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It was an emotional day yesterday, one where Pedram was wearing red and blue and swearing at the Spanish team to score already. Until they did, and then all was good in the world. I can only imagine how it must have felt for my Spanish friends, and for the amazingly sexy and hot talented [...]

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blog.forret.com

Idea: hosted classification service

Source: blog.forret.com

Yesterday evening I was watching “How to replace yourself with very small shell script” by Hilary Mason. In short: she uses some scripts to process incoming mail and send outgoing reminders. The part that really interested me is the one where she uses classification, probably naive Bayes, to extract topics from the tweets of her friends. That [...] Related posts:

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Not happy with the Canon 500D

Source: blog.forret.com

In June 2006 I bought my first reflex camera: a Canon 350D. About the same time I started taking pictures of tango (above: my first tango picture, at Couleur Cafe 2006). And it was the start of an exciting journey. Concerts, milongas, tango festivals, portraits, I discovered the joy of creating – or recording – [...] Related posts:

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Focal length for the common man: “portrait distance”

Source: blog.forret.com

I remember that before I started photography on a serious level, I had some understanding of shutter speed, but none of aperture and focal length. Even when I read what they meant, I still couldn’t ‘picture’ it, had no feeling for the numbers. Let’s leave ‘aperture’ for another time and just concentrate for now on the concept [...] Related posts:

New lens for my Canon camera My current favourite lens for my Canon 350D is the...
Five tips for taking tango pictures in dark environments I have been taking tango pictures intensively for more than...
Point and shoot badly I went to the concert of Bajofondo Tango Club...

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“I will you in the night” – Idool 2003

Source: blog.forret.com

At the Pixagogo reunion dinner the other evening, I was reminded by one of my ex-colleagues Steven (‘Beukie‘) that back in 2003 I was having some fun with remixes/mashups. More specifically, I took some vocals of the Belgian “Idool 2003″ preselections, and added music to them. To make the exercise more fun, I took samples [...] Related posts:

Porque te vas This is a song I like to play when I’m...

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Fax 2.0: because fax won’t die in the internet age

Source: blog.forret.com

In one corner of my apartment: my fixed telephone line. In another my printer/scanner/fax device. Challenge: run a wire from one to the other, every time you rearrange the furniture. Recently I investigated web fax services like eFax, WebFax, RingCentral but for a low volume user like me they’re too expensive. You pay a lot of [...] Related posts:

IVI: Internet voor Iedereen If your (Belgian) parents or grand-parents want to buy a...
pyPersoMail updated to v0.2 I actually use the script to send our customer mailings,...
Internet activity in the EU The sport of data consolidation: I got my hands...

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Dissection of the Phantom Menace

Source: blog.forret.com

Via hackerfactor I came across this gem: a 7-episode dissection of just how bad the 1999 Star Wars: Phantom Menace was. The guy who made it has a very specific style, insightful, funny but sometimes quite disturbing. Try episode one: Episode two: and three The rest can be found on Youtube. Related posts:Don’t send me a video, send me a [...] Related posts:

Don’t send me a video, send me a link I know, there are so many ‘funny’ videos you just...

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Newscorp is indeed dropping out of Google

Source: blog.forret.com

The big disappearing act When Rupert Murdoch announced that he would remove his sites from Google (in order to make a deal with Microsoft, so that only Bing would have the NewsCorp pages, as we now assume), he apparently wasn’t kidding. Although all Google web sites still indicate that e.g. MySpace has 179 million pages in [...] Related posts:

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iPhone bandwidth: orders of magnitude

Source: blog.forret.com

I did a bandwidth test the other day with the iPhone SpeedTest tool. I wanted to compare the speed using (standard) GPRS, using 3G and my own Wifi. The results were all a power of ten apart: iPhone on Proximus GPRS: 35 kbps (download & upload) iPhone on Proximus 3G: 350 kbps (download & upload) iPhone via Wifi: [...] Related posts:

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Idea: preview service for URL shorteners

Source: blog.forret.com

I was using my iPhone to read my Twitter feed (Twitterrific) and Facebook and when comparing the two, I liked one thing about Facebook that Twitter/Twitterific does not have: when some one posts a URL, you get a preview icon and a short text. This way you can have a rough idea of what the [...] Related posts:

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Imagine: a virtual iPhone for everyone

Source: blog.forret.com

I was downloading a free iPhone app at noon, and I thought: some of these applications have no good alternative in the browser world. Imagine everyone could start using/buying the Apple iPhone/iPod Touch applications right in their browser. You give your Apple ID, you purchase an app like ColorSplash and off you go. Some of [...] Related posts:

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Bartlog

Goddiggit!

Source: Bartlog

I'm not a huge user of 'social bookmarking' sites. Even with all the options to specify your preferences, so you get exactly the ads - sorry - information you want, it's mostly the most spectacular or the dumbest mainstream news that tends to pop up. Nevertheless, these last couple of months I've become something of a regular Digg user, especially during my lunch hour. When I don't feel like going to the company 'restaurant', I spend my time browsing through the feeds on Digg while I munch my sandwiches away.

Of course, everybody will have read/heard about now that the nice people behind Digg introduced a new version. And that his new version doesn't work all that well.

It's been driving me crazy, I must have seen that thing a thousand times. Contrary to what a lot of people have been moaning about, I don't mind the fact that the new version is nothing like the old version - I rather like it. But for Pete's sake, make sure it works before you let it loose on the general population!

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Status Update

Source: Bartlog

Number of newborn babies: 0

Number of hurt feet: 1

Number of sleepless nights: countless

We're still waiting for the baby to arrive, despite many early warning signs that he/she's about to pop out. Mrs.B has a belly the size of a small moon, and any day now I expect to come home to find she got stuck in one of the door openings. She has problems sleeping and every time she wants to turn over it's a whole operation that involves moving pillows and blankets and stuff. Her bladder is about the size of a walnut, so she needs to get up a lot to go to the downstairs loo. Both these procedures involve loud moans and sighs and mumbling to make sure I'm well aware of her discomfort. So I have a lot of sleepless nights too.

On the plus side, her foot is finally getting better. Last week she was allowed to ditch the crutches, and this week she could trade in her combat boots for more suitable lady-like footwear. Frankly, she looked hilarious on warm days, with her shorts or skirt and those big mountain climbing 4x4 tanks on her feet. But because I love her so much, I didn't snigger even once. I really am the ideal husband.

It doesn't mean her gait is entirely normal, despite the physiotherapist's best efforts. It may have something to do with that dinosaur egg that she's carrying around.

In theory, we still have more than three weeks to go until D-day, but we both hope that it will be earlier. Because, you know, you get to rest a lot with a newborn baby and a hyperactive toddler in the house.

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War Of The Words

Source: Bartlog

Apparently, to experts in the matter...

I write like
H. G. Wells

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

So if my style of writing looks familiar, you know where it came from.

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I Don't Like Mondays

Source: Bartlog

Monday mornings are a creation of the devil, everyone knows that. But last Monday really made the grade. It started with me having to organise a tow truck, because the car stubbornly refused to start. Not because I'd left on the lights, mind you. At first it played dead, then the warning lights did light up when I turned the contact key a notch, but when the engine was supposed to start it slammed everything shut. However, it insisted on making the windscreen wipers go, although they were not on.

So it took me all morning to call the garage, wait for the tow truck, drive to the place where I'd left the car and then get back home. Luckily, my boss was flexible and granted me half a day of leave, and by noon I was back behind my desk. The friendly people from the garage called in the afternoon to say it was repaired. They'd made an effort because I had explained to them I really, really needed that car in working order because my wife is disabled and ready to give birth at any moment (in the next five weeks or so). So after work I took a train and a bus and to get the car and drove it home.

You'd guess that would be enough misery for one Monday, but there was more in store. After dinner, when I'd rinsed all the plates, I went outside and discovered a small lake on our lawn and a small tributary river coming from the sewer pit in the middle of the terrace. The smell that greeted me when I lifted the lid was indescribable!

The problem was very obvious, the whole pit was clogged with a single mass of putrid muck. To be honest, I'd noticed that the water wasn't running away like it should lately, but things were so busy these last couple of weeks that I'd never got around to check out what was wrong. But now there was no other way around it: I had to get on my knees and scoop that goo out.

The rubber gloves I was wearing helped a bit, until I had to reach deep into the sewer and sludge from the sides of the pit seeped in. When I got all of the vomit inducing muck out, I tried whether the drain was still blocked with the garden hose, but alas, the water did not recede. So now I had to scoop all that water, that had turned into foul smelling sewerage immediately, out again. Then, with my face perilously close to the entry, I had to reach inside to reach far into the sewer and feel where it was still blocked, and then pluck out the chunks of ewchchyechblarf. In total, I removed two whole buckets of it, together with four buckets of raw sewerage.

Despite the gloves and washing my hands several times and taking a long shower afterwards, the smell still lingered in my nose until I fell asleep.

And that is how I spend my Mondays.

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Yo!

Source: Bartlog

MC Getto Grand Master Wolf

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NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Source: Bartlog

When things go wrong, I have been known to swear, you know just a bit. Well not a bit, but you must understand that I only do this when the blame rests entirely on that stupid inanimate piece of junk that won't co-operate. In extreme cases, my verbal assault may lead to physical abuse of said item and, ultimately, defenestration. I only do this with things, you see, not with persons. Well, not often.

There is an exponential relation between the reluctance of the item in question to do what I want it to do and the exclamations that follow. When a wrapper or a can won't open, mothers in our part of the city cover the ears of their children. When one time a cup fell on my head when I opened an overhead cupboard, I threw it out the open door into the garden.

Last Sunday however, I opened up a whole new frontier to the time-old discipline of swearing. As you know, I've been working on the bath-room and its adjoining room for almost two years now. Finally, we're in the final stages, with just two more major items on the agenda: flooring and installing the bathroom furniture. My father came over to help, and we started with preparing the floor: sanding away any splinters and blobs of plaster and then cleaning. Oh, and some floor boards were creaking, so best to drive in some more screws.

I was a bit nervous for this job, because underneath those boards are about a thousand pipes: water pipes, heating pipes, drainage pipes... not to mention the odd gas pipe. If I were to drive a screw through one of these pipes, it would mean a world of trouble, because I'd have to tear the floor open again. But on the other hand, I had taken my precautions by marking the exact location of the pipes (bad) and the wooden support beams (good).

Well... 'exact' location may not be the right way to put it.

I drove in a screw with the electric screwdriver, but immediately felt there was no real resistance. So I drove it out again... and immediately got showered by a gushing fountain of water.

I can't reproduce what I shouted at that very moment. Suffice to say it registered a magnitude of 9.4 on the Richter scale. Milk turned sour, the electrical power grid fluctuated and birds started migrating, even the ones that normally stay here all winter. Satan worshippers saw there Evil Master duck under their pentagrams, whimpering for hours and refusing to come out. Armed forces worldwide went into DefCon 4, accusing each other of launching a full nuclear strike. The foam on pints of beer nationwide disappeared suddenly and mayonnaise would shift. It was really ugly.

Meanwhile I had closed all the vents of the central heating system. Luckily, not too much water had escaped, but that was not the real problem.

Breaking up the floor was not a real option, and luckily I'd thought of another option: by cutting a - relatively small - hole in the ground floor ceiling I could reach that damn pipe and repair it.

So now we have a decorative hole in our dining room ceiling. That was my way of putting it, but Mrs.B is having none of it. First thing to do next weeking: repair the pipe and the close the hole, leaving no trace whatsoever about what happened.

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Damn Damn Damn

Source: Bartlog

I bought a magazine and I left it on the train.

Well, the railroad company can add it to my large collection of forgotten umbrellas.

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Lingerie Store

Source: Bartlog

With Mrs.B keeping her toes up in the air, it was up to me to do the shopping these last three weeks. Fair enough, I usually do the Saturday morning run to get the groceries anyway. But I hadn't counted on the fact that it's the summer sales period. Regular readers (yes, you two) of this blog know how I feel about sales period. It's what small antelopes think about the crocodile infested pond that's the only source of drinkable water in a 500 mile radius: if there were only a way to avoid it.

I needed a bunch of new clothes, like really really badly. I wear T-shirts that are made from linen because cotton hadn't been discovered yet when I bought them. My collection of single socks is probably the largest in the world. I've got strings for underwear that started their careers as boxer shorts. My sweaters were all the fashion in the 19th century. And the police have issued a warning that they'd arrest me the very next time they see me in one of my shorts.

Still, all fine and dandy. After all, I used to buy me own clothes back when I was still single. The bad part is that my sweet flamingo needed some clothes too. Among them were items such as underwear and pyjamas. And that is where the drama begins.

In Belgium we're all for the equality of sexes, but we also must admit that this supposed equality is not perfect. Women earn less on average and they find it much more difficult to have a career and climb to the ranks of upper management. However, no-one stares at them when they buy underwear for their husbands. No-one sniggers or smiles.

I, on the other hand, found myself to be the only man in the women's lingerie department. I tried hard not to notice the strange glances and the knowing smiles when I browsed through panties and knickers. And I desperately tried to cool off that red beet my head had turned into when I inquired about pyjamas. For all the feminist bullshit, shopping in a lingerie store is like looking for a particular CD while being engulfed in flames. After a couple of minutes I could take no longer, and I had to restrain myself from not running out in sheer panic.

But once I got out, I'd realised that I had still not found what I was supposed to get, and that meant that another visit to yet another lingerie shop awaited me.

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Define 'Normal'

Source: Bartlog

Things are slowly turning back to normal. Mrs.B is still hopping around with extra support beams (her crutches), but at least she's able to support some of her weight on her left foot. That makes it much easier to move about the house, get dressed, climb stairs and generally do things. On the other hand, every day it becomes clearer that the baby's delivery is neigh, because she's more and more restricted in her movements by her ballooning belly.

Today she returned to work for the first day, with the car because last Friday we tested if she could operate the clutch with her bad foot, and she could. So if all goes more or less well, I'll see my wife and car again this evening. Ooooh, the excitement!

So this morning I found myself back waiting for the bus - riding the bus - waiting for the train - riding the train - walking to work again. These last three weeks I took the car because I had to drop Wolf off at the childcare / playground. Then, it was a mad dash to get to work in time - but invariably arrive late - and in the evening I had to sneak out early to pick him up before 6pm. I guess commuters taking the motorway between Brussels and Antwerp will feel much safer now. Today and tomorrow, Wolf will be staying at my parents', but later this week his mother will bring him to the playground.

Frankly, it's a bit of a relief that I don't have to do everything on my own any more, even though Mrs.B is still limited to doing things seated or hopping on one leg. Yesterday I really felt drained of all energy, I was barely able to stay up. And between a toddler that demands attention and a wife that demands the remote control and a glass of water and the light to be turned off/on and her pills and fresh clothing and this and that, there's not much chance of taking a nap.

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The Fallen

Source: Bartlog

Just a quick word, to confirm that yes, we're back from France. I'd like to say we got back in one piece, but that would be incorrect.

We had a lovely time, two weeks of nothing but sunshine. We spent our time in the pool and on the beach, with the occasional excursion to nearby towns. But unfortunately some of these excursions were for medical reasons. We went to the local baby doctor twice to have a check-up after Mrs.B felt there might be something wrong. Luckily, both times it turned out everything was A-Ok.

Our third medical excursion was for an entirely different reason, but it did involve Mrs.B. It was on the morning of our departure, when she and Wolf went out to get some 'croissants' from the camping store. They had barely left when I heard screams and shouting from both my wife and my son.

I raced out and found both lying on the ground, Wolf crying and panicking while my wife was crying out in pain. It turned out she had stumbled and did something terribly wrong with her ancle. Wolf was Ok, but very frightened by the whole experience.

The local ambulance refused to come for a broken foot, so I had to haul Mrs.B in the car and drive her to the nearest hospital - which was 45 minutes away. Luckily-luckily-luckily I'd bought a GPS before we went to France, I don't know what I would have done without that thing.

A couple of hours later - the French medical care system is about as fast as any African country's - we got the verdict: the ankle was not broken but severely strained. Mrs.B got a plastic clamp around her lower leg and we could drive back home.

Easier said than done: with my wife in one chair and her foot in another, it was up to me to clean the bungalow, get everything into the car (luckily we'd packed the previous evening), return the key, get out the garbage, chase Wolf and his dirty paws out of the bungalow, etc. etc. But in the afternoon we could finally leave.

But it was not the end of our troubles, because you try to drag a pregnant woman without crutches to the second floor of your hotel when there's no lift. Going to the restaurant alone was an endurance test in hopping.

So the first thing we did when we returned was go get some crutches. To be on the safe side, we made an appointment with our own physician. But he didn't need much time to conclude that something more serious was wrong with that ankle. A couple of X-rays later it was confirmed that a tendon (or part of it, I forgot) got loose and took a bit of bone with it. So recovery will take six to eight weeks, instead of three.

So ever since that fall, I've been running around like crazy. Not only do I have to take care of Mrs.B, but I also have to keep the house clean, do the laundry, do the dishes, get Wolf in and out of bed, get him dressed, bring him to the daycare centre, get him back in the evening, cook...

Source: El Gothico Español

Sorry to any who have been visiting but I've been busier than a carpet cleaner in a porno cinema. Not going to bore you with the details. Here is a quiz someone asked me to do - you should try it if you can be arsed. I did and I laughed out loud at the results. No point cheating - you are only cheating yourself.

So here are the rules:-

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool

Here are mine - scarily accurate by coincidence??

Opening Credits:
If - The Cult

Waking Up:
Shame - Drowning Pool

First Day At School:
Fallin' Up - Black Eyed Peas

Making Your New Best Friend:
Illegal I Song - Velvet Revolver

Falling In Love:
Iron Horse/Born To Lose - Motorhead

Breaking Up:
Replica - Fear Factory

Prom:
Disappear Here - Moonspell

Graduation:
I Guess I'll Never Know - Clawfinger

Life's Okay:
Home - Sevendust

Death of a Close Friend:
Fear Of The Dark (Live at Rock in Rio) - Iron Maiden

Mental Breakdown:
Jumping Someone Else's Train - The Cure

Driving:
Getcha Groove On - Limp Bizkit

Flashback:
Discotheque Wreck - Terrorvision

Getting Back Together:
Stay Away - Nirvana

Wedding Scene:
A Thousand Lies - Machine Head

Birth of Child:
Bleeding Mascara - Atreyu

Car Accident:
Black Dog - Led Zeppelin

Final Battle:
All These Things I Hate (Revolve Around Me) - Bullet For My Valentine

Death Scene:
Hypnotize - Audioslave

Funeral Song:
Lustmord - Moonspell

End Credits:
Take It Out On Me - Bullet For My Valentine

(tx to Anthony for the idea)

I'm not sure if I can quite understand this advert I saw at Maalbeek metro platform the other day.

