Belgium is blooming. And by blooming, I mean ‘it was slightly warmer for one day’.
If you recall my last post, it was at the end of my first week, and I had made friends with some ducks in my local park. Well, I’m now easing my way into my fourth week, and slowly moving up the evolutionary chain of friendmaking. Last Thursday I visited a cat café near my office, and had a beer with a new acquaintance:
(The drink was only okay, sadly – a rather unmemorable Radler. Mind you, literally the only beverage I’ve had so far that wasn’t fantastic).
At Easter weekend – only a three-day holiday here, which is unconscionable – I decided it was time to start making human friendships, humans being much less adorable but slightly better at sophisticated conversation. I attended farewell drinks for a colleague after work on Friday night, during which someone said the word “shots!” and I, in some kind of Pavlovian reaction, also said the word “shots!”, so we ended up doing shots. This is, as far as I can tell, the only way that anyone ever does shots. No-one actually wants to do shots. The word ‘shots’ just gets…said, somehow, and at a certain point in the night, you assent to doing the shots. I mean, someone said the word, so you have to do them. That’s how it works. Obviously, by the end of the night I’d ended up in a kebab shop, requesting falafel and garlic sauce in appalling French. They clearly knew I was British, because they put chips in my falafel wrap. Angels.
Saturday I recovered; Sunday I went out to meet people. There’s always an aspect of artificiality to making new friends after moving, but the awkwardness tends to be dispelled if you just embrace it – be honest that you’re looking to meet people, ask questions, be open to new experiences. I went to brunch with some other foreign girls in a florist-slash-café (apparently this is a thing) and then went on to a writer’s meetup in the centre of town. We introduced ourselves briefly, and then wrote in silence. I’ve never written with other people before, but I found it helped me to focus (and to feel guilty whenever I got distracted). I worked on some short-story stuff, which I haven’t done for some time, and which I might eventually publish on the blog if I’m not too embarrassed by it.
On Monday I rounded out the Easter weekend with a massive walk around my sleepy, wooded neighbourhood. It was actually warm enough to take off my coat (for a bit), and at one point I saw an exhausted dad asleep in a hammock, which pleased me. More nice spring weather, please. I would like to see more dads in hammocks.
So concludes my first month in Brussels.
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