A Very, Very Important Visitor:

When I was younger, I was very fortunate to do a lot of world traveling. I had the benefit of a high school which promoted travel and organized annual trips to Europe and the Far East. Then, in college, I took advantage of every opportunity to travel with friends, one of whom had a family home in a little town in Provence where we went almost every summer to wander around Southern France drinking Rose and flirting shamelessly in horrendously broken French. I also did a semester abroad at Oxford and used that as a springboard for even more travel around the UK, Ireland, France and Spain. Just after graduation from college, my father, stepmother, brother and I went to China along with my stepmother's parents and our very dear family friends, Bob and Fernando.

When I "grew-up," I continued to travel as much as I could possibly afford to and I eventually got a job writing and producing corporate videos, which sent me on more overseas trips than I can count, one of which was actually a true "around the world" adventure-- 9 cities in 17 days; we went from China to India to multiple stops in Europe to Baltimore and back to California.

With all this travel and all the exposure I was so very, very lucky to have, there was a quiet and deeply emotional sentiment that I carried with me; my mother and my stepfather had never been outside of the United States of America. And as much as they may have thought (and still might) that all I was thinking about was my own selfish enrichment, I never stopped thinking about how much I wanted to change that fact. It was not something I could have easily done at any point in my life before now (in spite of the rather glamorous story I am currently telling, I was always squeaking by with absolutely nothing left to spare). So, every time I have been in a brand new foreign city, looking at some incredible landmark or piece of artwork that can only be seen in that place, I think to myself how much I wish they both could be seeing it with me. I vowed many years ago, that someday, I would make it happen and they would see at least some of the incredibly beautiful and interesting things I have seen outside of the continental USA.

Well, just over two weeks ago, half of my dream came true. As some of you might know from previous posts and from knowing me, my mother is much too ill to make the journey from New Jersey to Belgium. But my wonderful, amazing stepfather and dear friend, Elliott Lewis is not! And he came, thanks to the many miles Stefan accumulated from business travel in his last job. He came for 5 days (a short trip for some, but the absolute maximum amount of time he could bear to be away and that my mother could survive without him).

We had a wonderful time. It was a brilliant combination of much-needed family time and adventures around Belgium. In addition to some local sightseeing within Brussels, we went to Bruges and to Ghent, both of which were beyond beautiful and exceeded all expectations. People have said many times that Bruges is so beautiful, picturesque and clean that it feels like a movie set. It really does. When you close your eyes and imagine what an ancient European city should look like- Bruges is it. If you find yourself in Belgium and you've not been to Bruges, you absolutely must go. It's gorgeous. Ghent is also outstanding and it has one thing over Bruges-- it doesn't seem to have the emphasis on tourism that Bruges has, so it's a little more authentic in that way. Go there too. It's totally awesome and I can't wait to go back. To shop, to eat, to meander around giant, monolithic temples to medieval torture (those ancient "Belgians" were sadistic bastards, btw).

Anyway, having my stepfather here was a much needed dose of family love and I am so glad we were able to make it happen. The only thing better than realizing that longtime dream of showing him the world, was actually having him here.

On that note, here are some pictures from our adventures (taken with a real camera, not my blackberry, Eve ;) ):


My super-awesome Stepdad, skipping around Bruges:

The gals just kickin' it in one of the oldest operational Town Halls in all of Europe:

The View from the Belfry in Bruges (ever see the movie, "In Bruges"?:

My super-duper little family, of which I couldn't be any prouder!:


A funny picture of Adela that has nothing at all to do with my Stepfather's visit, Bruges, OR Ghent, but I that I thought was worth sharing:

Why Blog?

Recently, someone said that they think I share too much on-line.

I paused when I heard this because I realized that I probably do share a bit more than is comfortable for some.

When you're part of the Foreign Service "blogosphere", you get real cozy, real quick. There are so many of us and we are, without exaggeration, a family of sorts. It's easy to think of that particular audience and feel safe sharing your feelings without hesitation. You know that there is this special group of people out there, literally speckling the globe, who understand your deep, deep need to feel a part of something. When you're so isolated, as we all are, it's huge relief to be able to vent to people who can relate to the lonesomeness and to our very unique struggle to find connection.

