Week One:

It's been one week since we arrived in Belgium and so much has happened, it's hard to know where to begin. First of all, I know that pictures are in order and I promise, I am working on that. I promise.

In the meantime, I have to purge some of this weight that is building. Everyday that passes here, I feel heavier with new information and more overwhelmed by the scope of my changing perspective. What I have discovered is that while I absolutely love Brussels and I absolutely love our house and our neighborhood, this type of transition is very, very hard. The challenges are so many that it's difficult to even pinpoint each of them in a way that makes it possible to resolve it.

Of course, there are the obvious challenges. Our household goods haven't arrived and the "welcome kit" is laughable. Yes, there are sheets, but they are hard and coarse. Yes, there are plates and bowls and drinking cups, but there are only four of each, so they have to be washed immediately after each use and forget about adding a fifth to your dinner table. The same is true of the towels. When someone did the blog round-up with the theme, "What I wish I packed in my UAB," I had nothing to contribute, but boy do I now! I think I would have packed: one small piece of artwork to hang in our home, perhaps a few extra drinking glasses, definitely some wine glasses and some sheets of our own. A sampling of home. A few things that make me feel like I am home, because for now, I am in this weird in-between home with naked walls and cold, uncovered floors. My children are so sick and tired of the same toys they've been playing with for the last month, they look at them with nothing short of contempt.

I have my issues with the inside of my new home, which I really believe will all be resolved when that shipment arrives. I know I am very, very, very lucky because I think we might get it before Christmas, making it a 6 week process. There are many other families in the Foreign Service who aen't so lucky and to them I strongly suggest bringing some "pieces of home" either in the luggage you carry or in the UAB that will arrive sooner. But then there are issues outside of the house that are arguably even more challenging. One, I was told by so many people that I shouldn't worry too much about learning French before getting here because, "everyone speaks English." While that might be true in the professional environment, it doesn't seem to be true of the people with whom I do most of my interacting. The sales clerks, our neighbors, the people I pass on the street while walking the dogs, none of them seem to speak english, which makes my days long and very lonesome. I can't wait to start French class in January (of course, this will only help with half of the city's population because the other half proudly speaks Dutch.)

I would be lying if I didn't mention the toll this has all taken on my marriage. I am finding that we are on separate fronts this last week, both fighting our own, separate battles each day, but occasionally taking a moment to fire at eachother. I was once told by someone who grew up in the FS, that Foreign Service marriages either thrive or explode into a million sad little peices. I am always thinking about this statement. I find myself, for better or worse, viewing the marriages around us under the same lens. Will THEY thrive or explode? Will WE thrive or explode? Will all this travel and transition make us stronger or drive us apart, resentment having built past the point of no return? I don't care how you spin it, this life comes down to a few simple facts. With all the excitement and diversity of experience, comes the reality that all members of a FS family give up their freedom to choose the physical path their lives will take. The Officer gives up his/her freedom in exchange for the career of his/her choice. The rest of the family gives it up for both the unconditional love of the Officer and for the security and lifestyle the job affords. Inevitably, there is some resentment.

When Stefan walks out the door each morning here in Brussels, he goes to a place where everyone speaks English. He is surrounded by interesting information and all the resources he needs to be a success (at least in his job). He also had language training, so he speaks French, if not perfectly, well enough to do absolutely everything he needs to do a daily basis, including talk to people who both inspire and interest him. On the other hand, I am left behind, trying to raise two small children in a home without carpets, in a city where nothing is familiar or easily attainable; where I can't even order a cup of coffee without being overrun by self-doubt. I know it probably seems trivial to lament these things when you consider all the beauty and intrigue this city and its location have to offer, but it's still very hard and it's hard not to lash out at the person closest to you when you're feeling this utterly fragile.

I promise tomorrow will be lighter and I will post little words and many pictures of our house, our neighborhood and all the things I see day to day.

P.S. I apologize for what I am sure are many misspellings in this post. I can't seem to change the language on Blogger from Dutch to English! Once again, foiled by my lack of understanding of the local languages!