St. Nicolas and Happiness

It has been quite a while since I last posted.  Time has flown by so quickly!  It's hard to believe that I've been here almost four months, but, then again, when I look at my journal and re-read my entries, I am always so supprised. "That happened only last week?  That was yesterday?" I say to myself.  My entire concept of time is so askew that if I didn't get out of school early Wednesdays, I doubt I would be able to figure out the day of the week.

I absoltely love my exchange.  I feel deeply sorry for anyone who didn't get lucky enough to go to Belgium.  It's the best country in the world, probably.  I love its green-ness, the bluffs in the south, the way the churches look in front of a grey sky.  It's December and there isn't snow, but that isn't a problem, because I have to walk to school.  I love that I can get on a train and litterally go anywhere in Europe (not saying I've done that).  I just love this place a lot.

Also, in Belgium, there is St. Nicolas Day, which is basically like an extra Christmas on the 6th of December.  Best holiday ever, and only a tiny bit racist (St. Nic has a black-face partner who definatly wouldn't be allowed in the USA.)  Basically, for the holiday, people just give you candy for the week leading up to it.  Not gonna lie, I'm going to miss it.

My French is getting better.  I hope, at least.  I understand nearly everything if I pay attention, and this morning, I woke up and realized that my dream had been entirely in French.  Granted, when I speak, I still make lots of erreurs, but it's getting better.  It's no longer difficult to talk and write.  Okay, that's a lie.  Talking and writing are still hard, but I no longer feel like curling up in a ball and crying when I have to do it. 

And I have friends.  I have friends who love me, and friends that I love more than I ever thought I could platonically love somebody.  Sure, I'm not best buddies with everyone, not even all the exchange students, but the friends I do have will be my friends for life, or I will cry buckets of salty, beer scented tears and go broke from calling their international numbers all the time. 

Recieved my first package from home.  It was from my Oma, who's cool.  I couldn't wait until Christmas to open it.  Thanks, Oma!

So, exchange may be going fabulously, and things are getting easier, but I still have an unerring tendancy to make embarassing mistakes in front of cute boys.  For exaple, today I managed to go to the wrong final.  Case and point.  Good thing I don't have to worry about grades this year.

If you love me and/or are related to me, please send money.  I am broke. 

Bisous!

Greta ;)

Things I Love about Belgium, part one

Sorry for never posting.  I've been pretty busy.  And by busy, I mean traveling.  I went to London last week during the break, and I loved it.  I saw the Globe Theater and the Rosetta Stone.  I'd write more, but I've already written so much about my trip to so many people and in my jounal that you're just going to have to make do with that. 

After my four days in the beautiful country of England, I went back to school and spent Friday, a holiday, in Brugge with my host parents, which is one of the most visited cities in the world because it's super beautiful and awesome.  We went to art musames, went on a boat ride, ate in a delicious restraunt, and I bought chocolate.  It was a good day. 

The next day was Saturday, and one of my new friend's birthdays.  Her host mom had planned a sweet suprise party, and my friend just about peed her pants when we all jumped out from behind the curtains.  It was a good night. 

I've had a couple Skype interview with colleges, and I've already been accepted into a couple, so I know that I'm not going to be a bum when I get back to the states. 

I don't know what else to say, so I made a list of everything I love about Belgium.

Fountain pens
Realizing that I understand something
Having better English than my English teacher
Getting a zero on a test and saying 'c'est pas grave' (no big deal)
Keys to doors and wardrobes
Wardrobes
The food at Rotary meetings (seriously, in London, I went through withdrawl symptoms)
Seeing cathedral spires on my walk to school
Churchbells
Being in a place with a history
The desserts
The chocolate
French accents when people try to sing in English
French commercials
Cursive, even if it is hard to read
Other exchange students
Making American chocolate chip cookies
Watching the world pass by from a train window
Chalkboards
Kissing people (expecially cute boys) on the cheek to say hello
Skinny jeans
Natural yougurt with organic sugar
Fresh bread
The smell of fresh bread
Music on the radio
All the swans
People who complement my progress in French
Metrosexual men
The way my name sounds with a French accent
Graph paper
Waffles
Liege waffles
Having different classes everyday
The intro to Secret Story (a kinda stupid show)
The freedom
The people I meet
The people who let me hang out with them even if my French sucks
My host family
My second host family
The colors in the trees this time of year
Seeing the blue of the sky after so much grey
French swear words
The great relationship that I have with my real family now that we only talk once a month
Being an exchange student
Being able to take a train nearly anywhere
Teachers that don't get mad if I don't pay attention
The food
Having better stories

I am never going home

And by 'home', I mean Iowa.  I love Belgium.  I want to go to college here. I want to buy a house with other exchange students and live here forever.  When I hear love songs on the radio, I think of Belgium...

