Brief Work Trip to Belgium

Goede morgen/bonjour from Belgium! Yes, the country I only knew as a) associated with waffles and b) the route for Germany’s invasion of France during World War II, is now graced with my presence, holy smokes. Why am I here? Because ATMI, the new company I’m drawing a paycheck from, has not one but two facilities here! And, since it’s my job to see what’s going on at every facility and meet and train the key contacts, I get a trip over here. I’m not thrilled to be away from Jennifer, the kid and the dog for two weeks (I’ll also be spending some time at our HQ in Danbury, Connecticut) but it’s nice to get away from the Texas drought and see a country that I’ve never visited.

I got here via two Delta flights: first from Austin to Atlanta and then on to Brussels. The only items of note on the trip were a) seeing the Milwaukee Brewers’ team plane in Hartsfield-Jackson airport (at least, I hope it was theirs since someone who wasn’t the team owning a plane painted in Brewers colors and covered with their logo would be pretty scary) and b) being bumped to the rear of the plane for the Brussels flight since there’d been a plane change and my seat, 20C, didn’t exist on the new one. I hate, repeat, hate, the back of the plane since it shakes so much more than the middle and front. Thankfully the flight was for the most part pretty stable. I was sitting next to two twenty-something French guys who were frustrating by the plane’s lack of working overhead lights, thus preventing them from playing cards during the eight hour flight.

So, about Belgium. The first thing to know about Belgium is that culturally it really should be divided in two and annexed by the Netherlands and France. I thought Flemish was the official language of Belgium but I was wrong on two counts. First, Flemish is only a dialect of Dutch (and thus extremely similar) and second both Flemish and French are the official languages. In fact, there is a set dividing line between the Flemish and French-speaking regions based on governmental regions (like states or counties). Brussels and the Walloon region in the south speak French while the Flemish region in the north speaks, well, Flemish. Our office in Brussels speaks French but the office in Hoegaarden (pronounced pretty much like hoo-garden), located only 20 miles to the east, speaks Flemish. Weird. All things considered I prefer being around French speakers since it’s easier to understand, being similar to Spanish, but I much prefer driving to the Hoegaarden office since it’s located in a bucolic town the size of Buda.

I’ve got a rental car. And it’s a friggin’ beamer, the first I’ve ever driven, though of the station wagon variety. This is also the first time I’ve ever had a rental car for a business trip outside of the US and the first time I’ve ever tried to drive in Europe, even though this is like my tenth trip in the past seven years. Thank God they drive on the right side of the road or otherwise I’d really have trouble. You see, driving in Belgium isn’t that much different than in the States but it’s just different enough to cause problems. Let me count the ways:

- Roundabouts. Four way intersections made seamless. I actually kind of like them now that I’m used to them but they were a bit disconcerting at first.
- My sideview mirrors. BMW thinks it’s a hoot to make the sideview mirrors concave (or is it convex) so that you can see your blind spot in them and thus don’t have to look over your shoulder. That’s nice except that it’s difficult to perceive how far that car in the next lane is. Is it in my blind spot or further back? I have to look over my shoulder to find out, eh. One good thing though is that if I don’t see anyone in the sideview mirror I can change lanes.
- Road layouts. Roads have arrows to show you which lane to be in but the intersections can sometimes be a bit confusing based on where the median is, dotted-white lines are, the presence of pedestrians and cyclists, and such. It’s like they’re a degree or two off of normal, just enough for me to hate being the first car to go through an intersection when the light turns green (better to follow someone else, eh).
- Drivers are a bit more aggressive here. In a way it makes it easier for me to compensate for my screw-ups but it’s disconcerting when people cut you off, ride your tail or drive about 60 mph faster than you on the freeway.
- Narrow streets. This is especially true in older parts of cities built before cars. I hate it. Especially because...
- One lane streets aren’t necessarily one-way. Yes, in Belgium you can go the wrong way down a one-way street in certain circumstances known only to Belgians. I’ve been told that there is a difference between Northern and Southern Europe in terms of driving craziness with Southern being much worse. Let’s just say that Belgium tries to ignore its geography.
- Pedestrian crossing. You’re supposed to yield to pedestrians when you’re driving. This makes little sense to me but I’m working on it. I stop for them while I’m driving but when I’m a pedestrian I still try to hang back until a big gap appears.
- Parking. Parallel parking is the norm. Luckily I haven’t had to do it yet where I had to back in. Parking garages usually have very tight spaces as well. Why’d the rental car company have to rent me a friggin’ boat?
- And last, motorcyclists. They don’t respect traffic lanes, thus making Belgium a Level 2 driving country. See, I have a system of measuring a country’s driving craziness based on the behavior of its motorcyclists. I call it the Motorcyclist Lunacy Index. Here are the levels:
o Level 1 – Motorcyclists usually respect the traffic rules and drive like cars do, i.e. staying in their lanes and respecting the speed limit. Ex. United States
o Level 2 – Motorcyclists drive in between car lanes as if they own the joint. This can be either on regular roads or traffic-clogged freeways. Ex. Belgium
o Level 3 – Motorcyclists not only disrespect lanes but they also run red lights if nobody’s coming. Ex. Mexico
o Level 4 – Motorcyclists drive on the sidewalk. Ex. South Korea
o Level 5 – Motorcyclists drive like they’re suicidal but then again so does everybody else. Ex. India (where the safest place to be when you’re on the road is on top of a cow)

