Category: Let’s Go to School in Belgium

After a year in Belgium, I finally got used to the little differences. I loved my town of Leuven and I really appreciated the multicultural environment. I accepted what I encountered as quirks such as avoiding eye contact on the street, eating room temperature sugared popcorn at the movies, and seeing frequent random parades on the street with as few as 4-5 participants. I generally chalked these experiences up to the charm of living abroad. And then I saw a 6-ft beetle get impaled on a 75-ft high spike. That threw me.

The giant beetle was impaled in front of the library in one of the most beautiful plazas in the city. The library itself is gorgeous too. It was bombed and rebuilt during both world wars and is everything you’d hope to see in a medieval-style city. In typical Belgian fashion, the beetle was raised without a plaque that provided an explanation. The surreal element imposed on one of my favorite old-world spots really bothered me until I finally got some information. Apparently, the artist chose the beetle out of respect for the library. Something about how the DNA of this critter housed all the information and components of everything alive. So, the intended effect is to respect knowledge and appreciate the parallel houses of information.

Or, it’s just a giant impaled beetle. I choose to believe the dual library thing though. It makes me happier.

Think I’m full of it? See here.

About 2 weeks after this, we actually did end up recording a song. I was hanging out with my buddies at a bar, I left to go on a first date with a lovely young lady from Siberia, and when I came back a few hours later, they’d written a song. They’d done it to give me a hard time about abandoning dude time to see a girl, but it was actually pretty catchy. So, after a few edits and several drinks, we recorded it. “Siberian Dream” by The Rabbits is a rough, yet savory jam that you’ll probably never hear. I’m very ok with that.

Not funny at all is it? With everything going on these days, let’s just say that this has been on my mind more than humor. This happened to me about 13 years ago and it happened just as depicted.

One of the most painful things I learned while travelling and living abroad is the pervasiveness of hatred and division. It seems to be a part of human nature that we group ourselves arbitrarily and then hate the other side. Whether it’s based on race, religion, nationality, regionality, sports, or whatever, we just seem to prefer to deal with each other with an us vs them mentality. I can’t tell you why it’s like that, but it’s definitely like that. I was shocked that even in Belgium, which has a population of 11 million people, the northerners and the southerners dislike and talk trash about each other. And then there was this jerkface.

My dad spent some time in Germany in the 60s. It was in those post-WWII, post-Kennedy, the world likes America years. People were excited when they found out where he was from and they wanted to talk to him about it. Unfortunately, I was in Belgium during the George W. Bush years. Let’s just say that the world’s crush on the states had worn off by then. People often gave me a hard time for being American and they freely volunteered that they didn’t like my country. Again, people like that us vs. them mentality, and boy, they sure do like to feel superior. I didn’t like George W. Bush or his politics, but I generally tolerated some flak being thrown my way because I understood that people are just like that. However, some people take this stuff past pettiness into mean-spirited nastiness, and that is super not ok.

This took place at a bar that I really used to like. It was a small, warm space with good beer and board games. My friends and I used to go there regularly. And then one night when we were playing Jenga, this happened. It takes a heck of a lot to leave me speechless, but this did it. Man, I get that you’re not a fan of the states, but how can you be so low as to joke about a tragedy? People died. Lives were ruined. There was nothing funny about it. The man who said this was the owner of the bar too. I never went back. Similarly and sadly, when my little sister spent a semester in Ireland a year later, someone walked up to her, asked if she was American, then told her it was too bad more people didn’t die during Katrina.

So what’s the solution? What do we learn? How do we fix this mentality? How do we react against arbitrary hatred and malice? I wish I knew. I’ve traveled a lot and people really aren’t so different. We come up with these distinctions because they make us feel better for some reason. Hatred like this hurts. It easily gets taken advantage of by people with agendas. My hope is that with the rise of the internet and globalism, we’ll realize that we aren’t all so different and cut each other some slack. I hope we get there someday. Sadly though, I’m not usually very confident that we will.

Cultural exchange is one of the best parts of living abroad. In my three years in Leuven, Belgium, I met many people from many places. I developed a much better sense of the world and what life is like for other people. I heard lots of interesting stories and I tried lots of excellent foods.

This exchange was one of my favorites though because of how ridiculous it was. I’d always heard of the English custom of tea and crumpets, but I never gave thought to what a crumpet was. Turns we have them in the states, but we call them english muffins. I’d had many before. This did not ruin the exchange though and we still enjoyed a nice afternoon. And, for my part, I taught my English friend how to make a good burger.

It was a good exchange.

You’ve already met Mr. Sting and Mr. Crumpet, now meet Mr. Hey Self. This guy’s taught me a lot of lessons over the years. The comic above portrays one of my favorite.

For a bit more context on this, Mr. Hey Self and I were roommates for a year in Leuven. In our building, there was an elevator with a mirror. Two things happened every time I rode that elevator with him:

1) He would turn to the mirror and say “hey self”. This usually amused me, but every so often, it would get on my nerves. This was one of those times, so I called him on it. I wish I could remember the exact phrasing, but he said something along the lines of what you see above.

I’d never really wondered if I had healthy self-esteem before, but his response forced me to consider it. It turns out I did not. Not enough to look in the mirror and unironically say “hey self, you look good” at least. This was an unpleasant wake up moment for me. I realized I had some work to do. It was the first time I realized how important it was for me to actually be a fan myself. It was a good lesson to learn.

2) He would get a crazed look in his eye, turn my way, then play the “I’m not touching you” game that kids play. The one where you invade someone’s physical space but never physically touch them. I’m not a super huge physical contact guy now, but I absolutely hated physical contact then. So, he’d yell “I’m not touching you” and crowd me until I was a little ball on the floor. I learned nothing from this and did not care for it.

And now you’ve met Mr. Hey Self.