Actually, I didn't forget as such, more than I majorly got out of the habit of updating it. And this is no promise either. But, for the benefit of anyone who might actually read this, then: hello again!
So, in the 7 months since I last updated, the big news is that I quit my job as a journalist in Brussels (just in time, I might add, before the swinging axe of post-merger job cuts comes to chop its way through the Brussels offices of Thomson and Reuters), and moved to Berlin, where I'm now working far too many hours a day trying to help set up an adaptation of Teach First for Germany.
So far the work is great - if all-consuming - and I'm enjoying life in the German capital. I'm living in a shared flat (WG to you Germanophones) on the border between Prenzlauer Berg and Wedding (yes, that is a place) with two German girls and a Portuguese guy (I make a habit of the Portuguese, it seems...) I've been here since the middle of April and generally spend most of my time at the office. I've been on a few work trips within Germany and went to New York and Washington in April for work. I have another trip planned to New Orleans and New York planned for July, so I'm kept very busy.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Friday, November 09, 2007
Do you feel you're getting old? Then go to Tesco Express on Tottenham Court Road!
I just arrived in London, tired after a very early start and long and busy day at work. I picked up the keys to Chris's flat and, wanting nothing more than a simple, quiet night in, I decide to go to Tesco to get myself a microwave curry and a beer (classy Friday night, I know). So I walk in, am struck once again of how good British supermarkets are compared to Belgian ones, get my curry and beer and go to the checkout.
The checkout operator is looking at me somewhat uncertainly. He plucks up the courage and says to me, "Excuse me, sir. How old are you?" I laugh. The last time I got ID'd was in this VERY SAME TESCO that I hardly ever even go to. I replied, "I'm 25." To which he replies, "Can I see some ID please."
For goodness sake, who in their right mind would say they were 25 if they were actually 17?? Surely you'd pick a more realistic age - like 19 or 20... So I get out my wallet and look for ID. I can't find my driving licence (yeah, I know I can't drive - I just have a provisional for ID) immediately, so I get out my Belgian ID. He looks at it and says, "Sorry, this isn't a valid ID."
I reply, "How can it not be valid? It's a national identity card from Belgium." To end the whole tirade, I eventually find my driving licence and he is at last satisfied that I am over 18. Whooop-de-do.
I wouldn't mind, but this guy was blatantly about 17 himself. When I was 18, he was in primary school. His feeble excuse was "You look young." Great, thanks. I'm sure I'll be very happy of looking young when I'm in my 60s, but now it's just plain insulting. There's looking young and there's "you look like a child".
Because he'd pissed me off, I decided to be high-and-mighty and told him that it was illegal under EU law to refuse to accept the ID of another member state. That's probably true, but I can't see you taking Tesco to the European Court of Human Rights for not letting you buy beer.
Every time I get ID'd, I wonder if it's going to be my last. Now I know: all I have to do is go to Tesco Express on Tottenham Court Road and I could be 47 and still be mistaken for a minor.
The checkout operator is looking at me somewhat uncertainly. He plucks up the courage and says to me, "Excuse me, sir. How old are you?" I laugh. The last time I got ID'd was in this VERY SAME TESCO that I hardly ever even go to. I replied, "I'm 25." To which he replies, "Can I see some ID please."
For goodness sake, who in their right mind would say they were 25 if they were actually 17?? Surely you'd pick a more realistic age - like 19 or 20... So I get out my wallet and look for ID. I can't find my driving licence (yeah, I know I can't drive - I just have a provisional for ID) immediately, so I get out my Belgian ID. He looks at it and says, "Sorry, this isn't a valid ID."
I reply, "How can it not be valid? It's a national identity card from Belgium." To end the whole tirade, I eventually find my driving licence and he is at last satisfied that I am over 18. Whooop-de-do.
I wouldn't mind, but this guy was blatantly about 17 himself. When I was 18, he was in primary school. His feeble excuse was "You look young." Great, thanks. I'm sure I'll be very happy of looking young when I'm in my 60s, but now it's just plain insulting. There's looking young and there's "you look like a child".
Because he'd pissed me off, I decided to be high-and-mighty and told him that it was illegal under EU law to refuse to accept the ID of another member state. That's probably true, but I can't see you taking Tesco to the European Court of Human Rights for not letting you buy beer.
