Highs and Lows of Expatriate Life in Brussels, Belgium

Expatriate life is full of ups and downs. It is like a pendulum of emotions oscillating between towering mountains and abysmal pits.

I am desperate to find a middle ground. I am yearning for a place of comfort. At times, I find it for a short moment but that solace never lasts very long.

Here is a list of the highs and lows of living among strangers in a very curious place:

What I like the most about Life in Brussels...

• Living with my husband - I like the small joys and pains of family life. I delight in our companionship. I despair at our slight disagreements. After all, life is this mixture of experiences.
• Quiet Surroundings - Belgium is a very quiet country where people value silence. It is quality living at its best.
• Random Wanderings - I like moving around in Belgium. It can be just a walk around the neighbourhood or trip to a friend's house. It can be visits to a shopping mall. It may even be hopping to tourist destinations. I enjoy all the outings just the same.
• Cleanliness - There is greenery all around. The roads are neat. The neighbourhoods are well planned and carefully laid out. Best of all, the country is littered with parks loaded with fresh air.
• Environmentally Conscious - Garbage is meticulously sorted to ensure recycling and reusing. Shops generally do not give out plastic or paper bags. Customers are expected to bring their own carts and bags. No where else have I seen such a level of concern for the environment.
• Integrated Transport System - The buses, trams, metros, trains, flights all operate in a coordinated manner within Belgium and also with respect to the rest of Europe. You will never get stranded in Belgium without any mode of transport. The credit goes to the efficient public transport system of this country.
• Everything is Online - You can chart your journey on the public transport system websites, check your flight status, book your tickets and even do your shopping online in Belgium. Most of the forms and notices can be downloaded from the internet. The list is endless. Technology is exploited very well in Belgium.
• Healthcare - Public health infrastructure is excellant and dependable. That itself is a major relief for those living abroad.
• The Royal Touch - The Belgian royal family plays an important part in the country's history. There are palaces, churches, gardens, pavilions, parks and other monuments all around the country dedicated to the family that still rules the Kingdom of Belgium (Le Royaume de Belgique).

What I Dislike about Belgium...

• Confusion - The country is slightly schizophrenic. The roads signs are confusing and in different languages (mainly French and Dutch). All the landmarks, buildings and streets have names in the two official languages. The people speak either of these languages or a combination. English is not very widely used. Public notices, bills, offices etc. use either of the languages. It is all very confusing to an outsider.
• Bureaucracy - There is a huge amount of paper work and procedures for anything and everything. Foreigners are subjected to this systematic torture due to the elaborate functioning of bureaucracy. It feels like the commune (town administrative unit) keeps a tab on all your movements.
• Weather - The climate is a major dampner. The days are cold and morose. The skies are grey and depressing on most days. It rains sporadically every now and then. The weather makes one want to stay indoors all the time.

What I Miss about India...

• I miss the feeling of being home. I search my mind for memories of the colourful imagery and variety of people of India.
• I miss my family. I wish I could spend time with them more often especially for family occasions. Everyone just about becomes a voice at the other end of the telephone when you are living overseas.
• I always wish I could have continued working. I know this would have been possible if I was home.
• I would have heard from my friends more often if I was in India. It is easy to maintain contacts over the internet...but I am sure I would have been part of a closer-knit community in India.

Expat life is not challenging without these hurdles. Neither is it amusing without the many simple pleasures. That is why I say it is a blend of highs and lows.

Feminism and Me

I am scared of considering myself as a 'feminist' for fear of evoking the negative connotations of that word. Although I am a staunch ally of the womens' rights movement, I would not dare to call myself a 'feminist' in the conventional sense of the term.

I have strong views about the position of women in the society. I believe that a woman is never below a man in her ability to set sail in the stormy sea of life. Like most others, I am proud to see fellow women succeed in all walks of life.