So, a little about my life here before I get carried away.  Last Wednesday, I went to a city called Louvain-La-Neuve.   It's a place with 98 percent college students and 2 percent professors.  Everyone lives in crapy apartments and it's super cool.  Wednesday the celebration 24 heure Velo, when there are bikes going around on the bike track for twenty four hours.  And they weren't just normal bikes, but tricked-out bikes that looked more like parade floats than something you'd want to take on RAGBRAI.

Yeah, that was cool, except the part when I missed my train because I was looking for the other girl who was supposed to be on the same train and a little bit of cell phone confusion.

Friday, I had a halloween party, and I'd like to thank the Brazilians for taking over the music.  It was awesome, and, even though halloween isn't really a big deal here, I had lots of friends who came in costume.  After that, I went out on town with some of the coolest people in the world (my exchange friends) and we had a blast.  I love meeting new people when I go out, and Friday night, we go really lucky.

Right now, I'm staying with my future second home.  My sister is in my class at school, and my future mom is great.  They like cats, horses, and singing.  That's kinda like the story of my life.  They have a kitten names Mushu, like the dragon from Mulan, and, if you know me at all, you'll know that Mulan is kinda like my hero.  And then we had chocolate for breakfast.  I think I'm going to really like it here. :)

Yeah, so, life is good.  I'm happy.  I feel really sorry for my real family, because I'm planning on seeing them like once a year for the rest of my life.  But I love Belgium, and I love who I am here--more wild, less judgmental, and not exactly fearless, but a whole lot less afraid to make mistakes.  And so, give me three reasons to come back and maybe I'll visit for Christmases.

Also, I love French. I mean, I still love English a lot, but sometimes, I'll be thinking of a poem, and I use the two languages, and than I'm like 'crap.' French is just so much more beautiful, and the books in French are deeper and more philosophical, and...it's just really nice.

I love Belgium.

:)

Sometimes, I feel like I'll never be dry again

Today marks my two month anniversary of being in the beautiful country of Belgium, and, unfortunately, I can't feel my toes. It rained on my way to school today, and I got really soaked. I need to crack down and buy some rainboots and an umbrella.  I'm not sure how I made it through two months without those essentials.

I've been starting to have some really great days.  Not every moment is filled with excitement and energy, but I'm having conversations with classmates and understanding sarcasm.  The first month really is the hardest, and I understand now that it's not going to magically be easy someday; I have to work at everything.  But, really, things are better.  I have people who are nice to me (and say I'm nice too!) and my French progresses a little every day. 

I've Skyped my family twice since I've been here, and I'm really glad that I'm not doing it more.  I mean, I love my family, sometimes, but I really don't miss them.  Except my little sister, which is weird because we didn't really get along well before I left.  It's my friends that I miss a lot.  I see things all the time that I want tell them about, so I write them postcards and try to deal with it. I know it will take a while to have Belgian friends that I'm close to like that, but trying to make them is part of the experience.

I'm really lucky to have a nice Rotary club.  I've heard a lot of stories about kids who rarely went to the meetings and never participate in the activities, but I like my club a lot.  They always ask me if I have any problems and if I'm making friends, and the president is really nice.  When I told him that I wanted to be a writer and miss reading in English, he got me a copy of The Wind in the Willows, which is really a charming little book.  :)

Speaking of books, last night I finished my first book in French.  Oscar et la dame rose.  It's about a ten-year-old kid in a hospital, dying of cancer.  The whole story is written in letters to God, and it's really, really sad.  I didn't understand every word, but I got the gist of the story.  It is a beautiful book and I encourage the litterary types out there to search for a translated copy.

I think I forgot to mention some unique Belgian things, like fries with mayo (I don't even like mayonaise, but OHSOGOOD) and that everyone wears scarves.  They pay 50 percent taxes here, drink coffee after dessert, and stay out late.  The streets are cobblestone, thus impossible to navigate in high heals, and nearly everyone has perfect skin.  They don't eat peanut butter, but the speculos is amazing, and life, generally, is pretty good. 

Je suis content être en Belgique. 

Bisous!

Greta

Cock-A-Doodle-Do is the Funniest Sound a Rooster Can Make

Seriously.  Everyone laughed for about a minute when I told them. 

