Deep in the Heart of Texas

Texas has this funny place in America. Or maybe its me that feels funny about Texas. Its this over confident, grossly huge state that dotes on gun ownership, purchases of massive, fuel-guzzling vehicles, and sees American football as something next to godliness (but praise Jesus! this is God's country, brim full of Christians, Amen!). This kind of labeling on the package doesn't really pique my appetite, and I'm not one to shy away from new or varied tastes. In all honesty, I'd have been more quickly sold on the state had the original Texans not been escorted across the Rio Grande, if only for the culinary traditions....

But Texas is the current home of a best and beautiful friend of mine and it was due time to pay a visit.   Plus, the native Texans left something of a stamp on local culinary traditions and I was promised glimpses of sun and warmer weather (not too difficult to beat the soaring -30C temps Chicago was registering around the holidays...), live music, and drool-worthy BBQ .  And Lyle Lovett told me many years ago I'd always be welcome in the land of big oil, big trucks, and big bucks.

I hopped a flight two hours south of Chicago and landed in Austin, quickly finding myself elbow-deep in home smoked ribs and glass of local beer. Not bad. Annette's tallied four years in Austin, and much in the way I followed lingering dreams of small streets, cozy bars, and high-speed trains, she was lured south by sunshine and a strong local economy.  It was her turn to show me her local haunts and daily jaunts, and I was all too happy to ride shotgun. Lucky for us, another partner joined our rodeo, and four short days turned into a mini-reunion for a few best friends from college.

We spent more time in a car than I had in the last year combined, but the agenda was deep and, quite frankly, Texas is ridiculously enormous.  Texas, namely Austin, surprised me. I fell for that southern charm. People are polite. Life is affordable.  There are nooks and crannies to be uncovered in the city, but there are quiet corners tucked away, too. Life is diverse, both in terms of cultural makeup and the activities on hand to satisfy the masses. Even the geographical landscape was more varied than expected- a sort of gateway to Texas Hill Country, Austin is nestled along the Colorado River and a strand of land dot the countryside in the surrounding area. A guy- nee, a gentleman- bought me a drink for the first time in seven years (a whiskey, at that! good man!).  And of course, I will always be floored by any locale boasting a 3 meter-wide, wood-fired BBQ pit that serves up the most succulent turkey, sausages, beef ribs, and brisket known to man kind (<-- an="" are="" dreams="" exaggeration="" is="" made="" nbsp="" not="" of="" p="" sorry="" stuff="" the="" this="" vegetarians="">

Leaving your home (if you're lucky enough to have a place you know to be home) is difficult to explain to others. Each reason is unique and special and meaningful. And sometimes, its unfathomable for anyone else to understand the rationale behind the decision. And that's okay. I never expect my decision to stay in Belgium- gray, rainy, cold Belgium- to sound logical, and frankly, moving here and staying here just kind of happened. I try to spin see Brussels' bureaucratic nightmares as lessons in patience, diligence, and communication, for example, but in the end, I've made a life for myself here and I want visitors- especially best friends and family members- to see a city for what its taught me, how its enriched my life, and (hopefully) helped me settle into this funny little thing called adulthood. Annette could call Austin or Atlanta or Albuquerque or Azerbaijan home, it wouldn't matter. She's made a home for herself, built a life, and that's hard work. Seeing that first hand was worth its weight in gold- I couldn't be more proud or impressed by all she's accomplished. And that makes any place more special, Chuck Norris connotations or not. 

Concentric Circles- Lille, Paris, Leuven, Bruxelles

Belgium has a privileged location. Ask any Belgian- they'll quickly tell you how the country's geographical position attracted the Spanish, Austrians, French, Germans, Dutch, Vikings, Romans, etc., each of whom claimed the country as their own at one point in history. Or maybe it was the beer that drew them here, whose to say (or to judge)?

Location has a been a focal point in my selling strategy, meaning the sales pitch I use to coax friends and family to visit. Why just visit Brussels when you can visit Paris, London, Amsterdam and six other cities all in one fell swoop? A travel itinerary of this nature is certainly for the ambitious traveler, but US vacation days are limited as are the paychecks to pay for leisurely global galavanting. 

If we adjust the map so Brussels lies in the center,  we stumble upon myriad cities and sites within concentric circles of one hour, 1.5 hour, and 2 hour train or car journeys. Big names top that list- Paris and Amsterdam fall in the 1.5 hour circle, Cologne and London lie in the 2 hour ring- and these are certainly the most appealing for multi-city, once in a lifetime ocean skippers. These are also the places friends and family back in Chicago imagine me sipping wine and eating pain au chocolates each weekend. 