For instance, the minute you/your spouse joins the Foreign Service, you are catapulted into a life defined by uncertainty. First, you are uncertain about what your temporary life in Virginia will be. Then, you are caught in the purgatory of waiting to find out where you will be posted and then of course, you have no idea what to expect once you get to post. No amount of travel literature, personal post reports or even correspondence with people at that post, can create a clear picture of what your individual life will look like. We all try very hard to imagine, but there is no possible way to uncover the specifics until you arrive at post and begin to peel away the many layers of a new place for yourself. And that's just the first time around. For many of us, we will go through this process as many as 10 or 15 times in a lifetime! So, what do we do with all this uncertainty? Well, we think a lot... we speculate a lot... we talk a lot... and of course, some of us blog a lot.

The sheer number of bloggers out there are proof enough that it is part of human nature to want to share our feelings and experiences. And the range of what people will share online is literally staggering-- bloggers share everything from our sexual proclivities to our strategies for saving money at the grocery store to our political views to our failings as parents to our favorite restaurants and on and on and on. There are as many different blogs out there as there are personalities to write them.

So, add to this obviously very natural desire to share our feelings, the unique characteristics of Foreign Service life and it's no wonder that so many of us do it--- if for no other reason than it feels completely natural and fills an ever-widening void in our hearts. We are a lonely group (particularly the trailing spouses among us) and we spend most of our time, online and off, looking for people who can understand how we feel.

This is why I blog. I blog to feel a part of something and I blog to feel that people actually care about what I have to say (because in my physical life, there aren't very many people around to listen). And for those people out there who think I sometimes go too far in exposing my intimate feelings on everything from my mother's illness to my insecurities about my marriage to the sense of loss I feel at the sale of my family home, I want to say this: if anyone actually spends the time to read what I have written, then I firmly believe that they are worth sharing it with.

From what I can tell, there are two basic groups of people who read our blogs-- the friends and family who love us (and want to understand what our lives look and feel like) and our Foreign Service families-- hopeful members of the community and actively serving members. Those are two groups that I feel very good about and I don't much care about the people who think I am doing something wrong or inappropriate. This is what I need to do now, to get through, to get by and to feel like I am part of something beyond the walls of this house that isn't mine, in a country that isn't mine.

(and of course, as with every blog I write, this is just another unabashed plea for validation... )

Big, Big, Big News:

On Saturday, Stefan and I went to Cite du Dragon in Uccle. A friend of ours is in town for training on a new job and offered to stay with the girls (in exchange for staying in our guest room). I am pretty tired of the standard Belgian menu-- moules, frites, steak tartare, waterzooi, etc.-- and we'd passed this wild looking place before and had read it was good. So, date night took us to a giant, traditional, Belgian mansion turned Chinese banquet hall.

It was incredible-- like nothing I have ever actually seen in real life before. There must have been 300 people eating in the mansion's many dining rooms. There were traditional Chinese sculptures everywhere and loads of pink and blue florescent lights. The floor in the main dining room was clear and underneath it, swam giant, over-fed Coi of all shapes and colors. There were fountains spouting recirculated water into ponds covered in footbridges. It was ostentatious, gaudy and decadent, all the while having a certain self-effacing charm.

It is not a stretch to suggest that Cite du Dragon is a perfect metaphor for our Foreign Service life-- it was once a perfectly proportioned, Belgian mansion, snuggled into the charming Flemish commune of Uccle and now, it's a huge, outrageous Chinese banquet hall where families come to mange on endless buffets of dim sum, sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, lychees and tapioca.

You're probably scratching your head and wondering what the hell I am talking about. Well, on Friday night, I returned home from an evening walk through the park with the dogs and Stefan handed me his blackberry and told me to read the message entitled, "Assignment Notification: Whitney, Stefan." My jaw dropped. We had only sent in our bid list on January 27th. How could we possibly have been assigned already? But sure enough, I opened the message and it read, "Congratulations, we have carefully reviewed all bidders... and we have selected you for the following position: SHANGHAI, CHINA 10/2013."

So, we are going to Shanghai next! For those who don't know, Stefan had CNL (Critical Needs Language) points for Mandarin, Chinese when he joined the Foreign Service and we are therefore obligated to serve in a Mandarin designated post on one of our first two tours. Knowing this, we strategically bid on Western European and South American posts the first time around. Shanghai, while not a total shock, is still incredibly exciting because we easily could have been going to a more remote, industrial Chinese city instead. We have dodged yet another bullet and we are going to another beautiful, exciting and relatively easy to acclimate to city. Yippppppeeeee! The super-lucky Whitneys strike again.

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.