When Kyle and I first started dating, I told him how much I had always wanted to live in a small town. Because he grew up in a small town, he informed me that there are some cons as well as the pros I'd imagined: Everyone knows your business, and there isn't always a lot to do. After visiting his hometown of Dalton a few times, I started to catch on to what he meant. Dalton is a great town, but you sure better be wearing makeup when you leave the house because you will see every person in the city even when you are just running one errand. And he was also right about how your past stays with you forever in a small town. We're lucky that Kyle had a good past, because while visiting there we have run into his former teachers, church choir director, old Boy Scout leaders, neighbors, and any other person that has known him at any point in his life.
So today I was realizing another reason I love Brussels so much -- it is like a small town in a big city. Yes, it is not a huge city, but there are great restaurants (Brussels has more Michelin star restaurants per person than Paris), interesting cultural events, and beautiful parks. Everything you need is relatively close, and although the traffic isn't great, it sure isn't as bad as Atlanta's. People seem to stay in their neighborhoods more, so you really get to know everyone who lives near you. This weekend we joined six other people at a friend's house, and every person there lived in the neighborhood and had been able to walk there. Today, for instance, I was walking around and ran into six people I know in a matter of two hours. In Atlanta, you rarely just bump into anyone you know. Brussels isn't so small that you see someone you know every day (six people in two hours is rare for me). But because people stay in their neighborhoods, you really get to recognize people you have daily interactions with.
Today, partly because it was market day, I saw my flower guy, my bread girl, my waffle woman, my quiche guy, my chicken man, my local bar owner, my favorite Chinese restaurant waitress walking with her two kids, my favorite Italian restaurant waitress hanging out with her friends, and my dry cleaning lady walking down the street. Although they don't all know my name, they all recognize my face and it is really nice to have someone smile with recognition when you walk up.
I guess anyone reading this who has ever lived in downtown NYC, Boston, or Chicago might not understand why I find all of this so novel, but I realized the other day that the only other time in my life where I have been able to walk less than a block to a friend's home was my freshman year in college when I lived in the dorm. I have never been able to just have a short walk to the grocery store/dry cleaners, so I am especially enjoying that. It wouldn't be nearly as easy to live in this part of town if we had kids, so I feel very lucky that we are able to enjoy it all right now.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
The Beautiful Bloggers of Brussels
My friend Cindy Lane threw another great party last night. In attendance were many of the bloggers I have met through my time in Brussels. Even though we all met through the internet, we had a great time getting to really know each other in person, versus just over a computer screen. Meeting someone through blogging is a funny way to start a friendship because it is like you instantly know an incredible about of information about the person before you have even spoken. It was almost to the point of creepy how quicky we could talk about personal things. I had only met a few of these women once before, but upon seeing each other we were immediately able to jump into conversations like, "How was your trip home? I think you should sell your house in VA and move because the commute sounds horrible. How was it having your sister visit?"
To learn as much about them as I know, check out some of their blogs!
Cindy Lane www.newtobrussels.blogspot.com
V-Grrrl www.v-grrrl.com
Amy's www.beerandwaffles.blogspot.com
Di's www.womanwandering.blogspot.com
Tylene's www.girlwithjavacurls.typepad.com
Whenever Cindy is around, people are always laughing because she has the funniest stories to tell. Click on her blog and read both entries for February 18 if you want a good laugh.
To learn as much about them as I know, check out some of their blogs!
Cindy Lane www.newtobrussels.blogspot.com
V-Grrrl www.v-grrrl.com
Amy's www.beerandwaffles.blogspot.com
Di's www.womanwandering.blogspot.com
Tylene's www.girlwithjavacurls.typepad.com
Whenever Cindy is around, people are always laughing because she has the funniest stories to tell. Click on her blog and read both entries for February 18 if you want a good laugh.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Unhindered
I mentioned before about my cousin Benjamin and his band Unhindered playing at BattleCry out in San Francisco. Click here to see photos of the event. Check out Benjamin singing on the big screen in front of 22,000 people!!! 
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Chasing China
I've had a busy but great last few weeks. I'm still working on the pictures from all the events, but the main thing I have done is take a two day trip to France with the American Women's Club. We drove to Gien, France and saw their china factory there. Next we went to the Pillivuyt china factory, then did a wine tasting and then saw, but didn't tour the Chateaux de Chambord. Click here for pictures and more descriptions of the trip.