The thing is that, much like friends back in the US, a weekend trip of any distance is often difficult to sandwich in. The life more settled comes with responsibilities or commitments and free time is a precious-but-scarce luxury (yes, even in Europe). And that's a weird prescription for travelers, expats, anyone outside their city or country for an extended period of time: when do we stop traveling and start living somewhere? When does a place become your home? And if it does become your home, does adventure take on a new meaning?

About two and half years into these Transatlantic escapades, I started longing for engagement, a sense of connection to Belgium and Brussels. In all reality, the place was arbitrary- I'm sure the same sentiment would have prevailed irrespective of the locale (though Brussels really tugs on my heartstrings). I needed engagement, I needed a meaningful use of nights and weekends, I needed people that helped the city come alive, people that were more than circumstantial friends.  

Plaisirs d'Hiver- Christmas Market in Brussels

 Museum Night Fever - Brussels

The internal debate wages between traveling more often and digging the roots a bit deeper. With Brussels, in particular, the latter is a finicky thing. A large cohort of expats here are the fair-weather type: tied to the idea of international careers or the promise of something better back home post-international experience, most stay but two years on Belgian soil. Most of  that time is spent with mates from the motherland- no need to hunt down the allusive Belgian to fill in the friendship gap! And though my Belgian-tracking skills are more refined (hint: don't start in Brussels), natives are usually quite engrained in their hometown  and most add few friends to the mix post-high school. But the  backpack rife with patches from the 37 countries visited during a two week Eurotrip has been retired and my hostel-hopping, over-night-busing-to-squeeze-in-one-more-country trips are in the rearview mirror now.  I want places to cull memories beyond exhaustion and missed flights and I don't want to struggle to remember routes of daily treks. I want to remember strategically analyzing the best way to order cakes at Meert in Lille, deciding between squeezing in with the locals early morning or holding out till end of day, when crowds and selection dwindles; that we sat for two hours below the Sacre Cour watching an acrobat control a football on a platform (and sometimes a lamppost), hanging above Montmartre. 

Cakes from Meert- Lille, France

Notre Dame, Paris

 Jardin du Luxembourg, Paris

Above Montmartre, Paris

I'm wielding the brush on this #FOMO picture better than Rubens on a Biblical scene - so glad to call myself a Gen Y-er!- the point is that making a life and making the most of that life is complicated no matter the location. But as I sink later into my twenties and longer into my stay abroad, I'm realizing that these are not inherently conflicting realities.  Being settled is a boon for knowing and loving Brussels; its here that weeks are peppered with football games, attempts to find new or clandestine restaurants, whiskey clubs, concerts, races, and an (un?)healthy dose of meaningful work. It also means that long weekends or random days off (thank you, Catholic Church, for diffusing your social culture across Western Europe!) often mean train tickets or Ryan Air reservations. If it also means Sunday  jazz and people watching at La Brocante instead of Sundays sipping exotic brews in more exotic locales, that's ok, too. 

When it comes down to it though, its not just geographical circles that surround us, but these are concentric circles of a life we build and are building. Think Wilder's Our Town: why speculate about life or life after death when there is so much value to be found in daily life. Shooting for the outer rims of the proverbial dart board will score points and help win the game, but the places and things and people worth the greatest value are those right in the center.  

Ladeuzeplein, Leuven

Beurse, Brussel

Wakka Wakka

A facebook friend- you know, the true and only type of friend, they're the bestest- posted an inspirational quote today. It appeared in my news feed and went a little something like this: 

"people with money travel Europe, people with HEART travel Africa." (heart heart sunglasses thumbs up #yeahbuddy #hundredpahcentbaby #pictureofmeholdingafricanbabylookingsad/newprofilepic emoticon party!!!)

I think it should be slightly rewritten to get the full effect, something to really emphasize the soullessness of European meandering and the wholly perfect and spiritual nature of Europe's southern neighbor: "...PeOpLe WiTh HeArT travel to AFRICA!!" Deep pockets, ya'll, that's how we expats make it move and shake here. Oui, mon biche, c'est beau la bourgeoisie! Pass that bottle of Chrys and let's hop on this yacht. 

Not quite by pure transitive property in its mathematical sense, but some totally scientifically proven (we double checked the proofs) derivation of the transitive property brings us to the following:

EQ. 1: TravelEurope = Euros x 10000^10000, then LivingEurope = Euros x 10000000^100000/heartless soul 

Or let's simplify this equation and find some real numbers: Europe is fucking beautiful. Africa is fucking beautiful. But they are different places and people can do different things there, and people have different agendas that send them stumbling down whichever travel/expat lane they happen upon.

