Life with “The Others”

First went Sarah. Then James. Followed by Dan. Pia. Jess. Patrick. Bob! Now even Erin….

I really like Brussels. Sure, it’s not perfect. It’s not flashy like Paris or London. But it is community-like and grows on you more quietly than some of those other capitol cities.

The great things about being an expat is that it is easy to make friends, as there is a constant influx of people looking for the same. The downside of that influx is that there is always an “outflux” too. Brussels is a city that just about everyone you know in your international circles will pass through, many even getting jobs here. But almost no one stays for long. No, Brussels is a place of “stepping stone” jobs, and just when you are cozy in your world here, it starts to scatter.

That’s where we are now. All in the course of about 10 months, not only has my “core” group of friends peeled off here and there to their next professional adventures, but those that I hung out with separately from that group have mostly gone as well. Yes, I still (thankfully) have a couple of good friends here, but they are unfortunately not on the same social circle, thus are not ones that I manage to see everyday, or week, or – heck – even month! (I guess I better work on those.)

That is the curse of Brussels. Everyday social universes are coming together and splitting apart. Such is life I guess. Anyway, such is Brussels.

The editor of Expatica Belgium, Paul Morris, just wrote a piece on “Belgium Bashing”. In it, he chose to quote from one of my posts where I vented about my residency problems.

While he didn’t by any means single me out, the problem is instead that he “lumped me in”. While I even self-consciously admit on that post that I am needing to vent on that particular that day, and that admission is an indication that I realize I am being self-indulgent, he choses to quote it as example of Belgium bashers, who are “rooted in culture shock and a refusal to adapt to the new surroundings vs demanding things to be just like home” (which he quoted from their online forum). The editor is right – Belgium bashers are incredibly annoying and short-sighted. (My friend Tanya has some things to say to them on her blog!) But I do not think the expression of some occasional frustration makes one a Belgium basher per se.

In his column he makes two obvious mistakes which make his piece appear to be only superficially thought out. His first is – I think – failing to see the difference between people who have legitimate frustrations that would get any human riled up from time to time, and expats who walk around saying “Belgium sucks, everyone’s stupid, there’s nothing to do. In my country my life was so much better”. I am not the latter: I think if he had 400,000 euros worth of medical treatment riding on whether or not one bureaucrat bothers to pick up his file and stamp it (with 16 months to do so, precariously close to running out, no progress in sight and an EU law that says it must be done in 6 months), he might feel the need to rant a few times himself. He assumes I would not rant about the same situation in my home country, but I promise him, I would. (I just don’t happen to have a blog on the subject of “what life was like in the country where I don’t live anymore”.) He could also read my other blog and find all sorts of glowing praise for Belgium. But he didn’t do any of that. He just lumped me in with people who whine because they (seem to) think their country is perfect, people who wish they were home. I am neither one of those. As Al Franken says, I love Belgium like a grown-up loves her mommy (“She’s got some problems, I’m not afraid to say, but I love her nonetheless.”), not a child (“Mommy’s perfect! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. La la la la la! (sticks fingers in ears)”).

He also remarks that there is – surprisingly – no similar “expat bashing” from the locals. Apparently he has never gone into a store only to have a Bruxellois claim non-comprehension of their French – no matter how good the French is, without so much as a cursory attempt at listening. He has also not tried to get into a number of clubs and lounges in the city which are notorious for turning away non-Belgians.

Is the message to be that we are to pretend Belgium is perfect? I doubt Mr. Morris thinks so, but I wouldn’t know it from his inability to seperate frustration from failure to adjust. I’d tell you that that bothers me, but I wouldn’t want to be accused of disliking editors.

I hate that I have to neglect this blog a bit in light of other goings-on. But I have had some hopeful input on the residence issue.

First of all, my first night in the hospital a few weeks ago, my roommate was a majorly chatty Flemish lady. She gushed forth with every detail about her adoption of a girl from Senegal 8 years ago as if she had been waiting for us to come for weeks and she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. She divulged many many minutes worth of gory detail about the crazy nonsensical bureaucratic problems she encountered, much as I have done to you here. How did she get it resolved?

“Well, I called the Palace….[blah blah blah]…and the king signed off on the papers. Problem solved.” I thought this sounded a little crazy. I said to Del in the spirit of participating in her conversation, with teasing in my voice, “Gee honey, that’s what we should do. We’ll just call the king!”

The woman didn’t hear the pleasantry and instead, said, “Oh, I’ve go the number right here for you.” She offered me her little black book and pointed to a number with the title Koninklijke Paleis (Royal Palace). Wow. Now there’s a useful monarch. Still skeptical, I asked a few of my other Belgian friends and they all answered me as if it were the most normal of solutions, even though none of them had ever suggested it: “Oh yes. The king and queen do that sort of thing. Give them a call. You’ll just have to write some letters and then maybe something can happen.”  Three cheers for a small country.

The only downside is this sounds like it might take more time than I now have. But it’s worth a shot. Furthermore, I’ve had another hopefully breakthrough. A fellow US expat friend of mine who has gone through the same drama gave me a new number for the ministry, several instances where calling has worked easily, and encouragement to try again myself. Well, today I did so and while I have no guarantees, a very nice gentleman said that he sees my file and he will try to have it arranged within the next two weeks. Wow again. Just like my friend Erin suggested. Man she is smart!

Keep your fingers crossed!