I also have to note that, about three hours after I posted 'Pic est Mort', we recieved the family of Pic (his mate and two children).  They are named Picette, Pico, and Pic.  They built their nest in the garden and will hibernate for the winter.

I'm not quite two months into my adventure, but I'm already finding it hard to keep posting regularly.  My weekends are just so action packed, and I have choir Monday night, then Wednesday is middle of the week break night, so I don't want to post then, Thursdays I don't finish school until past 5 o' clock, and Friday night is Friday night.  I know I'm making excuses, but prepare to have the posts slowing down.

I had a crazy weekend.  It was awesome and wonderful, and I didn't realize the importance of sleeping during a 60 hour period until I could barely keep my eyes open while trying to sing Mozart's Requiem yesterday.  I just kept saying to myself 'I can sleep when I get back to the states.' Next time, I'll plan crashing time.

School is school, and I think I finally figured out a good schedule for me.  I basically got to pick and choose all the classes that I wanted and nudged them around so I get out early Friday.  It's not like my courses actually matter, since I've already graduated, and I really don't understand them at all.  In fact, I think passing notes in French is better for my language skill than trying to pay attention to the lectures.  Mostly, I doodle in the margines or write little notes to myself. 

In Belgium, we go to school for a lot longer, and I'm pretty sure there's more homework, but they don't seem as intense as my Central Academy courses (but it's way harder than most Valley classes.)  It's really hard to compare them right now, and I'm sure I'll do a better job when I understand them more. 

My weekend, as I mentioned before, was awesome.  There was a meeting for all of the exchange students where they talked about the trips and the rules for them.  It was terribly boring, but I love all the exchange kids enough that it was a blast.  Then we all went on a boat ride, which was fun but my feet almost froze off, and then they let us go.  A bunch of us hung around though and bonded. 

After that, I took the train to a little villiage for a soirée.  It was all about learning to swing dance, but most of the kids were already really good at it.  Me?  I've never been the most graceful swan on the pond, but I really enjoyed myself. 

Sunday, I went to Brussles and spent the day with more exchange students sightseeing until we were tired of the rain. 

I don't want you all to think I just hang out with exchangers.  I meen, I sort of so, but I'm starting to have Belgian friends too.  It's really hard when you don't really speak the language, but it's coming along.  I've always found it a little difficult to make friends, and being an exchange student doesn't make it easier (except when you meet other exchange students) but give it time, I think.

Oh, yeah, did I mention that I'm going to London?  No, I don't think I did. 

Oh, yeah.  Going to London.

Pic est Mort (and Other Tradgies)

So the hedgehog died.  Granted, we didn't have it very long, and all it really did was curl up in terror and shuffle around the garden, but that was a sad day.

Life as an exchange student is crazy.  Emotions are totally out of proportion, and mood swings happen about as often as family meals.  There are times when everything seems to go against me (the language, for example) and other times when it feels like you completly belong.  I've had horrible days when all I want is to curl up and cry because I really miss my friends and family and moments when I can't even imagine leaving this country.  With the other exchange students, there is an instant conection, which I totally didn't believe until I felt it.  I think it's because we're all battling the same emotional roller coaster.  I just want to be friends with all of them, hang out all the time, and never, ever say good bye.  It's so weird for me, but I already love them, after just a few conversations.

Speaking of which, I didn't have school on Tuesday, so a bunch of exchange students and I went to Anvers/Antwerpen/Antwerp for the day.  It was a lot of fun, but we didn't have much time.  We hit up the Diamond Musame, where we saw the world's largest uncut diamond and a lot of other sparkly things.  After, we walked to one of the cathedrals, but you had to pay money to go inside, so we just hung out, bought cheep flags, and bonded.  I said this before, but I love them.

No big deal or anything, but that's the train station.  It's even prettier on the inside.

School in Belgium is hard.  More difficult than Valley, less difficult than Central.  In fact, I actually understand some things in school, just because I already studied them.  Every time I have science, I thank Mrs Stroope for AP Bio.  I didn't understand it in English, but now I have a chance to comprehend in French.  Mostly, though, I just sit there in class, trying to take notes or hear something that I recognize, but I usually end up writing (which I've always done in school), and I've already finished one short story. 

Went kayaking with the exchange students in a really beautiful part of Belgium yesterday, and my arms are sore today.  I really like kayaking for the first hour or so, though.

