Janelle Bitker

The departure. The return.

In Brussels on May 24, 2012 at 22:54

Our host mom, Martine, was watering flowers in the front yard when my roommate and I were leaving for our farewell dinner with the rest of the ISA gang. We hesitated on our way out — wait… is this the last time we’re seeing each other? Ever?

We tried to express our gratitude. “Martine, merci, BEAUCOUP. C’était incroyable!” We probably sounded silly.

Martine did not sound silly in the slightest. She was sad. She told us we were like her daughters, if only for four months. Then she cried.

Saying goodbye to Brussels was difficult. It wasn’t just a goodbye to a city that I came to cherish, or to Europe in general. It was a goodbye to an existence. It was a goodbye to the life that I built from scratch over the course of nine months — a life that I would never have again and a life I can only hope to visit a shadow of one day.

I’m being melodramatic. I can always visit Brussels.

I can always return to the Manneken Pis to giggle at the hoards of tourists in disbelief. I can always return to Place Saint Gery for a cool Hommel beer and cool-people-watching. I can always return to Place Saint Catherine for shrimp croquettes on the street, exceptional gourmet ice cream served by an exceptionally grumpy man, gooey almond croissants alongside organic honey beer bread…

But I won’t be living there. I will have no justification for pretending to be an expert on my surroundings. My French will be awful again, and I won’t be able to have silly exchanges with the silly locals all the time. And I won’t have the fantastic friends, the families, that made it all so memorable.

This “existence” can’t be replicated. It’s being an American 20-year-old studying abroad in the capital of Europe. It’s not being tied to anything except a few courses a week and self-inflicted desires for adventure, high-brow culture, epicurean delights and bizarre conversation. This existence could only last a year, which I acknowledge in full. Much longer, and a real life would start to form, and such fun is tough to maintain in a real life.

That free feeling could happen again. I could lead a more exciting life in the future. I could visit 15 new countries in another short-term stint abroad, somewhere, someday. It’s very possible. Yet, settling back in the States has so quickly made those dreams seem even more dreamlike. Brussels in itself feels like a dream that never really happened.

Less than one week ago, I was celebrating my last night in Belgium. There was a party, sponsored by my college, where the top floor to a swanky club was rented out. There was bottle service and flashy wristbands that said “VIP Guest.” We danced all night and said our goodbyes. Closure. A friend and I took a cab back out to the suburbs. To home. We sat on an apartment ledge, the cobblestones beneath our feet glittering from the rain from hours ago. Another friend took his cab to the airport. He waved goodbye, and that was it. The birds had already begun singing. We held each other and cried for hours. We slept for minutes. And then it was time for my own taxi, a gorgeous ride through the lush Eastern suburbs. Brussels winked at me as the sun came out for the first time in weeks.

The initial feelings about America, after coming back, are what you would expect. Everything’s so big. Everyone’s so wasteful. Everyone’s in such a hurry yet life is so slow. Consumerism. Consumerism. Consumerism.

I have photos and memories, but already, they somehow don’t feel real. I continually tell myself: “Yes, Janelle, that happened.” Speaking in past tense is sad enough, but not speaking at all, when no one around really cares, is quickly setting all those memories into sepia tones.

I’m ending this post with an excerpt from an email from a new friend, an amazing friend, from New York, who I met in Brussels, in a chance encounter that feels like long, long ago:

“When I returned from my first study abroad in Estonia, a close friend of mine from there left me with an Estonian proverb: ’Kes on läinud välja maailma seal viibida.’

It roughly means: ‘Who has gone out to the world will stay there.’

So where do we wander to next my friend?”

Pre-departure musings

In Brussels on May 14, 2012 at 14:11

Between studying for final exams, packing my current life away, and getting around to doing things I never did in Brussels, this is proving to be a busy week.

My checklist of “things to do that I never did in Brussels” is nearly complete, though. I’ve devoured Brussels’ art house cinema scene. I’ve finally sat back at the Cinematek and listened to a live pianist while a video montage of Berlin in the 1920′s crackled before me. I’ve perused the Comic Strip Center and am taking home some Tin Tin, en français, bien sûr. I went to the Belgian Royal Greenhouses. I’ve done a lot. A lot. And I’m comforted knowing I won’t be leaving with Brussels with too many regrets.

As part of my studying-procrastination, I went through some of my old blogposts, starting with my pre-departure musings. Reading my fears and expectations for this study abroad experience was strange, as I’m feeling virtually the exact same way now that I’m prepping to return home.

In this post, a month and a half before I left for Brussels, I was depressed. I thought too much would change in California while I was gone, that all my friends would move on to new things, and that I’d return lonely and lost. I feared having to start anew in Brussels and then come back to California and start anew again.

I tearfully hugged several friends goodbye last summer, hoping that wasn’t the final hug between us. I have since let go of those hopes — semi-permanent goodbyes abounded then, and they are abounding now more than ever. Likewise, I did miss a lot this year in California — a death, a fire, a pepper-spraying incident, an engagement — and there’s no way I can assimilate into such dramatic social situations fully.