This weekend we had a great visit with our good friends Amy and Nate Chan who were in Europe for a wedding. It was so much fun to be with them again and we all loved getting to catch up. I never thought I would say this, but after a week filled with two full days on a bus with 15 women, then a dinner with some girlfriends, then visiting with Amy and Nate, I am actually all talked out. I honestly feel like I just want to sit alone in my apartment for a few days to gather up my strength to talk again.
We didn't take a picture this weekend, but since we were with them this same weekend last year in Dublin, I thought it would be fitting to post a picture from that fun trip. Here is Kyle, Nate and Amy waiting in line to go to the Guiness Factory. It was freezing cold and we had to wait outside for over an hour so see if you can find Amy.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Interesting Things
I'm so proud of my cousin Benjamin. It is amazing, but not hard to believe if you have ever met him, that he just finished a weekend of performing in front of 22,000 people with his band Unhindered. They are playing for Battle Cry, a Christian festival that is traveling the country. Keep an eye out for Unhindered coming to your city soon!
Below is an article by one of Kyle's co-workers. Makes you think...
Richest Country, Saddest People -- Any Coincidence?
By BRET STEPHENS
Wall Stree Journal
March 9, 2007; Page W11
"Oh, my God, I am so starving," says high-school student Brittany Birnbaum, who ate nothing except "a Twix and a half bag of Fritos" before her cheerleading tryout and whose stomach revolts at the sight of her mother's salisbury steak. "You know," she warns, "it's against the law to treat your kids like this."
"My God, I am starving," rejoins Kitum Asosa, starving African. "I would walk 100 miles through the desert to reach a handful of millet. The sight of a sparrow carcass would make my mouth water, if only I were not too dehydrated to salivate."
I am reminded of this immortal exchange -- a satirical Point/Counterpoint in the online pages of the Onion -- after reading about the results of a study, recently reported in Forbes, purporting to show that the U.S. has the highest rate of depression among a survey group of 14 countries. The study, jointly conducted by the World Health Organization and Harvard Medical School and based on more than 60,000 face-to-face interviews world-wide, found that 9.6% of Americans suffer from "bipolar disorder, major depressive disorder or chronic minor depression." A whopping 18.2% of Americans were also found to be experiencing "mood and anxiety disorders, such as obsessive compulsive disorder and panic disorder."
These figures come as no surprise: We are, after all, entering our 21st year as a Prozac nation. Consider the contrast with other countries. One can easily understand that Ukraine, land of Chernobyl, would have a comparatively high proportion of depressed people: 9.1%. One can equally understand that the rate of depression in Italy comes in at a low 3.8%. The only mystery there is how anyone could be depressed in Italy.
More interesting are the data about depression rates in poorer countries. In Lebanon, which in the last year has endured heavy Israeli bombardment, an internal refugee crisis, several political assassinations and a quasi-coup by Hezbollah, 6.6% of the population is considered to be depressed, a slightly higher figure than Belgium's (6.2%) but considerably lower than France's (8.5%). Colombians, with their drug cartels and right- and left-wing death squads, remain, at 6.8%, a slightly cheerier people than the prosperous, permissive Dutch (6.9%). And while some 50 million Mexicans live below the poverty line, they are, at 4.8%, doing twice as well at keeping their spirits up than their richer neighbors to the north.
And then there is Nigeria: desperately poor, infamously corrupt, riven by violent confessional and tribal divides, and generally filthy. It clocked in with a depression rate of 0.8%, by far the lowest of all the countries surveyed.
Could it really be that Nigerians are the happiest people on earth, and Americans the most unhappy? At least the first of those suggestions seems absurd, and researchers have no shortage of explanations to account for the comparatively lower rates of depression reported in poorer countries. "It's all about what people are willing to tell us," Harvard's Ronald Kessler, who helped run the study, tells Forbes. "In Nepal, it's against the law to be mentally ill. No surprise, nobody there admits to being mentally ill." Other researchers suggest that doctors in poorer countries may be quicker to diagnose depression not as a physical malady but as a moral or spiritual one, best treated with some bracing advice to the patient about how he should lead his life.
There is also the matter of differing expectations: A New York attorney who fails to make partner at a white-shoe firm by his mid-30s may find himself "depressed." By contrast, a fruit seller in Lagos, Nigeria, who makes enough in a year to feed and clothe her family may be fairly contented. If your goal in life is shelter, food and safety, the very notion of depression may never even intrude on your psychic space. But if you've never known what it means to struggle for survival, you might more easily be emotionally crushed by the want of life's intangibles: love, purpose, meaning and so on.
