Suburban Girl Meets City

Well, the very first day I arrived in Brussels, I hated it.  My only possible reservation was the knowledge that I had only seen a little bit of it around the hostel, really, and that I was hideously jet-lagged, which seemed to render my hasty, emotional judgment more hasty and emotional than usual.

You know how Texas is a really big state?  Well, I assumed this meant that Dallas and Houston were really big cities, and indeed, they are, but they are not real "big cities," as in, the sort with subways and graffiti and very, very tall buildings for miles.  I have always figured that I would probably like to live in a city.  It would be full of the arts and constant art events, there would be a pleasant drone of human energy, and the people-watching from some secluded little cafe with mismatched chairs would be utterly fantastic.  Alas, I forgot that cities also have dirt and underground tunnels and very confusing transportation schedules and a detestable paucity of trees.  (Though admittedly, finding a decent tree anywhere in January is tough, since the best of them recede into the background and become singularly lackluster).

So the very first thing I discovered on arrival in Brussels was that I am not meant to be a cave-dweller.  Being drug along the streets with the group in my sleepless stupor, I felt like the grey buildings were leaning in on me, blocking out the sun and about to topple down to meet the grimy, grey street, squishing me in the middle somewhere.  It was really remarkably unpleasant.  Of course, someone did explain to me that the street cleaners do not work weekends, so it would be better come Monday morning, but apparently sleep deprivation induces an extreme skepticism in me, because I was decidedly down on the whole idea of study abroad at all by the end of that interminable day.

To paraphrase Jane Austen, my beloved quote notebook being at home, and the internet being unwieldy and refusing to find what I want, there is little that troubles youth that a good night's sleep will not fix by the morning.  By Monday, I was still uncertain, but much more ready to explore the city and see if I could find bits I liked - meaning the bits with grass and trees and as little graffiti as possible.  It took me until the Tuesday bus tour, but I found them, and they very fortunately include the places where I am A.) Living, and B.) Going to school.  They also include, among other things, the lovely park near the EU buildings, which are quite imposing, if not entirely the world's prettiest buildings.  They are rather futuristic, with mirrored glass, and all the 27 flags and (I believe) 24 languages make everything look quite official.  Funny enough, though, the European complex is partly housed inside what was once the Brussels Zoo - a location which some people say was not quite a coincidence!

I have also, among other things, discovered the merits of the public transportation system - as well as how to read most of its maps. I still hate being trapped in its claustrophobic cars in tiny, dark tunnels, and I still have no idea when I get off at any given stop how on earth the Belgians know which identical concrete staircase leads back to the upper world, but it must be confessed that, besides these issues, it is rather convenient.  I have my official card to wave in the general direction of the machine, now, and this means that when it is cold or raining, both of which it is very often here, I can get just about anywhere inside something that I do not have to drive or fill up with gas or park.  Rather ingenious, if only it wasn't based in the bowels of middle earth somewhere.  Fortunately, I get to take a tram, which stays above ground (and no, they don't all do that, here), to school, which may save me from public-transport-induced SAD (as in, seasonal affective disorder).

And so, it has been decided at great length that not only do I not despise Brussels, but I may actually be beginning to like it.  Actually, my housing has much to do with this, but...

...I shall let this post cover the last few days, and then I will begin chronicling my experiences in earnest, starting with my absolutely fabulous host-house and host-family.  I hardly dare hope for something humorous to happen, since humor almost always includes a component of embarrassment, but it would make such good reading, wouldn't it, if something would?