Of course, as I mentioned before this is the country that also thinks it’s ok to go both ways down a one-way street in certain circumstances.

Now let’s talk about GPS. See, the BMW has built-in GPS which I’ve figured out how to use. I hate the idea of GPS. I think everybody should be able to read a map and practice that skill as often as possible. I consider it an essential life skill and Graham’s going to have to learn it once he’s got this whole reading thing down.

But...I’m going to give a pass to a person driving by themselves in a foreign country. See, right after I landed at 8:40am on Wednesday, I had to drive from the airport into Brussels. I hadn’t slept on the plane. I was driving an unfamiliar car in an unfamiliar city with roads that were confusing as all getout (the guy at the rental counter couldn’t even adequately explain how to leave the airport while drawing a map). Without GPS, I would have spent double the time to get there and greatly increased my likelihood of getting in an accident. In short, the GPS was a good investment by ATMI in that it saved me stress and time. The system has a comforting female voice that seems to soothe a bit, even when she tells me to u-turn (because I ignored her instructions and missed a turn). And she ALWAYS knows where I am and how to get me to my destination. Once I learned how to interpret her commands and her sense of timing (oh, ‘turn right now’ means NOW?) I’ve become quite comfortable with her. And yes, it’s eerie saying her but seriously it sometimes feels like I have a navigator popping up whenever I have to make a turn.

I’ll talk more about GPS lady later. We had fun together on Saturday.

So what else about Belgium? It’s very green here and quite overcast. They’ve been getting a ton of rain lately. In fact, on Thursday when I was in Brussels, the Hoegaarden office got 50cm of rain in a half hour. That’s about 20 inches!!!! Peoples’ houses had a foot of water in them and it even flooded the back part of our factory. The worst though were the winds that knocked over a stage at an outdoor rock festival, killing three people. For ATMI employees who had kids or spouses attending, it was a nightmare to ensure they were ok since cell phone service was knocked out.

http://www.ksdk.com/news/article/272478/28/Belgium-storm-hits-music-fair-leaving-five-dead

The food is fairly decent though I’ve only had one solid meal where I had real Belgian food (it was chunks of beef in some broth and it tasted good), the other meals being my normal staples of pizza, sandwiches and gyros and the like. The pizza is the normal Italian-style with thin crust and not much sauce but I found a mostly empty restaurant run by a guy who speaks Italian. I went back once and will probably go back on Monday just because he likes to speak to me in Italian with me responding in Spanish. Much easier than being in a Flemish-speaking joint trying to make myself understood though I have learned some words:

- Dank u wel – thank you
- Altublieft – please
- Ja – yes
- Ik spreek geen Nederlands – I don’t speak Dutch
- Goede morgen – good morning
- Goed – good

Um, and that’s about it. Mostly I try to get by without speaking or use French (not that I know much more French but I know enough more to feel safer and plus I do a fairly decent French accent). Je ne parles pas Francais, indeed!