Still, none of this quite accounts for the wide disparities in depression rates among countries that are already rich. Germany and Japan, for instance, have rates of 3.6% and 3.1%, respectively. About the Germans, a wag might explain their rate as a late instance of the triumph of the will, and perhaps a similar cultural ethic among the Japanese militates against admitting to depression. If so, it could mean that social values are, in effect, repressing depressed people by making them reluctant to admit to their problem. Alternatively, it could mean that those values also serve as a cure, at least in depression's milder forms, by providing a variety of social goods that may be lacking in the U.S.: a sense of community, stronger family ties, an extra four weeks of vacation.
I suspect, however, that cultural differences can account for only so much. Economics must also be at work. Consider Jean-Baptiste Say's famous insight that supply creates its own demand. We know this to be true about, for instance, personal computers: There was never any demand for PCs until Steve Jobs put one on the market and persuaded consumers it was something they should have. Just so with depression: Is there a country on earth where Prozac is more widely prescribed, or therapy more readily available, than the U.S.? It should hardly be surprising, therefore, that Americans now find themselves so depressed.
None of this is to say that depression is not, for those who suffer acutely from it, a serious matter or that it doesn't warrant attention and care. But it is also true that what we now call "depression" is something previous generations also knew, albeit with different names: melancholy, unhappiness, "the blues." In song, in church, in labor, in philosophy and in the bonds of family, community and tradition they were often able to find genuine consolations.
Such consolations still exist, though we no longer think of them as cures. Given how badly our own "cures" seem to be working, perhaps it would be well if we did.
Mr. Stephens writes "Global View," the Journal's weekly foreign-affairs column.
Below is an article by one of Kyle's co-workers. Makes you think...
Richest Country, Saddest People -- Any Coincidence?
By BRET STEPHENS
Wall Stree Journal
March 9, 2007; Page W11
"Oh, my God, I am so starving," says high-school student Brittany Birnbaum, who ate nothing except "a Twix and a half bag of Fritos" before her cheerleading tryout and whose stomach revolts at the sight of her mother's salisbury steak. "You know," she warns, "it's against the law to treat your kids like this."
"My God, I am starving," rejoins Kitum Asosa, starving African. "I would walk 100 miles through the desert to reach a handful of millet. The sight of a sparrow carcass would make my mouth water, if only I were not too dehydrated to salivate."
I am reminded of this immortal exchange -- a satirical Point/Counterpoint in the online pages of the Onion -- after reading about the results of a study, recently reported in Forbes, purporting to show that the U.S. has the highest rate of depression among a survey group of 14 countries. The study, jointly conducted by the World Health Organization and Harvard Medical School and based on more than 60,000 face-to-face interviews world-wide, found that 9.6% of Americans suffer from "bipolar disorder, major depressive disorder or chronic minor depression." A whopping 18.2% of Americans were also found to be experiencing "mood and anxiety disorders, such as obsessive compulsive disorder and panic disorder."
These figures come as no surprise: We are, after all, entering our 21st year as a Prozac nation. Consider the contrast with other countries. One can easily understand that Ukraine, land of Chernobyl, would have a comparatively high proportion of depressed people: 9.1%. One can equally understand that the rate of depression in Italy comes in at a low 3.8%. The only mystery there is how anyone could be depressed in Italy.
More interesting are the data about depression rates in poorer countries. In Lebanon, which in the last year has endured heavy Israeli bombardment, an internal refugee crisis, several political assassinations and a quasi-coup by Hezbollah, 6.6% of the population is considered to be depressed, a slightly higher figure than Belgium's (6.2%) but considerably lower than France's (8.5%). Colombians, with their drug cartels and right- and left-wing death squads, remain, at 6.8%, a slightly cheerier people than the prosperous, permissive Dutch (6.9%). And while some 50 million Mexicans live below the poverty line, they are, at 4.8%, doing twice as well at keeping their spirits up than their richer neighbors to the north.
And then there is Nigeria: desperately poor, infamously corrupt, riven by violent confessional and tribal divides, and generally filthy. It clocked in with a depression rate of 0.8%, by far the lowest of all the countries surveyed.
Could it really be that Nigerians are the happiest people on earth, and Americans the most unhappy? At least the first of those suggestions seems absurd, and researchers have no shortage of explanations to account for the comparatively lower rates of depression reported in poorer countries. "It's all about what people are willing to tell us," Harvard's Ronald Kessler, who helped run the study, tells Forbes. "In Nepal, it's against the law to be mentally ill. No surprise, nobody there admits to being mentally ill." Other researchers suggest that doctors in poorer countries may be quicker to diagnose depression not as a physical malady but as a moral or spiritual one, best treated with some bracing advice to the patient about how he should lead his life.