Every time I get ID'd, I wonder if it's going to be my last. Now I know: all I have to do is go to Tesco Express on Tottenham Court Road and I could be 47 and still be mistaken for a minor.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Britain and Europe: here we go again...
I have just read Timothy Garton Ash's comment piece in this morning's Guardian: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/story/0,,2188366,00.html and found it quite a useful layman's guide to what is wrong with Britain's relationship with the EU.
He is quite right in saying that the main reason the British government is trying to avoid a referendum on the reform treaty is pure fear of losing it. This is a road leading to disaster.
The case for European integration has never effectively been made in Britain. Whereas elsewhere the EU is seen as a common buffer to raw globalisation, a way of remaining competitive vis-à-vis the growth of China, India etc, we are still bogged down in meaningless debates about sovereignty and identity.
I say meaningless because these notions of independence date from pre-WW2 ideas of the Westphalian nation state. If we weren't subject to EU rules and regulations, there would still be the WTO, NATO, UN, G7, IMF etc telling us what to do.
As one of the largest member states of the EU, Britain weilds a lot of power. History has shown that the UK is not forced to participate in initiatives it does not like: the single currency and the Schengen passport union, to name but a couple. I am not advocating this opt-out culture; in fact, I think Britain suffers as a result of this. But to claim, despite it, that "we" are having things forced upon us by "them" is fallacious and pernicious. It ignores the role we play in decision-making, the efforts made by other countries to make things palatable to the British, and - most fundamentally - it stems from an unfounded, Empire-era notion of separatism.
Britons like to see themselves as the "bridge" across the Atlantic. Ever since Churchill, we have tried to be a mediator between Europe and America. The problem is: we can only effectively cleave to one or the other. Funnily enough, Tony Blair tried to do both. He kept the Europe side quiet, fearing the backlash of the Daily Mail et al., and he was pounded by the press for cozying up to Bush. So much for being a bridge.
Europe does not want to oppose America. It doesn't need Britain as a bridge. I worry that if things continue the way they are, resentment of "Europe" will grow and grow at home until one day a government comes to power on a manifesto of withdrawal. Britain outside the EU would be powerless. Certainly, we have our seat on the UN Security Council and our place at the G7 table. But we would no longer have a say in how the rules are made in the 500-million bloc on our doorstep. How could that possibly be in our interest?
Many eurosceptics talk about being conned into thinking the then-EEC was just a common market, with no further ambitions. That was duplicitous from the start. But having played down what we were getting ourselves into, successive governments found it convenient to "blame it on Brussels" whenever bad things happened, while taking the credit themselves for things that go well. How can the EU compete with that?
The advent of the new treaty does indeed present a problem to British europhiles. On the one half, we are convinced that the EU is good for Britain, and that we should engage to shape it in our best interests, accepting that not everything is going to go our way all the time (it doesn't in parliament, the UN or anywhere!), and want to avoid a referendum we fear we will lose due to misinformation, little-Englandism and nationalism. On the other hand, we know that every time we fudge the issue, attempt to push things through without engaging the public, the more problems we store up for the future.
The Labour government knows that Europe is good for Britain. But it is too afraid to tell us. Now that Gordon Brown has decided to put off the election for the next couple of years, why doesn't he try to undo some of mistakes of the past and achieve what Tony Blair promised - and even started until September 11 got in the way - and put Britain at the heart of Europe?
Alas, I fear, we will stay on the EU love/hate merry-go-round, spinning out of control until the nausea convinces us to step off into the unknown.
He is quite right in saying that the main reason the British government is trying to avoid a referendum on the reform treaty is pure fear of losing it. This is a road leading to disaster.
The case for European integration has never effectively been made in Britain. Whereas elsewhere the EU is seen as a common buffer to raw globalisation, a way of remaining competitive vis-à-vis the growth of China, India etc, we are still bogged down in meaningless debates about sovereignty and identity.
I say meaningless because these notions of independence date from pre-WW2 ideas of the Westphalian nation state. If we weren't subject to EU rules and regulations, there would still be the WTO, NATO, UN, G7, IMF etc telling us what to do.
As one of the largest member states of the EU, Britain weilds a lot of power. History has shown that the UK is not forced to participate in initiatives it does not like: the single currency and the Schengen passport union, to name but a couple. I am not advocating this opt-out culture; in fact, I think Britain suffers as a result of this. But to claim, despite it, that "we" are having things forced upon us by "them" is fallacious and pernicious. It ignores the role we play in decision-making, the efforts made by other countries to make things palatable to the British, and - most fundamentally - it stems from an unfounded, Empire-era notion of separatism.
