Au Revoire Aft Cabin:

My father and stepmother are in the process of getting divorced. It's a hard time for all of us. This past Friday, they sold our family home in Sagaponack, NY (a little village in the middle of the "Hamptons"). They built it 23 years ago. I remember walking the empty field that would become that property and imagining all the possibilities for what it would someday be.

It became an enclave for our family. A safe haven. A little bit of something to call our own. My little bother learned to walk on the grass there and learned to swim in the pool. My stepmother tended to a vast rose garden in the south-eastern corner of the lot. My father cooked giant steaks on the grill. I hosted my classmates for an after-prom party when I was seventeen. I had countless friends from college there to go to the beach, swim in the pool and BBQ on the lawn. And perhaps, most importantly, my husband and I were married there four years ago.

It was a shingled beach house with an out building that we called the "Carriage House." The lot was flag-shaped and immensely private. It was lined with giant privet hedges and when you sat on the long front porch that was the dominant feature of the house, you could feel perfectly alone with your thoughts, isolated from the madness of the Hamptons. You could hear the waves in the distance. My most favorite time of the day was sunset, with a glass of Chardonnay-- the goblet frosty with perspiration; the warmth of the sun, giving way to the crispness of evening. It was that very feeling that I wanted to recapture and share with all my friends and family when Stefan and I decided to have our wedding on the front lawn.

The sadness I feel at knowing the house is gone is only eased by knowing that there was no room left for good memories there. When my parents' marriage began to unravel, it became a dark place. Not just because they were angry and disappointed, but also because the money had run out and the house began to show signs of neglect. It was like watching a beautiful woman age rapidly right in front of your eyes. The shingles started to fall from the roof, the fences began to wilt and crumble. You could hear the echoes of happier times-- see children running around on the lawn, adults skinny-dipping in the pool late at night under the cast of the moon. These were ghosts though and inside the house was a groaning sound-- a longing, a deep, unsettling absence of these very moments.

I guess I had hoped my own children would become part of this house's memories, but by the time they both arrived, there was no hope left. It was already too late and that oddly makes saying goodbye easier, but no less final.

It's gone and I think the new owners are going to level it and build something bigger and more glamorous. They will have their own stories and their own memories and they will be layered over ours. I guess this must happen a lot, particularly in America where everyone wants something of their own-- something new and untarnished and without history. I vow right now, to never "level" a house. I never want to wash away the very things that make a place special. Maybe I am just angry, but I think it's a terrible waste.

And so Life Begins...

We are really here now. We aren't waiting for anything else to come to make it official. We have a car. We have our things. All of our holiday guests have gone... really, this time. Now, it's us in Brussels and our daily life has begun to take shape. I feel like things are coming together in a natural and pretty livable way.

I started French class yesterday, which was great, if only because I now feel like I am taking some real responsibility for learning to communicate here. I miss the daily exchanges that make life as a stay at home mother tolerable. I have the perfect set-up: an incredible butcher, patisserie, bookshop and coffee-shop all within three blocks. These are the unsuspecting people who would otherwise become my easiest contact with the outside world, but alas, I can't talk to them in anything other than well-rehearsed grunts and sign language. I promised my butcher that I would speak to him in nothing but French by March, so here's to hoping that Madame Tuchsznajder can make that happen.

This week also brings the start of two baby/toddler classes. We would have started Music Together this Friday, but our teacher apparently suffered the loss of a family member and has put it off until next Friday. However, we do start the Belgian version-- Bebe Maestro-- as a family, on Saturday evening. I am looking forward to suffering through the embarrassment of singing and dancing with my co-parent by my side. This class is entirely in French and I am hoping it will help both Adela and I get a little more comfortable with hearing the language spoken in a context we can both relate to (Addy will be going to a French preschool in the fall and I hope to go to work in the local economy at the same time).

I joined an incredible Health Club, Royal La Rasante, shortly after we arrived here and it is proving to be my saving grace on so many levels. I've begun calling it my "Personal Urban Wellness Retreat," which is actually not hyperbole because in addition to the fitness facilities, it also has a full-service creche (the french word for "daycare"), a beautiful holistic day spa, tons of yoga and fitness classes, tennis courts, pools, a restaurant (with booze!), a steam room, sauna and best of all, two "relaxation rooms" (which in my case are actually "nap" rooms). I can go there, drop off the girls and hit the gym, have lunch, get my eyebrows waxed and then take a shower, steam and nap. It's heaven... truly.

Perhaps the best part of life here is the Parc de Woluwe. It is two blocks from our house and it's so dog friendly, I can't believe it. I feel like it's a little taste of nature in an otherwise very concrete jungle. The dogs can run off-leash and Adela can walk, at her own pace, through the park's many trails and closed roadways. I find it's the perfect place to reflect on my new life. It also reminds me a lot of Brookdale Park, which we left behind in Montclair, NJ. So, it also has a transcendent effect on me-- it takes me home, if only for a few moments.

A nice day in Brussels is one when it doesn't rain. The sun shines maybe once a week, so getting outside when it's not raining is essential. Here are some pictures of this morning's walk through the park:


A woodland seat, carved from a stump:

Addy, enjoying her favorite "Lait" flavored lollipop on a bench carved from a fallen tree:

Taking her time, meandering through the woods:


My sweet girl and lately, my absolute best companion and partner in crime:


All in all, with the rhythm of our lives taking shape, I feel back in control of my proverbial helm. I see the next two years as a time of great discovery and growth. We have gotten the bid-list for our next post already, and even though we've only been here for little over a month, I already feel a tug at my heartstrings when I remember that this is a finite experience and Brussels will only be mine for a short time. I want to enjoy every minute of my time here and I hope I can keep the lonesomeness at bay, so it doesn't define the entire experience. Here's to hoping I make some friends... SOON!