I have so much more to say, but I'm tired from too many days with not enough sleep.  I may or may not write another time this week, because this is just a short post.

Until then,

Greta

Nutulla is Peanut Butter's cool, European cousin

I'm sick. 

This whole week, I've had a fairly aweful cold.  Don't worry, my host parents took very good care of me, buying all sorts of organic remedies and making sure I wore socks and a scarf at all times.  I'm a lot better than I was on Monday, but I still occationally cough up a lung.  I've drunk so much hot water with lemon and honey that I'm pretty sure I'll make a full recovery.

A lot of people have told me that they're reading my blog.  That's cool.  Tell your friends.  People from school inform me that they read it too, and that's great.  Now, to prove that you're telling the truth, invite me to do something cool and exciting that only Belgium can offer.  (That's sort of a joke, but not really :) )

So, just realized how hard it is to discribe English slang words.  I was talking to some girls from school and called our school bathrooms (which are old, a little run down, definately not up to USA sanitation standards, smell like smoke, and don't even have toilet paper in the stalls) as ghetto.  I just don't know enough words to explain it.  One day, though, one day...

Looked at a house with my family that they were thinking of buying.  It was awesome, if a little falling appart, and I shudder to think what my birth parents would have said about the cracks in the ceiling and such, but I had a really horribal, wonderful little fantasy about my friends back home and me buying a house in Belgium and living there, fixing it up, and just living the life.  It would be so cool.  I could teach them French, we could throw great parties, we could hang out all the time...I really miss my friends, so much that I agreed to Skype with them this weekend, but then I realized that the more I want to talk to them, the worse it will be if I do.  So, I postponed our Skype date for another time.

Everyone says my French is coming along very quickly, and all I can think is 'not fast enough.'  I know it's much better than it was when I got here, and I understand a lot more, but it's really fustrating for me not to know how to say what I want to say.  I'm sure I'd have tons more Belgian friends if they knew how incredibly witty I am in English.  :)  It's getting better, though.  Each day, it's easier to say things, and, each day, it's easier to understand not only the language, but the culture as well.

Skyped with my host brother who's on exchange to Peru.  Our entire conversation was in French, with the exception of three words.  He's really nice, and I'm considering marrying him in order to stay part of my host family forever.  (Just kidding, Dad.  Just kidding.)

I started singing with the local conservatory this week.  I'm the youngest in the group, by far, but everyone is nice and welcoming.  We're singing Mozart's Requiem, which may or may not be the coolest musical piece ever published.  Even though everything in the choir is spoken in French, I understand it way more than I understand school (which is to say, more than nothing).  And I really missed singing with a choir that can sight read.  I just want to take this moment to thank my old choir directo, Barbara Sletto, for preparing me for a legit chorus, and if she doesn't read this blog, that's okay.  Thank you, Mrs Sletto.

There is so much more to write, but you're just going to have to wait another week.  I've got to go.  Bike tour with my Rotary club.  :)

Warmly,

G.

Nothing Says 'Happy One Month Abroad' Better than a Giant Spider

Today, I've been in Belgium for one month.  It hardly seems that long; I feel like I just arrived.  I'm about half way done with my journal (an early birthday gift from Oma, thanks so much!) and I feel more and more at home here.  Even my dreams take place in Belgium now and sometimes, they're in French (but I don't understand what they say.) 

My last week was full of excitement.  School is getting better every day, and I understand more.  I don't feel so exausted afterward, and I'm getting to know some people better.  I really appreciate it when my classmates speak slowly to me and tell me about things in very simple French.  It's so much better for me than if they were to stumble through English words, though, I have to admit, I would rather talk to someone who knows a little English, because sometimes, I just don't remember a really simple French word (like 'good' or 'teach').  But that happens less now, and I'm starting to like talking again.  It's not so difficult to express my thoughts, though it's not easy and I can't say everything I want.  I can usually get the gist across, and that's really all that matters.

You can never really appreciate the sun until you live in Belgium.  This week, there were only three or so days that rained, and it was wonderful.  Of all the things back home that I miss, the sun is perhaps the most important. 

I could fill up this post with random observations--from the completely insane driving here to the amazing desserts to the fifty percent taxes--but what I really want to wright about is the Fête de Wallonie, which has got to be the best party I've ever been to (not including my Murder Mystery Dinner Party, of course).  The atmosphere of the Fête is really hard to explain, but I'll do my best.  Imagine that half a country wanted to throw a party to make the other half of the country jealous.  Then imagine that this country has more different kinds of beer than you could ever taste.  Then speak French, eat fries, and dance to music that could be discribed as techno, but with an awesome fiddler.  Oh, and take about half a dozen shots in the streets.  That's the Fête de Wallonie. 