Britons like to see themselves as the "bridge" across the Atlantic. Ever since Churchill, we have tried to be a mediator between Europe and America. The problem is: we can only effectively cleave to one or the other. Funnily enough, Tony Blair tried to do both. He kept the Europe side quiet, fearing the backlash of the Daily Mail et al., and he was pounded by the press for cozying up to Bush. So much for being a bridge.
Europe does not want to oppose America. It doesn't need Britain as a bridge. I worry that if things continue the way they are, resentment of "Europe" will grow and grow at home until one day a government comes to power on a manifesto of withdrawal. Britain outside the EU would be powerless. Certainly, we have our seat on the UN Security Council and our place at the G7 table. But we would no longer have a say in how the rules are made in the 500-million bloc on our doorstep. How could that possibly be in our interest?
Many eurosceptics talk about being conned into thinking the then-EEC was just a common market, with no further ambitions. That was duplicitous from the start. But having played down what we were getting ourselves into, successive governments found it convenient to "blame it on Brussels" whenever bad things happened, while taking the credit themselves for things that go well. How can the EU compete with that?
The advent of the new treaty does indeed present a problem to British europhiles. On the one half, we are convinced that the EU is good for Britain, and that we should engage to shape it in our best interests, accepting that not everything is going to go our way all the time (it doesn't in parliament, the UN or anywhere!), and want to avoid a referendum we fear we will lose due to misinformation, little-Englandism and nationalism. On the other hand, we know that every time we fudge the issue, attempt to push things through without engaging the public, the more problems we store up for the future.
The Labour government knows that Europe is good for Britain. But it is too afraid to tell us. Now that Gordon Brown has decided to put off the election for the next couple of years, why doesn't he try to undo some of mistakes of the past and achieve what Tony Blair promised - and even started until September 11 got in the way - and put Britain at the heart of Europe?
Alas, I fear, we will stay on the EU love/hate merry-go-round, spinning out of control until the nausea convinces us to step off into the unknown.
Friday, October 05, 2007
All it takes is one sunny afternoon...
...to make the world seem a better place. I just had lunch in the Parc du Cinquantenaire, just around the corner from my office. The sun was shining. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was warm, but also distinctly autumnal. As I walked around, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, my mood was elated - and everyone else in the park seemed to be feeling the same way. A warm sunny Friday afternoon in October is a special thing indeed.
As I wandered, leaves were gently falling from the trees. The earliest stage of autumn, when most of the leaves are still green, but you start to see ochre, russet, copper creeping in. They float down gently in the breezeless air, swaying from side to side, in no hurry to reach the ground. There was a man with a group of about 10 little children, aged about 6 or 7, and they were all trying to see who could catch the leaves as they fell. As I watched them I caught his eye and smiled. He looked a bit embarassed but smiled back.
There is something very special about an unexpected sunny day that makes me glad in a way that they don't happen everyday: the sense of seizing the moment while you can, of rushing out and enjoying it is only possible if they're quite rare.
As I wandered, leaves were gently falling from the trees. The earliest stage of autumn, when most of the leaves are still green, but you start to see ochre, russet, copper creeping in. They float down gently in the breezeless air, swaying from side to side, in no hurry to reach the ground. There was a man with a group of about 10 little children, aged about 6 or 7, and they were all trying to see who could catch the leaves as they fell. As I watched them I caught his eye and smiled. He looked a bit embarassed but smiled back.
There is something very special about an unexpected sunny day that makes me glad in a way that they don't happen everyday: the sense of seizing the moment while you can, of rushing out and enjoying it is only possible if they're quite rare.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Reasons why Belgium is crap: #2 call centres here are even worse than at home
I haven't updated my "reasons why Belgium is crap" series in a while. I think it paints a somewhat negative image of the country I have obviously chosen to live in. Maybe I should start a "reasons why Belgium is great" series, where I can talk about Westmalle Double, Liege waffles and chocolate... but for now, let's stick with this series.