Our House in Pictures:

So, this post is dedicated to:

• Our friends and family who are interested in seeing where and how we live.
• New Foreign Service families who have yet to go to post and are curious about what an FS house might look like.
• Foreign Service hopefuls who want to know what an FS house might look like.

Of course, I recognize that there is a great deal of variability and I make no claim that our house is standard State Department housing. I really have no idea how it compares to housing outside of Brussels, but from what I have seen, it's pretty standard for here and for a family of our size and rank. It is a clean, spacious house and we love it. It's so much nicer than anything we've lived in before and has everything we need, including an additional refrigerator to compensate for the miniature European one in our kitchen. I'd say if I had any complaints at all, it would be the size of the appliances, but I am managing just fine and feel very lucky to have such a nice place to call home for the next two years:

The Living Room:

The Dining Room (table is set without the two leaves that make it banquet-worthy... it's enormous!):

The Kitchen:

The Reading "Nook" (just off the kitchen, so I don't have to cook alone):

The "Fun" Room:


Adela's Bedroom:

Flora's Bedroom:

Guest Bedroom:

Our Bedroom:

The Big, Belated Holiday Update:

So, our stuff arrived pre-Christmas as hoped. Unfortunately, it came sans Christmas ornaments, which admittedly made me very sad at first. But, not for long because I am learning to count my blessings. Our stuff came and the only thing that didn't come were the bits and baubles we needed to make our home Christmas-y. But everything that did come made our house "home," which is vastly more important. Now, as I sit here on my huge, luscious, cushy couch and I look at my cookbooks and candlesticks and artwork and I know that when I go to cook dinner, everything I need will be there, I feel... elated. Now, we LIVE in Brussels and so many of the things that seemed daunting and miserable three weeks ago now seem exciting and accessible.

Life is good.

But, I would be lying if I didn't say that while the last two weeks have been incredible and heart-warming in ways unimaginable, they have also been really, really hard.

A list:

Dec. 22, 2010: Our shipment of household goods arrive! My husband's cousin and aunt from Germany arrive too.

Dec. 23, 2010: Unpacking continues. My mother and father-in-law arrive too.

Dec. 24, 2010: Christmas Eve. Unpacking continues. Christmas Eve is celebrated (both in Europe and at the senior Whitney household, Christmas Eve is the "high" holiday). We ate homemade Sauerbraten, Braised Red Cabbage, Potato Dumplings and for dessert, homemade "German" Christmas cookies. At night, after the children went to sleep, we built a miniature IKEA kitchen, a toddler-sized table and chairs and wrapped some miscellaneous kitchen accoutrement. Most of our gifts didn't arrive in time for Christmas, due mostly to poor planning and really, really bad weather).

Dec. 25, 2010: Unpacking continues. Christmas morning is celebrated and my brother and stepmother arrive. We all (10 of us) head out to the largest Christmas market in Brussels at St. Catherine's Place. We drank Gluwhein while Addy rode the awesomest Carousel ever. Then we slogged through the slush and snow to get home. I made truffle totoloni, followed by Leg of lamb with mint sauce, pureed Parsnip and Roasted Purple Potatoes. We bought two heavenly Buche de Noel from our local (Japanese) Patisserie. Next year, I vow to make them myself, but this year, corners HAD to be cut.

Dec. 26, 2010: Christmas is over but the entertaining continues.

Dec. 27, 2010: My brother and I decide to make good on an earlier conversation to go to Amsterdam together. He's 19 to my 33 and in his first year of college. I decided. given my constant proximity to the Netherlands (2.5 hours by train), that I would defer to his agenda. You can imagine what that included. Here's the thing: we snuck out of the house in the wee hours, before the babies were up and came home long after they'd gone to bed. Therefore, I didn't really care what we did. It was so nice to feel light and free and without responsibility, if only for a 15 hour day. No, we didn't see the Van Gogh museum and we didn't see Anne Frank's Huis. The Rembrandt Museum was closed. But instead of those more culturally demanding activities, we walked all around town together chatting and bonding, with snowflakes falling on our heads and shoulders, taking in its charm and beauty-- the canals, the architecture, the incredible design shops! Then we ate Chinese food (I know- huh? I had a craving, what can I say?) We finished the day by walking some more and eating a local favorite-- Dutch Pancakes.



It was a good day. And a blessing to get to spend that amount of uninterrupted time with my brother, during a period when we both need to be reminded of the importance of having one another. Though so many years separate us, our experience is much the same and there is no substitute for a sibling. I love my little brother very much and I am sorry that his life is hard.


I could keep going with the list, but you get the point. It's been a very busy time-- lots of guests, lots of activity and very little time for quiet reflection. So when New Year's Eve rolled around and we hadn't any plans, I had no problem whipping up a a quiche and a salad and drinking wine instead of Champagne with my husband and stepmother. It was quiet, but lovely.

As 2011 unrolls, I feel I have a lot to be thankful for, but I also feel I have a lot of work to do on myself. I suppose there will always be that-- a list of things you want to change and/or improve. But for me, this year, that list seems particularly long and I think it's because this lifestyle really highlights some of my biggest shortcomings. I am disorganized and bad at keeping in touch with the people I love when they are far away. To those of you who might be reading this and have been the victim of my terrible correspondence, I want to apologize and acknowledge that I will do better. That's my resolution. Well, one of them.

Most of the boxes are unpacked and the house is coming together. As soon as I get the final pieces put away, I will photograph the entire house and post the pictures. When we were contemplating the Foreign Service, I searched every blog I could for pictures of the housing and now that I have my own Foreign Service housing, I want to share. Stay tuned for that.