Anyone got any ideas?

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Berlaymonster

Mickey Mouse lobbyists

Source: Berlaymonster

It's a childish prank, but it made 'Monster chortle.

Some wag this week has lodged 'Mickey Mouse Entrprises' [sic] as an organisation in the European Commission's public register of lobbyists (click on the image on the right to see a screengrab of the entry).

The company, apparently, is a one-man operation with a 300 thousand euro budget and a stated goal "to make money."

The honesty would be laudable if it wasn't completely made up.

It's a damn sight better than the Obama-esque vision set out by Mickey Mouse Entrprises' rival Hill & Knowlton in its public register entry:

"We believe that communication has the power to create change and that real change only occurs with effective, powerful communication."

[rousing orchestral backing strikes up]

"Communication is the heart of what makes us human, what makes the world go round, and what we at Hill & Knowlton do day in and day out in 81 offices in 43 countries around the globe."

[trumpets blare]

"Powerful communications that make a difference, that go beyond the ordinary, that can transform, inspire, move and educate is why we exist."

[crescendo, triumphant cadence to standing ovation, as Europe elects its first ever lobbyist president]

Honestly, it's enough to make 'Monster want to join the French angry bikers' federation (no, really. See here).

BM

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Reykjavik to call on BP to block volcano

Source: Berlaymonster

Iceland's government is to call on British Petroleum to help block the Eyjafjallajökull volcano.

Following BP's resounding success in stemming the oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico, Iceland is hoping the company will act to stem the flow of volcanic ash.

BP is already drawing up plans for a giant metal collander which it will drop over the spewing crater.

If that fails, the petrol giant aims to stuff the fissure with cricket balls, socks and celebrity autobiographies.

In a parallel effort, the European Free Trade Authority appears to be taking a different tack, threatening Iceland with legal action for 'failure to implement the single European sky.'

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Let sleeping bears lie, says EC

Source: Berlaymonster

Killing bears while they're sitting ducks is like shooting fish in a barrel.

Hunters in Russia, according to MEP Fiona Hall, "use dogs to dig and rouse bears from hibernation in their den and then kill them."

The cubs are then left to die or sold to zoos and circuses, she says, in a memo asking for the European Commission's position.

Environment commissioner Janez Potočnik replied this week that the commission was "aware of the practice to hunt brown bear in the den during hibernation."

And his verdict?

"This practice as such does not seem be in line with a sustainable use of this species.”

Does not 'seem' to be a sustainable 'use' of the bear?

That's one way of putting it, Janez...

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Libertas leftovers anyone?

Source: Berlaymonster

Lisbon nay-sayers and failed euro-election contenders Libertas left behind a veritable treasure trove of hi-tech hardware in their abandoned Brussels offices when they jumped ship last year.

The multi-thousand euro stash of goodies is just sat gathering dust in their vast, ghostly seventh-floor euro-HQ, which has been empty now for almost a year.

The Ireland-based campaigners simply upped sticks in early June last year, and 'just left their toys behind', in the words of one agent trying to find someone to take over the 760 meter square, 200,000 euro-a-year property.

Among the items strewn across this graveyard of Libertas's obsolete cause are a handful of enormous flatscreen televisions, two ceiling-mounted projectors, a 5000 euro colour printer/copier, and six Sky decoders (yes, SIX).

That's without counting the proliferation of phones, brand new (a year ago, and in any case barely used) desks and chairs, storage units, and all the telecoms and internet wiring necessary to run an office of upwards of 20 people.

"Most decisions that affect Europe are taken within a block of the property" boasts the developer's blurb, describing the building as "just one block away from the European Commission Headquarters and the Council of Ministers."

Maybe Libertas simply didn't get on with the neighbours...

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With friends like these ...

Source: Berlaymonster

"President Basescu and Romania have already a good track record of support to the European Union"

European Commission President José Manuel Barroso, 22 April 2010.

"European Union officials in Kosovo are investigating claims Romanian justice workers [members of the EU's rule of law mission in Kosovo] were caught smuggling tobacco and alcohol on their way home for leave."

Associated Press, 21 April 2010

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Nudey pics update: It's like they never existed

Source: Berlaymonster

You can all stop trying to find them.

The revealing photos of a senior commission official BM reported on last week (see below) have been removed from the social networking site in question.

It took a day or so, but BM news clearly travels. Over the weekend the offending gallery magically disappeared. It now seems the whole profile has also been wiped from the interweb altogether.

So you can now all stop furiously googling names you think it may be in the hope of stumbling across the images.

And BM's lips are sealed. So stop asking...

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Senior EU aide in nudey photo scandal as Brussels warns 'Think Before You Post'

Source: Berlaymonster

In the week that the European Commission spread the message to young internet users to 'Think before you post', it emerges one older internaut within the commission itself could have done with the same advice.

Fast starting to do the rounds of European Commission email inboxes, BM's included, is the publicly-accessible profile of one high-placed Brussels aide on a well-known social networking site.

While the senior official has not used his own name, the person on the profile is identifiably him, and hosts a startling gallery of shots depicting him in various stages of undress, baring the physique of which he is clearly quite proud.

Most distressing is the photo of the commission advisor sporting nothing but a strategically-placed baseball cap and a wry grin.

For reasons of taste, BM has chosen not to republish the images or identify the cabinet official in question. Indeed, you could say that the 'Monster 'thought before it posted'...

How apt, however, that this Tuesday, on the occasion of Safer Internet Day, EU commissioner Viviane Reding was preaching of the risks of uploading ill-advised images.

Publishing personal information or pictures, she warned, "may lead to embarrassing or even traumatic situations."

"Young people do not always realize the risk that online images and videos may circulate beyond their control and knowledge."

Nor, it seems, do older people.

And as the incoming team of commissioners heralds a shake-up in the teams of cabinet advisors that work for them, this final warning note from Reding carries extra piquancy for at least one internet user in the uppest echelons of Eurocracy:

"Posting photos from what may have been an unforgettably fun moment may have future unintended consequences such as the way a potential employer will consider job applications."

(That said, the publication of revealing photos never did Verheugen any harm...)

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Mrs Robinson, eat your heart out

Source: Berlaymonster

Europe's new climate change commissioner appears to engaging in one-upwomanship with scandal-stricken Iris Robinson.

One toyboy was all the northern Irish MP would consider.

But then Denmark's Connie Hedegaard went before euro-MPs late last week in a committee hearing about her appointment to the European Commission.

Asked about her eco-credentials, the incoming commissioner said her criteria for buying a new fuel-efficient car was one in which it was "possible you can have two teenage boys in the back." (No, really. See here and ffw to 1h37m)

These Danes, so disconcertingly frank.

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Telecoms companies' new nemesis: The Riddler

Source: Berlaymonster

Neelie Kroes has garnered a reputation over five years as a tough European antitrust regulator, taking on big companies for running cartels or for stomping on smaller rivals.

She also, however, is known for her often tortured public speaking (see one fine typical example here).

Today she did little to dispell that reputation, in a three-hour Q&A with euro-MPs over her new job as telecoms commissioner.

Her answers sounded often as though a box of magnetic telecoms and political buzzwords had been thrown at a fridge, along with another box made up exclusively of tiles bearing the meaningless "so-to-say" (or 'sho-to-shay' in her trademark Dutch drawl).

As if to cement this reknown for speaking in riddles, she also chose to sport a large sparkling brooch in the form of a question mark.

Telecoms companies beware, there's somebody new drafting your regulations - and you may not understand them ...

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Gordon Brown w*****

Source: Berlaymonster

From today's Metrotime, which makes a lot more sense if you don't speak Dutch:

Plus an exclusive bonus for Berlaymonster readers:

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Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

This blog has moved, please update your bookmarks / feeds

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

This blog has moved to its own domain: www.chivacongelado.com , the new RSS feed being at http://feeds2.feedburner.com/chivacongelado . Why? After starting in MySpace (of all places) almost 3 years ago, I moved the blog to Blogger to take advant...

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Monocle does Mexico

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

This month's edition of Monocle, my favourite magazine, has an in-depth survey of Mexico (running at 36 pages) that features the best in current Mexican design, music, literature, business, media, hospitality and gastronomy. It is very refreshing...

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The credit crunch explained

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

Via Alt1040.

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How to hook up your home theatre, Goofy style

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

Can definitely sympathise with Goofy this time.

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Recommended movie: Aavan meren tällä puolen / Kid Svensk / That Special Summer

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

Watched this film last night and really liked it for two reasons: Its portrayal of the immigrant integration challenge: the mother, a low-skilled Finnish immigrant to Gothenburg in Sweden in the 1980's, doesn't speak any Swedish and cannot und...

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Cross-country skiing

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

Snow in Eastern Finland Originally uploaded by Chiva Congelado After I moved to Finland, one of the things I learned to love was cross-country skiing, so when I was a student and was awarded a small stipend for school achievement, I us...

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Working with interesting people

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

My work, of which I usually don't talk about in this blog, can sometimes be great, sometimes frustrating but in the end one of the things that makes it worthwhile is the people. To have an idea, you can check some of their public blogs: erkkol...

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Suosittelen tätä meksikolaista ruokakirjaa

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

Suosittelen tätä meksikolaista ruokakirjaa Originally uploaded by Chiva Congelado Monta kertaa olen sanonut että Suomessa ei saa hyvää, aitoa meksikolaista, vaan texmexiä. Kun ei täällä ole laatuisia meksikolasia ravintoloja, ...

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Winter

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

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Déjà vu

Source: Try Not. Do or do not. There is no try.

A man without an abundant experience in politics, a man very different from his predecessors and one of whose parents had been born abroad, runs for the presidency of his country through a grassroots movement, great oratory and the promise of chan...

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Kim Bah Lee

The Vatican is curious

Source: Kim Bah Lee

Who’s been searching for “billboard malta pedobear hitler“? Was it you, Your Holiness?

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Does a pedobear shit in the woods?

Source: Kim Bah Lee

Pope to visit Malta. Pope picture artfully adorned by alternative welcoming committee. The Curia responds: The “acts of vandalism on billboards of the papal visit appeared to be the work of elements who, for their own reasons, decided that they were in a position to judge.” That’ll show them.

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Malta at the Eurovision 2010

Source: Kim Bah Lee

Really not sure about this one. Thea Garrett sings “My Dream”, which is remarkable only for the seagull reference. Good voice. Terrible song. Nul points. Click here for a full illustrated history of Malta in the Eurovision Song Contest.

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Redemption Blues

Chaos rocks Belgium

My wallet is gone. Not gone as in "lost" or "misplaced", gone as in "stolen."

I hope that whoever took it did not just abandon it in a trash can somewhere near the metro station. No, I sincerely hope that they are enjoying running their fingers over the well-worn leather, smooth and supple after years of use.

I hope they recognize that this wallet is not only a designer wallet, but it is "vintage", as it is over 15 years old and no longer available for purchase.

I hope that they are going through all the plastic cards, wondering what in the hell is a "pets perk" card.

I hope that they are looking at the pictures of my nephews and are commenting on how adorable they are.

I hope that they take the measly 80 some-odd euros that I had in it and buy themselves something special. Or, ever better, treat someone they love to lunch or a cocktail.

I hope that they go to Paris and get some use out of the Paris metro tickets stored behind my organ donor card.

I hope that no one ever takes this wallet away from them!

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Mind the Crack

Source: The Belgian Years

If you've ever ridden the London tube (that's the metro or subway for all us non-Brits), you have probably seen the sign above the door that reads "Mind the Gap." Again, for the non-Brits, that translates, roughly, to "Watch Your Step."

Last week, Joni and Jason, some friends of ours from SoCal, along with their 10-month old daughter, came to visit us in Brussels via London. We made plans to meet some of my friends for lunch near Schuman, so I suggested we take the metro. Seriously, what kind of tour guide would I be without exposing my guests to the workings and smells of the underground? Besides, I wanted them to experience just how different Brussels' underground was compared to London's.

For reasons not important to this story, we got on the metro at the Gare du Midi, which meant that we had to change lines at Arts Loi and then we would have only two stops before our destination. All things considered, and by that, I mean, given that we were riding the subway and Jason was carrying his daughter in some sort of contraption on his back that protruded out a good foot and a half and he had yet to cold-cock someone while turning, we had a pretty smooth experience -- until Joni smelled smoke.

When we got on the new line at Arts Loi, Joni looked at me and asked, "Can you smoke in here?" I looked around and, sure enough, there was a woman, seated about 5 feet from where I was standing and, more importantly, seated directly next to the little sign indicating smoking is not allowed in the metro, thoroughly enjoying herself a cigarette.

The Smoking Lady saw me at about the same time I saw her. Rather good-naturedly, I wagged my finger at her in a "that's a no-no" sort of way, and BAM, cardinal rule violated. How many times have I said that you are never to engage the crazies? Well, let me tell you, finger-wagging at a crazy person is like a waving a red cape to a bull. I know this now. Do with it what you will.

Smoking lady started smiling in that raging psychotic nutjob sort of way, accentuated by tell-tale crazed serial killer eye rolls. And, it seemed, I had her undivided attention. She took a long pull on her cigarette and threw it down at her feet, still very much lit, in the poorly-ventilated train. Part of me knew, just knew, that nothing good was going to come of this. Call it want you want, mojo, intuition, experience, whatever, but I could just sense a bloggable event coming on.

As we approached the Schuman stop, I inched forward, gesturing for Joni and Jason to follow me, so that we would be ready to make a quick exit when the doors opened. Smoking Lady beat us to the punch. When the train stopped, Smoking Lady was in the middle of the train doorway, fidgeting with her skirt. I was trying to figure out the least intrusive way of reaching around her and pushing the little green button that would open the doors, when she hit the release button and solved my problems for me.

Since no one was waiting to board, I figured Smoking Lady would step off the train and head straight. My plan was to step off and make a quick right, hoping Joni and Jason would follow my lead.

Well, you know what they say about the plans of mice and men. Smoking Lady threw me a curve when she stepped straight off the train and then IMMEDIATELY hiked up her skirt and started using the bathroom! At this point, I am directly behind her, with one front on the metro and one foot on the platform, caught between the soon to be closing metro doors and her bare ass, trying not to stumble over her, or, worse, step into anything that came from her general direction.

Backing up was out of the question as I would have run into Joni, who would have run into Jason, who would rammed their baby into whoever was standing behind Jason. With the metro about to depart the station, I edged right and prayed that Joni and Jason would follow. If not, they were screwed, as they had never been in the metro before, did not have a cell phone on them, did not speak French or Flemish, and had no idea where we lived. Basically, your standard tourist nightmare if the guide decides to adopt a "you are on your own" mentality.

Miraculously, we all made it off the train without the baby getting caught between the closing doors and without tumbling over Smoking Lady. Once we were clear of the Smoking Lady, Joni looked at me, kind of dazed, and said, "You know, I always thought you were exaggerating in your blog about crazy things that happen to you over here, but not anymore."

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Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

Rue Jourdan – Pre movie post shopping food street

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

The Rue Jourdan is one of the places to be when you’re looking for a cozy street full of nice resto terraces in the Louiza Area. Located close to movie theatres UGC Toison d’Or and Vendôme (check the Vendôme article) makes it a good spot for a pre-movie dinner. Italians are well represented in this street, Al Piccolo [...]

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Amadeo – Most charming ribs in town

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

You’re hungry as a bear or eager to score a meat overdose? Head for the best rib thing in town, Amadeo. To tell you a little secret, I personally don’t like spare ribs at all, but when asked to accompany friends or family to this charming all-you-can-eat rib place I don’t have to hesitate a [...]

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Rugantino – Buon appetito!

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

There are many good Italian restaurants in Brussels, one that I can recommend in the city centre is Rugantino. Whether you are looking for a pizza, pasta, risotto or carne, Rugantino has it all. But it’s not only the food that counts, the reason why I fancy this place is more than the food the [...]

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Tapas Locas – Food fiesta

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

Alright, it’s Saturday evening and you’re going out with a group of friends, you are hungry and longing for great food…but no one thought about making a reservation… Only a couple of steps away from the Grand Place there is already a solution to your problem, in Tapas Locas you simply cannot make reservations at [...]

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La maison des Crêpes – Pancake party

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

Looking for a tasty crêpe and don’t have time to go to Brittany or Normandy? We Belgians like pancakes too. The sweet ones are the most popular and widespread, most brasseries offer sweet pancakes as a dessert and it is a typical treat at children’s birthday parties. Pancakes with savory fillings are a little harder [...]

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Café Gecko – Sweet and Lowdown at Sint Goriks

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

A nice bar where it is great to sit quietly on the weekend. It is a fairly small bar in the center. It has a large terrace that is heated in Winter. It is located near the trendy bars in Brussels not far from the Bourse. There is an eighteenth century church in front where [...]

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Kokob Ethiopian restaurant – Food in art scene

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

This Ethiopian restaurant also happens to be a exposition venue, bar and concert place. It serves traditional Ethiopian dishes served with injera, the bread like pancake that serves as an edible plate. You can choose between fish, meat (chicken, beef, lamb) and vegetarian. Next to this there is a large variety of salads to accompany [...]

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Sun Wah – Brussel’s Asian temple of delights

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

You can’t miss this temple of Chinese goods. The astonishing view will beg you to come in for a visit. At the entrance of Brussels’ small Chinatown, the Sun Wah is the only Chinese mega store in Brussels. Visiting this magnificent building is a must for adventurous food loving world citizens. Admitted the one in [...]

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Passa Porta – Linguistic gatherings

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

Emblematic of Brussel’s rich and vibrant cultural life is Passa Porta, the international house of literature. A fine and desperately needed meeting place where various language lovers get together to learn and enjoy all things related to semantic creativity. This place is an important link that assembles philosophers, writers and an interested public of various [...]