One unfortunate consequence of moving into a new flat is that I've had to deal with call centres. Don't get me wrong, call centres are crap everywhere. They're likely to be even crapper if you're trying to speak a foreign language and crapper still if you're feeling lazy and try and get them to speak English. Add to all that the fact that this country is bitterly divided along linguistic lines (and Brussels as a city too), and then you can't even be sure what language anything is going to be posted to you in or what language the person you call is going to speak.
My first encounter was with Electrabel, the electricity provider. They sent me all the letters in Dutch. I phoned up to ask if I could have them in French instead. They said no. They said they'd send me the bill again in French and then all letters from then on, but I'd have to call another number to ask for my contract to be given in French. I thought: oh well, I sort of understand Dutch. Let's leave it.
That was nothing compared to today. Last week, I phoned up Mobistar (telecoms operator) to order broadband. I wanted to go to the shop, but wanted to check if I needed any documentation / proof of address etc. The man informed me (excellent English) that I could do it all over the phone. Excellent, I thought. Everything went smoothly. The contract was in the post.
The post was slow and it arrived yesterday (6 days later). Fine. Read the contract: ah, it's in Dutch. Again. The ironic part is there is a section where it says "Taal: Engels" - "language: English". That obviously means a lot to them. They seem to want to charge us an extra 121 euros they didn't tell us about. Ok, I think. I'll phone them tomorrow. I called the number on the contract... waited 5 mins to speak to someone, who answered in French. Stupidly, I asked "Do you speak English?" She said "Non." Before I had a chance to say "D'accord, je peux parler en français", she said "Veuillez patienter un petit instant" and trasferred me. Now, maybe I was brought up in a different part of the space-time continuum, but for me "un petit instant" is about 10 seconds... not 5 MINUTES. Anyway, someone else came on the line, and then told me that I had come through to a general Mobistar number and needed to speak to the broadband department. Duh. So, I calmly took down the number, hung up, redialled, sat through a further 7 or 8 minutes of muzak, and then spoke to someone who did speak English. He asked me about a million security questions, and then said "This is the number for your mobile phone. If you want broadband, you need to call this number..." I said: "I was given this number by someone else who said that this was the broadband number." He said: "Well, normally it is, but today, another department is dealing with broadband issues so I can't help you." Getting a bit angry now, I hang up, dial the new number. I get a message saying: "ce numéro n'est plus en service". Arrrrgh! So, I called back the other one, waited 10 minutes... still no answer. Had to hang up and actually do some work. They won. Screw them.
The most annoying thing of it all is that we need to register with Mobistar - all the other ISPs are even more expensive or don't serve my postcode.
Actually, that is another potential rant: you can't choose what your cable service provider is... There are about 5 different companies, each with different tariffs and packages, but you have to take the one that serves your postcode. In 2004, we had Homechoice, which was TV delivered through broadband phone lines. Does that exist in Belgium? "We're hoping to roll out television over phone lines in 2009/10, say Belgacom." Great. Welcome to Belgium. Otherwise known as 1996.
One unfortunate consequence of moving into a new flat is that I've had to deal with call centres. Don't get me wrong, call centres are crap everywhere. They're likely to be even crapper if you're trying to speak a foreign language and crapper still if you're feeling lazy and try and get them to speak English. Add to all that the fact that this country is bitterly divided along linguistic lines (and Brussels as a city too), and then you can't even be sure what language anything is going to be posted to you in or what language the person you call is going to speak.
My first encounter was with Electrabel, the electricity provider. They sent me all the letters in Dutch. I phoned up to ask if I could have them in French instead. They said no. They said they'd send me the bill again in French and then all letters from then on, but I'd have to call another number to ask for my contract to be given in French. I thought: oh well, I sort of understand Dutch. Let's leave it.
That was nothing compared to today. Last week, I phoned up Mobistar (telecoms operator) to order broadband. I wanted to go to the shop, but wanted to check if I needed any documentation / proof of address etc. The man informed me (excellent English) that I could do it all over the phone. Excellent, I thought. Everything went smoothly. The contract was in the post.