In this post, two days before I left for Brussels, I expressed disbelief. I was all prepared to jet off, but I felt nothing. This is also how I’m feeling right now. My anguish and dread is being felt on a theoretical level.

In terms of real life emotions, I don’t have any yet. Brussels has turned into a second home and I am having trouble convincing myself that I’m leaving it.

It’s the same situation — just as I spent my last week in California soaking up all of my favorite things for “the last time,” I am currently plotting my farewell meals, nights of dancing and other things for “the last time.” In the summer, it included cuddling with old friends in a mass of blankets on a couch in Alameda, drinking tea and watching TV. This time around, it’s including cuddling with new friends in a mass of blankets on a couch in Ixelles, eating cereal and watching movies.

And again, I don’t feel like I’m actually going anywhere. Yes, I’ve de-registered from my Belgian commune, I’ve given up my identity card, I’ve got my flight confirmation printed out, and I’ve got my last dinners, my last goodbyes, with my families and friends all lined up. But still. I can’t believe that I’ll be driving a car again. I can’t believe that I’ll be reading signs in English. I can’t believe I’ll be able to eavesdrop on people all the time. I can’t believe that come fall, I’ll be in a school with more than 400 people, that I won’t be engaged in adventures every weekend. I can’t believe the levels of mundane I am surely going to feel every day my first weeks back.

In the past week, I’ve had two new friends from CouchSurfing come visit me in Brussels to say goodbye. One: a 33-year-old I met in Luxembourg, who has lived all over the world, and works in something boring like finance. But he lives with vigor, spontaneity. He has dreams that are both lofty and practical. He wants to live and feel fulfilled and he wants to take his time doing it. Another: a 23-year-old cook and future tour-guide from Ghent. He found himself traveling, found himself on CouchSurfing. He just got back from Israel, Iceland is up this summer, working in Australia is on the agenda, as is another long trek in Asia. He’s not staying still. His life goals can wait. He’s living with his mom still, sure, but why would that ever matter when he’s living his life so voraciously?

Both of these fine gentlemen told me the same thing — break away from the American rat race and live out all those globetrotting journeys that I babble on about as if they’re mythical. Aim high and aim far away. And there’s always that little detail that I keep forgetting when I draft my life plans, when I consider succumbing to societal pressures to settle: I’m only 20.

Both men left me with hugs and the customary kiss on the left cheek, which I’ll dearly miss, and both men said this wasn’t goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, somewhere.”

How to Fall in Love with Brussels

In Belgium, Brussels, Travel photos on May 11, 2012 at 12:46

Nearly nine months ago, I arrived in Brussels with one backpack, one suitcase, and not much else. I was easily excitable. I was nervous. I was uncomfortable. I was overwhelmed by city life, by options, by people.

And here we are. Nine months later. I’m leaving Brussels in a week, as easily the best year of my life comes to a close. What has changed? What has studying abroad done for me?

While my parents were visiting, they said I was more worldly and confident. Those seem like obvious traits to contract from a long stint in any hyper-international city like Brussels. I’d hoped there would be more differences, more improvement, but maybe worldliness and confidence is good enough. Those are, after all, pretty valuable.

And from what I’ve gleaned from other international students, the real internal changes comes during the reverse culture shock stage — the return home, the reassimilation, the hurt, the longing, the confusion, the disconnect.

The disconnect.

I’m banking on my new friends spread out across the states, across the world, as a support system for these inevitable moments of feeling alone, alienated and disenfranchised with everything normal.

But until then, prepare for some reflections, guides and lists, as my way of attempting to summarize this experience into comprehension. An attempt to remember and continue to remember the things I’ve cherished most as an American studying abroad.

First:

How To Fall In Love with Brussels

I’ve rarely found anyone during my travels that understood why I chose to study in Brussels. I’ve rarely found anyone that understood what I saw in this city, how I could be enamored with a city that’s so dirty, dumpy and boring, with its top monument being a little peeing boy.

Brussels is weird, full of dichotomies, and so long as you don’t dig the conventional, it’s easy to fall for the city.

1) Cultures, Languages

As I’ve said before, Brussels is incredibly international. It’s the home to the European Union, and for that reason alone, diverging European cultures are brought together and present everywhere.

Legally, all signs are in French and Dutch, the country’s top languages. But German is also an official language, so sometimes you’ll see signs in all three, or if you wander east, signs exclusively in German. Then there’s English, because in Brussels, more people speak English than Dutch. Then there’s every other language in the world.

I hear new languages on public transit every day, and I can rarely identify them. Is that Bulgarian or Macedonian? Is that Polish or Czech? Am I hearing Arabic? Which of the many, many African dialects is that? Why would I even bother asking myself such questions?

In turn, exotic restaurants abound. Japanese specialty shops have made it to the suburbs. Street markets can transport you to Turkey.