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Turkish Pizza street – Pizza revisited…

Source: Brussels (Belgium) Local To Do Tips | Spotted by Locals blogs

When hungry one should go to the street known for its Turkish pizza restaurants for lunch or dinner. The Haachtsesteenweg, at Saint-Josse, near the Botanique, has a lot of Turkish run pizzeria’s. The lights are bright, the staff is quick and the pizza’s are one of the best in the area. Another good one is [...]

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Life in and around Brussels...

Brussels flower carpet

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

Save the date: next weekend, the Grand Place will be covered by its famous flower carpet. You have three days only to see this beautiful exhibit that covers the city’s main square every two years. The festivities will start in the evening of August 12 (by invitation only, except for the fireworks, which start at [...]

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Shops open Sunday

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

A lot of retail shops in Brussels will be open this Sunday to allow shoppers to lighten up their wallets during the first weekend of the summer sales. Check directly with individual stores (you never know here…) but usually all big shopping malls are open, as are department stores (Inno) and most of the larger [...]

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Free classical concert Friday, 25 June

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

Yes, there is a free classical music concert this Friday, 25 June. On the program: Verdi’s Requiem. The catch? It’s in Charleroi… (at the Palais des Beaux-Arts). The show is free, but you still need to make a reservation at 071/31.12.12. You can also call that number for more information, or check the official announcement.

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Thalys to Paris one-way EUR 22

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

Only until this Friday! Thalys has a special offer this week for tickets to Paris for just 22 euro each way. You only have four days to book your tickets (last day is June 4, 2010), but you can travel anytime between July 5 and August 27 (provided you find tickets at that special rate [...]

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Learn how to tango in a week

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

…well, at least the basics! If you’re looking for something to do this summer, why not consider taking a week-long basic tango course? There is a course in July and another one in August, offered by what is reputed to be one of the best Argentine tango schools in town, particularly for beginners. The course [...]

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Try Ebisu for a sushi-free Japanese meal

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

Looking for a new type of Japanese restaurant in town? Try Ebisu, a small restaurant (we’re talking 6 tables for two – outdoors) right off Place Flagey (rue de Vergnies 37, 1050 Brussels) that prides itself in not serving any sushi or sashimi and just having a few homemade-style dishes on its menu… Ebisu is [...]

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Culinaria – 16 Michelin chefs in Brussels

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

From 3 to 6 June 2010, the Culinaria 2 (read Culinaria squared) event will take place at the cool and classy Tour et Taxis venue in Brussels. The event will gather 16 Michelin-starred chefs who account for a total of 26 Michelin stars (in Belgium). How it works and what happens: You buy a passport [...]

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Thalys to Germany: 19 euros for 2 people

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

Thalys has a special “Happy Hour” sale good until Friday, 23 April. You pay for one ticket and you get the second one (same train) for your travel companion for free. That means you pay 19 euros each way for two people in 2nd class (29 euros in 1st class). This offer is good for [...]

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Free travel guides for iPhone users

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

If you have an iPhone or iPod Touch, don’t miss the special offer from Lonely Planet: up to Thursday, April 22 you can download 13 of their city guides for free through the app store (regular price is almost $16 per guide). More info on the NY Times blog: http://intransit.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/04/19/travel-deals-free-lonely-planet-app

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Changing time end March

Source: Life in and around Brussels...

In two weeks, we will be changing back to summer time (daylight savings time). The exact date will be Sunday, 28 March 2010, at 02:00 Brussels time. What does it mean? In the morning from Saturday to Sunday night, at 2am you will have to change your clocks and watches forward to 3am. And remember [...]

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Unintentional Housewife

Déjeuner à Bruxelles

Source: Unintentional Housewife

Our scene: a typical Belgian brasserie–lovely stained glass, art deco interiors, chalkboard announcing the day’s specials, a hungry lunch crowd. Please note that the following scene takes place entirely en français. English translation has been provided. Our actors: Mindi, her fabulous friend and a waitress. Aaaaaaand, Action! Waitress: ”Tell me.” (translation: Hi, may I take your [...]

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L’Automne

Source: Unintentional Housewife

Bonjour, tout le monde! I seem to be accomplishing one post per month (and October is almost up), Dan said he would take my blog away from me if I didn’t use it, and I think I’m addicted to procrastinating (I may need an intervention), so time to write an update! Cyclocross season has begun! We primarily [...]

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Joyeux Anniversaire!

Source: Unintentional Housewife

Today is Dan’s 30th birthday, hooray! Happy Birthday! My mom lovingly asked me if I was a cougar since I am the older woman (by 1 year). No, but thanks for placing me in the company of such luminaries as Ivana Trump and Joan Collins, mom. Anyhoo, I made Dan’s favorite childhood cake, a molasses-spice-coffee [...]

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Julliet

Source: Unintentional Housewife

Salut from sunny Brussels–noteworthy because a) Belgium is known for rain, rain, beer, chocolate, rain and a peeing boy and b) it is 9pm and the sun will be out for at least another 1 1/2 hours. The sun rises here around 5:30 am and sets around 10:30 pm, awesome for evening bike rides for [...]

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Je suis en vie

Source: Unintentional Housewife

My apologies for the seriously pitiful lack of updates. It’s been super busy ’round these parts the past couple months–my brother Sam and his fiancée Libby, my mother, and Dan’s sister Kara have all been here for visits; Dan went to Finland; and we’ve been to Germany, the Netherlands, France and to 8 states and 3 graduations [...]

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Printemps

Source: Unintentional Housewife

Do you want the good news or the bad news first? I’ll start with the good–spring is definitely coming to Belgium! How do I know this? The bad–I am apparently allergic to Belgium. Time to fill the prescription for the hard core allergy medication, the over-the-counter stuff ain’t cutting it anymore. But, flowers are coming [...]

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Je suis d’apprentissage

Source: Unintentional Housewife

One of my goals for this moving to Europe business was to become a better cook. I knew I would have a lot more time on my hands (the upside of the whole not really being employed thing), and I wanted to take advantage of it. I never really cooked until I met Dan. I [...]

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Cinq au hasard des choses sur Bruxelles

Source: Unintentional Housewife

Dan and I have been living in Brussels for over 6 months now, so I think it’s time for a list of random things we’ve learned about living here. 1. The official languages of Belgium are French, Dutch and German (which is only spoken in a small corner of Belgium). But the country is culturally and [...]

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J’ai mangè trop. Quelle surprise.

Source: Unintentional Housewife

Bonjour from beautiful Brussels! Friday it was 50 degrees, sunny, and breezy. Not that I’m rubbing it in. I can’t help but think about the weather in our former home, Portsmouth, NH, where it was probably 20 degrees with 2 feet of snow on the ground. Sorry New Hampshire, Belgium wins! Ok, now I’m rubbing [...]

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Vingt-six

Source: Unintentional Housewife

Today is my little brother’s golden birthday–he’s turning 26 on the 26th–happy birthday Sam! If he ever decides to start a blog, I’m sure he could fill it with horror stories about me as a big sister (hey Sam–remember when I used to sit on you? That was fun! Or, remember the time I bowled [...]

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Brussels Sprout

Spontaneous Thai Excursion

Source: Brussels Sprout

We're in the midst of moving madness, which has also meant a barrage of farewell dinners, often at our favorite haunts. But when one of those, Nea Genia, was closed, we needed a new plan. Fortunately our dining partner for that evening lives in the area and immediately thought of Tchin Tchin Thai. It was a lucky night.

The area around Chatelain is always hopping with restaurants and the Tuesday we were there was no exception. We arrived around 9 and got one of the few remaining tables. The menu was pretty standard and we had some of our usual vegetarian suspects: loempias with dipping sauce, and hearty helpings of curry tofu. I opted for red curry, which was delightfully spicy and full of cooked (but not soft) vegetables.

There seemed to only be one server for the room, which meant it was rather hard to get his attention, but we weren't in a particular rush - and the food was served quickly once we managed to place our order. It was a comfortable setting, tasty food, and clearly a popular destination. I'm only sorry to have discovered it just before leaving!

Tchin Tchin Thai

Rue Americaine 89

1050 Ixelles

Tel. 02 435 0073

No website (as far as I can tell)

Closed Saturday lunch & Sundays. Reservations might not be a bad idea, particularly on weekend nights.

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In the Element

Source: Brussels Sprout

I'm both excited and sorry to say that my husband and I are moving back to the U.S. at the end of this summer. It's a new adventure - and hopefully a continued adventure in eating - but it's sad to say farewell to Brussels. What it does mean is that I've got a month of farewell dinners coming up in the next few weeks, which is great for my belly, but may not provide a lot of blog material, between the home-cooked meals and visits to many of the old favorites before we go.

One of those old favorites was L'Element Terre, which we visited last week on our farewell tour. This is one of Brussels' vegetarian restaurants, in the sense that they serve scampi. But they also offer plenty of "real" vegetarian options, based on a round-the-world theme.

Each dish first notes the country that it hearkens from. Their appetizers come in normal or "tapas" size portions, so we opted for three tapas for the four of us: Moroccan chick-pea-and-lentil-based "merguez", beautifully spiced and accented with chopped tomato and coriander; Ceylan's vegetable pakoras, which I would have called tempura, served with a pineapple-and-cinnamon chutney - a lovely flavor but not necessarily lovely with the tempura; and a Lebanese smokey baba ganoush served with the requisite pita.

My African vegetable and heavily-peppered-tofu skewers were topped with a chunky and spicy peanut sauce, served up with a pot of rice and some fried bananas. All yum although the tofu really had too much pepper. Around the table we had Moroccan tajine, again with aromatic spices and a bit of heat (a side of harissa or other hot sauce would have done well); a smooth and rich Indian chick-pea stew; and Italian vegetable strips wrapped around cheesy peppery stuffing. We had arrived hungry but by this point were happy and at the perfect point of well-fed-ness, with cleaned plates in front of us and enough room left for dessert.

Three of four dessert options involved chocolate, plus one fruit-based (cherries). We had one slice of chocolate-hazelnut torte, and another of white chocolate torte. The latter was based more on a sort of rice-pudding flavor although the white chocolate was present but not strongly enough for me, a great lover of rich white chocolate desserts. The choco-nut choice was nice, with a drier consistency and not too much sweetness. Espressos and fresh mint teas made for an excellent accompaniment.

The weather obliged so we sat in their garden, a nice, quiet and small area with tall bamboo and a cherry-plum crossbreed tree next to us. The indoors is also quaint with wood paneling and touches of red.

L'Element Terre is strong on presentation, and almost every dish is accented with a piece of fresh fruit - at least it was at this summertime meal. It's a feast for the eyes and the mouth, great for a nice and relaxing night out.

L'Element Terre

Chaussee de Waterloo 465

1050 Ixelles

Tel. 02 649 32 27

Closed Sundays and Mondays; reservations generally a good idea, particularly for garden seating in the summer

http://www.resto.com/lelementterre/

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Soul food

Source: Brussels Sprout

We ended up at Soul last Sunday night, and although the experience was lovely and the food tasty, you really need some context first:

For one, I had been trying to go to Soul for about two years. The problem is that they are only open from Wednesday to Sunday and for some reason every time I thought of going there, it was Monday or Tuesday. Or New Years. Or summer holidays. Whatever the case, our schedules could not align themselves.

Second, I had just written up Restaurant Week for Flanders Today (article here), a Diningcity.com initiative whereby restaurants offer a three-course meal for 27 EUR. Soul was among the offerings. It was destiny.

Lastly, we were in Iceland on vacation until about 4 hours before the end of Restaurant Week. So it was Sunday night or bust. Also, having researched Icelandic food ahead of our trip and seeing that rotten shark and pickled testicles were among the culinary pleasures of our vacation destination, I figured a meal at a semi-vegetarian restaurant might be a light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel sort of thing. (We did eat fish pretty much non-stop for 10 days and hardly saw a fresh vegetable all week - and the fish was great.)

So after years of preparation, articles written, and Iceland conquered, we found ourselves sitting in Soul last Sunday, exhausted and vegetable-deprived. Soul delivered.

As we were there for the Restaurant Week gig, we did not get to choose our menu. Apparently most Restaurant Week diners got fish in their menus but we had specified vegetarian, which they were happy to accommodate.

We started with a tower of beet slices, delicately cooked aubergine slices, and creamy cottage cheese. It was simple, beautiful, fresh, and delicious.

For our main course, we received a substantial serving of spiced lentils with bites of carrot and pumpkin, topped with three large chunks of tangy feta cheese, and surrounded by a half-dozen "falafel" balls. Although these were recognizable as falafel, they were only lightly fried, and the batter had grated carrot and various non-falafely spices mixed in. It was chic falafel, and we enjoyed it - I just don't want you thinking of your local halal shwarma bar when you envision this falafel.

Our dessert was poached pears with a bit of caramel sauce, just the light ending I needed. All in all, I don't think we scored any savings by going via Restaurant Week, which to me means that their menu is a bit overpriced, but I'm sure part of that can be chalked up to the setting.

Soul is a quiet and cute space steps away from the Sablon. Bare bulbs decorate the ceiling (they were kept quite dim but I assume in darker months the electric lighting is stronger). I felt super trendy and cozy eating there, and it definitely seemed that most of the other diners were there on date night.

Although we didn't get to choose, I still asked to see the menu. Soul offers a number of themed menus that do not appear on their website - there's menus tailored for pregnancy, for detoxing, and for various other states of mind and body. I'm not so into homeopathy, but I can at least verify that the dishes sound tasty. Their menu is also very vegetarian friendly. They call themselves a "bio organic fusion" restaurant; I just call it yummy.

Soul

Rue de la Samaritaine 20

Brussels 1000

Tel.: 02 513 52 13

Open for lunch Wed-Fri; open for dinner Wed-Sun. Reservations recommended.

http://www.soulresto.com

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One can never have too many cupcakes

Source: Brussels Sprout

If you build it, cupcakes will come: here I was, innocently blogging my way along, and before I know it, a cupcake baker reads this blog and wants to bake me cupcakes. Is this the good life, or what?

The baker is Ashley, the North Carolinian behind ilovecake.be, an online bakery. After some serious negotiations, I decided that my cupcake of choice would be her red velvet - a varietal from the U.S. South, it features chocolatey flavor and bright red cake. As Ashley strives to use organic ingredients wherever possible, her red coloring is not as vibrant as the deep, dark red I have come to expect in America - but the flavor certainly wasn't compromised.

She only bakes by the dozen, so I ended up with six featuring cream-cheese frosting and six with vanilla cream frosting. The vanilla went much better with the red velvet, but the cream-cheese was both creamy and light, and I imagine quite tasty with other cake flavors that can match its slight tartness.

For a bit of diversity, I also got to sample a couple of other flavors in mini-cupcake mode: the chocolate cake was divine, two thumbs up there. We also tried her strawberry polenta, with real strawberries baked in, balancing well with the grainy, corny polenta. A combination I couldn't have imagined before, but I certainly recommend.

You'll find her list of standard flavors on the website, with seasonal options, too. She can also accommodate special requests, and bakes non-cupcake delicacies as well. While she hopes to open a cafe eventually, she's currently baking to order, so advance notice and larger orders are necessary. A dozen will run you 25 EUR (to pick up) or 30 EUR with delivery. Perhaps not so practical to satisfy any old craving, but a great bonus for a special occasion.

ilovecake

Online only (for now) at www.ilovecake.be

Orders must be placed at least 48 hours in advance

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A Thai-Viet quickie

Source: Brussels Sprout

My husband introduced me to Saigon Bangkok. It’s around the corner from his office and seemed like a logical place to go before a dance performance at the Cirque Royal. His only warning was that his lunch experiences there did not feature quick service. And my pre-theater dinners are notorious for anxiety and clock-checking every 3 minutes.

So our first question when we sat down was: “we have to leave in 1 hour. Do we have time for a starter and a main course?” Answer: yes. When I then ordered the fried vegetarian rolls, I was helpfully informed by the waitress that the (cold) spring rolls would come out faster, since we were in a rush. Advice most appreciated for its relevance, and accuracy.

On to mains. Diversity in vegetarian fare is not Saigon Bangkok’s strong suit. We both took the tofu with curry – red for me, and the spicier green for Gidon. There’s also a non-spicy option of vegetables and tofu, and basically that’s it for their vegetarian mains. That said, both curries were delicious. The green packed a respectable punch, and even the red was spicy enough.

In, out, fed and happy: 55 minutes. Score!

Saigon Bangkok
Rue de la Pacification 36
1210 Saint-Josse-ten-Noode
Tel. 02 280 0475
http://www.saigon-bangkok.be/
Open lunch and dinner, Mon-Sat (closed for Sat lunch and all day Sunday)

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Aperitifs, Antipasti and Books, oh my!

Source: Brussels Sprout

If you are a stagiaire, are friends with a stagiaire, or have ever spoken to a stagiaire, you have probably heard of Piola Libri. It's a bookshop by day, hopping wine bar for stagiaires (and others) by night.

Not being a stagiaire myself, my radar did identify a few fellow non-stagiaires present at Piola Libri, so all should feel welcome here. In fact, I might even say all should feel obligated to try it out - it's tasty food and easy-drinking wine at a great price.

First, the wines. Five reds, four whites, a rose and two sparkling varieties were on offer during my visit; each glass will run you four or five euros. The wines I tried - a sweet sparkling muscat and a semi-dry white - were not the most complicated flavors, but they were pleasant, and in this busy setting, I was hardly looking for something overly sophisticated.

Here's the bonus: their antipasti bar (free with your wine) features an amazing selection of fantastic vegetarian munchies. Sun-dried tomatoes, olives, potatoes roasted with rosemary, pickled onions, breadsticks, beans, hot peppers and more. It's basically all-you-can-eat - or at least all-you-can-fit-on-a-small-plate (but they don't give you a hard time if you go back for seconds).

Two glasses of wine and two plates of antipasti and I have to admit I didn't even need dinner - my four food groups might not have been accounted for, but for one night, I can let that go. And I can only imagine that the bookstore (filled with Italian books) is worth a visit before 6pm, too. Either way, the books make for a cozy atmosphere, which, by the time we left was standing-room only.

