chocolate. Yum. Unfortunately, I had to leave at 10pm to catch the bus back to Granny's. It was a really enjoyable night.

There was only one bad moment and that was when I exited Blanca's building and was accosted by a drunk man wanting money. I told him I didn't speak very good French in the hope that he would leave me alone, but he then asked for money in very good English! I have to say that I just strode off very  quickly and didn't look back. I heard him saying something but it was unintelligible - probably luckily!

Today, I slept in as it's Saturday and I had nothing in particular planned except for some domestics. However, I have made some bread. I  made some bread for the first time ever when I left Chantal's. She makes her own bread and it's scrumptious. My first loaves were the shape of rocks and just as solid. I had only had a few days at Granny's and she was being very polite and insisted on eating some of the bread. Well, she very nearly broke her teeth! Fortunately, she had an automatic bread slicer and I found the bread reasonably edible when toasted. I made a second batch (well, I had already bought the flour, the levure and the sesame and sunflower seeds)  a couple of weeks later and  somewhat immodestly, I will tell you that the bread was good. So good that you could actually eat it as bread.

My Belgian rustic loaf - this one was edible!

In the spirit of economising, I've made bread again this week - we'll see if it becomes a habit. 

I go to Brussels – again!

Last week I went to Brussels. No, not primarily for the chocolate or the museums or the mannequin pis, but to vote. Some of my Belgian acquaintances were interested to know that  although we must register, we don’t have to vote in NZ. (It is compulsory to vote in Belgium.) ‘Why would I want to do that if I had a choice not to?’  I expect that they are a little politically fatigued here as they are now over 500 days without a government. (They have agreed on the four regions but the major sticking point is the budget).

Grand Place

 I actually went to Brussels for the first time in the one-week holiday at Toussaint. It’s an hour to an hour and a half from here depending on whether you get the train that stops twice or the one that stops everywhere. I had read up on Brussels on the internet and I also had a copy of Lonely Planet.

 Arriving at the Central Railway Station, I followed the majority of people who were exiting the station. I was tempted to check the Lonely Planet to make sure I knew where I was, but because I had been warned about pickpockets and didn’t want to make myself an obvious target, I didn’t get out the book or the map. That was a shame because after 10 minutes of walking I hadn’t reached the Grand Place. Finally, I asked someone where it was and he pointed me in the opposite direction (I spoke to him in French but he answered me in perfect American accented English!).

When you know what you’re looking for , finding the Grand Place is easy – the town hall which is situated in Grand Place has a grand tower and you can see this tower from most places.Grand Place is surrounded by beautiful buildings – some gilt edged. Apart from the town hall, these buildings are occupied by shops (mostly chocolateries) and cafes and there’s also a museum on one side.  The Mannekin pis is close by and easy to find – you just follow all the other tourists! The statue itself is rather petite but directly opposite there was a larger replica in chocolate. Much as I love chocolate, there are some things I prefer not to eat!

Mannekin pis

Mannekin pis au chocolat

 Following this, I had a quick scout around the older part of the city and browsed the galleries which were full of expensive shops, some cafes and wonderful chocolateries: Galler, Neuhaus, Corne and especially the aptly named ‘Mary’. Naturally, I had to check out the Mary chocolate shop. I must point out that it had the most understated of the shop windows which were brimming with tempting chocolates.  I tried some of their fresh cream chocolates – delicious -  and brought a few home for Granny. The saleswoman told me that the King of Belgium buys his chocolates from Mary’s – obviously he has good taste!

Has to be the best choc shop in Brussels!

After all that chocolate eating, I wandered round a little, up and down Rue des Bouchers looking for Mannekin Pis’s little sister but, failing to find her, I went instead to the Musee des Beaux Arts. I must say I was never a huge fan of the 14-16^th Century Flemish painters but perhaps something of Belgium is rubbing off on me as I saw Brueghel’s  Apocalyptic  and Peasant paintings with fresh eyes. After a couple of hours there, I popped next door to the Margritte Museum for a lesson in surrealism.

Macarons et chocolat at Jean-Philippe Darcis

I tried to return to Brussels the following week but alas, there was a train strike and I was unable to get there. So, last Tuesday I set off to vote. It was a slow start as the first two trains didn’t go (one broke down but I’m not sure what happened to the second one).

 Finally, I arrived in Brussels and exited the train station full of confidence. 25 minutes later, I arrived at Rue Des Nerviens . I entered the building but couldn’t open the next door. It had a sign ‘tirez’ on it which I understood was French for ‘pull’ ( I was reminded for a moment of that Gary Larsen cartoon  card ‘School for the Mentally Gifted’ which shows a person attempting to push a door open with the sign ‘pull’). Thankfully,   a young woman arrived and told me I needed to press the no. 7 button for the NZ Embassy. A voice inquired as to why I was there and after I had replied satisfactorily, the door automatically opened. I would point out that there were no instructions as to pushing this button so I wonder how other people get on who try to visit the NZ Embassy?