I cheer when the likes of Nancy Pelosi, Hillary Clinton, Condoleeza Rice, Sonia Gandhi and Segelene Royal voice their opinions in public. My heart was filled the day Wangari Maathai stood on the stage to recieve her Nobel Prize for Peace. Likewise, so many women have proved to the world that success is a personal journey totally independant of gender.

Some women have flawed perceptions of their role in society. They believe that womens' liberation involves freedom from the traditional roles of women such as cooking and cleaning. They also feel that hating men is a form of feminism. I consider these women to be a confused lot not sure of the very nature of women.

A woman is often a daughter, wife, mother, sister and a friend rolled into one. It is the woman who makes life around her blessed or cursed. Women need to understand that there is nothing demeaning about fullfilling the demanding chores of daily living. Those around will definitely reciprocrate the efforts of a well-meaning woman.

Women also have certain rights along with the responsibilities. Universal womens' suffrage guarentees all women the right to participate in a democracy. The increasing percentage of women in leadership positions around the globe is a good indication of a progressive society.

Closer home, a woman should have the right to make decisions on the domestic front. After all, she is the corner-stone of a family, the basic unit of society. She should also have the right to choose and pursue a meaningful career.

I get enraged while watching clips of abuse of women on TV. No religion or culture can justify such henious practices.

Sadly, women are kept veiled and segregated in some societies. They are not given the opportunities to learn and improve. They are kept isolated by oppressive regimes and treated as mere objects. Society should never condone such practices.

The value of a woman is priceless. Those who have experienced the strength, companionship and care of a woman will know their true essence. I firmly believe that a society that protects and respects its women will go very far in the future.

Addicting Actions..

I have had a strange captivation for the written word for a very long time. It started with flipping glossy magazines as a toddler.

My strong language programmes in school pushed me further into this habit. Now, with the advent of the information super highway, reading is more like an obsession to me.

During elementary school in the US, I was too shy to admit that I had read 'The Scarlet Letter' for my sixth grade summer project. This master piece by Nathaniel Hawthorne dealt with some mature themes and was not the perfect reading matierial for a school girl of my age.

My tryst with books continued even when I joined a convent school in Mumbai. I was caught reading 'To Kill a Mockingbird' by the Principal (a nun) during school hours. I went to the Principal's office to recover my confiscated book expecting some form of reprimand. Strangely enough, she returned the book without saying a word.

I was more into journals, magazines and newspapers during my college days in Allahabad. I still read some amazing books that came my way during that period. Some of my all time favourites like 'The God of Small Things' (Arundhati Roy), 'City of Joy' (Dominique Lapierre) and 'The Thorn Birds' (Colleen McColough) were read during my student life in Allahabad.

I couldn't get enough of the newspaper that was kept in the hostel lobby in Allahabad. That single copy of the newspaper was meant for about 300 girls in hostel. Somebody always took it to their room after the lunch hour. Besides, our gruelling schedule in college did not leave enough time for frequent trips to the library.

I ordered my own copy of 'The Hindu' from the local newspaper vendor. That paper was a Delhi edition that came a day later to Allahabad. Neverthless, it served my purpose.

I was known as the girl who went around to other people's rooms to borrow/read newspapers in my hostel. There were a number of girls who ordered dailies other than the one I bought.

During our hostel farewell, my juniors called me onto the stage and presented me with a package. Beneath that colourful gift wrap was a bundle of old newspapers. The crowd roared when I opened my gift. I remember feeling sheepish but I figured this was better than being known for something else.

I was really glad to have complete access to the internet and a wonderful library during my post-grad days. A Suitable Boy (by Vikram Seth), a book that I read during these days, provided me with some priceless insights about choices in life.

I enjoyed my work as a Research Executive in Mumbai mainly because it revolved around this addiction of mine. The Research team had a small library of latest journals, newspapers, internet and subscriptions to online databases at their disposal. I loved getting paid for doing something I considered my hobby.