Thursday was spent in Brussels, where I had a fun 45-minute commute due to traffic (and I probably could have found the office without the GPS lady but I didn’t want to chance it). Friday was spent in Hoegaarden where apparently everyone brings their lunch so I had to drive by myself down to the Shell gas station to get a very-pressed ham and cheese panini.

Music on the radio is interesting here. No rock or country, but lots of pop and dance music. And they don’t bleep out the cuss words either so Cee-Lo Green’s love ballad F--- You doesn’t insert the word ‘Forget’. The pop queen is Katy Perry, particularly her ‘This Friday Night’ song but I’ve also heard Jennifer and my old fave, ‘Vamos a la Playa’ twice. Oh yeah, and that annoying Bruno Mars song about doing nothing all day long. Regardless, it’s always fun to hear the DJ cut speak in French or Flemish and then throw in the English band and song name (“goeden woerd voordje kleine sterren ‘Franky Valli and the Four Seasons – Oh What A Night!’”).

Here are some good songs I’ve heard though:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lC_dclLci6g (a French/English duet)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=td5RJ2uBSbo&feature=related (a good dance song that happens to have a lot of yelling)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=suRsxpoAc5w Moves Like Jagger by Maroon 5

My hotel is located in the center of Leuven, a university town with a quite old town center (that is heck to drive in, at least at first). Cute little cobblestone streets, lots of old buildings including big churches, many of which were reconstructed after World War II and a fair number of tourists (but no Americans near as I can tell, yay). The hotel has an underground parking garage which is quite difficult to navigate my BMW boat through but it beats parallel parking on the street. The showerhead sticks to the wall, thank goodness, and for the first time ever the maid doesn’t put those useless throw pillows I never use back on the bed when she cleans. She put them on top of the wardrobe the first day, saving both her and I effort. Awesome. Oh, and lastly Belgium is on the euro if you were wondering but I don’t know what their economic problems are (though apparently they’ve been without a fully-functioning federal gov’t, i.e. no prime minister, for like the last year and a half).

Part of the reason I’m here is that there’s a work emergency I’m working to take care of and thus I didn’t give any thought to what I was going to do with my free weekend in Belgium until Friday night. The Americans working for ATMI in Belgium had some good suggestions. Ghent and Bruges are both great old cities to wander around in. Brussels is the capital of Europe with the EU HQ there. Ostend is a nice town on the North Sea. Or if I wanted to hop a train, I could be in Amsterdam, Paris or even London in about two hours. Whoa. Well, I’ve been to those latter three (though didn’t have enough time to explore each properly) and besides I don’t want to go to super-cool places that Jennifer would like to go to as well without her if I can help it (Jennifer, forget the Kid and come to Europe with me, eh!!!!!). Belgian cities didn’t appeal to me because they’re too stressful and there were bound to be tons of tourists. I thought about what I love most about Europe: old buildings of course! And, as it turns out, Belgium has a ton of old forts, called citadels here. Awesome!

Now, I should have just bought a travel guide to Belgium before I left. I didn’t think about it so I was left with the trusty internets. I found a list of the best ones and using Google Maps figured out where some of them were clustered together. I wanted to be in the hilly regions which meant going south to the French-speaking Walloon region, another bonus. I knew the towns the citadels were in were Namur, Dinant and Bouillon (pronounced, I believe, Boo-yone) but I didn’t know where they would be. And I couldn’t get that shifty GPS lady to tell me so I was reduced to driving to the towns and hoping for proper signage (something you’d think the local authorities would ensure is adequate but half the time is not the case) or for the citadel to be easily visible (and with them always being on the high ground, this was likely).