The display at Neuhaus for St Nicolas (Dec 6)

 On the 7^th Floor, I was ushered in to a small room with some voting papers and a NZ official arrived to oversee the process. He told me he had been on a couple of immersion courses – six weeks each time but he didn’t often speak French and it was too easy to speak English in Brussels. I have to say that I was a little disappointed with the  reception at the Embassy, I was rather hoping for a cup of tea ( with real milk) and  a biccy – ok so the biccy was a bit optimistic - but no it was all very official and staid! Never mind, I had done my duty and voted!

 Soon I was back in a little street off the Grand Place sampling speculoos at Dandoy’s. ‘The original speculoos maker’. They are a spiced biscuit far superior to the factory-produced ones. As Granny had directed me to this delicious place, I took some speculoos home for her. There was another trip to Mary’s to taste a few more chocolates and then, this time, I found the Mannekin Pis’ sister along with a school group who were also taking lots of pictures.

Jenneke sister of Mannikin!

 I ended my trip with a visit to the Museum of Musical Instruments – really to see the panoramic view of Brussels from the top floor but actually, I found the instruments from all over the world, some more than a thousand years old, very interesting. You can plug in earphones at various points and hear the weird and wonderful instruments being played. Finally, it was time to return to Liege but there will be another trip to Brussels as I want to go to the Atomium  and the Comic Strip Museum.

A view of Brussels from outside the Museum of Musical Instruments

French Lessons

French Lessons continue and we are deep into pronoun territory. It is terribly important to know the correct order of the pronouns in a sentence. Madame D continues to be passionate about the teaching of French grammar and relentless in the correcting of our spoken French. However, we do not get much opportunity to do a lot of speaking as, on average, there are about 34 of us.The three hours usually go reasonably quickly and we do have a 'petite pause' for coffee about half-way.

We tend to sit in the same places now and it is somewhat frowned upon to change! My neighbours are usually Zena from Syria and Jessica from Ecuador. Zena tells me that what we see on tv about Syria is all lies and it is a peaceful country with happy people. She is married to a Syrian guy who is doing his PhD at the University of Liege. Jessica is learning Italian as well as French. She says Italian is easy to learn as her first language is Spanish and it is very similar.

On Wednesdays, Madame D has been playing French songs - we've had two so far - where we listened to the songs and tried to write down the words and then later translated them. It's a welcome change from French grammar exercises. The first song was rather fast  - a chap called Danyel Gerard singing 'D'accord, D'accord'.  I did think I recognised the chipmunks in the background but apparently it was just the backing sound in 1964 when it was first recorded. If you want to check it out you can see a rather cool Danyel avec cigarette singing on this link:http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x6q52n_danyel-gerard-d-accord-d-accord_music . This week we had a much slower song called 'Armstrong' as in Louis by Claude Nougaro. I really enjoyed it. It seemed to be a response to Armstrong's 'What a wonderful world':
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTVCjQ_zlBM&feature=related.

Incidentally, at my choral group we are learning a much more modern song in French by a Belgian singer STROMAE - it was a big hit in Europe last year 'Alors ...on danse' which may be more your cup of tea - very catchy even if you don't understand all the words! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHoT4N43jK8&ob=av2e

The mood in the class is often lightened  by the presence of one particular student. Marta is large of body and personality. She hails from Angola and tells us she speaks excellent Portuguese. Her spoken French seems reasonable, although, because she speaks often and loudly, Madame D often uses her as an example for correction.  Marta first came to the attention of the class when, on arriving an hour late, she entered the room and found that there were few seats left. Madame D was in the midst of a technical explanation but Marta was intent on sitting down. She found herself a table and chair which she dragged over to one side of the room, making  a racket as she went. She then sat herself down in front of the door. When Madame D pointed out to her that she was sitting in front of the only exit and entry point, Marta then dragged the table across to the other side of the room. Since that occasion, Marta has become attached to the desk (metaphorically speaking)  which is the only one where you can sit by yourself. However, the disadvantage of this desk is that it becomes the serving point for the coffee at 'la petite pause'. Marta is not impressed with the inability of her classmates to pour their coffee and milk directly into their cups. Marta also has a love of her GSM (what they call a cellphone here) although Madame is slowly training her to have her conversations outside the room. Marta is the student who asks the question 5 minutes after Madame D has already answered it! Despite her severity towards Marta at times, I think Madame D has a soft spot for her.  There is something engaging about her. The other day as we left class, I spoke in French to Florence, a woman from Togo. Marta exclaimed in perfect English: 'You're English. Speak English! I love English. I used to be able to speak it when I lived in Angola but I've forgotten how to now."http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHoT4N43jK8&ob=av2e