The post was slow and it arrived yesterday (6 days later). Fine. Read the contract: ah, it's in Dutch. Again. The ironic part is there is a section where it says "Taal: Engels" - "language: English". That obviously means a lot to them. They seem to want to charge us an extra 121 euros they didn't tell us about. Ok, I think. I'll phone them tomorrow. I called the number on the contract... waited 5 mins to speak to someone, who answered in French. Stupidly, I asked "Do you speak English?" She said "Non." Before I had a chance to say "D'accord, je peux parler en français", she said "Veuillez patienter un petit instant" and trasferred me. Now, maybe I was brought up in a different part of the space-time continuum, but for me "un petit instant" is about 10 seconds... not 5 MINUTES. Anyway, someone else came on the line, and then told me that I had come through to a general Mobistar number and needed to speak to the broadband department. Duh. So, I calmly took down the number, hung up, redialled, sat through a further 7 or 8 minutes of muzak, and then spoke to someone who did speak English. He asked me about a million security questions, and then said "This is the number for your mobile phone. If you want broadband, you need to call this number..." I said: "I was given this number by someone else who said that this was the broadband number." He said: "Well, normally it is, but today, another department is dealing with broadband issues so I can't help you." Getting a bit angry now, I hang up, dial the new number. I get a message saying: "ce numéro n'est plus en service". Arrrrgh! So, I called back the other one, waited 10 minutes... still no answer. Had to hang up and actually do some work. They won. Screw them.
The most annoying thing of it all is that we need to register with Mobistar - all the other ISPs are even more expensive or don't serve my postcode.
Actually, that is another potential rant: you can't choose what your cable service provider is... There are about 5 different companies, each with different tariffs and packages, but you have to take the one that serves your postcode. In 2004, we had Homechoice, which was TV delivered through broadband phone lines. Does that exist in Belgium? "We're hoping to roll out television over phone lines in 2009/10, say Belgacom." Great. Welcome to Belgium. Otherwise known as 1996.
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a clothes-horse!
Yea, I am extremely proude of mine witty and culturally punning title. For thou shalt perceive the relevance thereof anon.
Yesterday was Oct 1 - when we officially took over our flat from the previous tenants. Therefore it was also when they took all of their furniture... well, at least in theory. Theoretically it was also the day when we were supposed to get our own furniture. Well, as any student of "its all about me" Ptolemy or "plum pudding" Rutherford will attest, theories are all very well and good, but they are not always borne out by reality. Life is thus, there is little point in pretending otherwise. And so it was I was not even mildly surprised to return from work yesterday afternoon to find that not only was all of the promised furniture not there, but the old furniture seemed quite reluctant say its farewell too. Lest I imply that absolutely nothing had changed, allow me to explain that all of the things which could be considered essential to daily life (kettle, pans, cutlery, plates) had vanished, while the useful things such as tables, chairs, sofas etc., were piled up in the corner and waiting to be moved. I wish to do no disservice to our landlord: he kept his promise to deliver our beds, at least. It's just a shame he decided not to assemble them until today. Well, I say today, but who knows what I shall find when I get home.
Last night, Niamh and I went to the auditions for the Brussels Shakespeare Society's auditions for Richard III... now, hopefully, the title becomes clear. I thought about using the other famous Richard III quote ("Now is the winter of our discontent") but considered it a) too pessimistic, and b) facutally inaccurate, since it's autumn. It was a strange - and slightly surreal - experience, to say the least. About 15 thesps in a room, all booming out lines such as "Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? Was ever woman in this humour won? I'll have her; — but I will not keep her long." in their best "this is Shakespeare so you're supposed to practically shout all your lines in a deep ominous voice". It was quite interesting, in a random "what am I doing here?" kind of way. I doubt I'll get offered a part - and if I do, it'll be the Page or Murderer 1 or something, since they're the only parts I was asked to read for.
Yesterday was Oct 1 - when we officially took over our flat from the previous tenants. Therefore it was also when they took all of their furniture... well, at least in theory. Theoretically it was also the day when we were supposed to get our own furniture. Well, as any student of "its all about me" Ptolemy or "plum pudding" Rutherford will attest, theories are all very well and good, but they are not always borne out by reality. Life is thus, there is little point in pretending otherwise. And so it was I was not even mildly surprised to return from work yesterday afternoon to find that not only was all of the promised furniture not there, but the old furniture seemed quite reluctant say its farewell too. Lest I imply that absolutely nothing had changed, allow me to explain that all of the things which could be considered essential to daily life (kettle, pans, cutlery, plates) had vanished, while the useful things such as tables, chairs, sofas etc., were piled up in the corner and waiting to be moved. I wish to do no disservice to our landlord: he kept his promise to deliver our beds, at least. It's just a shame he decided not to assemble them until today. Well, I say today, but who knows what I shall find when I get home.