Piola Libri

66-68 rue Franklin

1000 Brussels

Tel. 02 736 9391

http://www.piolalibri.be

Open Monday-Friday for lunch; aperitifs and antipasti from 18h

Get there early.

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Heading Up North

Source: Brussels Sprout

It's been weeks since my last posting - but in my defense, I was on vacation, then there was a volcano delay... and then I was just plain lazy. As if that wasn't bad enough, today's post is a little bit of a cop-out, but I promise there are more postings of new restaurants coming really soon!

On to today's cuisine: Up North, a Scandinavian restaurant. You'll find my full review in Bite, my Flanders Today weekly column. I did enjoy a lovely meal there - although if you are really vegetarian, this is not the place for you. If you eat fish, however, bon appetit!

The menu is fairly small, with fish featuring prominently, and a few meat dishes. The portions were ample, and the aquavit was refreshing. Scandinavian food features strong flavors, so this is not really a good place for cautious eaters, either. But the food was tasty, the service friendly, and the atmosphere comfortable.

Go here to read my column, and go here to eat:

Up North
Rue des Chapeliers 36
Brussels 1000
Tel. 02 502 77 29
http://www.upnorth.be
Reservations not a bad idea
Open Tues-Sat for lunch and dinner

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Pasta Party

Source: Brussels Sprout

We are now part-way into the Jewish holiday of Passover - 8 breadless days. Modern interpretations actually prohibit anything that could remotely be perceived as "leavened", or even items that might have been physically close to something leavened and therefore could - hypothetically - be contaminated. In short, lately we've been eating a lot of vegetables, fish, and of course the ubiquitous matzah, the unleavened "bread" (i.e. crackers) of the holiday.

But last Sunday, after scouring our kitchen from top to bottom and a day spent cooking special Passover dishes, Gidon and I set out for one last leavened bonanza, or as I like to call it, our "yeast feast". And when it comes to Passover prohibitions, no one does it better than Italy. So we tried out Fratelli la Bufala.

This restaurant is no secret. It's a highly trafficked venue on Rue Americaine, and part of an international, family-run chain, mostly found in Italy but with about a dozen other countries on their franchise list.

And, as you might guess from the name, the focus is on buffalo - its meat, milk, and the cheese made from that milk. To our chagrin, we were informed before ordering that they had had a busy weekend, and by the time of our dining on Sunday night, they had actually run out of the buffalo mozzarella. Given how packed they were on this particular Sunday (and I don't imagine this was a fluke of Jews dining out before Passover), it seems they could do with some better planning in that regard.

So while I can't really discuss the mozzarella with you, I can tell you that we certainly didn't starve and we actually very much enjoyed our mozzarella-less meal. We shared a starter of layers of baked aubergine with tomato and provola - a smoked, smooth cheese with a consistency similar to mozzarella. A great beginning.

I tried to order the gnocchi, served with a buffalo milk ricotta, but unfortunately they were out of that, too. I switched gears to the tortiglioni, in a buffalo cream sauce with zucchini (known to some around here as courgette). The pasta was al dente, the flavors were subtle, we were happy. We also sampled a pizza, which did feature buffalo mozzarella - we checked that when ordering. The crust was chewy and toasty, the toppings were fresh; the happiness continued.

On to dessert: mini cannoli, filled with buffalo ricotta, accented with chocolate. Our neighboring diners were a course ahead of us and when we saw this dessert served to them, our path was clear. A light and lovely ending.

While I was a bit disappointed with the limited menu, I was still pleased with the meal we ended up eating. To top it off, the service was friendly, and the setting was comfortable. At about 30 Euro per person, it was right on par with this trendy neighborhood's dining scene. It's worth a return visit - hopefully next time with some of that mozzarella.

Fratelli la Bufala

Rue Americaine 118

1050 Ixelles

Tel. 02 537 6700

Closed on Mondays

Reservations not a bad idea

http://www.fratellilabufala.com/ (enjoy the "cheesy" video...)

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St Job Soirée

Source: Brussels Sprout

In case you weren't aware, Place St Job is one heck of a dining bonanza. Avenue Jean et Pierre Carsoel, running down the hill into the square, is lined with restaurant after restaurant - every one that I've tried makes for a great night out. Prime restaurant real estate!

Our most recent excursion landed us at La Soeur du Patron. The Uccle/St Job restaurant also has an Auderghem branch, with almost the same menu. I had heard a few positive rumors about this place, so at the end of a long work day, we treated ourselves to a meal.

The interior is quite chic, with red walls, and soft lighting emanating from unusual light fixtures. I have to admit that "real" (i.e. non-fish eating) vegetarians are going to run into some issues here, but if you're fish-friendly (or even better if you're carnivorous), you'll be pleased.

A page of standard Belgian starters was followed by a page of carpaccios. Between the three of us, we were off to a running start with a tuna carpaccio seasoned à la japonaise, scampi croquettes, and a salmon tartare on a bed of taboule. As I said, short on real vegetarian options, although their page of salads looked delectable, with one or two vegetarian choices, and several others probably easily adaptable to a vegetarian palate.

For mains, they offer pastas (mostly with meat or fish), fish choices, plenty of meats, and a page of "world food", again, all with meat or fish. We opted for a lime-glazed salmon, and a perch with yellow pepper coulis (also duck with calvados, mushrooms and apples for my truly non-veggie friend). The fish were both accompanied by nicely seasoned vegetables but the fish themselves were a bit on the bland side.

On to dessert: L'Arabica was delicious although I must admit I did not commit the list of ingredients to memory. Suffice it to say, it involved meringue, mascarpone, chocolate, coffee, and I think some ice cream. Very tasty.

For our second dessert, we couldn't resist their wildest offering: speculoos ice cream with parmesan shavings and balsamic vinegar coulis. Yes, you read that right. Sound weird? It was. The flavors were (obviously) diverse and I was very aware of different taste sensations happening in different parts of my mouth. But the flavors never really came together in a coherent way, making the experience intriguing but not worth repeating.

The bill worked out to about 45 EUR per person, although we paid a bit less after scoring a RestoPass discount. All in all, a nice meal with some adventurous flavors; worth a visit, but not for every day.

La Soeur du Patron

Ave Jean et Pierre Carsoel 5
1180 Uccle
Tel: 02.374.08.80

Chaussée de Wavre 1700
1160 Auderghem
Tel: 02.675.00.92

http://www.lasoeurdupatron.be/

Both locations closed Saturday/Sunday lunchtime

Sunday evenings are complicated - Uccle is open Fall/Winter on Sunday nights, Auderghem in Spring/Summer, at least according to their website. Call ahead in any case, as reservations are a good idea.

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Something pretty in the EU Quarter

Source: Brussels Sprout

Looking back over my blog entries, I see that Italian is the most popular of the various cuisines I've covered here. I find that kind of amusing, because my husband likes to point out that when I'm in charge of making dinner, we end up with something Asian (stir fry, curry) whereas when he's the chef of the night, we end up with something more European (e.g. Italian).

But I can hardly say I have anything against Italian food, and indeed, one restaurant in particular is a lunchtime favorite amidst the boring sandwich shops in the EU Quarter.

Carina means "pretty" in Italian, and seems to be pretty authentic - from the Italian ladies who run the operation, to the beautiful, fresh ingredients.

Vegetarians will find plenty to choose from here. On the cheap/quick side: opt for one of the paninis, displayed in the case at the front of the restaurant, heated up on order. Thick ciabattas, marinated vegetables, and flavorful cheeses - you can't go wrong.

You'll also find their exquisite vegetable plates, featuring fresh and marinated vegetables, usually some lentils or other protein source, and half a ball of fresh mozzarella. The price is a bit steep for a plate of vegetables (around 9 EUR) but I occasionally indulge myself in this treat nonetheless.

Salads and pastas are also available - last week, I opted for their ravioli in a sage-butter sauce. Rich, but not heavy. Sit down for your meal (instead of partaking in their bustling take-away business) and enjoy fresh foccacia with your order.

I don't often have a lunchtime dessert, but their fresh fruit salad, displayed in the take-away case, is truly a work of art and sometimes proves irresistible.

Carina is a popular lunchtime option, and may even suffer a bit from its success: all those diners make for quite a din - I often have felt like I'm shouting to my tablemates just be heard. A small price to pay for good, fresh food, though.

Carina

Rue de la Science 10

1000 Brussels

Tel. 02 230 81 88

Open lunchtimes Monday to Friday

Reservations recommended

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VeganCowGirl

This VeganCowgirl is Riding Into the Sunset

Source: VeganCowGirl

I am tucked into our bedroom, with Kevin and Aodhan's laughter keeping me company from the other room. This soundtrack to my writing underlines my need to shift blogging gears. I admit that the minutes I steal, when Aodhan has fallen asleep next to me in our family bed, are spent reading blogs about Attachment Parenting, Extended Breastfeeding and how to be a Crunchier Mommy. It isn't that I don't terribly miss Jessy's great bread recipes or reading about Liz's Montreal vegan adventures. I do, I do. It is just that there are only so many compartments in this mama's head and only so many seconds (yes, seconds, not minutes or hours) that I can borrow from Aodhan's needs to satisfy my reading pleasure.

I am ready to move on. I am ready to join the lactating sister wonderland and start writing about my own experiences as a full-on attached gentle mama, and the politics that I see whizing all around parenting.

I will miss blogging as a VeganCowGirl, but I plan to let a sparkle of her live on as I share the odd recipe on my new blog, where I will write about everything from how to get poop out of your cloth diapers to what it feels like to nurse through having a milk blister on the end of your nipple (for the fifth friggin' time).

I love the readers of VCG. You have been awesome and supported me through losing my family dog, finding out (with shock and some horror) about Aodhan. You have been great! And, of course, when I have time I will be reading and trying all of your recipes. This has been a great circle of writers and cooks to be a part of.

If you are interested in reading my new blog just drop me an email and I will be happy to share my new link.

Be well and veganny!
Lyndsay

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Just one of the reasons why I love Kevin....

Source: VeganCowGirl

Lyndsay: Hmmmm, I really have a craving for cake.

Kevin: What kind?

Lyndsay: Peanut Butter and Chocolate Brownie.

Kevin:

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Feeling Saucy

Source: VeganCowGirl

I am feeling a little saucy! Mostly because I can’t get enough of the apple sauce we keep making….I mean it. We keep making it. Every three days I run out and Kevin goes to one of the various local markets (ok, there are some things I love about Brussels), and picks up more local Belgian apples and away we go again.

It is so dead easy. Take 7 – 8 apples, core them, cut them into fours, and into the big pot they go. We add about two teaspoons of cinnamon and just enough water to stop it burning on the bottom (about 1/2 cup), and then we leave it alone for about 2 hours. Seriously – divine. No sugar, no nothing, just pure apple goodness.

I am also feeling a little saucy because I quit my job! Yes, yes, yes. I quit. I wasn’t really keen on the idea of going back to work after my year leave was up, even before Aodhan was born. But, now that he is here and we are full on with the Attachment Parenting, I can’t imagine not being with him through all the stages and changes that his childhood will bring him. Of course I am a privileged mamma who has that as an option and thank bejebus everyday for having a partner who supports this type of childcare and family love.

But the good stuff doesn’t stop there. I was thinking that even though I wouldn’t be returning to classroom, I still want to be busy and keep growing while I help mini-me grow. I was contemplating my PhD studies, I was thinking about a bunch of different things, but what really drew me was the idea of becoming a doula…and that is exactly what I have started to do. I am training through Childbirth International and I should be all trained up and ready to help babies come into the world by the time we make our next move (oh yah, we are hopefully moving….back to Canada!) in July. I really couldn’t be more excited…or sauced as the case may be

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Raw Rolls

Source: VeganCowGirl

I know I should be doing something like cleaning up the kitchen (aka: bombsite), making creative flower arrangements with photos like the one I saw at playgroup yesterday that made me feel like a loser for not even having time to sort my socks from my undies, or, doing some reading about parenting that might have held a magical secret for dealing with my 7 month old who had a meltdown during our walk today that resulted in my pulling out my boob in the middle of the street in -4 degree weather. But no....instead, as Aodhan munches on his monkey, I am blogging! Yah!

I made a killer lunch today. Really raw avocado rolls. Not just raw veg, but raw EVERYTHING. These rice-free, protein packed sushi rolls were a perfect 'get me through the rest of the day until Kevin comes home' kind of snack. And, so much more easy to assemble then their rice filled brother.

Seriously - you have to make these. Go and do it right now. Go!

2 cups of raw sunflower seeds - soaked for 1 hour.
1 lime
2 sheets of nori
1 ripe avocado

I whirled up my seeds and lime in my food processor (much to Aodhan's horror), and then simply used this seedi-goodness in place of rice filler for my rolls. It took me all of two seconds to assemble the avocado rolls and about 2 minutes to down them! Num Num!

And...as you can see - they were fun for the whole family!

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Food for Love

Source: VeganCowGirl

It all starts with that first Mother's Day breakfast you make. You know the one - Relish and Applesauce Pancakes or something equally revolting that your sleepy mother manages to ingest (or hide) because you are standing at the end of the bed smiling a sloppy smile. As foodies, many of us use our kitchen skills (wackiness), to show affection, love, and thanks. First date dinners, birthday cakes, get-well-soon soups, the list is endless, right?

Yesterday, I made a special batch of cookies for someone who I love very much. She is one of those special lights in the world. You know who I am talking about. They always have bandaids, they know what teas are good for a cold, their purses are likely to have just about anything in them that would help someone in need. These people are also often unaware of their seam bursting goodness and go about life doing good just because of who they are. I was lucky enough to have this person around me while I was pregnant, and she was pivotal in getting me through that time in a country other then my own while missing my own family in a huge way. She has stayed close to Aodhan and I and we are lucky to have visits with her about once a month. Lately there have been (and will be) some new babies born amoungst our community of international friends and she has been right there with these women - supporting, helping and loving. She is a super star and I just love her to bits.

Knowing that we were going to see her today, I made a new cookie so that I could pass some goodness onto someone who does so much for everyone around her. I made Ginger Spice Cookies. Now, these weren't Ginger Snaps - they were Ginger Cookies, retaining all the cookieness that seems to get lost for the sake of snappiness. I have to say, they were pretty darn good, and they should be considering all the love that was packed in them. I hope she is at home right now enjoying a cup of tea and a cookie or two. Here's to you Anne!

Ginger Cookies
(for Anne)
2 cups of whole wheat flour
1 tsp of baking soda
1 tsp of baking powder

1 cup of maple syrup
1/2 cup of olive oil
3 tbsp of freshly grated ginger

Mix dry ingredients in a bowl, add wet and stir until just mixed. I used a big soup spoon to capture a good chunk of the dough and then used my mitts to form little hockey puck sized patties. I baked at 350 for 17 minutes.

Aodhan turned 7 months today!!
Wishing everyone cookies and happiness for their weekend to come.

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Green Smoothie and Sweet Potato Shepherd's Pie

Source: VeganCowGirl

Good Morning!
Aodhan and I enjoyed a fantastic green smoothie this morning. Super simple combo of spinach, 1/2 a pear, banana and a tbsp of chia seeds. Double yum!

On Tuesday night I converted last month's Vegetarian Times' Shepherd's Pie into my own concoction and it was great! I loved it and will make it again for sure. Here is what I put in the pie this time around:

1 carrot
2 leeks
1 yellow onion
1 cup of white beans
4 yellow potatoes
2 parsnips

The topping was mega easy to make: dice up a couple of sweet potatoes and mash them to bits after they boil and add it to the top of the insides before tossing it in the oven. I baked it for about 40 minutes and enjoyed with some hot sauce. Num Num!

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Pizza and Pumpkin Pie (Ice Cream!)

Source: VeganCowGirl

We had our usual Sunday Night Pizza Party last night. This was a special one though, because Aodhan got his very own mini pizza. He didn't seem to care too much about what was on his pizza, but was more interested in using the whole wheat crust to help his painful gums. It was a great meal, as usual made by Kevin. He is a pizza pro and spends the entire day getting his veg roasted to perfection before getting started on his dough. What a guy! We also made some really nice Apple Sauce yesterday, which I had for breakie this morning - much to Aodhan's delight.

Tonight's dessert, Pumpkin Pie Ice Cream, which followed a dinner of whole wheat pasta topped with the left over veg from last night, was in one word: heaven. My version of Wheeler's Pumpkin Ice Cream (from Vegan Scoop - great book), sent me into ice cream ecstacy - really. I have never tasted anything quite like it. Visually it looked like, well, baby poop. It smelled just like a pumpkin pie, and it was oh so tasty. Really, I can't recommend enough giving your ice cream maker the luxury of experiencing making this recipe. I could (and just might) eat it all night long.

Well, off to cuddle a feverish baby with hopes that his teeth come through this week and he can have a little relief before which ever milestone he is about to tackle next. Poor little vegan.

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Home Baked Goods

Source: VeganCowGirl

Howdy!
Aodhan and his dad are off to the shop, so I thought I would take a few seconds and give a quick update. The last week has been fantastic, despite teething and crankypants! Aodhan is managing enough non-mommy time that I can actually do things, like: make food, clean the house and shower. I admit it: I have a high-needs baby. He wants to be held all the time, he wants to be cuddled always, and he isn't the kind of baby you can lay down on the floor and let play on his own. But, I am not complaining. He is firmly attached to his mommy, and the theory is that this will help him build confidence and self-esteem. Plus, who would trade in all the cuddles and kisses?

But, it has been nice to see him managing himself a little more. I am so excited to be back in the kitchen at a capacity that goes beyond opening a tin of beans and heating up some potatoes. During the days this week, much in the way of the ACT cleanse, I have been raw. This decision is multi-purpose.
1. I was feeling a little sluggish and blah after all the traveling and visiting of the holidays and the raw goodness helps me feel a little more perky and more like myself.
2. Someone incredibly close to me is experiencing some difficult health barriers right now and having to give up most foodstuffs until tests etc can provide some conclusive answers to a pretty terrible set of symptoms. So, I thought I would stand next to them in a metaphorical way and treat my body with the same kind of love and care as she is currently practicing.
3. I always love having an excuse to make raw Date and Cashew Balls and gorge on them until the sun goes down.