Moving Homes, Walking, Mushrooms, Quebec Cafe and Pavs revisited

Last week was a really big week as I moved to my new abode. Chantal and G-M had generously welcomed me into their home and shared their lives with me for six weeks and it was time to strike out on my own. To be honest, it did feel a bit weird to be leaving but it turned out, I wasn't going far. Chantal had sent out lots of emails to her friends to see if anyone wanted a boarder or  a flatmate. I was keen to stay in the area as I already knew my way around and would be close to Chantal and her family. I had also decided that although I am happy to live alone in NZ, I didn't want to live by myself in Belgium - not great for my French conversation for one thing. (Below is part of my room at Chantal's. Note the World Map with NZ in the corner!)

The solution was Madame L or Granny as she has asked me to call her. She is the mother-in-law of one of Chantal's friends. Granny is about my dad's age and very sprightly and independent. She speaks a little English but mostly we speak French which is good for me, if not a little frustrating for her at times. Granny has four grown up children about my age, all of whom I have met. Her house is only a 15 minute walk from Chantal's and 8 minutes from the bus stop so that's very handy. Unlike Chantal and G-M, Granny watches French news and TV - they watch the local Belgian news. She really admires the French French culture and their accent - especially the news readers. I am here on a month's trial but so far so good. As they say in French: Elle est tres gentille.

Last Sunday Chantal, Chantal's Mum, G-M, Fanny, Julien, Granny and I returned to Cafe Quebec as   a 'merci' for having had me to stay and also for Granny to get to know my host family. It was rather amusing earlier in the morning when Granny and I stepped out of our rooms to find that we were dressed the same - pink tops and jeans - we are obviously very in tune with each other. By the way, she's the more svelte one of the two in pink in the photo. (Unfortunately Julien has been missed out of the photo.)

While we were at the cafe, I recieved texts telling me that the All Blacks had won the rugby. Very exciting!! Considering how close it was, I doubt if I would have had any fingernails left  if I had been watching it. Much nicer to munch pancakes.

In the afternoon, Granny and I went for a walk in a forest about half a hour's drive away. The forest is owned by her son-in-law's father and is complete with miniature lake, miniature stone bridge and log cabin. It is used by hunters in the hunting season. In the winter, apparently they go skiing there! It was really beautiful but unfortunately when G said we were going for a walk in the forest, I didn't think to take my camera.

I have done a lot of walking recently. On Friday at school we had the 'Marche Parrainee' or sponsored walk. The whole school went on a 15km walk to raise money for sport's equipment. It was a lovely day out in the fresh air.

On Saturday, the apple-collecting group of Chantal's friends and I went mushroom picking. I remember doing this in farm paddocks when I was young. We collected huge mushrooms we called horse mushrooms. They had a really strong taste and were quite meaty in texture. On Saturday, we travelled to a part of the forest in The Ardennes. Unfortunately, we didn't gather a lot of mushrooms. Apparently, September is a better month for them, and it has been too dry this autumn. Still, we did manage to find some Chanterelle mushrooms and a bulbous variety known as' Pieds des moutons' - sheep's feet! Despite the lack of mushrooms, it was an enjoyable afternoon and in the evening we had a wonderful feast with the mushrooms used as a starter on toasted baguette. Delicious!

We had been asked to contribute a dessert so I decided to give the pavlova a second try. This time, I forsook Alison Holst and  instead consulted that other  NZ  icon - the Edmonds' cookbook (thanks Kate).  No longer a novice, I knew the French for the ingredients , so that was one less worry. However, I do think Edmonds should do a little proofreading of their book as the recipe said 'cook at 150' but in the notes at the beginning of the book, it suggested a pavlova should be cooked at a temperature between '110 and 140'! Anyway, to cut a long story short, the pav looked great until I turned the oven off and then it collapsed. As I didn't have much choice, I slathered it in cream and decorated it with kiwifruit and off to the gathering we went.

 As it turned out, it tasted better than it looked and the hostess even asked me for the recipe which I tried to  give her in correct French. I think I may have confused the measurements for the water and the cornflour - we had had a wine or two by then. If anyone has a fail-safe recipe for  a pavlova with a solid crust on the outside and good marshmallow on the inside that they are prepared to share, I'd love it!!

On being Average

I seem to find myself standing around a lot - especially on buses and what I've discovered  is that the Belgians seem to be  a much shorter group of people than New Zealanders. In New Zealand, if I was standing on a bus I would most likely find myself with my head in someone's armpit but here I don't have to crane my neck to talk to anyone. Instead of being short, in Belgium I have become average!