I told the GPS lady I wanted to go to Namur. It was at this point she and I had our first fight. See, GPS Lady likes it if I take the freeway. But I don’t like the freeway except on the way back when I’m tired. When I’m driving somewhere new, I want to SEE the places I’m in and that means taking the two-lane backroads. Armed with a map that I had purchased at the first gas station I passed in Leuven (where I also confirmed I could use my American-style, not European-style, credit card to buy gas), I knew which road I wanted to take to get there. And I knew she wouldn’t like it. The interaction went something like this:
- GPS Lady (about ½ mile before the turn): “Prepare to turn right.”
- GPS Lady: “Turn right in 300 meters.”
- GPS Lady: “Now turn right.” I continue straight ahead on the road I want.
- GPS Lady (after five second period of silence): “Please u-turn if possible.” I continue straight ahead.
- GPS Lady (after about fifteen seconds as she’s realized I’m not u-turning and figures a new route to get me back to where she wants me to go): “Turn right in 300 meters.”
- GPS Lady: “Now turn right.”
- GPS Lady: “Please u-turn if possible.”

This cycle continues at least once more. Then she gives up and reroutes me to the route I wanted the whole time. Since there are no instructions to give since I’m going straight I don’t hear from her again for a while. It’s as if she’s sulking. Poor GPS Lady.

When we reached Namur, I turned the GPS Lady off because as far as I was concerned she’d done her job and it would be up to old-fashioned navigating and searching to get me where I needed to be. Namur was a bigger town than I thought, probably New Braunfels-sized. I didn’t see the fort when I drove in so, when I got to a point where I knew I didn’t know where to go, I stopped the car and consulted the GPS Lady’s map. I figured the citadel was on the other side of the river but I didn’t know how to get to the other side without consulting GPS. Armed with this new info, I saw the fort as I was about to turn across the bridge. Score one for old-fashioned navigating (sort of).

Now there are two things a guide book would really have helped me on. First, it probably would have had a detailed map of the city with the location of the fort on it. Second, it would have told me that I didn’t have to find a parallel parking spot at the base of the hill but rather that I could drive up to the middle of it and park. It actually worked out for the best because the fort was rather lame, being a bunch of walls on the side of the hill but no meat inside. Or maybe it would have been better if I had signed up for the Segway tour but I figured that, well, I had two more forts to get to and it was already 11am. I did get some great views of the Meuse and Samois river valleys with Namur splayed out across them. I also found out, after getting a map of the fort, that there was a chateau at the back end. I walked back down to the base, got in my car and drove up to the parking lot at the chateau. I had to because Jennifer and I had been watching BBC period mini-series like ‘The Way We Were’ and ‘Downton Abbey’ so I needed to see if it was a building like that. No such luck; it was just a nice looking big house with a hotel and restaurant inside. I got in the Beamer, turned on the GPS Lady and got on my way to Dinant.

I had to pull another change of route on GPS Lady but how the heck could I miss out on following the Meuse River for the 30 or so miles? GPS Lady don’t know nothin’ ‘bout travelin’. She wasn’t silent for long though as there were a bunch of roundabouts on the road and she never lets a roundabout go by without giving me instructions: ‘Turn right at the first/second/third turning of the roundabout’. I was glad to give her something to do so she’d feel useful.

The signage for the citadel of Dinant was quite good and I easily found the parking at the top of the cliff where the citadel was situated. Whereas the citadel of Namur was free to wander around in, this one required 7 euro (about $11 or so) to get in. I soon found out why: you had to have a guided tour to wander the grounds. Bleh. Not only did I have to hang around for 15 minutes waiting for the next tour but the tour would be given in two languages, neither of which I knew: French and Dutch. I did get a little pamphlet in English but its descriptions were quite paltry. Whereas the French and Dutch speakers got five minutes of speaking at each spot, I got maybe three sentences. Way to go Dinant tourist authorities. There was at least one Spanish speaker with us and two people from Great Britain and maybe a handful of others, likely Germans. Well, the fort was fairly good so the overall experience was quite positive. We had good views of the Meuse River valley and the inner workings of the fort.

The history of these forts is quite interesting. They were set up beginning in maybe the 900s (or later, depending on which one you’re talking about) as a common line of defense. The thing is though that today’s countries didn’t exist. Sure, you had the kingdom of France but there was the Holy Roman Empire for a while and tons of little principalities and fiefdoms. By the 1600s the region was owned by either France or Holland (Belgium didn’t come into being until 1830), seemingly switching back and forth with each successive war. And that’s not counting all of the random fiefdom invasions and attacks. The worst was when Charles the Bold ransacked the town, tying 800 townspeople in pairs and throwing them into the river to drown. As civilized as we always think Europe is/was, there sure were a lot of stupid little wars and lots of action like that. The forts were sometimes even fought over in World Wars I and II (there was one story about 12 French soldiers who were trapped in a tunnel in citadel of Dinant killing 58 German soldiers while fighting to the last man).

