Apparently, it is gloomy and really cold most of the time. But the weather was beautiful when we were there, blue skies, green grass and brown rivers. There was so much to do and see, I was exhausted every night from just taking in the sights — brilliant architecture, differences between East and West Berlin, the impact of WW II on the city, the monuments – especially the Holocaust memorial. The best part was to be there with people who have lived in Berlin, whose families were a part of the war and the wall, and whose stories embellished every detail of the historical city. It completely changed my perspective on Germany, in a very good way.

Almost everything else.

Tonight we had dinner with two of our friends from Germany. Since dinner is a 4 hour ordeal, which I am still adjusting to, there are occasional moments of silence. Instead of being comfortable with the silence, I panic and look for ways to fill the silence. Enter foot in enormous mouth.

Me: “So, Berlin, huh? What a cool city. I have never been. So I am just guessing. It must be different than here. And I hear Germans are really punctual and clean. Which is nice. Not saying Berlin is like that necessarily. But I have heard great things. I always wanted to go.”
Germans: “Yeah, it is great.”
Silence
Pedram: “We might go there in May.”
Silence
Me: “Yeah, that would be cool. I hear it is the cultural center of Europe. I hear it is different than western Germany…I have been to western Germany a few times. And the people are really nice. But you know, eastern Germany is different…right?”
Germans: “Yeah, it is different.”
Silence. Chew on pizza. Feel like I need to say something. More silence.
Me: “So what do you think about German speaking countries – like what is the deal with Austria? Do you guys hate them? Aren’t they just annoying? I mean, they are almost like a mini Germany. In so many ways, they are similar, just another part of the big German machine.”
Germans: “Yeah, there was a guy 60 years ago who felt the same way”
Me: “Oh….right. I didn’t mean it that way. Obviously that is bad. And things have changed – I mean obviously. I was just saying that they also speak german. What a coincidence. You know that some people in Belgium also speak german. Even Pedram speaks german.” (Pedram gives me stare of death) (I shut up)
Silence. Awkwardness. More silence. More pressure to say something.
Me: “Well, what about the Swiss. They speak German, but in a different way. It is almost like a different accent, but still German, huh? Do you like them? What is the deal with them and being so neutral all the time? Does that bother you? Do you wish you could tell them in their silly accent to take a side?”
Silence.

Smuid
I visited a small town where our friends Ann and Philippe have a family home. About 10 us of got together to get away from city life and enjoy nature. It is located in the Ardennes, which is the Belgian’s pride and joy of natural beauty. It was a very cute little town about an hour away from Brussels. It became clear that roughing it Belgian style has to do with farmland nature. On our four hour walk through the area, we passed by tractors, cows, horses, irrigated farmland, more wild farmland, and plenty of farmers working hard. Back home, we warmed up by the fire, hung out, and played a very comical game in franglais.

As Pedram’s Ph.D. is nearing an end, we decided to celebrate by dressing up and going to a very fancy restaurant at Kasteel Withof, an hour away from Brussels. The food, the service, the atmosphere was unlike anyplace I have ever been. Everything was a collaboration of different tastes and textures, and blended in the most amazing way. We have 6 course meal – here is my recollection of the 3 hour feast.
Started in the lounge
fresh squeezed orange juice
spicy almonds and sweet raisins
shot of warm tuna soup with foam
Escargot
Salami on fried potato chip
chickpea fries with green dipping sauce
then we moved to the restaurant
veal tartare with chickpea mousse
oyster and cucumber cannolis with horseradish
Skrei (norweigan cod) with clams and celery broth
Scallop with herb broth
Veal steak, cooked slowly with cabbage
grape jelly and almond creme
yogurt with apples sorbet and granny smith baked apples
Chocolate cookies with vanilla sauce
Muscat grapes, praline chocolates, and pastries

It was an amazing, almost too much experience. Many times we felt out of our league sitting there among the posh and fabulous…and we definitely didn’t use all of the cutlery or the bowls to clean our fingers, but it was still fun and a learning experience. The only problem was it was my first meal after fasting all day — and I introduced a lot of food that my stomach didn’t recognize – it was my first time eating raw meat, veal, snails, oysters, etc. My belly was like — what is going on??!!

It would suck to be a pig in Spain. They have serious pig fever. I have never had so much ham in my life, and have never seen so many pig legs hanging everywhere. It didn’t help that Pedram took me to places like the “Museum of Ham”. Pork aside, Madrid is amazing. I loved the streets, which have wide sidewalks, trees and are beautiful, the people, who are energetic and talkative, and the weather, which was cold but sunny. I love that people take to the streets and walk everywhere and the shops are all open late and even on (gasp) Sunday. But the best is the big lunch they eat and the fiesta afterwards, and that dinner starts around 9pm. Since Pedram used to live there, I had a chance to experience Madrid from his point of view, and listen to him speak with a lisp. The coffee there is also amazing, they do this great coffee with condensed milk. The highlight was the Real Madrid game, they won 3-1, and Robinho was on fire. I am pretty sure he heard my confessions of love. We even ventured into a “chinatown”, where I saw native Chinese people speaking spanish with the lisp – it was surreal. Here are some pics from our weekend there.

I had an interesting experience returning from the US last week. In the Brussels airport – seconds before I was clearing the customs area, a “quirky” customs officer asked if he could see my bags. Seeing that I had packed enough Costco items to start up my own boutique in Brussels, he took me into another room and asked me a series of bizarre questions. I was extremely proud to tell him that the entire 3 pound bottle of maple syrup was less than $5, something much more expensive here.

Not satisfied with not having proof that I was reselling in Brussels, he discovered my wedding announcement magazine cut out, which he took to another room for 20 minutes. He returned, asked me some questions about my marriage, after which again he went into another room for 10 minutes. When he finally returned, he had a triumphant look on his face, and all he could tell me was “You’re guilty! We caught you! We know what you are doing and we have proof this is illegal and you must pay!”. Automatically assuming he was referring to the pomegranates and cucumbers my mom made me stash in my handbag, I reacted with “my mom made me do it, I swear. But can I eat them right now before leaving the airport?”

Once the confusion settled, I realized that he was referring to a law that states that if I had purchased anything in Brussels before I moved here in September (i.e. my wedding ring), got my VAT tax back for those purchases, I am NOT allowed to return to Belgium within the following 6 months with those items. This was news to me, but over the next 2 hours in the customs I found out this is apparently an unsaid and unwritten law that each custom officer translates differently. Completely perplexed, I am without my ring until someone can provide us a clear understanding of our options. As for ‘quirky’, he is incredibly eager to ‘catch’ me again, so he can use his famous line “you are guilty” to his heart’s delight.