Yum.

The evenings have been some good home cooking! Chickpea Stew, Roasted Brussel Sprouts and Carrots in Miso and Soya, Lentil Soup, and Bread!

I made two giant loaves last night of Herbey Whole Wheaty and they are divine. One is going to my bestie Kim, and the other is going to be gobbled up tonight with some Baked Tofu and Greens. I am also currently freezing some Chocolate Chip Coconut Ice Cream!!!

Chocolate Chip Coconut Ice Cream

1 cup almond milk
2 tbsp arrowroot powder
2 cups coconut milk
2 tbsp cocoa powder
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup chocolate chips

Add the arrowroot to the almond milk and let it sit while you prepare the rest of the ice cream. Throw all of the other ingredients into a medium sized sauce pan and heat until boiling, making sure to whisk occasionally. Once you have a good boil going, and your chips are melted, add your almond milk and arrowroot. Mix and take off the heat. Let this mixture sit for about 30 minutes before tossing it in the fridge for 2 hours. Add to your ice cream maker and follow the instructions (we use one with a built-in freezing mechanism, but the other ones work just as well!)

I am also cooking up another blog, one dedicated to my adventures in attachment parenting - there just isn't enough information out there about the benefits of what makes up attachment parenting, nor are there enough resources. I can't wait for it be ready for sharing!

Well, that's about all from Chez VeganCowGirl.
I hope everyone is happy and healthy!

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The Hungry Little Vegan Caterpillar

Source: VeganCowGirl

It has been decades since my last post. But, no apologies. I am loving mommyhood too much to find the time needed to sink into my blogging. Plus, we have been busy! I do however, have to blog my sister's most amazing tribute to Aodhan's 6 month birthday.

Emily is a stellar cake/cupcake maker, but I wasn't prepared for just how talented she was when she turned Aodhan's favourite book, into the best 1/2 birthday treat EVER.

She used the chocolate cupcake recipe from VCTOTW and the rest was her own inspiration. She was also cool about taking out the sugar and using some maple syrup instead.....

Aodhan loved it. Ok....I LOVED IT!

We are currently enjoying the world of Baby Led Weaning, which involves letting your little make his own way into the world of food. Aodhan can't get enough of anything we offer, including Tofu 'Chicken' Curry Salad, cucumber, rice cakes, peanut butter, hummus - you name it, he'll eat it. He is still 100% a boob man, but I can see that the days will be numbered once he gets his teeth (still NOTHING!) and makes the synaptic connection between hungry belly, chewing and swallowing. Until then he is just enjoying food for the fun of it and learning all about the textures, tastes and smells.

Hope everyone had a very veganny holiday! Happy New Year!

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Vegan MoFo Day Fourteen: Quick Post!

Source: VeganCowGirl

Just a quickie because Kevin and I are enjoying Chinese Take Away!

Hope you are all mofoing it up vegan style!

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Slice of Life

'Passage to Asia' sparks trip down memory lane

Source: Slice of Life

‘A Passage to Asia’ is one of the summer exhibition offerings at the Center for Fine Arts in Brussels, and one definitely worth seeing. I’ll lay my cards on the table from the start and admit that I have a soft spot for Asian decorative arts. I used to work in Singapore and while I was there travelled around the region as much as possible: the Angkor Wat temples in Cambodia and the Buddhist temple of Borobudur in Central Java count among my favourite trips, the Museum of Islamic Art in Kuala Lumpur and the Asian Civilisations Museum in Singapore among my favourite museums.

So as you can imagine, my visit to ‘A Passage to Asia’ was a bit of a trip down memory lane as well as a visual treat. There was also plenty new to learn. I fully recommend getting the audioguide (available in English) as it is full of interesting facts and anecdotes: I learnt that the English word ‘chintz’ derives from the Hindi word ‘chint’ meaning a dotted or painted cloth, that the Mongolian artist Zanabazar has been referred to as the ‘Michelangelo of Asia,’ and that Mary, mother of Jesus, was adopted into the pantheon of Hindu gods as Hindus became acquainted with Christianity in the 15th century.

In fact it is this cultural exchange that forms a common thread through the show, which runs until October to coincide with the Asia-Europe Meeting (ASEM) hosted by Belgium that month. With more than 300 objects on loan from museums across Asia, the exhibition aims to highlight 2,500 years of exchanges between Asia and Europe. It is perhaps unsurprising that early on the project was nicknamed “mission impossible.” While acknowledging that such a vast subject matter cannot be dealt with in depth, the curators Jan Van Alphen and Kenson Kwok are happy to say that “mission impossible” has become reality.

The variety of artefacts on display - ranging from ancient maps to religious manuscripts, travelogues to textiles, bronze drums to ceramic vases - means that the visitor’s curiosity is constantly piqued and, if you’re anything like me, you’ll end up spending hours in the exhibition taking just one more look at this or that Korean ceramic, Indian textile or Balinese drum.

One fascinating theme within the exhibition is ‘Hellenism in Asia,’ where the influence of Alexander the Great’s conquests in Asia is highlighted. A second-century standing Buddha from India illustrates this fusion of Greco and Buddhist forms: on the one hand the Buddha has traditional long earlobes and his hair is piled up in a knot on his head, and on the other the figure wears a toga that shows the contours of the human body and is reminiscent of Greek sculptures.

The last section of the show is dedicated to cargoes recovered from shipwrecks, and includes many ceramics still intact centuries later. As the museum explains, the ships’ cargoes acted as ballast, causing the vessels to fall almost directly to the seabed and resulting in minimal damage to the goods. I can’t claim to have ever stumbled upon any archaeological treasures while scuba diving in Asia, but this part of the exhibition did bring to mind many an enjoyable diving trip in Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand. A wonderful exhibition, wonderful memories.

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Inspired by writers

Source: Slice of Life

I love hearing authors speak about their works, listening to them explain where their inspiration came from, why they chose to approach the subject matter in the way they did and how many pages they discarded along the way. I don’t even need to have read any of the author’s works; what particularly fascinates me is their approach to the creative process and gaining an insight into what makes them tick.

During the last year, Booker Prize winners Ben Okri and A.S. Byatt, as well as Herta Mueller and Gao Xingjian, both winners of the Nobel Prize in Literature, have been among the authors I have heard in Brussels.

So what sticks in my mind? In the case of Mueller, it is the way that writing and research have allowed her to understand what she never understood as a child growing up in totalitarian Romania. It was only later in life that Mueller realised the significance of small details such as the way her mother had peeled a potato with as fine a skin as possible or had taken pleasure in eating; for a woman who had been deported to a work camp, it was important not to waste food and to show that she wasn’t starving.

Mueller said her mother never talked about her experience in the camp and would simply say “I don’t know” when asked questions about it; her daughter wasn’t sure if the memories had been suppressed or if words simply couldn’t express the experience. In her 2009 book Atemschaukel (Everything I Possess I Carry With Me), Mueller explores such memories through the experiences of her late friend Oskar Pastior, who was a similar age to her mother and endured five years in detention.

As for Byatt, what inspired me was her curiosity and her desire to unearth as much as she could about people, objects, events, whatever it may be. Her research for her most recent novel, The Children’s Book, included learning more about the lives of children’s books’ writers, accumulating “heaps of books” about pottery and ceramics, and pursuing her love of decorative arts museums such as the V&A in London.

It was also fascinating to hear her explain how she feels a “deep anxiety” about stealing real lives for literary purposes; what she finds herself doing instead is mixing up so many people that she creates a new person, a bit like a “jigsaw.” Nor does she like to make direct use of events that happen in real life. What she prefers is being alert to repeated patterns, the same thing happening at least twice, because at that moment she realises she has stumbled upon a phenomenon that can be worked into her writing.

If you want to keep an eye out for future authors speaking in Brussels, the best place to look is the Passa Porta website. As for the next author to pass through town, it’s Turkey’s Elif Shafak tomorrow, June 25. Details are on this link. To read an earlier blog entry about Amitav Ghosh, click here.

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Vuil & Glass: powerful performance

Source: Slice of Life

One of the advantages of living in Brussels is how close it is to other European countries, or put more cynically by some, how easy it is to leave the country.

This week I took advantage of this oft-cited fact and, straight after work, drove with a couple of friends to Eindhoven in the Netherlands to see ‘Vuil & Glass,’ a dance performance choreographed to music by Philip Glass arranged for cello octet - a powerful combination that had me mesmerised from beginning to end. It was by far the best dance performance I’ve seen since Nederlands Dans Theater came to Brussels a couple of years ago.

The eight cellists that make up Cello Octet Amsterdam sat side by side high up on a scaffolding on the stage, the seven dancers (there are usually eight, but one was unfortunately injured) moved around the whole stage, including around and under the scaffolding. The modern music and dance complemented each other perfectly.

The first time ‘Vuil & Glas’ was performed a few years ago its venue was a waste disposal station (hence ‘vuil’ – waste – in the title). The revival has been adapted for the theatre, but as the dance company, Conny Janssen Danst, says itself on its website: “Complete with new dancers, new choreography, new costumes, and a new composition – but still with eight cellists, a pile of mattresses, and the hypnotizing, pulsating music of Philip Glass.”

In short, it was 75 minutes of pure joy listening to and watching the musicians and dancers, who performed solos and duets interwoven with composition and choreography for the full ensemble. A double thumbs up from me.

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Chopin and birthdays

Source: Slice of Life

I often tire of hearing that it’s one hundred, or however many hundred, years since the birth or death of this or that composer. Inevitably, these anniversaries serve as excuses for series after series of concerts or related events all focussed on that particular composer, which is all well and good, except that my reaction is often to get fed up with all the publicity before I’ve actually made it to a single performance.

This year is the 200^th anniversary of the birth of Chopin and needless to say I haven’t actually been to a concert of Chopin music this year although there have been plenty to choose from in Brussels.

I simply find myself bombarded with choice and it all sounds so “samey” on paper. Instead I find myself being drawn toward the concert that’s on the bottom of a small leaflet or a footnote in a magazine, relishing the exciting new discovery. Fine, but there’s no reason why a well-publicised concert of a well-known composer who just happens to be having a posthumous birthday celebrated can’t be equally exciting.

And maybe after this weekend I’ll give the anniversary concerts more time of day. Why? Well, a stroke of luck really. Oblivious to my feelings about such anniversaries, a friend chose to take me to the small exhibition on Chopin that is currently showing at the British Library. And I loved it.

Headsets allowed me to listen to historic recordings of Chopin performances from the British Library Sound Archive and display cabinets were filled with original Chopin manuscripts, letters and even his death mask. The walls were full of information about Chopin’s life, from his early days in Poland to exile in France and his stay in Britain.

What did I learn? Well, Chopin didn’t like to perform in front of an audience, and gave only 30 concerts during his lifetime, he had tiny hands (as seen from a plaster cast of his left hand) and he apparently had an affair with the novelist George Sand that ended most dramatically (though we’re not told how) - and of course that I shouldn’t be as dismissive of events related to a composer’s anniversary.

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Hidden gems: little-known art museums around Belgium

Source: Slice of Life

A word of explanation is probably in order as to why my blog has been so quiet for the last few weeks. The main reason is that I’ve been busy writing about the arts for magazines and newspapers, including a weekly column in Brussels Unlimited, and as a result have had little time left to update this blog.

So I thought I’d share with you a series of articles that I’ve written this month on little-known museums around Belgium.

· The Gust De Smet museum, Deurle (Sint-Martens-Latem)

The spotlight is thrown on the Flemish Expressionist Gust De Smet, the golden years of the Sint-Martens-Latem art colony and the museum dedicated to his life and work.

http://www.flanderstoday.eu/content/inner-circle

· The Autrique House, Brussels

The story of the adventure undertaken by an artist and a write to restore this Victor Horta house and open it to the public.

http://www.flanderstoday.eu/content/rebuilding-horta

· The Roger Raveel museum, Machelen- aan-de Leie

A trip to the museum that was specially built for Roger Raveel, who - now aged 88 - is arguably one of the most important Belgian artists since World War II.

http://www.flanderstoday.eu/content/never-ending-illusions

· Geo De Vlamynck’s artist studio, Brussels

A peek into the studio of the late Geo De Vlamynck, a champion of the decorative arts, who not only painted but also made frescoes, mosaics and stained glass.

http://www.flanderstoday.eu/content/traces-life

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Collegium Vocale Gent and Saint Barbara

Source: Slice of Life

©Michel Garnier

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.”

This quotation by the British novelist Aldous Huxley was placed on the first page of the programme accompanying a concert of Renaissance vocal music that I heard this week. More apt words would be hard to find.

It was the first time I had heard Philippe Herreweghe’s Collegium Vocale Gent, not least because whenever I’ve tried in the past to hear the ensemble they have either been touring or their concerts sold out. This week’s setting was the Eglise des Minimes in Brussels, the theme ‘Musica per Santa Barbara,’ the music a sheer joy to listen to.

Saint Barbara was the patron saint of Mantua, and in the 16^th century the Italian city’s duke had a basilica built in her honour. The Basilica di Santa Barbara attracted many composers including the Italian Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina and the Fleming Giaches de Wert. It was their compositions along with those of Claudio Monteverdi (a pupil of Wert) that made up the evening’s one-hour programme of 16^th and 17^th century motets and mass excerpts.

The voices of the 14 unaccompanied singers, directed by Herreweghe himself, filled the church, no matter whether it was a quiet, mournful sound to accompany words of sorrow and misery or a rich, powerful tone as the joys of life were celebrated. The singing was pure, precise and simply beautiful.

My favourite piece was probably Wert’s motet “Vox in Rama audita est” (A voice was heard in Ramah), which opened with a wonderful bass voice that made my stomach feel tight such was the intensity, the tension building up further as the tenors, altos and sopranos joined in one by one. At times, the notes were so close together that the pain and anguish being sung about were almost palpable.

This was music that did indeed come very close to expressing the inexpressible.

The same programme will be sung in their Belgium home town of Ghent on Feb. 11 and then in Rouen, France on Feb. 12. A full calendar is available here.

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Chinese culture: all fired up

Source: Slice of Life

©Palace Museum

I don’t know why I waited until the last possible week to see the exhibition 'Son of Heaven,' part of the Europalia China extravaganza that has been happening in Brussels during the last few months, but I did. Then again, I did go and see it twice that week!

My delayed visit may have had something to do with the fact that there were so many cultural offerings during the Europalia China festival that there was almost too much choice. And of course that time-old trap of saying to myself: ‘Oh it’s on for months, I’ll have plenty of time to see it’.

An added impetus to see it in January though was that I had just come back from a two-week orchestral tour to China, my first trip to the country, and was all fired up about everything to do with Chinese culture.

“Son of Heaven,” whose title refers to China’s rulers, didn’t disappoint. The exhibits included portraits of emperors on silk wall hangings, bronze ritual vessels, a jade shroud, and silk dragon robes once worn by the rulers. There were even a couple of terracotta warriors – admittedly not quite as impressive as the (almost) complete terracotta army I had seen in their Chinese home of Xi’an just a few weeks earlier, but you could view the ones in Brussels much closer up and could more easily see traces of their original colours.

The Brussels exhibition covered 5,000 years of Chinese culture and so was just a taster of the country’s imperial wealth during that time. Nonetheless the exhibits, many of which were on display for the first time outside of China, were simply exquisite. I couldn’t resist going back a second time, and if I hadn’t left it so late I may well have gone back again.

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Cultural ideas for Belgium in December

Source: Slice of Life

In case you want a cultural escape from the Christmas shopping, I thought I’d share a few ideas of exhibitions, music theatre and dance happening in Belgium at the moment and about which I’ve recently written articles.

Belgian choreographer Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker has put together this year’s December Dance festival in Bruges. There’s at least one contemporary dance performance showing each day, and the programme includes choreography by William Forsythe, Trisha Brown and Jérôme Bel. (December Dance - Bruges - Until Dec. 13).

Interview with De Keersmaeker on the Bruges festival: http://www.flanderstoday.eu/content/twelve-days-dance

The photography exhibition Controverses is, as its name suggests, all about controversial images. The headline-grabbing one is that of a naked, 10 year-old Brooke Shields – yes, the one that was removed from the Tate Modern in London after a visit by the Metropolitan police’s obscenity squad. Most of the photos on display caused an outcry of one sort or another, a few changed history. (Controverses – Botanique, Brussels – Extended until Jan. 3).

More about Brooke Shields, the Kissing Nun and other photos: http://www.flanderstoday.eu/content/scandals-and-other-policymakers

The latest creation by the Antwerp-based company Muziektheater Transparant is A New Requiem. Taking Mozart’s Requiem as its inspiration, the work includes a contemporary literary, musical and artistic response to the old music. The work is a classic example of the company’s music theatre, which as its name suggests combines words and music. Tip: make sure your Dutch is up to scratch or else you might find it difficult to follow the spoken text, though you can still enjoy the song and music. (A New Requiem – Across Belgium and the Netherlands - Until April 5, 2010).

Interview with Muziektheater Transparant director Guy Coolen: http://www.flanderstoday.eu/content/song-mad-director

I have to admit that I hadn’t heard of the Hungarian artist Lajos Vajda before I researched this article, but it turns out I’m not the only one as the Antwerp exhibition is the first-ever retrospective of his work in western Europe. Most of his works – paintings, drawings, collages, photomontages - are from the 1930s and influences of Paul Klee, Marc Chagall and Max Ernst can all be found. (In the Footsteps of Bartok: Lajos Vajda and Hungarian Surrealism - KMSKA, Antwerp - until January 17.)

A taster of what the exhibition has to offer: http://www.flanderstoday.eu/content/ordering-chaos

(Copyright for pictures, from top to bottom: ©Herman Sorgeloos; ©Oliviero-Toscani; Drawn by Roger Raveel; ©Panther and Lily, 1930-33, PMMI Ferenczy Museum, Szentendre)

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Happy 1st Birthday, Slice of Life!

Source: Slice of Life

“Slice of Life” has been up and running for a year. It was my first (and, so far, only) blog and so I had no idea how long it would last and whether anyone other than me (and possibly a few encouraging friends) would read it.

A year on and I can say that far more people have visited it than I thought would be the case. While just over 7,000 hits in a year (and no, this does not include my clicks on the site!) may not rank it among the world’s most popular blogs, I consider those 600+ hits a month to be a respectable number.