Drapeau de la Wallonie

I left Friday after school for Namur and met up with my awesome Canadian friend, Alene (everyone should read her blog) on the train.  It's so wonderful to speak with someone in really fast English and have them understand.  She's basically just like me, only born a couple of months earlier and not into DnD, so, therefore, super cool.  We walked around the town for a while, searching for mini flags and souvenirs and just took in the sights.  The streets were lined with tents selling food, gifty stuff, or little flavored shots, and there were banners strung between the houses. It was about eight o' clock when the first random dunken person hugged us.

We met up with Alene's friends from school, including two other exchange kids, and wandered around with them.  It was so crowded that you had to push your way through the crowd, and there were so many beer cans, plastic cups, and those tiny shot glasses that, when you walked, it was like crunch crunch crunch.  But it was awesome.  We danced at the main stage until the artists stopped playing (I'm not sure who they were, but everyone kept telling me that they were really well known) and I didn't have time to sleep.  I just took the 6:40 train back to Tournai and slept all day, waking up for meal times and a beautiful classical music concert in the cathedral. 

Right now, my family is dog-sitting a sweet old dog, and it makes me realize how much I like having a dog.  I miss Remi, my sister's Yorkie back home. 

Also, I realized the importance of seperating yourself from your old life and imersing yourself in your country.  It's hard to read emails about home, like how your brother's in the hospital to get his apendix out.  I like knowing what's going on, and I want to talk to everyone back inIowa, but I have to keep my head in Belgium.  Please, family, friends, people reading my blog, if you have something to say to me, write it down, and when we skype in a month or two, you can read it to me. 

I think everyone should read/watch this link.  You can skip the bits about Russian school, but that struggle that the kids talk about...all I can say is 'welcome to my life.'

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/18/magazine/my-familys-experiment-in-extreme-schooling.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2&hp

Oh, almost forgot to say, I woke up this morning to find a spider the size of a my fist in my sink.  I killed it.  (I could even explain the situation in French!)

See you in ten months,

Greta

Eighteen years ago, there was an adorable baby girl named Greta

Just finished my first school week in Belgium and had my eighteenth birthday.  I'll start with my birthday.

Friday night, I went out with a really nice girl from my school who's going on an exchange next year.  She is very patient with me and, even though I rarely understand a conversation, it's nice to be with other people.  Walked home at about one 'o clock.  It's a testament to the security of my town that a girl walking home alone after midnight is not in any danger at all (but they tell me not to go through the parks alone at night). 

Saturday, I woke up early and headed to Mons, where I met up with other exchange kids.  It was fashion day, and the town was hopping.  I went shopping, watched a little bit of the fashion show, and became closer friends with some of the other girls, expecially my new Canadian friend, who spent the night at my place and didn't even mind going to mass in the morning.

Speaking of which, mass with a bishop is pretty awesome.  I'm definately not a religious person, and I didn't understand a word.  I just kept thinking, as I looked around the cathedral, this is where kings have prayed.  It was a really awesome thought, and, even though the cathedral is currently being renovated, it's still beautiful. 

After the mass, there was this weird ceremony when people came in dressed in medieval clothes carrying banners, and the bishop gave the key to the city to the mayor (I think).  It's tradition, and I'm not fully, one hundred percent sure that I understand correctly.  After that, we sang the Tournai song, which I totally don't understand because it's old French, and a really weird dialogue as well.  But I love it. 

Les Tournaisiens sont là!

Leray l’a dit, dins les guerr’s de la France,
Quand l’caporal s’apprêteot à buquer,
S’ortournant su s’n’officier d’ordonance :
« Dis deonc, l’ami, ç’qu’on peut bêteot qu’mincher ? »
No n’aid’ –de-camp s’ortourneot tout d’ein’ traque,
... R’wettieot au leong et puis diseot comm’ cha :
"Sa Majesté, on peut donner l’attaque,
On peut qu’mincher, les Tournaisiens sont là !