For instance, my parents can visit their middle daughter in Europe. My home- whatever that means- is here now, and visiting me certainly has less to do about $$$ then is has to do with finally understanding what I mean by stamcafe, football girls, "Leuven", 9 y voisin, Bozar, etc. It took them four years to mull the pros and cons of visiting (-1 year and +1000000 brownie points for mom, who dropped them big bills to come visit last year). In fact, I think it took them four years to figure out that this was not an extended study abroad, but that I was actually living here. 

There's the typical gamut of parental reactions to moving abroad- to Africa, Antarctica, Asia, Argentina or otherwise:

"Yes, (insertchild'snamehere)! moving abroad is a brilliant idea! follow your dreams and see the world!" - the proud parents, doting on any and all decisions

"what, you can't find a job here?" - the sons/daughters of the greatest generation and the greatest proponents of stability at all ages

"don't they speak a foreign language there?" - the subtly uncertainty parents

"what day do you arrive? good, we'll be there the week after" - the 'we wish we'd have done the same when we were your age' parents or the recently retired and not yet grandparents parents

"you mean to tell me there is another city in this world that can even compete with Chicago?!?!" - my Dad

Those actual words- without hesitation or second thought- were the first to cross Denco's lips when I slyly used a National Geographic article to relay my plans on Thanksgiving morning 5 years ago.  That was swiftly followed with an "Are you out of your goddamned mind?"

Slight aside: I still don't have an answer to that one...

So when both parents stepped into the arrivals hall (on time flight!) in October, they were gunning to drink in the flavor of my new stomping grounds, not to frivolously drop cash on whatever whimsies tickled their fancy. Ok, maybe we spent more money on beers together, but let's tally that one in the "cultural" column. It's appropriate here. 

And travel we did. I traveled inside my own adopted country. It was sweet- like a glorified staycation where I could actually convince others to join me on my patent (pending) 'death marches'. Where we bounced from cafe to museum to architecturally interesting area to restaurant to historically significant area to breathtaking countryside. And it was like the heavens agreed, saying, here is warm, sunny weather for this non-superfluous experience! Enjoy this important country! Enjoy this important time with your family! Brussels-Leuven-Brugge-Genk-Bouillon-Epernay-Reims! Right on!

Afterall, the price tag -both environmentally and financially- on that trip to Dakar is still a few hundred euros more expensive than that Transatlantic jump from ORD to BRU. 

 super impressed by Brussels' famous Mannekin Pis

the non-JCVD mussels from Brussels

real estate shopping with all them racks on racks!! 

 i pop bottles but i don't pour

Visitors Galore- Brussels, Summer 2013

For all its oddities, 2013 has been a banner year for visits. Scots, Spaniards, Germans, Frenchies, Greeks, and Americans descendant of all these nationalities have cozied up on our sofas. Amazingly, four waves of family visitors have also endured my infamous "death marches" in and around Brussels. My roommate and I, come to think of it, have hosted someone nearly every week since we returned from the holidays last January. Its been an impressive run. 

Some friends here dread visitors, fearing the bane of touring Brussels’ most famous (or ridiculous) landmarks, beer venues, and chocolate shops for the umpteenth time. Sure, Mannekin Pis looses its luster after the first visit and the Brussels Cathedral pales in comparison to more impressive gothic structures scattered about Flanders and northern France. But for me, traipsing around my adopted (temporary?) hometown is a chance to rebalance. 

three things i love: sues, tj and mer du nord

justice palace, place poelaert brussel

aliens a la magritte

Turns out that traveling or living abroad is a complicated, emotional experience. Some say you're running away from something when you leave, some say you're running towards something or running down a dream or love or whatever. Personally, I like to save my running for the trails (yes, there is lots of green space in and near Brussels- and hills, too!) and the football pitch. But the more compelling thing, the thing less present in our mind but more emotionally taxing, is that we compartmentalize certain parts of who we are to adapt to the new place, the new culture, the new life. Reconciling all these pieces of who we are is sometimes burdensome and on both ends- for the people who knew us longer or longer ago, and for the people who more recently came into our lives. Not to say that we change who we are to adapt, but that locations, events, the unknown bring specific elements of us to the fore and suppress other traits.

three more beautiful things: matt, leah and mussels

When visitors come, though, pieces come together. Parts of what I was in Chicago or in Madrid or in Murcia meld with what's here, what my life is now. It's bizarre, but thats Belgium in a word- the  place you visit a 5 meter tall bug on a needle, 100 meter tall metal balls, more than 100 animated and grafittied pencils, and a collection of child-sized statues sculpted in a "business position."  But the point is that all these pieces are not for naught, and when friends and family cross continents and oceans, we bring out our best selves to match this beautiful and strange place and we have a forum to share what we're becoming that maybe doesn't make sense in any other context. After all, aren't we just pieces of the people/places we love?

antwerpen