What I find even more interesting though is the geographical spread of the people visiting my blog. One of the tools of the site’s hit counter is a map showing me which parts of the world the visitors live in. I’m always amazed to see a little marker on say the Democratic Republic of Congo, a South Pacific island, the Philippines, Bangladesh or Iran. As I don’t know anyone in any of those places, the site’s reach is definitely beyond my immediate circle of friends and colleagues!

A year ago I wrote: “The aim of my blog is to attract readers, in my current home city of Brussels and abroad, with an interest in culture in the broadest sense of the word.” Well, that aim certainly seems to have been achieved.

A year on and I’m also doing a lot more arts writing professionally. I continue to get a complete kick out of it and am sometimes surprised that I’m paid to do something I love so much.

Still, the (unpaid!) blog will certainly continue as it’s fun to have another outlet to write about culture and, when I’m lucky, hear about others’ reactions, experiences and ideas.

Keep reading, enjoying and exploring!

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Karabits sets Brussels stage alive with Shostakovich symphony

Source: Slice of Life

Kirill Karabits seemed to put every last drop of energy into conducting the final chords of Shostakovich’s sixth symphony, ending with a 180-degree turn to face the audience and revealing a smile that you sensed had been on his face throughout the work.

For me, the symphony was the highlight of last Friday’s concert (October 23), performed by the Orchestre National de Lille at the Bozar concert hall in Brussels. From the rich intensity of the lower strings in the opening largo through to the timpani acrobatics at the close, I was totally drawn in.

One of the least performed of Shostakovich’s 15 symphonies, the sixth is unusually made up of just three movements. The first movement lasts more than half the total duration and is followed by an allegro and a presto, which musicologist David Fanning has described as “a spectral scherzo” and “a manic gallop.”

Karabits, who studied conducting in his native Kiev and is now in his early 30s, was a guest conductor with the Orchestre National de Lille. His main position is as principal conductor of England’s Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, where he has just started a four-year tenure. Given the number of engagements he seems to have lined up elsewhere as guest conductor, I’m optimistic that I’ll get another chance to see him conduct.

The rest of Friday’s concert was a contemporary piece, entitled Wailing, by Chinese composer Lu Wang, who was in Brussels to hear the performance, and Rachmaninov’s third piano concerto. The Chinese piece did little for me, and the concerto had brilliant moments – in fact the pianist Nikolai Demidenko was cheered back on stage for two encores - but the orchestra didn’t seem as at ease with this work as with the symphony. Luckily for me, my favourite part came last and so I left the concert hall with that uplifting feeling that comes when you have been transported away by music.

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Belgium STUDS

Burns Supper......Haggis Night on January 25th

Source: Belgium STUDS

Mark your calendar now for a traditional Burns’ night supper of Haggis (including a vegetarian version!), Neeps and Tatties all washed down with fine Scotch Whiskey!

Once sufficiently lubricated we will recite some Burns poetry! Our own STUD Dave Sapiro has kindly offered to organise this event.

For those who need some backround on what a traditional Burns supper is.....check this out.

When: Monday, 25 January 2010
Where: Dave Sapiro’s Residence near Porte de Namur - full details to be provided closer to the day
Time: From 19.30
RSVP: By return if possible - for catering purposes we need to know ASAP if you can come
Cost: TBA
Dave can accommodate 10-12 people so don’t delay and let me know by Tuesday so that we can catch the Haggis in Scotland and get it here and prepared!

I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Cheers
Andy Graham
President

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STUDS WINTER BALL 2010..... FEBRUARY 27th

Source: Belgium STUDS

While you have your calendars at hand please mark Saturday, 27 February 2010 for the STUDS Annual Winter Ball. This is the big night of the year where we all get together with our Significant Others (SO’s) to eat, drink and dance the night away!

It is a great chance for SO’s to meet each other and meet the other STUDS. It is also the night where we get to dress up and dust off the tuxedo or our best suit!!

We are working on a venue and will let you know more soon. In the meantime, if anyone has any suggestions for a venue please let me know. We will also be running a tombola in the lead up to the ball so please start saving your small change for a chance to win! I have been assured by other members that this is a night that should not be missed.

Andy Graham
President

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Letter from a former STUD

Source: Belgium STUDS

Hey Guys,
I was a member back in the late nineties and happened to come across your website. Got wondering if anybody there is still a member and remembers me. Back then we had a home golf course at Louven La Neuve though we played all over the area , at times in France.

Perhaps someone would remember Kelly, a former President of the Club. I visited him and family during the fall of 2002 in Singapore where we played golf in Indonesia and Malasia -- quite the life, when the wive's were working, that is.

Mine was French from Paris and she worked for NATO, and as I was a retired Air Force jock I had all the benefits of both NATO and US retiree status. Lived in Stockel, not far from where you hold the Friday get togethers, which back then were actually in a Stockel coffee shop just off the Square.

I'm retired now, living in Ft Lauderdale and I gotta admit, Florida is the place to retire. Got a French built 32' Beneteau sailboat and am enjoying the Caribbean waters.

STUDS is/was a great idea and it is pleasant to see it remains for guys -- and I understand some gals -- to connect to share mutual interests. Didja know STUDS was actually started by a coupla wives trying to find something for their husbands to occupy themselves? The weekly meetings began at a McDonalds on Friday mornings, rain or shine of course, and involved mostly golfers. And we were really patient with those who joined even though not golfers.

OK fellow STUDS forever..................Bonne Chance a tout.

Casey Collier

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November 10th Tuesday Lunch

Source: Belgium STUDS

The Istas restaurant, adjoining the Hotel Sorret is long established and offers classic Belgian cuisine. Customer reviews rate it highly, and our own Ed Elly highly recommends it as well.

Once I have numbers we can sort out travel arrangements as public transport is not really the best option. I will take my car and I can take 6 extras so it will be just a matter of deciding on a pick point. Don't delay, let me know if you are coming as soon as you can so that I can confirm numbers.

Andy andygraham@bigpond.com

The venue: Restaurant Istas
652 Brusselsesteenweg,

Overijse-Jezus Eik, Exit 2 on the 411 (MAP)
Date: 10 November 2009 Time 12:30.

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An American Style Coffee Shop in Bruges...Bean Around the World

Source: Belgium STUDS

A new 'American' coffee house has opened in Bruge. It's kind of a Studs thing, as back in 1999, Joe, who is Belgian, met an American named Oline, from Bakersfield California in Bruge. She loved Bruge so much she gave up the California weather to move to Belgium.
She evidently liked Joe a bit too, as they are now married and have a 20 month old son named Tristan.

Oline opened "Bean around the World" last Saturday, she wanted to give the Bruges people a taste of a real American coffee house.
They are trying to spoil their customers as best they can. There are free newspapers available (Flemish and American), free WiFi, and a computer available if you don't have your laptop with.

So if you are taking your visitors on the obligatory trip to Bruges for sightseeing, you might want to stop in, say hello, check your email, and get some local information about this wonderful Belgian city.

Bean around the World is located at Genthof 5, in Bruge , close to Jan van Eyckplein and is open 7 days a week. They have a group on facebook through which all the news on the coffee house can be checked out. Phone: 050 70 35 72

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Octoberfest in Brussels

Source: Belgium STUDS

This year the Bayern representitives of the EU organised its traditional 'Oktoberfest' at Place Jourdan. As usual, this festival remains loyal to the famous München beer festival with October beer. A giant tent with 1500 seats and typical music was set up for the festival.

Thanks to President Andy for organising another a great event, enjoy the pictures....captions will be left off to protect the guilty party's.
What happens at STUDS.....stays at STUDS.

(click to enlarge)

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Clijsters....the Belgian mommy, back in US Open finals!

Source: Belgium STUDS

It's too bad it had to end like this as Clijsters was kicking her rather large ass anyway.....but an all Belgian final didn't shake up as Caroline Wozniacki beat Yanina Wickmayer pretty easily.

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Brian says goodbye to STUDS

Source: Belgium STUDS

A few pictures of a luncheon for Brian as he is heading back to the states and could not make the party hosted for the other five who were leaving this summer.
Good luck to Brian and Steph on re-entry.

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Zinneke Parade in Brussels July 8th

Source: Belgium STUDS

The multicultural communities of Brussels come together in the middle of the city on this day of colourful, exuberant celebration of the Zinneke Parade. Around 4,000 participants converge in the main avenues of the city centre, creating a carnival atmosphere with brass bands, actors, dancers and musicians.

The Zinnodes, as the workshops are known, work hard for months following a preparatory stage of about a year and a half. With the input of thousands of volunteers the result is always varied and surprising, a delightful mixture of styles and genres in one happy street party.
Zinneke is also an artistic and social experiment which aims to combat inequality and to form a project in which everyone can participate.

Boulevard Anspach and main avenues of centre (Venue)
Main focus of Parade route is Boulevard Anspach
Website www.zinneke.org

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WILKINSON AMERICAN MOVIE DAY

Source: Belgium STUDS

Starting on the 4th of July you can enjoy a number of Hollywood blockbusters being previewed in a Brussels cinema on Place du Brouckère. Viewers are also treated to an open-air concert by an American group on the evening of August 3rd, and the event closes with fireworks.

Source: Gear Ratios

Zingem was the first race I’ve done this season that I also did last season, and I was kind of excited to finally race on a course that I knew. These Flemish courses are full of really nasty little technical climbs and whoop-de-doos (that’s a scientific way of referring to a class of super-steep [...]

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SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

Rent a car in Brussels and get a traffic fine for free

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

My friend rented a car for a few days. After a few months she received this kind letter from HERTZ asking her to pay a traffic fine, and the extra charge. And all this for a fine she never got, look at the date please!!!!

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"Soon" a new hotel in Brussels

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

And soon in Brussels means in two years time, in 2012.No it is not a mistake. I feel like I am in a developing country some times. Why bother with bad service? Am I becoming indifferent?

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PROJECT: AFTERWORK SHOPPING

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

From Tuesday 1 June 2010 to Thursday 30 September 2010 The shopkeepers "welcome" you every Thursday until 8 pm in the Dansaert area, around the Grand Place, the Vismet and St Jacobs. Instead of kicking you out at quarter to seven, they will kick you out at quarter to eight. Unbelievable right? Take a look on the website to see all the animations, contests, practical information and the 750

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YES WE CAN...give customer satisfaction

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

When I received this letter from my home insurance, I checked the Belgian-French dictionary to see whether the meaning of satisfaction was the one I thought. After living in Belgium alomst 5 years, it is the first time a receive a letter like this. OK, I received emails, and online surveys.....but not a nice letter like this. What is going on? are things starting to change? why do they care

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The smallest bill ever!!!!!

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

Indeed one the things in which Belgians are the best in the planet is not "frites" it is BILLING.However, why the hell should they care for 2 euro ??????Even worse, I received this bill begining of april, and this bill is from a "service" I had 25 of January. And actually, I already received a first bill concerning the same service, but months ago.... I don't understand.Only the paper and the

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ELECTRABEL COMES BACK TO ITS OLD CUSTOMERS

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

Well...I mean "slaves" not customers, since they were a monopoly at the time. I thought I said goodby to ELECTRABEL and its "terrific" customer service and bills two years ago, when I switched energy supplier to LAMPIRIS. But This week I received a bill from ELECTRABEL. Believe it or not!!!! they are sending me a bill for electricity that I consumed almost two years ago!!!!!!How can they be so

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Guess which video is for REAL!!!!

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

Number oneor number two?maybe both?

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7 months,12 working hours,four pics,more than 20 signatures,and 29 eur.

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

It took me 7 months, 5 physical visits to "La Commune" during working time, 12 working hours, four pictures, more than 20 papers signed by hand, and approximately 29 euros cost.I am an expat, and unfortunately or not, I do not work for EU institutions or NATO. And I say this because I heard they have special treatment for this.....Anyway, just to let you know, I work for a private company, and

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» Belgium is expensive for heavy GSM users

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

Mobile commnications in Belgium can be expensive or cheap, depending on your use, and the country you are comming from!!!! Look at this interesting data:Brussels Blogger » Blog Archive » Belgium is expensive for heavy GSM users

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Brussels Blogger » Blog Archive » Sending a letter in Brussels? Good luck with the Belgian Post.

Source: SERVICE IN BRUSSELS & BELGIUM IN GENERAL

Well, I did not have time yet to write about my experiences with LA POSTE. I promise I will. In the meantime, you can read what others say about it...Brussels Blogger » Blog Archive » Sending a letter in Brussels? Good luck with the Belgian Post.

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Belgian Waffle

Gulag Redux

Source: Belgian Waffle

They're back. The salt mines have finally reopened. I have taken the official Gulag portrait:

2010-2011

2009-2010

2008-2009

I'm quite surprised by how little they have changed, actually. They look slightly sombre on the official portrait, but I can assure you it was business as usual.

They were probably just tired, because we got up at six to go and see the hedgehog. The hedgehog was not cooperative, but in recognition of our efforts, the CFO donned his motorcycle gloves to wake it up for us. It was totally worth the early start.

It looked how I feel, getting up at 6am. Dishevelled, disorientated, and on a fast track back to bed.

In some arcane Gulag ceremony, Fingers was required to line up in the hall and walk, to parental applause from the maternelle (gulag lite, soup at 11am, pickaxes provided) to the primaire (full metal gulag, 18 hour day with a half hour lunchbreak mucking out on the collective farm, but you can choose your own 11am snack). This is the end of his carefree infancy in the company of Mario and Luigi, we will be doing handwriting practice until our pencils are soaked in blood. His brother came home this lunchtime (YES. The first day of school lasted a magnificent THREE WHOLE HOURS) having been to his first Dutch lesson. He pulled a French face of indifference.

"C'est exactement comme l'anglais". Pout. Shrug. I am looking forward to us learning an exciting new language together, hem hem.

I note that the Dutch textbook features an alarming bearded man taking two small children .. somewhere.

I would discourage my child in the strongest terms from going anywhere with Robald. I mean, look at him. At best, he's going to make you play non-competitive games featuring co-operating tribes in a forest somewhere. At worst .. well. I bet he has a geetar and knows several chords for 'Little Boxes'. The whole thing is, in the words of Molesworth, unspeakably sordid*.

(*He is describing the French textbook. "There is another character called papa rat. He is always eating cheese. He loves cheese. Mama rat loves cheese too. They hav ten little rats who love cheese. In fact, the whole business is unspeakably sordid")

I must go and wrestle with the self-adhesive book covering torture that is my life for the next few days. It is day one. I have covered 7 books with all the skill of an epileptic dog and a light smattering of anglo-saxon vocabulary. I apparently owe the school TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY EUROS for a coach trip to stare at some dust and a month's worth of chicon braisé and boulettes. It's going to be a long, long year.

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Last day of the holidays

Source: Belgian Waffle

I love this.

It was yesterday morning. They both ended up sleeping in my bed, calling in some fevered promise I had made to them on our 18th hour in the traffic jam to end all traffic jams (except that one in China). With pointy limbs in all directions, I gave up and slept in a bunk bed with a dinosaur duvet and 83 plush Pokémons poking into my spine. When I hobbled downstairs in the morning, his big brother had already got up to prowl the house and examine his crystal growing kit (newsflash: it's rubbish) and there he was, upside down, curled up, in a shaft of sunlight, very small in a very big bed.

Do you remember what it felt like to be a small person in a big bed? I remember you usually got put there when your parent (s) were out at someone's house late at night and the bed felt enormous, and it smelt strange and the sheets were probably purple but you were so, so hyped up and exhausted you just zonked out anyway. While downstairs the discussions of the Female Eunuch, reified societies and where to buy tofu in the north east continued. I never seem to have those kinds of parties.

Reasons I do not have lengthy houseparties featuring weed and Joni Mitchell and red wine and dissing the Patriarchy:

1. It is not 1978.

2. I am not an academic in a provincial town campus university.

3. I seem to have ceded almost all my friends with children as part of the separation. Friends with children, Marcel Wanders Skygarden light fitting, juicer, various pieces of art, Fatima the best-connected cleaning lady in Brussels, etc, etc.

4. I am sociopathic and unable to relax in company, making people uneasy and unlikely to stay and suggest wife-swapping and joints. It is not relaxing to have me sitting, twitching and looking bug-eyed at you, semi-surreptitiously looking at my watch as you try to discuss Derrida. That's why I have to go to other people's parties instead.

Part of me regrets this, but part of me realises how ill-equipped I am to be any kind of hostess, what with my pathological inability to relax. If memory serves, none of these parties of my childhood were at my mum's house anyway, so it might be genetic. As a result, the only children sleeping in my bed are mine. And I like this one, he's lovely. I shared a bed with him for most of the holidays, which was hugely comforting. I liked the way he thrashed and flailed at me, if I tried to give him a kiss in the night, like a wild animal.

And now the holidays are over and the late nights and bed-hopping and my plaintive appeals for a "grasse matinée" are all done and noone will jump on my head in the morning while I try and sleep. Instead, I will have to poke them four hundred times with gradually increasing intensity while they snarl at me without even opening their eyes and refuse to get up. I had better go to bed now, actually, we have an audience with the hedgehog at 7 and I have seventeen sacks of school supplies to assemble and transport, including a Bunsen Burner and forty three spare compass points and an abacus made from fragments of the true cross. Hmmm. I wonder if anyone has crept in there?

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Comfort Meme

Source: Belgian Waffle

Oh dear, I've been better, really I have. I got sick last night, and then I woke up with a bad case of onoes teh sunday despairz i can haz xanax.

But rather than dwell on it, I am going to do this meme that Christina has most kindly set me. It's a comfort food kind of a meme, pleasantly distracting to do, possibly terribly dull to read ( I enjoyed hers a great deal, but then her blog - life! - is full of glorious glamour. There is no discussion of missing strimmer wires or discount supermarkets).

Favourite time of day

About nine in the morning, before it all goes to shit. Ideally the conditions are as follows:

Wintry sunshine

In London

Not working

Walking through my old Fitzrovia hangouts, chest swelling with slightly melancholy but pleasurable nostalgia.