Last night, Niamh and I went to the auditions for the Brussels Shakespeare Society's auditions for Richard III... now, hopefully, the title becomes clear. I thought about using the other famous Richard III quote ("Now is the winter of our discontent") but considered it a) too pessimistic, and b) facutally inaccurate, since it's autumn. It was a strange - and slightly surreal - experience, to say the least. About 15 thesps in a room, all booming out lines such as "Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? Was ever woman in this humour won? I'll have her; — but I will not keep her long." in their best "this is Shakespeare so you're supposed to practically shout all your lines in a deep ominous voice". It was quite interesting, in a random "what am I doing here?" kind of way. I doubt I'll get offered a part - and if I do, it'll be the Page or Murderer 1 or something, since they're the only parts I was asked to read for.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
September in Brussels
...has been better than August, but still not the Indian summer I'd been hoping for. Today especially feels very autumnal - wind, rain and very changeable.
Work is plodding along ok. The nature of most jobs, I suppose, is that things are often quite neutral and there isn't much to report. Teaching was also an exception to that - where days were often so good or so bad, they always made a good story. But today has been a fairly typical, if quieter than usual, example of my daily routine here. I had a late start this morning, getting in just before 9.30, and wrote a story about a pharmaceuticals company so small that none of the sharetraders I called covered it - and half of them hadn't even heard of it! After that, it was relatively quiet until just before lunch, when I went to the Commission press conference. That was relatively uneventful too. The competition spokesman seemed in an uncharacteristically cheerful mood following yesterday's European court of first instance ruling for the Commission against Microsoft. I went for a long lunch with Fran at Au Bain Marie - which was really nice. In the afternoon, I chased up a story about an EU merger case and then I spent about two hours on Facebook. Not a taxing day, but also not really one worth writing about.
Last weekend was much more interesting. On Friday after work, I headed down to Place Lux with Antonio and Golda, and we bumped into about 30 college people there. It was really nice to see everyone and catch up, though it did feel a little bit like Celtic Ireland (the Irish pub in Bruges) transplanted to Brussels.
On Saturday morning, Niamh arrived, meaning that all of my flatmates are now here. I went with Antonio, Jakob, Helena and some of Jakob's colleagues to the Palais de Justice. In Brussels it was the "journées de patrimoine" last weekend - which is when lots of buildings which are usually closed to the public open their doors - like the Open House weekend in London. It was an interesting tour, but they only showed us a relatively small part of the fascinating building, which is built on a steep hill. You enter at the top of the hill and there are some higher floors, but you can go down many more floors, to exit the building at the bottom of the hill!
Following a quick lunch in Sainte Cathérine, we made the compulsory trip to Ikea - but it was mostly a preliminary one... the worst is yet to come next month... That evening, I cooked for my housemates and we had a relaxing evening in, before deciding quite late to go out for a last drink. We headed to St-Géry around 11.30 and went to Gecko.
On Sunday, we went en masse (the novelty of the new flatmates hasn't worn off yet) to Stockel, where the Thai embassy had arranged a big festival of Thai food and culture. There were lots of tents around the edge of the main square, each serving a different Thai dish. I had chicken satay which - though unoriginal - is still my favourite. I was more adventurous with the deserts, trying some strange sesame-flavoured green jelly. Later that afternoon, Niamh and I met up with Stephen for coffee in Place Jourdan (so nice to have coffee right by where we live!) and then went to church in the evening.
All in all, it was a very pleasant, if uneventful, weekend. This doesn't make for the most rivetting read, I'm afraid... but life is just plodding along ok at the moment without too much excitement.
Having said that, I did go to Cologne last weekend, and had a really good time there with Kai and Maren :)
Hopefully, I'll be able to write about something with a bit more excitement soon!
Work is plodding along ok. The nature of most jobs, I suppose, is that things are often quite neutral and there isn't much to report. Teaching was also an exception to that - where days were often so good or so bad, they always made a good story. But today has been a fairly typical, if quieter than usual, example of my daily routine here. I had a late start this morning, getting in just before 9.30, and wrote a story about a pharmaceuticals company so small that none of the sharetraders I called covered it - and half of them hadn't even heard of it! After that, it was relatively quiet until just before lunch, when I went to the Commission press conference. That was relatively uneventful too. The competition spokesman seemed in an uncharacteristically cheerful mood following yesterday's European court of first instance ruling for the Commission against Microsoft. I went for a long lunch with Fran at Au Bain Marie - which was really nice. In the afternoon, I chased up a story about an EU merger case and then I spent about two hours on Facebook. Not a taxing day, but also not really one worth writing about.