Et si pus tard i faudreot qu’on r’quéminche,
Aux greos, aux p’tits, ein Belg’ sareot prouver
Qu’i n’suffit pos de dir’ : « Tés-ta, j’te minche ! »
Neon ! Avant cha, i faudreot nous tuer.
Et quand no roi, au momint du touillage,
Dira : « M’z’infants, l’ennemi est là-bas ! »
Nous s’ecrireons : « A nous Tournai, courage ! ».
On sintira qu’les Tournaisiens sont là

 

After that, there was supposed to be this huge parade where people carry heavy Mother Mary statues around the city because it was supposed to protect the city from the plague, but it was cancelled because of the rain.  :(

 

I forgot to mention that I had candy for breakfast.

 

Oh, and a random black guy gave me his number.

 

I think that covers the weekend festivities, now for school.

 

So, I'm really totally confused in every lesson.  I'm not even sure when we have homework or what to do.  Everyone is nice to me, but I honestly feel like I'm mooching off them.  There are people that I want to get to know, and I don't want to settle into a friend circle until I've tested the waters in every one, but that's harder said than done, considering that I can't remember any of their names and don't speak French.  But, for this year, I want to be friends with the people who throw snakes.  Not litterally, because I don't want to be within a hundred foot radius of any snake, but the people who are living life and doing exciting, possibly crazy things.  All my life, I've been an observer, not a do-er.  That needs to change.

 

But everything is hard.  The professers are really kind and understand that I have no idea what I'm doing, but I feel so aimless, and I sigh a lot.  It's so difficult.  Also, my schedule is still kind of messed up (I realized ten minutes into one class that I had already had the same lesson that morning).  It's kind of horrible.  I just wish I had friends here. 

 

Life here is not a vacation or a party.  It's like AP testing, but it never ends.  I am always tired and really hungry.  Sometimes, all I want is to go home, but I know that if I do, I will regret it for the rest of my life.  So I've got to stick it out.  I just keep reminding myself that this is an adventure, and, sometimes, adventures aren't always fun.  You think Frodo and Sam enjoyed climbing all those stairs in The Return of the King? And Hannibal couldn't have been comfortable, crossing the Alps.  Things just suck sometimes, and, if you give up, you'll never destroy ultimate evil/Rome/the One Ring/the Sith/cockroaches/the six-fingered man/etc.

 

Now, I just have to follow my own advice.

 

Sincerely,

 

Greta

Old School

There is no way to fully discribe the differences between my school in Belgium.  It is so different from America that, on the first day, I felt like giving up and going home--not because I didn't like it, but because it was just so strange.  For starters, everyone writes in cursive.  And not the bad, swiggly nonesence that you learn in fourth grade.  It's beautiful, and everyone uses fountain pens.  It makes math notes seem like wedding invitations, and I feel more awkward because my appalling script than anything else.

But, so far, so good.  Everyone seems nice, and I already have friends who invited me out Friday night.  I got a bunch of complements on my clothes (thank you, Francesca's Collections) and the headmistress told me to just go to whatever classes I want until they finish a schedule for me.  Today, the second day, I went to English.  It was the only class where I understood most of what was going on, and I totally kicked ass on the excersizes. 

But, seriously, this is the hardest I've ever worked in my life.  Granted, this is coming from someone who never actually worked hard at anything before, but it's very difficult.  I come home from school exusted and starving, and I sleep deep and usually dreamless sleeps (though, last night, I dreamt that my best friend Carly, my best/only guy friend, and my dungeon master were trying to figure out how to get rid of the disgusting lunches at the school I attended until 6th grade). 

I'm starting to really miss my friends.  I want to tell them all sorts of stories about all my observations, but I know, if I do, it will just be harder on me later.  Besides, I need to make new friends.  Belgium now, Iowa later.

Still getting the hang of kissing people on the cheek when I say hello and good-bye.  It's so weird.

Peace,

Greta

I am so going to be poor when I get back

Yesterday, I went with my host sister and mom to Lille (that's in France) to go shopping for my new sister's first day of school.  I didn't buy anything, but for the first time in my life, I'm considering buying shoes over fifty euros.  I won't even tell you how much they are, but I want them so badly. 

But it's not just the shoes that are expensive here.  Everything is plus cher.  I'm going shopping for myself tomorrow witht he other exchange girls in my town, and I want to buy everything.   It's so cute and way different (in subtle ways, though, so a fashionablly insensitive person wouldn't notice.)

I've written a lot of letters and postcards, but I've only sent a few.  The rest are sitting on my desk in my room.

The other day, I went to the most magical music experience of my life.  It was in a little town, in the park around a castle, and people walked through the gardens and hedge labyrinth listening to little orchestras play.  It was wonderful.  I wish I could say something deeper, but the effect was indiscribable.  You'll just have to go yourself.