Heading out for breakfast somewhere I love. Russell Square maybe, with the leaves turning and shafts of sunlight filtering through the trees and that very particular smell of London winters, diesel and leaf mulch and coffee, and a note of something indefinable that says home. Fuck, I just made myself cry. I am desperately homesick for London, or possibly just for the time I lived in that part of it.

But I'll settle for anywhere when it's vaguely bright and I can go and sit in a café with a cup of coffee and the paper for 20 minutes.

Where and when did you meet the love of your life?

On the internet, a little over a year ago.

We can't be together right now, we probably never will be, but I'll always love him. He said it was ok if I talked about him. He's intensely private, but we discussed it, and he says it's ok if I mention him sometimes.

You're intrigued now, aren't you?

Look, here he is.

Heh.

What three words would your friends from outside the blogging world use to describe you?

Scary. Flaky. Awkward.

What country would you like to visit and why?

Ok, this is shameful, but I've never even been to the States. So there.

What's your favourite dish to cook?

I hate cooking, can't be arsed, I'd rather bake. But I can make pasta with béchamel and spinach au gratin in my sleep, because back in the day when I was responsible for cooking once a week at home in York (I really need to institute this here soon. I mean 8? He's nearly ready for burny, boily stuff, surely?), I always, but ALWAYS, made that, or cauliflower cheese. If you made cauliflower cheese, then Prog Rock couldn't appropriate the cauliflower and make it into the dreaded cauliflower curry.

Alternatively, my friend Bath Bun gave me a brilliant recipe for overnight bread no knead bread that gives you a delicious glow of smugness for zero effort, which I will give you:

"7g dry yeast

500 ml warm water

600g flour (any kind, and you can add seeds or nuts or whatever you wish)

2 tsp salt

Put the dry ingredients in a bowl and mix. Add water, then mix to a firm slop. Cover with clingfilm or a damp cloth and put in fridge overnight. Next day, shape balls of dough with wet hands, dust with flour, cook at 230° for 20 minutes".

Salt or sugar?

Both together at the same time, please. And can you add some butter too? And cream? Then boil them up for a little while to a thick, gloopy consistency? And serve with a pancake and a small ball of vanilla ice cream? Thanks.

(I think on balance that's sweet)

What are your favourite make up and beauty items?

I have a whole blog for this shit, admittedly moribund for the moment as the two of us fight our way through the ravages 2010 is throwing our way. But I could manage with only: Chanel Coco Mademoiselle lipstick, Bobbi Brown gel eyeliner, Laura Mercier tinted moisturiser, Armani blush, Origins Ginger Scrub.

What are your favourite flowers?

Hyacinths. Blue or white ones, the pink are vile. I love freesias too, the flowers my mum always put by my bed on special occasions, or when I came home in adulthood.

What are your worst vices?

Oh god, too many to list. How about a dreary tendency to excessive self-flagellation? It's boring. But also laziness, envy, impracticality, shyness, and being a total WIMP. Yeah, that. That's the thing that pisses me off the most, actually. My lack of courage.

At what time of your life were you happiest and why?

Maybe when I first started writing this blog. Suddenly all these funny, compassionate people who liked sculpting vegetables and discussing capybaras and who had the kind of black, but hopeful outlook on life that made me want to go round to every one of their houses for cups of tea erupted in my life. And it was amazing. It still is, but at the moment I am trudging through a trench of crapness in various parts of my life that put a dampener on my joy. But I could never, ever regret starting writing this blog because of precisely that - the people I have met, talk to online, may never meet but who have given me vast amounts of pleasure and solace and laughs.

1997 was good too. It was the year we moved to London, the bastard Tories had been vanquished and everything seemed to carry a slightly magical sheen of optimism.

Would anyone like to do this in the comments? I'd love to read it.

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In which I get overwrought about chicory

Source: Belgian Waffle

I haven't left the house for two days except to walk the dog, it's like some creepy social experiment. Please, someone take me out somewhere, or I'm going to have to obey M's order to visit the Plasticarium. M is obsessed with the Plasticarium, a Brussels attraction so obscure that no Belgians I have ever spoken to have heard of it.

I imagine it would be right up there with the so-discreet-as-to-be-invisible charms of the Cartoon Museum (tested, barely survived), or the Museum of Radiology (as yet untested, but who could resist?).

I have just found this list of Brussels Museums and look! There is a CHICORY MUSEUM. Do you dare me to go?

We have skirted round the issue of chicory on these pages many times. Perhaps we should delve a little deeper (look. I haven't left the house for 2 days, you aren't going to get any reports of scintillating social interaction. It's this or a photo of the dog looking mournful).

Chicory Facts*

Here's a chicory squirrel I made earlier (like, in 2008, but ssssh):

Chiceureuil

1. Belgium has a love of chicory which defies understanding. They braise it, bake it, gratin in and call bars after it . I imagine they feel about it a little like the British feel about a plain digestive biscuit, a sort of meagre but satisfying pleasure. The phlegmish for chicory is witloof. White leaf. A very literal language, phlegmish. I could probably find out why they like it so much, surely? Hang on, that's what the interwebs are for ...

No. There appears to be no good answer to this question in all the vast resources of la toile except that they "invented" it, apparently in 1830, when a peasant decided to grow his .... well, his whatever-they-had-before-they-had-modern-chicory, in a dark cellar (I have reluctantly redacted a poor taste Belgian joke here, which you may now guess). Incidentally, when you put 'pourquoi les belges' into Google and allow it to finish your sentence you get a vast sequence of Belgian jokes.

Why do Belgians, suggests Google:

- go to mass with a bucket of water?

- wear pyjamas to ride a motorbike?

- take their glasses off to get breathalysed?

Among many others. None of these jokes translates, so do not ask me the punchlines. If you speak French you can probably guess them anyway, they are all awful.

2. Chicory is the flesh eating zombie of the vegetable world; eerie and impossible to kill. It has a shelf life equivalent to the half life of a radioactive strontium B isotope. The one I used to make this penguin (today! This very morning!):

Chicgouin

had been in the fridge since 1987.

3. You may think that carving chicory is an easy and amusing activity for a housebound neurotic, but actually, it is surprisingly irritating and liable to induce feelings of worthlessness.

I call this one "Fire Tornado hits Uccle".

(it is an expression of my not-so-suppressed desire that a fire tornado indeed hit Uccle. Fire tornadoes are dominating my thoughts since B sent me this link with a suggestion we try and start one in the Parc Royale with my office fan and a large box of matches).

4. It looks very peculiar with the root on, look:

(yup, I'm struggling. Stay with me)

5. If you have lived in Belgium for long enough, you find yourself just buying them, automatically, regardless of whether you like, or eat them. I think the purchase of chicory forms part of the fiscal regime of the Belgian state. I like to think that my witloof tax is contributing to vital Belgian activities like, oh, I don't know, those public information campaigns explaining to the general public why trams are likely to kill them, or the music in the metro.

(Enough chicory facts - Ed).

*Not facts at all

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Miscellaneous

Source: Belgian Waffle

There is little to report from Belgiana, which is sunk deep in premature winter. Since this means opaque tights and an end to the tyranny of the garden, I am broadly in favour. I plan to spend the rest of the week closeted with words. Lots of words. Probably some KitKat too. I have discovered that Hema - which might be suitable for another Belgian Shopping Guide, it's a sort of Dutch sub-Woolworths - stocks these giant pimped KitKats, double normal size. Sadly the chocolate is not quite the echt British cheap n' nasty, but it'll pass.

Speaking of words, I particularly enjoyed these phrases that arose in various contexts in the last 24 hours. I wish to embroider them on a sampler, or possibly weave them into an epic poem. If I were still at Quaker school we could probably turn them into inept tableaux vivants.

"Unicorn coma"

"Generic anger, envy and despair, coated in a thick, luxurious layer of can't be arsed".

"Just think 'abusive babysitter', it worked before, n'est ce pas?"

"Chitty chitty trojan weepette".

"Contraband hedgehog grooming"

"Laburnum muesli"

Other things I have loved recently:

This was very beautiful. I like the whole blog actually, but this is very carefully, movingly written. It reminds me of a poem. Eventually I will remember which one.

This is very very funny and makes me snort. Can I recommend the instant messaging posts, and also The Hobbit?

This is on repeat, though I suspect you have to be a very particular kind of English person of a very specific age to like it. Also, possibly, a high tolerance of the ukelele is preferable.

Consider the aye-aye. If someone asked me to draw my inner child (and frankly, I'm disappointed noone ever does), it would look like an aye-aye. Bedraggled. Gripping knuckles. Those eyes.

Of course, the hungover owls, internet favourites, du moment. My particular favourite is actually not a real one. It is this one. Squirrel Nutkin is indescribably sinister, I mean, already, squirrels, brrrrr. And then, Beatrix Potter was a twisted, dark old bird wasn't she? Samuel Whiskers rolled in pastry, his panicky kitten face sticking out the top. (after typing that I had to go up 4 flights of stairs to locate and read Samuel Whiskers. Yup, still terrifying).

The CFO has acquired a hedgehog. This amuses me immeasurably, particularly as Team Sudoku, his parents, imported it for him to order from the Vendée. They are hedgehog smugglers. I love how they did not question his need (? desire) for a hedgehog. The man has 6 tortoises, of which one is blind, and now a stinking hedgehog. I texted him to ask if I could go and get a book. He replied 'Oui, mais ne dérange pas l'hérisson' (yes, but don't disturb the hedgehog), since he knows me far too well. Of course, I did, but only to peep. It is very large and very sleepy and it smells bad. He wants it to eat his slugs. What if it doesn't like slugs? He said it has already capsized several tortoises too, lumbering around the garden (he tracks it with a torch late at night). Oh, this reminds me that reptile lovers can weep freely along to this clip of tortoise altruism.

Wearing shorts. Obviously the premature winter has put paid to it now, but where have you been all my life, shorts? When did you get so good? By next year my knees won't be up to shorts, so I am making the most of it. They're not really up to it now, if I am brutally honest with myself, but they can just about pass in dim lighting. That's the only kind we have in Brussels right now, so it's FINE.

Look, here's a shitty photo:

Gap shorts, in black or grey lightweight wool, now on sale for thirty odd of your British quids oh, and now they're online too! Joy. No, of course noone paid me to say that or gave me free shorts, are you 'avin a larf, I never get anything free, ever, and more's the pity. The top is Cos. Everything is Cos now. The shoes date from the legendary era When I Used to Earn A Decent Wage, and are Ferragamo. There won't be any more of that kind of thing round the Salmon Palace for a while, I fear. I keep all my shoes on the stairs here, and as I walk up and down them, on particularly fiscally trying days, it's hard not to calculate in my head how many months rent they add up to (three, easy). Is it worth me putting ads on here, do you think? I mean, obviously it's a single New Look shoe for three years worth of adverts for ethically dubious products, but times are hard, and I budget like a ferret on crystal meth, to quote Prong Two, above. Or any alternative money making schemes? I have no skills, but also no standards. There must be something, surely?

Commenters, I feel you need some direction today. I'd like you to do one of the following:

1. Suggest a means for me to make some money.

2. Tell me what story terrified you as a child.

3. Tell me what creature on ZooBorns your inner child looks like.

4. Link to something you've enjoyed recently on the interwebz. If it features a tortoise chasing a tomato or similar, all the better.

5. Give me your phrase of the moment. Etymology optional.

Allez, zoup. Au boulot.

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Colruyt: A User's Guide

Source: Belgian Waffle

I've made myself promise to stop being so dreary. It'll be a challenge, particularly when you see we're starting with a guided tour of a Belgian discount supermarket. Oh yeah.

Not only that, but I've already written about this. This is the enhanced version with PHOTOS.

You're going to thank me, honest. Stick with it.

Look, here's a trolley AND now you know how to say, "please bring me back to the trolley shelter" in two languages. I mean, that, right there, is ineffably useful in Belgium. I've lost count of the number of times I've wished someone would just take me back to the trolley shelter.

I think I might actually write that on my forehead in marker pen the next time I am unwise enough to try and go out drinking in Brussels. Just tidy me away with the other trolleys and see if you can get me to spit 50 centimes out of my mouth.

But come! Step into the magical kingdom that is Colruyt. Colruyt, regular readers will recall, is a luxuriant palace of discount joy in the Belgian style (that is, bewildering and unfriendly, but ultimately verrrry useful).

You'll need to let your eyes adjust to the gloom. They don't waste money on luxuries like lights.

Oh, I should have mentioned that the photos are terrible. I was terrified I was going to get arrested for industrial espionage. Especially around the meat counter. That shit is CLASSFIED.

Here's the entrance. You can tell, because it says 'Entrance' on it in two languages. I told you it was worth persisting with this, didn't I?

You might not be able to tell, but Colruyt nails its colours to the mast right from the entrance, as the very - and I mean very - first thing you reach on going in in giant litre bottles of cheap spirits.

The booze aisle goes on for mile after ill-lit mile. It is filled with bargains in outsized packaging. I bought lots of them.

Also, and this is very characteristic of Belgium more generally, beer has its own aisle. I don't think beer is classified as alcohol. It's more, I don't know, a refreshing health food? They have beer on the tables of the meeting rooms in my office and they sell beer in all manner of places you wouldn't expect to see alcohol. I mean, McDonalds, sure, but also, I don't know, children's fêtes, or vending machines in the airport.

(Belgians, or rather Belgians by adoption, since I imagine native Belgians do not find beer incongruous in any setting, where is the strangest place you have seen beer sold? )

If you're in Colruyt and you're buying beer, you better not be the kind of pussy who buys less than a crate at a time. That would be a bit pathetic.

Ok, brace yourselves, I'm going to tell you about meat.

The meat in Colruyt is behind a glass window, just in case anyone should get overcome with unstoppable MEAT LUST and try and shove it all into their mouths, raw.

Like this man:

Look at him. Look at the longing way he is staring at the giblets. And what giblets! They are probably the finest breadcrumbed offal pieces in the whole of Europe!

Is it only me who finds this whole, meat behind a window, thing a bit red light district? Harsh unnatural light, flesh on display? Just me then. MOVING ON.

Colruyt is widely - indeed universally -reputed to be the finest purveyor of meat in Belgium. Dioxin free! Belgians will tell you reverently.

And such meat, well. You can't just stick out your ignorant, grasping, carnivorous paw and help yourself. Oh no. You have to deserve it.

And by 'deserve it' I mean fill in a lengthy questionnaire detailing the meat you want, what you intend to do with it and your cooking qualifications. The form is filled with pornographically detailed pictures of meat in saturated technicolour. I love it.

You fill in the form and hand it in. Then you wait for your name to be called over the tannoy. Your meat may be ready, or the severe meat operatives at the counter may just wish to quiz you on your intentions.

Like this lady:

She is trying to explain why she isn't going to sear the lambs gizzards. That dude in the hairnet is giving her a very hard time about it. I doubt she'll be going home with what she ordered. He'll give her a couple of chipolatas and let her off with a stern talking to, if she's lucky. If not, lifetime ban from the window of plenty.

Onwards! Remember that if you want to try and drive that violent, unpredictable trolley, the advice I received on my last visit was to always look straight ahead of you, never to left or right. Yes, this makes shopping tricky, but just seize everything that you can reach. It'll all work out somehow. So what if you don't have a cat? You can probably barter the bags of litter for more litres of gin at the till. You'll be waiting in the queue there for all eternity anyway. Maybe it's edible?

Can you see what this is?

No, because the photo is spectacularly bad. But it's the chiller section. The chiller section of Colruyt is WALK IN. It's like something out of a bad horror film, except I don't see how you could get trapped and freeze to death in there, what with the plastic curtain. Anyway. You stay in there for as long as you can bear, collecting food. If you are an Antarctic explorer, you can probably amass enough stuff to feed your family for a week. If you are a southern European nancy used to temperate climates, you'll probably give up before you have time to pick up a packet of Herta Knacki Hot Dogs.

You can warm up by trying to lift vast packets of cornflakes.

Quick! Over to the tills before you get hypothermia!

So pretty, the tills.

There is no way of knowing where to queue.

I asked Jeremy, but he was unable to shed any light on the matter. This is Jeremy:

Jeremy is 19 but some people think he is 22. He told me this defensively when I burst out laughing when he tried to ID me buying whisky.

Peculiar Colruyt exchange:

Jeremy: Vous avez plus de 18 ans? (are you over 18)

Me: Hahahhhahaha. J'en ai 35. (Hahahhahahahahha. I am 35)

Jeremy (horrified): Non! Je n'ai pas besoin de connaître votre age! (No! I don't need to know your age!)

Jeremy takes all your shopping out of one trolley and puts it in another as he scans it. Don't ask me why, none of it makes any sense. Then he wheels the new trolley forward to the till. No, still completely incomprehensible. Then you and your NEW trolley - not the one you've spent half an hour getting to know, gaining the trust of, but a new, feral trolley with bloodlust in its heart and a half-formed plan of escape in its head - stagger into the car park. It won't end well. Look straight ahead and hope for the best. If the worst comes to the worst, jettison a couple of litres of gin to placate the metal tyrant. They probably only cost you 2p.

So there you have it. How to shop in a Belgian discount outlet. I could go back to being melancholy tomorrow if you prefer?

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Cleaning

Source: Belgian Waffle

I am cleaning the house, trying to hoover and scrub away the panic. Again. Maybe I can tidy the panic away into the basement with the 24 kitchen rolls and 4 giant boxes of dishwasher tablets and endless bottles of bleach from my trip to Colruyt? It's huge, there'd be room for all manner of irrational and rational terrors, which is handy since I have plenty of both. I'm still riddled with anxiety; the end of summer, impending professional doom, the absence of concrete achievements of any kind this year, the need for a plumber, the weakness of my book, the Belgian tax authorities, Electrabel calling the bailiffs for a bill I've already paid. That kind of thing.

With two smallish children, getting to the end of the weekend with everyone present, more or less healthy and fed and broadly contented seems like an achievement in itself. Take them away, and I'm left with a nagging sense of inadequacy that won't let me relax, sit in the garden with a book, have a nap. There should be more words written, more papers tidied, more washing done, nags my uptight bastard brain. It's not enough. It's never enough. So I'm cleaning. It's hard, boring, mindless, punitive and horribly necessary. Perfect. I'm trying not to let myself just do the gratifying bits, like rearranging the kitchen cupboards, and concentrating on the really dull, backbreaking bits, like scrubbing at obscure stains on the horrible textured kitchen walls.