Marriage disrupted this obsession of mine to a certain extent. I was allured by the passion, love and strength of being in a relationship.

I am back to my habits now that life has stabilized just a little more. I am lucky to have a husband who understands this uncanny obsession.

He has taken subscriptions to various magazines he knows he will never get time to even skim over. He brings me few newspapers from office everyday knowing my liking for curling up in bed with the daily roundup of news. He even introduced me to an exclusive portal meant for self-learning.

There are very few people whom I have met who share this genuine fondness for print. I must mention that I met one such specimen, Akshay, during post-grad days. There is no end to the expanse of topics we cover when we both start talking. The rest of the gang used to melt away out of sheer frustration when we were in the state of conversation.

I know that too much of anything is not helpful. I try to balance the other activities in my life with my hobbies. I don't know how successful I am in doing that but I am definitely trying.

Hot Girls and Cool Guys!

I had a chat about the thought processes of guys and gals the other day with my friend Akshay. We used to have a lot of these random ramblings over a cup of tea in the college canteen. We still do communicate online and it feels just like old times.

He mentioned that most girls ask about their appearance to their boy friends at some point during the relationship. They want to know if they look better, have become fat or added weight.

The poor guy doesn't know that he is walking into a trap when faced with this seemingly innocent query. Guys, being simplistic in nature, respond with the utmost sincerity. The sensitive girl in question harbours this thought everytime she interacts with this honest fellow.

This is where I feel a little bit of white lies does no harm. Guys have to learn to tread carefully on this one if they value their relationship.

I figured out exactly how the male mind works only after living with one of the typical specimens. I realized that the amazing facet of the male psyche is it's simplicity.

The female mind is always wandering into the ifs and buts of an issue. The male mind is binary. They see only the two natural possibilities. They can't fathom the intricacies of probabilities and consequences like the females.

There was a time when I expected my husband to infer my likes and dislikes without expressing them verbally. I thought that he would figure out what I wanted through the many perceivable signs. The funny part is that he could never understand what I was trying to convey.

I found out that communicating with him just required discussing openly. He is not tuned to analyzing and deliberating my actions. It is just not his style of functioning.

He would understand more if I could just blurt out my thoughts without beating around the bush. This straight-forward approach saved us a lot of misunderstandings in the future.

I consider this to be the fundamental difference between the two genders. Girls tend to think too much and make a mountain out of a mole hill. Guys, on the otherhand, ignore even the mountains of life.

Both the attitudes are extreme. Following the middle ground is the key to a path of compromise.

May Mayhem!

Frank and I are expecting a period of chaos at the end of this month. We are preparing to shift to another appartment a few yards away from this one. The decision to move was an impulsive as well as emotional one for both of us.

Frank started looking for a house even before I joined him in Belgium. He is very used to living in spacious and luxurious surroundings. The only exception to that came when he started living in Europe. The appartments in Brussels (Europe) are generally small and cramped compared to other parts of the world. I would say that they are miniature copies of those in the United States.

I remember asking him over the phone about his new house when he moved into his tiny, serviced appartment before I came to Brussels. He didn't sound happy at all. He said it resembled something of a dark hole. Mom and I had a laugh over his comment in India at that time.

He was still living there when I arrived in Brussels in October. He had already booked another furnished, one bedroom appartment nearby. We were just waiting to shift after that place became available.

We shifted to this place on a cold, winter morning early in december. The appartment was small but sufficient for a couple. It was on the eleventh floor at the end of a row of appartment complexes. The building was quite old and the appartment required some maintenance.

The Land Lord was quite understanding. He managed to fix up the leaking faucets, damaged cupboards and replace the broken furniture within a few weeks.

We even started decorating our new abode with photographs and paintings. Frank managed to get souvenirs from his many business trips across the continent to fill up the showcase in the living room.