And speaking of World War II, it’s weird to think that if I were living in Belgium in 1939 I would be going to war to fight the Germans (or be working in the underground to try to make the occupiers’ lives miserable). War is such an abstract concept to us younger Americans because the last one fought on our soil was fought 150 years ago and the last draft we had was in the early 70s. But here they lived it. They fought. They were bombed. They starved. They were beaten. They endured and survived. It’s amazing. I think most of us Americans have really no idea of war (not that the average young Belgian knows anything about it either but still). Watching Band of Brothers was the closest I’ve come to it but perhaps next visit I’ll drive over to Bastogne where the American army was besieged during the Battle of the Bulge.

It was during the tour of the citadel of Dinant that I really missed home, specifically Jennifer and the Kid. It may seem strange to you that I would miss home while being in such a cool place but seeing husbands and wives together and little kids running around reminds me strongly of my family back home (if I saw a dog jumping up and scratching people I’d assuredly miss Maisy too). I’m happy for them that they are traveling together and slightly sad that I don’t have Jennifer to enjoy this with me (and an older version of Graham though he probably wouldn’t really enjoy something like this until he’s 11 or 12). Still, I’m quite fortunate to have a job that allows me the opportunities to do stuff like this, on the company’s dime no less. It doesn’t always make up for the time spent away from family but it helps sometimes.

After the hour-long tour I took the cable car down into the town of Dinant right on the river. I found what I was looking for, one of the reasons I wanted to come down into the French-speaking region: a French sandwich shop! I had a croque monseiur that tasted awesome even though the bread looked it came from H-E-B. For some reason the waitress brought me ketchup which couldn’t have been to go with my salad because it already had dressing on it. Was it because I looked American or was it normal? I never found out but that’s ok.

I took the cable car back up and got back in the car for the drive down to Bouillon. This would be about fifty miles or so, still on backroads (sorry GPS Lady) through small towns but unfortunately over farm fields and not following rivers. It was about 3pm when I made it into Bouillon, a place that let you know through the signage that a citadel was there but giving you absolutely no signs to tell you how to get to it. It did have an awesome little riverfront with shops and restaurants all along both stone-lined banks which, while I was cruising saw the citadel up high above it. I found a place to park way back at the edge of town but since Bouillon is a really small place it wasn’t far to walk. There were a bunch of tourists there, it being a Saturday and all, and the place really felt like the Belgian/French version of Eureka Springs, Arkansas. In short, really cute and touristy without being too tacky. And Eureka Springs has nothing quite as cool as a citadel (though the monster statue of Jesus is pretty impressive).

I hiked up to the citadel and paid my €7,50 (they reverse the use of commas and periods in numbers here) to enter. No guides this time, yay, it was all self-guided with a very detailed guidebook in English! The citadel was originally owned by Geoffrey of Bouillon, the guy who started and financed the first Crusade back in 1095 (he went over, conquered Jerusalem and died there). Note: watch Kingdom of Heaven for a decent movie about the first Crusade. It had a succession of owners afterward including Louis XVI, who sent this awesome engineer named Vauban to make a bunch of improvements (which I won’t go into detail on here but they were cool). The citadel of Bouillon was pretty awesome and definitely the best of the bunch (actually, they each was better than the previous).

After my visit to the citadel, I wandered down by the wild side of the Samois river where there was a big open grassy area to chill out in with woods on the other side. People were fishing, swimming in the river, sitting on parkbenches or lazing about on picnic blankets. It was like San Gabriel Park in Georgetown but ten times better (and without the soul-sucking heat). It was at that point I wished I’d had the foresight to book a night in a hotel in Bouillon instead of having to get back to my hotel in Leuven that night. Or at least bought a guidebook so I would have known where to park and to bring my swimsuit. I wanted to sit in that river so bad but oh well. Perhaps when I bring Jennifer and family. Anyway, Bouillon is now included on my list of totally awesome towns to visit and spend some downtime in.
On the walk back to my car I found two more establishments I was looking for: a boulangerie (boo-lahnge-air-ee) and a chocolate shop! The word boulangerie not only sounds good but is also associated with awesome bread, croissants and quiches. Well, actually the bread is usually awesome, the croissants don’t taste much different from croissants made here and I actually don’t like quiches but feel compelled to eat them because a) I’m in France or a French-speaking region and b) they’re a good source of healthy food I have a tough time finding on the road like broccoli or salmon. I got a bunch of miscellaneous chocolates for Jennifer which hopefully won’t melt before I get them back to Austin.

