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After 39 years I'm expecting ...
A Dutch bike! Or to use the correct biological terminology ... an Omafiets
My husband is over the moon, internet research has taken over our lives, names have been short-listed and room has been made for the new arrival.
It's due next week, though as we can't decide (thanks to recent advances in technology) on a colour, it may be later.
Mother is doing well, though learning to ride a bike has become a priorty.
Aalst U Blieft
OK, I've been here six months now and life in general is seeming less alien to me. I've started Dutch lessons, I have a car that is happy to drive on the wrong, oops, right side of the road (I did scare a lot of locals when I moved here). I don't buckle at the knees when I'm asked 'Hoe gaat het met u?' and I know the best cure for a hang-over is frietjes met stoofvlees sauce. In a word life is good, in two words heel goed !
Not long after moving to Belgium I joined an ex-pat group in Brussels and although I wasn't sharing similar experiences to many of the members, many come here on short term work contracts (I'm here for the duration), I was given some very good advice from an ex-citizen of Madagascar. And that was to expect to feel home sick, then displaced, then at home. I'm in my second stage of settlement. I love living here but feel on holiday, when I recently returned to the UK I also loved it, but felt on holiday too.
Where is home?! Here everything is exciting, you throw yourself into every new experience as if you were on a package holiday. Salsa classes, balloon trips, food tasting and village festivals (another story altogether), they are all so appealing, ”yes, sign me up Red-Coat!”. And in the UK too, English pubs seem quaint, fish and chips shops nostalgic and miserable Post Office staff amusing. At the moment I'd say I'm a European tourist.
I have my feet unfirmly 'onder de tafel'. But watch this space!
Aalst U Blieft
No, not a Howling Wolf blues track, but an affliction that cuts you down like a bolt from the blue. Thankfully I have read about the EPBs but they still leave you feeling violated and insecure when they leave.
Having experienced a few bouts I'll try and advise on a few antidotes.
1. Get tickets for a British band playing locally - please remember this is mainland Europe and locally could mean a 3 hour drive. I would like to take this opportunity to pray at the feet of Mr & Mr Craig of The Proclaimers. I'm actually a Londoner but whenever the boys are in town/country/continent, I'm Scottish to the bone. I love them for making me feel normal instead of foreign in a strange land
2. Find a supplier of a familiar food - for me it's Licorice Allsorts. I never liked the foul-tasting sweets when I lived in England but now I can't start my day without a handful followed by a slice of toast and Marmite. All washed down, of course, with a cup of tea!
3. Cook your friends from your new hometown a traditional British roast followed by a plate of British cheeses and a trifle. The downside of this option is your Yorkshire pudding may not rise and your sherry infused custard may not set. The upside, your friends will know no better! WARNING: during digestion, this meal may cause 'problems' for your non-Brit mates.
4. Move back home. This however is not an option taken lightly, when everything gets really bad, and it will, just remember; the crime rate, the house prices and worse, Starbucks filled with middle-class nannies and their over-confident charges. Or is that just in Clapham?
I promise any period of sadness will pass and like a ray of sunshine your new homeland will make you feel happy you made the right decision to move there.
I'd now like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has given me a smile and spared some of their time since being here in Belgium. It means a lot.
Aalst U Blieft
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