Unfortunately, while I have become taller in Belgium, I have also become wider. Instead of being a size M in a tshirt/top, I am now an L. I refuse to believe that 7 weeks of eating Belgian food and drinking Belgian beer and French wine has caused this - I'm sure they must be operating on a different system!!

My first haircut

Another first. There are so many things that you take for granted  like going to the hairdresser. I thought I had made an appointment for 10 am today (Saturday) at a local hairdresser recommended by Fanny. I arrived on time but could see that there were only two hairdressers – one who did the colouring and shampooing and the other who did the cutting, brushing and blow-waving. There were four people already waiting in line for their turn to be washed and coloured and another person was having their hair cut. It didn’t look good.  I was ushered to a seat and after about 20 minutes given a magazine.

 After about 50 minutes Marie-Ange  ushered me into another chair and we consulted about the colour. I had brought with me the colour intstructions from Rachel, my hairdresser in NZ but Marie-Ange wasn’t too sure about them. However, with the help of a colour chart we managed to come to an agreement on what was to happen. 

Two hours later my colour was done! The best part was the washing of the hair. The chair I was in was a massage one – what a wonderful idea – not something I was used to in NZ. Just as well though as the washing of the hair took about half an hour! I had about 5 or 6 different preparations put on – some of which needed time to work.

 Next it was into the cutting and styling chair.

 You want your hair cut? Carmelo said to me in French.

 Yes, I said. Just a little.

 No, he said, you want a change – something with more style!

 Ok, I said.

It was interesting to watch him work as he lifted several strands of hair and nonchalantly cut away. There was something artist-like in the way he worked. He even thought to ask if I would like a cup of coffee or tea. I had, as he pointed out, been there a long time. Yes, a cup of tea. Soon he was back with hot water and a selection of herbal teas for me to choose (I’ve given up on normal tea here as they only use UHT milk which tastes revolting). This revived my spirits somewhat. Then it was back to the cutting. Suddenly he stopped cutting and started drying my hair with an enormous round brush and a hair dryer. This took quite some time but then it was stop drying and start cutting again. Finally, he was finished. I have to admit it did look a lot better (less wild and frizzy).

Then came the moment of truth: time to pay. I zipped out my Belgian eftpos card but alas, they only took cash. Fortunately I had taken out some cash the day before from my NZ account to deposit into my Belgian account but the bank machine wasn,t working.  I left the hairdressers with a much lighter head and wallet.

Further Mmms – Chez le medecin et les medicaments

I hadn’t been feeling great for most of the past week and when Monday came I couldn’t face getting up and going to school. Some suggestions had been made about my mystery illness- some thought it was homesickness, others too much Peket, still others not enough!  Chantal kindly made an appointment with her doctor for me and off we trotted in the afternoon. Actually, I don’t mean that literally as I was feeling so miserable I could hardly put one hoof after the other so she took me in the car.

In Belgium, one goes to the doctor’s house it seems, or to the doctor’s basement anyway. We rang the doorbell; the door opened automatically and we walked into a small white waiting room. The doctor’s credentials were hung on the wall – he specialised in sports medicine – not a great lot of use to me I thought. After a few minutes, the doctor arrived and ushered me into another room. He said he didn’t speak much English and he was right. I said I was pretty sure I had the flu ( in French) and he seemed to understand my accent. He gave me a good going over and then pronounced or I think he did that I had sinusitis, laryngitis and bronchitis. I was quite impressed with this list. I asked him if I should go to school the next day, but no, he was giving me the week off as I would need 6 days to recover! I was a mite surprised as I hadn’t realised that I was that sick. He gave me medical certificate for school – you need one here for anything more than a day off sick.

 Later, Chantal asked me if I could go out or if I had to stay at home. I wasn’t sure what she was talking about but she pointed to a place on the form where it says ‘Sortie’ and it’s either autorisee or interdit. Mine was autorisee which means I could still go out and about on my sick days. Apparently people sometimes come to check if you are really sick and if you have ‘sortie interdit’ and you’re not at home when the checkers come – watch out! We collected a whole lot of medicine on the way home ($60 dollars worth –more expensive than the actual doctor’s visit as no subsidies applied to me!)

It’s now Thursday and I’ve been taking my drugs and I’m feeling a lot better. I had a cellphone call from Daniel at school and the 4^th grade class had been asking how I was and they yelled out ‘hello’ into the phone which was nice. I’ve learnt a lot about the dos and don’t of illness. Daniel says hot milk, honey and rum 4x a day. Chantal says Thyme herbal tea with thyme honey and absolutely no cold drinks or ice cream. I disappointed her by having several ice creams – they were so soothing on my throat. I was supposed to ask the doctor whether I should eat ice cream or not, but I forgot. Was thinking I might go back to school tomorrow but its cold and raining at the moment so if it continues it wouldn’t be such a great idea.