But at the same time, Belgium has its own unique and quirky culture that’s absolutely evident in day-to-day life in Brussels. It’s something that sets it apart from the likes of New York City or London — international cities that, while are obviously fantastic, can’t exactly be considered emblematic of their countries.

2) Architecture

Brussels isn’t uniform. The Grand Place is, of course, stunningly gorgeous and remains the most beautiful city plaza I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Outside the center, you have examples of 19th century Parisian style apartment buildings, pristine, beige and permanently royal looking. Then there are the typical, narrow brick homes you’ll find all over the country. And then there’s a sprinkling of truly unusual Art Nouveau, and nothing says cool like stumbling upon a Victor Horta.

Some find the modern architecture, particularly around the EU quarter, an eyesore. Maybe they have a point, but I find it all part of the charm. Brussels is old and new, in all respects, like most of Europe.

3) Food

Belgians are the butt-end of many French jokes, but Brussels has more Michelin starred restaurants per capita than Paris. So, ha!

Where else in the world can you dine on a moving tram???

In all seriousness though, it’s real difficult to have a bad or mediocre meal in Brussels. The restaurant scene is thriving and diverse, with traditional, rustic bistros just as popular as the most cutting edge, modernist dining rooms. It’s all here and it’s all more affordable than, say, Paris.

I could never tire of the smell of caramelizing Liege waffles in the streets of downtown. I always relish the opportunity to pick up top quality chocolate at the grocery store for next to zero euros. And there’s not much else as satisfying as a cone of fries after a long night of beer tasting. In fact, there’s not much I’ll miss more than the fast food — deep fried meats served simply so, and juicy, meaty kebabs. Sultan’s, move to California, please?

4) Art

Brussels doesn’t have a museum that every tourist “must” visit. There’s no Louvre, no National Gallery, no Albertina, no Prado. But there’s a lot of smaller stuff, and in fact, the artistic community in Brussels is really active. It’s easy to enjoy without any pretension.

Apart from festivals and little galleries and stellar rotating exhibits (hint: the current Stanley Kubrick photography expo), there are some permanent gems.

The Magritte Museum has an unrivaled collection of the Belgian surrealist’s works. And the Belgian surrealist’s works are awesome. The BOZAR consistently churns out interesting, high-brow exhibits in Victor Horta’s palace. Tucked away far from the center, the Musee d’Ixelles has a surprisingly impressive and vast permanent collection, including original posters by Toulouse-Lautrec.

And there are concerts, lots of them, all the time, all over the place! The options are overwhelming, with high-profile artists coming through constantly. Good and bad: the venues are small, meaning the shows sell out quickly. But when one manages to get tickets, the reward is tremendous. Particularly beautiful and intimate venues include La Botanique, Cirque Royale, and Ancienne Belgique.

What I adore even more, though, is the love for cinemas. The BOZAR holds Cinematek, a separate film museum that screens classics, with occasional lectures, and silent films with live piano. Film festivals abound all over the city, in art house cinemas like Cinema Nova or the Vendome. Walking through the super touristy Rue des Bouchers, you’d never know that if you walked through one hotel lobby, you’d end up in an adorable cinema called Actor’s Studio, with just three small screens. Even smaller: Le Styx, in Ixelles, where screens have space for a dozen or two. Wherever you go, there’s likely an unusual film, from somewhere in the world, in its original language, with trendy moviegoers lining up, nearby.

5) Green

Yes, Brussels is pretty sustainability-minded, but I’m talking about accessibility to greenery. Brussels has a lot of natural beauty for a place many mistaken to be urban sprawl. I’ve heard folks claim it to be the Greenest Capital in Europe, and they could easily be right.

Part of this distinction is owed to the massive forest that spreads across the southern part of the city, along with the huge Bois de la Cambre, whose center is a lovely lake, whose center holds an island, whose center has a Swiss chalet turned restaurant. To the east, there’s Parc de la Woluwe, which combines hilly forests and large ponds. Wandering any of these spaces, it’s easy to forget you’re in a metropolis.

The obvious parks — Parc Royale in the city center and Parc du Cinquantenaire with its giant arch — are both enjoyable with feelings of importance. But nearby are other gems: a few steps from Parc Royale lies Parc Egmont, completely hidden and incredibly peaceful, and close to Cinquantenaire in the EU Quarter is Parc Leopold, a prime spot to people watch around a pond, surrounded by modern architecture.

Also: Parc de Tervueren, the most pristine and manicured of them all, a gorgeously green tram ride just outside city limits. And Parc de la Sauvagere in Uccle, rough and hilly, with horses grazing. And in the spring, there are extra opportunities for floral escapades, my favorite being the Groot Bijgaarden up north to admire beautifully curated carpets of tulips.

Nine months later, I’m still discovering new things about this city on a daily basis. And from what I’ve heard from many locals, Brussels can continue to surprise for years.

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