After that, I went to the 20th anniversary party of my host parents best friends.  There were at least two hundred people and more than a bottle of champagne for each.  There was food and dancing, and I met some new friends, dance with people I didn't know, and was asked the same three questions numerous times.  Where do you come from?  Why did you chose Belgium?  How long have you been here? 

We didn't leave until 6 in the morning.  I was suprised that I could dance so long (though, thinking about it, it was probably the gelatto keeping me going).  We returned in the late morning and helped clean up and ate the left over bread for lunch. 

I miss English.  I'm already finding it harder to write, and I read everything I brought with me, including the super-cheesey romance novel my friends sent with me as a gag gift.  I try reading in French, but It's difficult, and I always have to look up words.  It's work, and I don't want to have to work when I want to read. 

All in all, having a great time.  I miss my friends more than my family, and my pets a whole ton, including my bonsai tree.  I almost bought myself one in Lille, since they were well groomed and reasonably priced, but I don't have any of my wires or training stuff here, not to mention I can't take it home.  Maybe I'll leave it with my favorite family...

Enough about me gabbering on about squandering my wealth.  (I'm going to buy myself a new phone as well).  My birthday is in ten days, and I am really hoping for something from back home.  Like Reeses Peanut Butter Cups or crushed red peppers. 

à bientot!

G.

Life is Good

I love Belgium. I've been here a little over a week, and every day is full of exciting adventures. I'm getting better at French, and it's not weird to kiss strangers on the cheek anymore. Also, the chocolate.

Every night, I'm exausted. I sleep deeply and dream sporatically. In the morning, I feel like I've forgotten all my French, and I have to start over. I still have ten days before school starts, and hopefully I'll know enough by then to make some friends.

I've met the other exchange students in my town, and I like them quite a bit. There's a girl from Japan, a boy and a girl from Taiwan, a girl from Peru, and two girls from Brazil. I also really like the adults I've been intoduced to.  They're patient and kind and speak slowly (sometimes) so that I can understand.

Yesterday was crazy.  I met all the other exchange students in Belgium, some 200 or something.  I have a bunch of new pins for my super ugly Rotary jacket.  Dude, we looked so freakish in our jackets that random people took pictures of us.  But I also met some super cool friends, three other girls from the midwest, and we're organizing a Dungeons and Dragons night.  I'm DM, and it's going to be great.  (Which reminds me, I wonder if my group at home has found another girl yet.  Probably not.)

After touring Bruxelles with the exchange kids, I'm rethinking my decision to go on any of the group trips.  I'd rather save the money and go with a group of friends, so instead of travelling with a mob of near strangers, we could do stop for whatever we wanted to see and eat when we got hungry.

Belgian waffles are the greatest things ever.  Also, the chocolate.

Last night, my host family took me to the sea to watch fireworks.  They were beautiful and the whole thing was timed with classical music.  America has nothing on the Belgians when it comes to fireworks.  Then we had gelatto.  I really like my host family.

I feel my English slipping from me, which is one reason that this blog is choppy and mispelled.  It's a weird feeling, forgetting something as fundamental as basic speech.  I can't wait until I can communicate better in French.

Until next time,

Greta

This is fro, q different keyboqrd; so pleqsz forgive the errors

So, I am in Belgium, and the hardest thing to get used to is the keyboards.  Then it is the gay-dar adjustment.  (I do not know how to work the appostrophe, so this will sound very formal)

I speak prematurely, but the most difficult part is waiting in the airport before that first flight.  I felt like I was going to be sick, but then my English teacher, Ms Moraine, called, and I forgot about my nerves.  I sat next to a hot guy on the plane, and I figured it was a good sign.

I was stressed and nervous until I landed in Amsterdam, then an unearthly peace settled over me, like I had left all my problems and worries behind.  In fact, I had left all my problems and worries behind.  It was a good feeling.

I landed, collected both of my bags, and was greeted by a small crowd, who all kissed me and welcomed me to Belgium.  My host sister then left (via airplane)  to visit a friend, and my host mom Anne took me home. 

Tournai is beautiful.  The weather is cool and stormy right now, but I like it.  My new home is lovely, made of grey stone, and has a pool, tall ceilings, and my own bathroom.  There are 73 stairs up to my room at the top of the house. 

I love Belgium.

I also wish my friends were here. I keep thinking of things to tell them (Mads, lets discuss the end of Limitless when I get back.  Steph and Zach, I ran into a Codex Alera fan on the second plane.)  but I cannot.  I need to make new friends for my new life, but I still slept in a shirt with their faces on the front.