The lack of space to accomodate any relations who may visit us during our tenure here was bothering us. We were once again on the look out for an appartment with a couple of extra bedrooms for this purpose. That is when we saw an advertisement for a bigger appartment in the same area.

Frank contacted the advertiser and took an appointment to visit the place. We both went there the following weekend.

The appartment was spacious, had the extra bedrooms we wanted and was well designed. I liked the snazzy kitchen and the large balcony space. We loved the fact that it was on the first floor right in front of the bus stop.

Frank was eyeing me the entire time during our visit that day. He was searching for my reaction. I liked the design, layout and location of the appartment. I was still concerned and cautious about making a decision.

The appartment came unfurnished. This meant that we had to buy our own furniture for the house. I was not too happy about bearing that initial investment.

The kitchen was fully equipped meaning that it had the refrigerator, oven, stoves, cupboards, microwave and dishwasher installed. We had to bring our own crockery. We didn't have any furniture or crockery of our own since we currently live in a furnished appartment.

I knew Frank would not back down just due to furniture. He is the kind of person who would strive to make a dream come true despite all odds. Within a week, he managed to round up the essential furnishings for the house. Yesterday, he hauled in a giant TV from somewhere for our new house.

He is still running after all the legal wrangles of renting a house in Belgium. This includes the hefty security deposit, bank guarentee papers and contracts. We are almost done except for the trouble of shifting our belongings.

The new Land Lord and his wife were not so sure about renting their appartment to an Indian employee. Frank asked him to come to meet him in his office. The Land Lord was more than happy to rent it to us after visiting Frank's attractive office in a prime locality. I can even imagine Frank giving his usual business talk in his deep voice to convince this chap.

Shifting into a new house is a big responsibility. We have to change our address in the commune for updating our Belgian identity cards. We have to transfer our phone and internet connections. Our electricity account also needs to be changed. All this is in addition to moving our personal possessions.

This last week of May will be a very hectic week for both of us. I am excited about moving to a new place but afraid of the tiring procedure. Then again, there is no gain without the pain.

I will miss my view from our eleventh floor balcony. I can see the flights taking off and arriving at the Brussels International Airport from here. I also have the sight of a beautiful garden below.

We will be closer to the ground in our new home. It will not be the same as living in the air like on the eleventh floor. I am hoping that the increased space and better facilities will make up for this small disadvantage.

Grocery Shopping in Brussels

I know that shopping for provisions is not one of the most enviable tasks for many of us. It is a routine chore that cannot be avoided.

It is easy to walk around open-air markets in India for groceries. The market place is full of fresh produce and many vendors. With a little bit of bargaining, we can get the best food items for a reasonable price.

Supermarkets in Brussels offer a wide variety of produce also. I usually go to different shops during the week to compare and contrast the items and prices. The supermarkets are quite large with different departments for fresh produce, stationary, clothes and even furniture.

In these department stores, everything is sold under the same roof. All the items are sorted and placed in racks. The shoppers can walk around this endless maze of shelves to pick and choose whatever they need.

I am a slow shopper in comparison to Frank, my husband. I like reading all the labels on each of the items. Ofcourse, all the labels are in French and Dutch. It takes a long time for me to translate the labels and register them into my memory. I also like buying new products or different brands each time.

On the other hand, Frank is a frantic shopper. He scours through the shelves in no time. He manages to pick up most of what we need within minutes. I think he is slowing down a bit now a days when we are together to adjust to my pace.

I am now used to grocery shopping in Brussels. I get to know a great deal more about the origin of the produce from the labels. Banana from Equador, grapes from South Africa, oranges from Spain and a host of other items from all around the world are up for grabs.

There is an entire section in the store dedicated to wine also. We are still trying to find some sweet wine around here. I am sure its available but we will have to sift through the shelves and find the right french words.

I especially like the 'Boulangerie' (Bakery) counters in these markets. There is an endless array of tarts, cakes, croissants, baguettes and freshly baked breads for sale. There is often an instrument in the bakery area for slicing the bread that looks like it was taken from medieval times.