I let GPS Lady have her way and direct me to the expressway to return to Leuven. I stopped at a grocery store outside of Bouillon to get some apples, bananas and bottled water to have for dinner (along with the bread, croissant and quiche) as well as stash for later days. I haven’t found a good granola bar equivalent in Belgium but it appears that my stash of granola bars and trail mix from the US will last me through Connecticut so I’m ok.

I hate the expressway in Belgium. Too many people driving like bats out of hell for me and too boring scenery. Still, it was already six when I left Bouillon and it would take at least 1.5 hours to get back so it was better to at least not have to think as much. Belgian freeways are pretty much like ours so there’s nothing interesting to report about the journey back. It wasn’t like GPS Lady even sounded happy or anything to have gotten her way.

Today I slept in until 10:36 which may be the latest I’ve slept in since I was in college ten years ago. I’m not sure I’ve slept in past 7am since Graham was born. Since I went to bed around 11:30, that was a whole eleven hours of sleep. Wow. Guess I needed it. The good thing was that I wasn’t driving anywhere today, only spending the day wandering around Leuven on foot. I set out at noon and there were still hardly anybody on the street or any shops open.

I had one place I needed to find and that was the cemetery with several British soldiers killed during the early years of World War II. I found them along with a bunch of soldiers from other British territories like Australia, New Zealand and Canada (well, Canada wasn’t anymore but the guy was in the Royal something-or-other), Belgium, the Netherlands and even, near as I can tell, Germany. There was a big section for Belgian veterans who died after the war. And there was even a section for those who died in concentration camps and those who survived them (I’m not 100% certain I’m right but the inscription at the entrance to the area had ‘Buchenwald’ written in it). Read ‘The Boy in the Striped Pajamas’ for a really sad children’s story about the Holocaust.

I ended up walking 10.5 miles, a good distance but not quite as far as the 15.5 I did a month ago in Minnesota. Highlights included getting out into the countryside (cow poop smells the same here as it does in Texas), seeing an automated machine selling loaves of bread in a gas station parking lot (it was called ‘broodautomaat’), seeing a basketball backboard with the mid-90s Houston Rockets logo on it, seeing several women wearing outfits which were combination halter top dresses and MC Hammer balloon pants and finding an all-ages track meet by following the sound of the PA announcer’s voice. The track meet was interesting in its banality: it was exactly like a track meet might be in the US except for the language difference. I stuck around to watch two 3x600 relays run by girls who looked to be between 9 and 10 and then left.

I’m sitting on my hotel bed finishing this after doing my own laundry at Nemo’s Laundromat just down the street (for only €4, less than the cost of having the hotel clean a t-shirt). Well, it’s almost done in that all of the clothes are hanging on towel racks and chairs drying off (Europeans aren’t big on dryers). Tomorrow I take the train into Brussels for a meeting with the export authorities for the Belgium-Capital and Walloon regions though I’ll be somewhat of a bit player as the meeting will be in either French or Flemish. I’m not nervous about taking the train or the meeting but together I’m slightly nervous (I shouldn’t be). Hope it goes well. In the afternoon I’ll be back in the Hoegaarden office and on Tuesday I’ll be on a nonstop Delta flight to New York’s JFK in order to reach ATMI’s HQ in Danbury, Connecticut. Yep, I’ll be renting another car but I don’t know if it will have GPS. In a way, I secretly hope it does :)

I’ll write more about Connecticut after I experience it a bit. I’m planning on being back in scorched Austin on Saturday, hopefully bringing some of this Belgian rain on my tail.