So far I have found:

A spider the size of a family estate car hiding under my suitcase. It's spider season, isn't it? You could put a saddle on this one and ride it around the park. Good thing I am completely indifferent to them.

An extended family of spiders living in a box of cornflakes. Well, I am guessing from the pretty web decorations on the box, and the tiny spiderlets frolicking around the cereal cupboard. I did not open the cornflake box; it was oddly, sinisterly heavy. I wonder if there was a dead mouse in there too.

A leak under the kitchen sink that has spread black spotted mildew through three cupboards.

Seven rolls of yellow recycling bags. If the apocalypse comes and is characterised by a lack of paper recycling amenities, I will be ok. There's some comfort in that, I suppose.

A dragonfly which came in as I was trying fruitlessly to disperse the smell of mildew. I thought it was a bird, it was so large. It lurched around, crashing into things, completely graceless and jerky out of its normal environment and finally, after bashing into the window repeatedly, found its way out.

The house, never pristine, looks filthy to me. Coming from a gleamingly new and perfect holiday let has skewed my perception. Cruelly, unfairly, my kitchen is not filled with the soft sheen of brushed steel and forgiving, warm flooring. It is filled with cheap formica crap from the mid 1980s. The 'Competence Trophy' oven predates the discovery of fire by prehistoric man, the dishwasher does not wash dishes and the tiles manage to be both ugly AND impractical. They show every grubby mark with forensic clarity. I hate them. I think of myself as liking nice things, beautiful things, and yet this house is not a beautiful thing, not now, not in this state (not ever for as long as the orange paintwork remains, indeed). It's puzzling. And then, the house is too big, too ambitious. I found it in a hurry, needed to find somewhere quickly, and I liked it, loved the neighbourhood. I still do. But now what? It's HUGE. I feel out of my depth, not up to keeping everything functioning and clean. I can barely keep myself and the children functioning and clean most of the time, so what hope is there? I remember first moving in here and how intoxicatingly empty it was, how free of the sometimes oppressive, sometimes comforting clutter of daily life. Now I am writing this at a table on which, without even moving my head, I can see the following:

5 bills (I have just opened them in a fit of conscience. Electrabel are still trying to take me to court, obtuse bastards).

Half a pint of milk

Bulging make up bag

Empty coffee cup

2 novels, 4 magazines

A melon

A dirty paring knife

2 pairs of headphones

An empty CD case

An ice cube tray

A plush dolphin

A piece of obscure yellow plastic toy

A box of matches

A 'Plumping lip glaze' still in its packaging (I am scared of it. M has told me frightening things about it)

A cooling rack

A plastic dog from Burger King

Three varieties of plug and adaptor

A Playdoh dentist's drill

An empty Compeed packet

A Dexter Series Three DVD out of its packaging

An empty yoghurt pot

3 shark's teeth in a small plastic bag

A large screw, use and origins unknown

Tom Ford lipstick

2 sets of keys

A packet of green paper napkins

Sunglasses

Various other things I can't identify without angling my head to the left.

It's impressive how fast the layers of domestic detritus are laid down. In the right frame of mind that could seem comforting, a sign that this house has become more homely. I can't quite see it like that at the moment. I feel overwhelmed; the Augean stables have nothing on the kitchen table. I want to go and live in a pristine white box like the miserable modernists where I don't have to be confronted with the evidence of my own incompetence every time I sit down. A virtual snail shell. Wrapped in this.

Instead of which I am going to go and fill another one of my many yellow plastic bags, grinding my teeth gently in a soothing rhythm until felled by Cif fumes. Make me feel better, tell me what's on your table that has absolutely no place being there.

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Return of the Semi-native

Source: Belgian Waffle

Well. We got home, eventually. I only fully appreciated how stressful the journey was half an hour ago when I tried to bite into a baguette and nearly fell over with jaw pain. I obviously kept mine either clenched or grinding for most of the last 24 hours. The car looks like a landfill site and the dog has the haunted expression of one who has seen terrible things and will never be the same again. Admittedly, he always wears that expression and slept angelically the whole time, but you know, artistic licence and all. After the fourth hour stationary in Erpe-Mère, exit 18 of the E40, last night, it was hard not to feel a little slighted by Belgium. 'Welcome back, sucker, now sit in this traffic jam we have cleverly created by deciding to do elaborate, credulity-defyingly slow roadworks on a busy Friday night in August. Alstublieft". It's not personal though, Belgium just doesn't like to be too welcoming for fear of being overrun by chicory lovers. I get that. And let me momentarily focus on my achievements: I did not get lost ONCE for the whole journey. And the only time I cried was entirely incidental to the fear/driving/lunacy/traffic jams. It was only bloody Joni Mitchell. That devious hippy bitch is always ambushing me.

The spawn are with their father and I am trying to focus on the peace, and the potential for small naps and large drinks, rather than the lack of small warm bodies to hold onto. I should probably deal with the house. It's .. well. It's indescribable. To say the floor needs washing is a bit like saying the Forth Bridge might need a lick of paint now and then. There's something in a glass that might once have been a lemon that's terrifying me and the whole place smells of cheap cleaning fluid, damp and dead things. It needs about a week of tidying. So do I actually. I looked in the mirror this morning and found I had a piece of melted chocolate the size of a 5p piece stuck to my forehead. It had probably been there for days. And the freckles! Fuck. I've just had a look, and they're horrific, I look like I have some kind of Biblical dreaded skin disease. I'm not anti-freckle on the right face. My sister, the Space Cadette wears a freckle (I feel it needs the fashion singular) with great aplomb. But mine is not the right face. I might not be able to leave the house for a few months, which would, conveniently, be about the right amount of time to restore the house to something that won't attract the attention of social services. The 'garden' might take longer. I think it's developed consciousness in my absence and it's coming to get me. I really must tackle it. My shopping list includes things like giant extension leads and special strimmer string. It's not a life I ever thought I'd have, I must say, but I'm making what I can of it.

I am going to try and kickstart one of my micro-phases of relentless positivity after the weeping and terror of the holidays, starting with the reasons it is good to be back in Belgiana:

1. It is 27°C today and tomorrow. I can perch on the rickety stool in the shade in the "garden" fearfully shunning the fiery ball (the words shut, stable door, horse, bolted come unbidden to mind).

2. My quartier really does have the best food shops imaginable. I have become quite sniffy about Belgian food, what with the crap croissants and the mysterious variants on grey meat in fritkots, but if you can be arsed with raw ingredients (as you are well aware, I most certainly can't be 99% of the time), they are really excellent. I went out and bought a chèvre frais (the cheese rather than the actual goat, sadly), a sourdough baguette, a bunch of muscat grapes, two mutant 'cornu' tomatoes, a Charentais melon, some San Daniele and a stuffed pepper, all within two minutes of my house. I didn't even venture as far as the superlative deli or the butchers. Wow, imagine how slappably smug I would be if I actually gave a toss about food. I kind of hate myself already.

3. I have the car for a couple more weeks so I can go to my favourite place in the whole of Belgiana, the Parc Paradisio with its celebrated (by me) escaping capybaras. Or I could go to Animals Express, Belgium's most ethically dodgy retail outlet, and buy myself an owl. Or a wallaby.

4. It looks like bow-tied, ideologically sound fop, Elio di Rupo may manage to form a government. I am being premature, obviously. A speck of dust may fly the wrong way around the Flemish parliament casting everything back into chaos.

5. Erm. Look how busy the park is today!

That's midday. On a sunny Saturday. Looks like Belgium's policy of discouraging visitors through the medium of lane closures is working. If you look very closely you can see the weepette about to roll in fox shit, then lie in a fetid pool of mud, thus making my day extra special.

6. No, there is one more good thing. I am on my way to Colruyt, the supermarket of Belgo discount weirdness, and I am planning to prepare a photo tour. If you have particular questions on how to shop in a Belgian discount store famed for its bureaucratic meat counter, please place them in the comments.

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Low Expectations

Source: Belgian Waffle

The holidays are nearly over and I haven't crashed the car or been eaten by an oversized crustacean or barricaded myself in a cupboard rocking and keening like a Romanian orphan. All these things may still come, but for now, we are exploring the wet weather options of the Isle of Wight.

Look, here we are sheltering from the rain in a strange, ancient wasteland of fibreglass cowboys and ravenous slot machines. Lashes is dicing unwisely with some kind of 4p offal tube, Fingers is more prudently sticking to crisps. I had a KitKat. I am 53% cheap chocolate, 39% tea and 8% galloping neurosis.

But it's ok. I'm a Butlins vet now. It takes more than a sadistically calibrated, pound a go grabber claw to push me over the edge. A broken forklift driving ride that swallows 6 quid and just sits there, mocking you with faint engine revving noises? A giant pirate themed machine that squirts glacial water into your ears? Whatever, bring it on. I've been to Plopsaland several times, and Plopsaland has a soundtrack of Flemish rock muzak. This was surprisingly entertaining in comparison, even when we had to go round the wonky house four times during a particularly persistent period of drizzle.

And better still, rainy, crap amusement parks teach me the essential truth about my children: they may only speak French, may have perfected an impeccably indifferent gallic shrug and ask me questions like "c'est quoi, un 'scone'?", but dammit, at heart they are English. Low expectations of fun run through their veins like weak tea.

They are astonishingly good at being entertained with rubbish, rubbish stuff. Broken fibreglass dinosaur carcass? Joyous!

(yes, it has an apple core in its mouth, this in and of itself created whole minutes of hilarity)

Cruelly lengthy forced march along a shingle beach on a fruitless fossil hunt? An ill-lit Nissen hut filled with dusty bones? Again, again!

Give them a querulous goat to poke and they are serenely content. So am I, actually, so possibly that's genetics rather than national identity. Goats are brilliant, aren't they? Essential malevolence barely concealed behind their expressionless slotty eyes, heads accessorised with sharpened offensive weapons. I love goats. They'll have your eye out, eat your mobile phone, maim your first born and wander away mildly bored if you let them.

The youngest, for whom indifference and requests to leave any form of entertainment (including cinema, circus, boat trips, laser gun fights) prematurely come as naturally as breathing, declared a sodden visit to Carisbrooke Castle to watch a handful of bearded enthusiasts in felt tunics bash each other vigorously with blunt broadswords and to queue in the rain to watch a donkey plod round an outsized hamster wheel "plutôt chouette" (pretty great).

On the strength of this, I think the programme for the last two days of our holiday should be something like:

Wednesday: Search the back garden for caterpillars. Visit Owl and Monkey rescue (I was going to say something waspish about this, since it looks like a crap pebbledashed hut peopled by a handful of grumpy Barn Owls on the leaflet, but then I googled it and it's for owls abandoned by Harry Potter fans! Now I am caught up in sadness of it all and want to visit it FOR REAL. Possibly move in there).

Thursday: Sit on the end of the pier in the rain with a pile of pebbles and a bag of chips.

I bet they'd love it. I'll teach them to love a scone yet.

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Crab

Source: Belgian Waffle

I caught a crab today. I'm not going to show you a picture because it looks pathetically small. It wasn't, honest. It was a decent one with a rather frightening single claw, possibly missing a few other legs. Frightening to me, not to any right thinking biped. This has given me as great a sense of achievement as the time this winter when I managed to build the Spongebob Lego Pineapple from scratch, a painful epic featuring a missing vital cube and step by step coaching from several dads on Twitter. They aren't remotely impressive in themselves, these things. The Lego pineapple is for seven year olds. Anyone with fingers and average reflexes could catch a crab. The sense of achievement comes from doing the things that ordinarily weren't my job.

It's been odd, being on holiday without the CFO. He's good on holiday. He drives, navigates, pokes things fearlessly, flies kites. One of his party tricks is catching large birds, just for kicks. I have seen him catch a goose, and do battle with a swan (admittedly armed with a chair, but it was still quite impressive). Even our last holiday, last summer, mid-apocalypse, was very serene and happy a lot of the time, with him leading expeditions to entrap forty hermit crabs and make them race in an inflatable boat, erecting tents or hiring kayaks. Whatever my role was on our holidays - mainly insisting on having more ice creams and trips to petting zoos, and being pathetic about sand, I think - it was very much a supporting one. In any case, it's all in the combination; someone to throw you screaming into the sea, and someone else to towel you off and give you a biscuit. I'm in danger of sounding like the Daily Mail here. Of course you don't need to be bound by the holy sacrament of matrimony to go on a fantastic family holiday. All manner of combinations of people can be hugely successful and a hermetic nuclear family unit can be the loneliest place on earth when it all goes wrong. All I really mean is that it is, very simply, nice to have more than one adult around. Apart from anything else, it's rarer than a Perseid meteor shower for both children to want to do exactly the same thing at any given time.

And of course, I am with other adults here. Kind, funny, supportive, brilliant company. They're making this holiday not just manageable, but actually really pleasurable. But there are still some things that I have to do, more or less for the first time: find my way across three countries with only some curling post-it notes between me and navigational armageddon. Drive, as discussed yesterday. And catch crabs, godammit. It's not a holiday unless crabs have been caught. Lashes in particular is not happy unless he is catching stuff. If he isn't, he's being spectacularly contrary. I fear for that boy's teenage years, since he already does an excellent impression of a bloody-minded fourteen year old. He and I have been in a selection of ill-humoured stand offs recently. I'm intermittently torn between needing to be firm, trying to resist the guilty temptation to appease, and not wanting to be a grumpy, intolerant arse. These are strange holidays for the boys as well as for me. Yes, they have had vast amounts of holiday fun, but it's not the usual kind. I can't be all things to the small boys, and it would be wrong to even try. I am not an all-singing, all-dancing human amusement park (at this point anyone who actually knows me is falling about laughing at the thought that this might even be an outside possibility. I could be a one woman ill-stocked, mildewed mobile library perhaps, but even that would stretch my capacity for fun).

So today we caught crabs together. We caught ten, at least. Two biggies (ssssh, it was huge! Crabzilla lives! Ok. It was modestly sized, but CLAW. Big ass claw!) and a load of smaller ones. In our best performance, Lashes spotted the (vast) crab, Fingers and I ran over to examine its hiding place deep in a rocky outcrop. The three of us discussed tactics, and finally I went cautiously down into the deep hole with a small mesh bag of bacon bits to lure it out, with Lashes shouting imperious, excitable advice from above and Fingers sitting nearby with an expression of forbearance waiting for it all to be over. Actually, now I recall, the weepette was also there, with a similarly long-suffering expression (the weepette does not like the beach, finds sand and water horrifying, but has been exceptionally well-behaved even so). The whole family. Anyway, it made a grab for my eyes, obviously, clacking its terrible razor sharp claw in the direction of my soft tissues, but I captured it, only whimpering slightly (do I sound really fucking wet? That would be because I am). As we descended the rocks in triumph to parade our crab along the seafront like nineteenth century hunters with a Sumatran tiger, Fingers said casually "regardez, un autre", and picked up something of very similar size (HUGE) in his bare hands without an iota of drama. Very, very different children.

So. We caught crabs. I'm adding it to my short list of puny triumphs.

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Claire's Brussels Blog

One Day: there but for the grace of God...

Fans of the greatest TV show ever made will know that something terrible happens at the end of Season Four. And no, I don't mean the departure of Rob Lowe, though the loss of Sam Seaborn upsets the balance of characters and, in my opinion the series never fully recovers from this.

No, I'm talking about something far more fundamental: Aaron Sorkin left. Someone else was writing the characters. Getting America involved in peace-keeping missions, keeping Josh and Donna apart, all that stuff. It wasn't the same. Still now people complain about the change in the behaviour of some characters: Richard Schiff was reportedly angry at what happens with Toby later on, and loving Donna as I do, I desperately miss Aaron Sorkin's version of her. She would never have said "not much nostalgia there". Anyway, I digress.

Those who watched the West Wing for its fast-paced, intelligent dialogue (and I'm guessing that's most of us), for its, well, its Sorkin-ness, went into mourning.

The change was jarring.

Life feels a little like that, sometimes, doesn't it? Everything's going along well. You think you know where things are heading. Then something happens, something you did not expect, something perhaps that years later you will still question. Something that upsets the balance of your life.

If you're in a Season Five moment right now, struggling to work out where things went wrong, why it had to be this way when you liked it so much just the way it was, take heart: God is still in control. He has not left you. He still knows the end from the beginning, and He is still getting you there. Remember Joseph? Thrown into a pit and sold into slavery. But God meant it for good.

I'm reading a brilliant book by Pete Wilson at the moment: "Plan B - what to do when God doesn'tshow up the way you thought He would". The best advice I can give you is to work through that. Well that's not entirely true: the best advice I can give you is actually to cling to God, but that book will show you how.

Who's writing your life? Be thankful (no, really) that it's not Aaron Sorkin. Be thankful that it's not any man (or woman) who at any point could leave you at the mercy of less-than-perfect scriptwriters. He knows where He is taking you, and He will get you there. Even if the route seems circuitous at times.

Aaron was apparently going to bring back Sam Seaborn, going to resolve the cliff-hanger at the end of Season Four very differently. (Who knows, maybe we'd have even seen Donna's answer to Amy's question.) But He wasn't there to do it. That will not happen for you: the Author of your faith is also the Perfecter of it, the Finisher of it. He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.

He will not leave you. He has not left you.

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Bradley Whitford live chat - sniff.

Source: Claire's Brussels Blog

I just missed, by minutes, Bradley Whitford doing a live chat on the Washington Post website.

"Distraught" does not even begin to cover it.

I am, however, happy to report that as I suspected, the guy can spell. Only one mistake was spotted by my keen eye, and I think I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it was a typo. Also one tiny punctuation issue. This reassures me, on the whole: he is human. Therefore he is real.

So, Brad, if you're out there, these are the questions I would have asked you. Apart from all the obvious ones, and all that.

- How can we convince you to join twitter?

- Which book are you currently reading, do you read several at a time, and which five books would you take with you to a desert island?

- Please will you write the screenplay for the book I am writing?

- You have a bunch of very devoted fans. Do you ever get freaked out by their adulation of you?

- How about coming to Europe to do a play?

- What is the one question you wish people asked you on these