For the first time in a long time, I am perfectly at peace with the world.  I am not worried about learning French or stressed about school.  It is a very nice feeling.  I never want to leave. 

Tomorrow, we are going to Paris. 

Until next time,

Greta

Issues and Resolutions

It's less than a month before I leave, and I've been having some difficulties.  Until about a week ago, I was making all my travel arrangements with an agency which I will keep unnamed as not to hurt their livelihood (though how I'd like to...).  They had helped me with my visa, and I had payed for their services out of my own hard earned money.  My forms were still at the consulate, and I hadn't gotten my ticket yet.

My mom, being the penny-pincher and sweet-talker that she is, thought that the best idea would be to use our frequent flyer miles.  Normally, an opened ended, year long ticket (or whatever it's called) costs about twenty eight hundred dollars, and that's for a cheep one in the back of coach seating.  My mom, using her Jedi-like powers, managed to wrangle me one that would only skim off five hundred dollars from my not-so-considerable pot of gold.

We tried to call the travel agency, since they asked that we confirm a ticket purchase with them, but no one answered, no matter how many times we called.  We tried everyone who's number was on the website, but nada.  My mom purchased the ticket for me and I emailed the agency, telling them that my ticket was bought and to send me my visa when it was done.

Not only did the agency send my mother and I rude, unprofessional emails, but they threatened to withhold my passport until I payed a never before mentioned three hundred dollar fee.  Now, if this fee was written in any of the documents we received, I would have no problem with paying for it--after all, my mom would still be saving me two thousand dollars)--but it wasn't, and three hundred dollars is a lot.

Three hundred dollars (for me) is:

A really, really big shopping spree with dinner afterwards
Eating out once a day for a month
Six cute outfits
Roughly ten pairs of shoes
A nice going away party with food, drinks, and someone to clean the house
Host gifts for all my families, and then extra for a suitcase
A little less than a make in a month

For a seventeen year old girl, three hundred dollars is a lot, especially, when I'm paying for most of this myself.  So, I wasn't exactly what you'd call a happy camper.  My mom said she'd handle it, and, a few minutes later, my travel agent emailed her, saying that I wouldn't be going to be able to go to Belgium because I wasn't getting my documents back from them.

Then the mail man arrived with a big ol' envelope for me.

You see, my mom had called the consulate's office when she couldn't contact the travel agency, and told them that we were doing everything ourselves now and to send us the visa when they had approved it.  The envelope contained not only my visa, but all of the other documents that the travel agency had said that they would be withholding until their extortion scheme was complete.

They're still sending us nasty emails about keeping my passport.

Best part is, we never told them we have it.

Morals of the story:

Never pay someone to do something that you can easily do yourself
--And--
Sometimes, moms are pretty great.

Later,

Greta

The Last Summer

My name is Greta, and I'm going to be a Rotary Youth Exchange Student beginning in August this year.  I am excited--you don't need to ask.

I apologize for my melodramatic title, but I believe it fits.  This is my last summer as a high schooler, as well as the last summer before my adventure abroad.  It is the last summer I will spend with my friends being the geeky, yet extremely fashionable 'Greta' that people know me as.  When I return, I won't be the same person that I left as.  I don't know who I'll be, and that's scary enough to think about. So, this is the 'last summer' for the Greta you all know and some of you love.

I've finished my paperwork, and now I just have to wait until my visa goes through the consulate.  It's the waiting part, and it's almost as bad as the actually application.  I'm working on my French with Rosetta Stone, even though I've taken up through French IV at my school.  I seem to have forgotten it all.

I can't wait to go, and yet I'm reluctant to leave my friends, who are, frankly, very awesome. Every time they talk about their schedules for next year or the best things about being a senior, I feel a little quiver in my stomach.  I don't want to leave them, and yet I've waited my whole life for an adventure like this.  I can't turn it down.

I'll be studying in Belgium, in a French speaking city called Tournai.  I google-creep it all the time, and it's gorgeous, and my first host family seems really nice.  I can't wait to be there, where the winters aren't five below or the summer reaching heat indexes of 117 degrees.  People who have been there tell me Belgium is beautiful, but I still find myself gazing at Iowan corn fields as we drive past, wondering if I'll miss them.

I'm planning on posting once a week once I get to Belgium, to keep everyone at home updated.  It'll be a lot easier than sending postcards to everybody I know. :)

Over and out,

Greta