There is also the matter of differing expectations: A New York attorney who fails to make partner at a white-shoe firm by his mid-30s may find himself "depressed." By contrast, a fruit seller in Lagos, Nigeria, who makes enough in a year to feed and clothe her family may be fairly contented. If your goal in life is shelter, food and safety, the very notion of depression may never even intrude on your psychic space. But if you've never known what it means to struggle for survival, you might more easily be emotionally crushed by the want of life's intangibles: love, purpose, meaning and so on.
Still, none of this quite accounts for the wide disparities in depression rates among countries that are already rich. Germany and Japan, for instance, have rates of 3.6% and 3.1%, respectively. About the Germans, a wag might explain their rate as a late instance of the triumph of the will, and perhaps a similar cultural ethic among the Japanese militates against admitting to depression. If so, it could mean that social values are, in effect, repressing depressed people by making them reluctant to admit to their problem. Alternatively, it could mean that those values also serve as a cure, at least in depression's milder forms, by providing a variety of social goods that may be lacking in the U.S.: a sense of community, stronger family ties, an extra four weeks of vacation.
I suspect, however, that cultural differences can account for only so much. Economics must also be at work. Consider Jean-Baptiste Say's famous insight that supply creates its own demand. We know this to be true about, for instance, personal computers: There was never any demand for PCs until Steve Jobs put one on the market and persuaded consumers it was something they should have. Just so with depression: Is there a country on earth where Prozac is more widely prescribed, or therapy more readily available, than the U.S.? It should hardly be surprising, therefore, that Americans now find themselves so depressed.
None of this is to say that depression is not, for those who suffer acutely from it, a serious matter or that it doesn't warrant attention and care. But it is also true that what we now call "depression" is something previous generations also knew, albeit with different names: melancholy, unhappiness, "the blues." In song, in church, in labor, in philosophy and in the bonds of family, community and tradition they were often able to find genuine consolations.
Such consolations still exist, though we no longer think of them as cures. Given how badly our own "cures" seem to be working, perhaps it would be well if we did.
Mr. Stephens writes "Global View," the Journal's weekly foreign-affairs column.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Wonderful Wednesdays
Wednesday is by far my favorite day of the week. That is the day that the open-air market comes to our neighborhood from 2-8pm and I look forward to it every single time. For the three years we dated and then the first year we were married I tried to drop lots of hints to Kyle about how much I loved flowers. I think in total I probably dropped about 1000 hints and this resulted in receiving fresh flowers from him about 4 times in 4 years. I finally figured out that both Kyle and I are much happier if I just buy myself fresh flowers and stop dropping hints. So every Wednesday I go to my favorite flower guy and treat myself to some. The best part is that I only spend between 4-12 euros each week. Not too much to spend considering how happy they make me! So now Kyle just hears me talk about how much I love my flowers rather than how much I would love some flowers! Sometimes I love them so much I just have to take a photo of them, so here are a few of my favorites.
Monday, March 05, 2007
The Cobbler's Wife
I am now babysitting two days a week for eight hours each day. The baby is so cute and sweet and the family is wonderful, but I am definitely sympathizing more and more with maids from the 1950s. Every day that I work, I do at least two loads of laundry, fold and put away those clean clothes, and unload and reload the dishwasher. In the big scheme of things that really isn't too much housework that I do.
However, when you have done four loads of laundry for someone else (as I did today) and then you come home and have another load of your own laundry to do, along with a pile of ironing and then shopping, cooking and cleaning up your own dinner, you eventually start to feel like a full time maid. I am lucky that I only do this two days a week, and on my other days I do enough enriching things to feel like I have a life. But I just keep thinking of all those women in the 1950s (and so many still today) that work 8-10 hours a day completely taking care of someone else's home and children and then after a full day of work return to their house to care for their own life and kids.
However, when you have done four loads of laundry for someone else (as I did today) and then you come home and have another load of your own laundry to do, along with a pile of ironing and then shopping, cooking and cleaning up your own dinner, you eventually start to feel like a full time maid. I am lucky that I only do this two days a week, and on my other days I do enough enriching things to feel like I have a life. But I just keep thinking of all those women in the 1950s (and so many still today) that work 8-10 hours a day completely taking care of someone else's home and children and then after a full day of work return to their house to care for their own life and kids.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
We had a great time last weekend driving to a beer festival in a tiny Belgian town with our friends Tim and Lynn. Luckily, they had been there last year or else I don't think we would have ever found it! One reason I love living in Belgium is that (I feel) anyone can visit London or Paris and see the major sights, but Belgium is a place where you have to live for an extended amount of time to really feel like you understand it. I definitely felt like we got a truer feel of Belgian culture at this tiny town's beer festival than I could get just touring around the Grand Place. Click here for the photos.