I do enjoy the supermarket experience in Belgium. It is nice to find everything you need stacked in the same space.

Retailing is becoming a phenomenon in India as well. Carrefour, Metro, Field Fresh, and Reliance are vying for a share of this market. Hopefully, by the time we return to India, we may even have the same stores in India.

Memoirs - My Student Days in Gujarat

My campus in the Indian state of Gujarat was a world apart from my previous one. The old campus was reminiscent of its heritage and historical significance. It was a pioneering Institute offering a niche area of study. It was famed for it's glorious past of about a hundred years. In contrast, the institution that I joined next had no history at all. It prided itself on novelty, world-class standards and strong industrial connections.

This new institution was located in Gandhinagar, the planned capital city of Gujarat. The city was divided into small units or sectors with all the amenities for quality living. The college was nothing more than a few buildings when we arrived. Construction matierial was strewn all around and there were piles of rubble everywhere.

Within a few months, multi-storied buildings, the hall of residence, sports facilities, an open-air theatre, a resource centre, faculty buildings and lecture halls were built. The campus was soon covered with a smooth carpet of grass and dense vegetation.

I loved hanging around the large lotus pond and fountain near the entrance to the college along with my friends. We were a close-knit group and this lush campus was the perfect venue for such friendships.

The best part about this campus was that there was no sense of day or night. The numerous lights blazing overhead made sure that the campus remained bright even in the night. This was a treat for the students who were always outside in the canteen or food court area.

The food courts served a variety of great meals and snacks. Each of us had our favourite dishes when we got together for dinner. I loved having Chicken Biriyani for dinner from Brajwasi caterers. My friend Peter was content with a plate of chilly chicken and rotis. Akshay always chattered endlessly over a cup of coffee from the Fresh & Honesh Cafe in the campus. We made fun of Vinu for eating curd rice daily. Shyama preferred to have dal, rice and pickle in true simplistic style.

We were a mixture of tastes but we were always somewhere in the campus. We retired to our rooms very late in the night. I can't remember being in the hostel rooms for more than a few hours everyday. I was either walking around the campus or chatting with friends over a cup of masala chai (tea) in the food courts.

I liked the spacious, well-stocked Library and Resource Centre. The labs were open everyday with round the clock internet connection. With all these facilities, this place was sort of a paradise for all of us.

I missed these good times for a great many days after I left the place. This was the only place where I felt a sense of freedom as well as that of responsibility. I like to call my troubles after leaving this campus as "withdrawal symptoms". The remarkable campus facilities and the academic atmosphere was addicting. It took me a few years afterwards to understand that life did not come with all these packaged amenities.

The two years I spent in Gujarat will stay close to my heart. I don't think I will ever come across such comforts and enjoyment again. It was clearly the best of times!

Memoirs - My Hostel Days

I left that campus bordering the Yamuna river almost five years ago. I can still feel the pulse of that North Indian city at the confluence of the three holy rivers. It was my home for four long years. It was from an institution located close to this city that I completed my undergraduate education.

It was an unconventional place in many ways. The campus was almost cut off from the city because of the river. The Yamuna bridge, the only connection to the city, was always crowded and congested. The vehicles on the lower tier of the bridge trembled as the trains roared above them. The pollution was unbearable. The occasional breeze carried with it the stench of a city bursting at its seams.

A few minutes walk from this chaos led to the vast expanse that was my campus and home for a long time. The campus looked like was planted there from elsewhere. It was a complete contrast to what the city was. It was green with red brick buildings. Flowers bloomed at all times. The landscaping was perfect. One of my favourite past-times was sitting under the arches in the Administration Block and staring at all that life around me.