Last weekend was much more interesting. On Friday after work, I headed down to Place Lux with Antonio and Golda, and we bumped into about 30 college people there. It was really nice to see everyone and catch up, though it did feel a little bit like Celtic Ireland (the Irish pub in Bruges) transplanted to Brussels.
On Saturday morning, Niamh arrived, meaning that all of my flatmates are now here. I went with Antonio, Jakob, Helena and some of Jakob's colleagues to the Palais de Justice. In Brussels it was the "journées de patrimoine" last weekend - which is when lots of buildings which are usually closed to the public open their doors - like the Open House weekend in London. It was an interesting tour, but they only showed us a relatively small part of the fascinating building, which is built on a steep hill. You enter at the top of the hill and there are some higher floors, but you can go down many more floors, to exit the building at the bottom of the hill!
Following a quick lunch in Sainte Cathérine, we made the compulsory trip to Ikea - but it was mostly a preliminary one... the worst is yet to come next month... That evening, I cooked for my housemates and we had a relaxing evening in, before deciding quite late to go out for a last drink. We headed to St-Géry around 11.30 and went to Gecko.
On Sunday, we went en masse (the novelty of the new flatmates hasn't worn off yet) to Stockel, where the Thai embassy had arranged a big festival of Thai food and culture. There were lots of tents around the edge of the main square, each serving a different Thai dish. I had chicken satay which - though unoriginal - is still my favourite. I was more adventurous with the deserts, trying some strange sesame-flavoured green jelly. Later that afternoon, Niamh and I met up with Stephen for coffee in Place Jourdan (so nice to have coffee right by where we live!) and then went to church in the evening.
All in all, it was a very pleasant, if uneventful, weekend. This doesn't make for the most rivetting read, I'm afraid... but life is just plodding along ok at the moment without too much excitement.
Having said that, I did go to Cologne last weekend, and had a really good time there with Kai and Maren :)
Hopefully, I'll be able to write about something with a bit more excitement soon!
Monday, August 20, 2007
Installé à Bruxelles
Updating this blog has taken somewhat of a back seat lately, and I'm wondering whether to continue it. I started it with the aim of updating it during my year in Bruges - and now that's finished. Also, I'm not sure who (apart from my dad and maybe Chris now and then) actually reads this... so if you want me to keep it going, leave a comment or email me, so I know.
Anyway, I'm now three weeks into my job as a journalist - and two weeks into life in Brussels, and I'm starting to settle into both. I'm enjoying the job so far - I was writing stories from very early on, and am actually enjoying reporting on Belgian stocks far more than you would think if either a) you know me, or b) you know Belgian stocks. The job is quite fast moving, which is great - but in the quiet period of August, the nature of the job can be characterised by a period of frenzied activity - when there is news to be reported, time is of the essence - followed by long lull periods when I have time to do things like... write my blog. I am told that things get busier after the summer break, which will be welcome - surfing Facebook all day is not as appealing as it might sound!
This month I've been living in Saint-Josse, a predominantly Turkish suburb of NE
Brussels about 15 minutes walk from Schuman (the EU quarter, where I work). I've been staying with Anna, an Austrian-Russian friend from Bruges. I move into my permanent appartment on Place Jourdan - about 5 minutes walk from work and just behind the European Parliament - at the start of September, all being well. It's been cool living in Saint-Josse this month, though. As well as Anna, Hans (an Austrian Bruges friend) stayed with us for a week, and tonight, Jakob (my Swedish future flatmate) is coming for a few nights. We're acting a bit as a refuge for ex-Bruges newcomers, which is really cool as it means we get to see a lot of people!
On Saturday, Anna and I decided to go along to a 50s music festival near the Atomium
which Abbie - a British woman I met last week through Frances - invited me to. It was a very interesting experience, though I think I was one of the few people there who hadn't spent his whole life practising the lindyhop and one of the few under 50. Still, it was fun to be at, and the Keytones - the live band - were really excellent and well-worth seeing again.