The Women's Club took a tour of an Art Nouveau house this past week. It was built by the architect Paul Cauchie and his wife in 1905. It is incredible the amount of work and love they put into the house. Their daughter let the house fall into disrepair after they died and luckily a couple bought the house and have restored it to its original beauty. The couple that bought the house have been married for 60 years and were still as cute as ever to each other. So sweet! Click here for the photos.
The Women's Club took a tour of an Art Nouveau house this past week. It was built by the architect Paul Cauchie and his wife in 1905. It is incredible the amount of work and love they put into the house. Their daughter let the house fall into disrepair after they died and luckily a couple bought the house and have restored it to its original beauty. The couple that bought the house have been married for 60 years and were still as cute as ever to each other. So sweet! Click here for the photos.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
My Surrogate Moms
I am in a pretty unique situation here in that my friends come in a wide variety of ages. In Atlanta, I basically had friends all around my same age (22-25 at the time). This was great and we had a lot of fun together, but I don't think we really solved any of the world's problems, other than figuring what bars the cute boys went to. However, in Brussels I have really enjoyed the age range of friends that I have here.
I have my young group of friends that are between 25-30 years old who don't have kids and have the energy to go out and try new things. They are great friends for the obvious reason that we are in the same life stage and share common experiences. However, this group is slowly dwindling because we have recently had four friends give birth in one week!!!
I have learned a lot from my friends between 30-45 also. They all have kids and pretty tight schedules, and you never actually finish a sentence when you are around them (because of the kids) but they are still great friends. Sometimes I think I have learned a little *too* much from them about child birth and child rearing. But at the same time, because I have learned so much from being around them, I think I will (one day...a long time from now...) be a much more prepared mother than I ever would have been just going through it blindly only having friends my same age (and experience level) as a first-time mom.
Next are what I call my surrogate moms. They are between 50-65, and whenever I mention my age (27) they say, "My daughter/son is your same age!" As much as I know what my parents are going through during this "sandwich generation" time, it helps to hear that my other friends are going through it too and to learn how they are coping with life changes. I have definitely heard more than I wanted to know about bifocals, menopause and the ups and downs of a marriage that has lasted 30+ years. But I also think hearing these things have given me a real perspective on life. I know that a marriage won't always be fun, happy times, but I also see the commitment to life these women have shared with their spouses, and how that has brought them through the bad times. I have come to respect even more all that life can teach you and how you really do become wiser with age. Sad to say, but I have also realized that I should be really happy with my body right now because it won't be like this forever. No matter what the age, I have heard all my friends talk about how their bodies keep changing with age and it gets harder and harder to fight fat and gravity with each passing year. The good news to that is that I won't be spending these years thinking I look too fat!
I have my young group of friends that are between 25-30 years old who don't have kids and have the energy to go out and try new things. They are great friends for the obvious reason that we are in the same life stage and share common experiences. However, this group is slowly dwindling because we have recently had four friends give birth in one week!!!
I have learned a lot from my friends between 30-45 also. They all have kids and pretty tight schedules, and you never actually finish a sentence when you are around them (because of the kids) but they are still great friends. Sometimes I think I have learned a little *too* much from them about child birth and child rearing. But at the same time, because I have learned so much from being around them, I think I will (one day...a long time from now...) be a much more prepared mother than I ever would have been just going through it blindly only having friends my same age (and experience level) as a first-time mom.
Next are what I call my surrogate moms. They are between 50-65, and whenever I mention my age (27) they say, "My daughter/son is your same age!" As much as I know what my parents are going through during this "sandwich generation" time, it helps to hear that my other friends are going through it too and to learn how they are coping with life changes. I have definitely heard more than I wanted to know about bifocals, menopause and the ups and downs of a marriage that has lasted 30+ years. But I also think hearing these things have given me a real perspective on life. I know that a marriage won't always be fun, happy times, but I also see the commitment to life these women have shared with their spouses, and how that has brought them through the bad times. I have come to respect even more all that life can teach you and how you really do become wiser with age. Sad to say, but I have also realized that I should be really happy with my body right now because it won't be like this forever. No matter what the age, I have heard all my friends talk about how their bodies keep changing with age and it gets harder and harder to fight fat and gravity with each passing year. The good news to that is that I won't be spending these years thinking I look too fat!
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