Despite the beautiful surroundings, the institution was a tough place. Most students believed that surving the Institute took a lot of effort and prayers. The climate was extreme. It was an alternation between freezing winters and sultry summers. The summers were especially rough with hot, gusty winds. The hostels did not have heaters or coolers. The drinking water had a hard, metallic taste. The food lacked variety and was bland. A third of the first year students got either malaria, jaundice, typhoid or a combination of these.

I went through a period of shock during my first months there. Then, there was a period of denial during which my subconsious failed to register that I was away from home. The final relief came while bonding with peers in the hostel and classes. There were students from all the states of India and from countries such as Bangladesh, Kenya, Rwanda and Burma. There was so much of variety of people in the Institute. We celebrated together all the festivals of the representative Indian states and countries.

There were three men's hostels, one international hostel and a women's hostel. The women's hostel had about three hundred girls. This was the most curious place in the Institute. This hostel had its own mini campus. There was a high wall around it with many security guards posted around the structure. The women's hostel resembled a fortress designed to keep the species of the opposite sex at bay (or to contain the female species).

It was a totally different regime inside the women's hostel. Believe it or not, this was an incredibly hard place to live in especially for the newcomers. The newcomers were paraded for many months and methodically scoffed at.

The warden was a coward who ignored the atrocities. I remember her asking me if I was facing any troubles during my first week in the hostel. Considering that I was dressed like a clown with oil dripping down my head, I was sure that she could infer something. Ofcourse, I said I was fine and had no complaints. She smiled dutifully at my deranged appearance.

The first year is the longest and the most painful. I must have shed enough tears for a life time during my first year. The following years were full of activity. The friends circle enlarged and there was always some festival going on in the campus. I learned to decieve and lie to suit any circumstances. My survival instincts sharpened and my confidence increased.

By the time I finished my course, I was a changed person. I went in to the Institute as a naive teenager. I came out as a cunning young lady. From my experiences in the Institute, I learned to cleverly mask my mischiefs. I went through the joys and troubles of independance. I learned to manage myself mostly through trial and error.

My time in the Institue was full of ups and downs. I remember my circle of friends and the events we organized together in the Institute. I have such fond memories of the late-night hostel events. It was something close to a bunch of females going insane throughout the night and into the wee hours. I remember travelling to waterfalls, picnic spots, field and industrial sites in our yellow Institute bus. I remember vividly the many fights in the hostel with rival student factions and especially with seniors. There was a lot of bottled-up rage and frustration in all of us.

My years in the Institute was a time of mixed emotions and experiences. I consider it to be both the best of times and worst of times. When I look back, living there for four years is something I cannot even imagine repeating. That life seems so mythical and unbelievable to me now just like that ancient city.

Oprah and Her Dreams...

I was watching the popular talk show host, Oprah Winfrey, talking to Larry King today. I couldn't help wondering about these two successful individuals who have altered the course of TV history. It was as though the two legends were exploring their phenomenal achievements.

Oprah comes across as a sincere lady despite her wealth and fame. She shared some of her childhood memories during the interview. Her recollections of her youth are not pleasant. They are stories of abuse including that of a failed pregnancy during her teenage years. Despite all odds, Oprah forged ahead. She won scholarships, awards and recognition during her studies.

Oprah started her talk show during the 1980s on a very low scale. The 'Oprah Winfrey Show' was an instant hit. She has never had to look back ever since. She won multiple Emmys for her performances. 'Oprah Winfrey Show' is now the highest rated talk show in TV history. Oprah, also an acclaimed actress and publisher, is the richest Afro-American of the 20th century.

I have seen her show many times over the years. She has the striking ability to emphatize with her guests. She is a responsive talk show host who shares in the troubles of her guests. I have seen her distribute gifts including homes and cars during her show. Her latest philantrophic effort is the leadership academy for underprivileged girls in South Africa.

"The drums of Africa are still beating in my heart", she screamed to the crowd during the inaugration of her school. This school is close to her heart. It is the begining and end of her dreams. Oprah is back to her roots in South Africa to do what she does best - giving back to society.