From there, not wanting to go straight home (around 11), Anna and I decided to head into town. Anna wanted to go to a gay bar (she was curious as to what they were like), and so we went to a place called Le Cancan, where there was a drag act. I have never actually seen a drag act I didn't find rubbish/uncomfortable, but this one was really excellent. In fact, at one point, we seriously questioned whether they were really men at all. The highlight of the show, which saw the pair dress up as Kylie, Celine Dion, Madonna and others, has to be Liza Minnelli - singing a French translation of "Liza with a Z" - absolutely genius!
In the theme of the random evening, we went from there to a salsa bar, then to another gay bar, and finally to a Brazilian bar. It was gone 4.30 by the time we got a taxi home - certianly the biggest night out I'd had in a while!
Anyway, I'm now three weeks into my job as a journalist - and two weeks into life in Brussels, and I'm starting to settle into both. I'm enjoying the job so far - I was writing stories from very early on, and am actually enjoying reporting on Belgian stocks far more than you would think if either a) you know me, or b) you know Belgian stocks. The job is quite fast moving, which is great - but in the quiet period of August, the nature of the job can be characterised by a period of frenzied activity - when there is news to be reported, time is of the essence - followed by long lull periods when I have time to do things like... write my blog. I am told that things get busier after the summer break, which will be welcome - surfing Facebook all day is not as appealing as it might sound!
This month I've been living in Saint-Josse, a predominantly Turkish suburb of NE
Brussels about 15 minutes walk from Schuman (the EU quarter, where I work). I've been staying with Anna, an Austrian-Russian friend from Bruges. I move into my permanent appartment on Place Jourdan - about 5 minutes walk from work and just behind the European Parliament - at the start of September, all being well. It's been cool living in Saint-Josse this month, though. As well as Anna, Hans (an Austrian Bruges friend) stayed with us for a week, and tonight, Jakob (my Swedish future flatmate) is coming for a few nights. We're acting a bit as a refuge for ex-Bruges newcomers, which is really cool as it means we get to see a lot of people!On Saturday, Anna and I decided to go along to a 50s music festival near the Atomium
which Abbie - a British woman I met last week through Frances - invited me to. It was a very interesting experience, though I think I was one of the few people there who hadn't spent his whole life practising the lindyhop and one of the few under 50. Still, it was fun to be at, and the Keytones - the live band - were really excellent and well-worth seeing again.
From there, not wanting to go straight home (around 11), Anna and I decided to head into town. Anna wanted to go to a gay bar (she was curious as to what they were like), and so we went to a place called Le Cancan, where there was a drag act. I have never actually seen a drag act I didn't find rubbish/uncomfortable, but this one was really excellent. In fact, at one point, we seriously questioned whether they were really men at all. The highlight of the show, which saw the pair dress up as Kylie, Celine Dion, Madonna and others, has to be Liza Minnelli - singing a French translation of "Liza with a Z" - absolutely genius!
In the theme of the random evening, we went from there to a salsa bar, then to another gay bar, and finally to a Brazilian bar. It was gone 4.30 by the time we got a taxi home - certianly the biggest night out I'd had in a while!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
USA photos
A huge selection of holiday photos from my recent trip to the US can be found on my Facebook profile. For those of you not on Facebook, these links take you to the individual albums:
Orlando: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146006&l=2bd23&id=36918472
Key West: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2145999&l=caa71&id=36918472
Colorado 1: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146010&l=60837&id=36918472
Colorado 2: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146019&l=a840e&id=36918472
Utah / Arizona: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146927&l=ae053&id=36918472
Arizona 2: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146937&l=7b198&id=36918472
Orlando: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146006&l=2bd23&id=36918472
Key West: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2145999&l=caa71&id=36918472
Colorado 1: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146010&l=60837&id=36918472
Colorado 2: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146019&l=a840e&id=36918472
Utah / Arizona: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146927&l=ae053&id=36918472
Arizona 2: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146937&l=7b198&id=36918472
Friday, July 13, 2007
44 degrees in the shade
I'm in Phoenix, Arizona, and it's so hot you can only be out of your air-conditioned car or hotel room for about 5 minutes before you start passing out. My three-week US adventure is almost at an end. I've done so much, I don't even know where to begin. In the last week alone, I've been to the summit of Mount Evans (14,800 ft), to the Black Canyon, to Mesa Verde, Monument Valley, the Grand Canyon and Route 66. Lots of photos coming soon...
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