Showing posts with label expat life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label expat life. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Fear and loathing in Belgium

“Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” – Forrest Gump




Here's an assortment of half-thoughts, snap reactions, and other unfortunate consequences following the November 13 Paris attacks.
  • The police sirens started on Saturday, the day after the Paris attacks. We could hear them from our house all weekend, and every day since, wailing in the distance.
  • Texted a friend in Paris who wrote back: “All is ok. Fortunately, kids don’t let us go out at night. Crazy. War is war.”
  • Lots of talk of war.
  • Watched all the major TV news stations – BBC, CNN, Canvas – but only found out about the attack in Beirut through Facebook.
  • Went to work on Monday. There too, sirens all day. 
  • Tuesday, Nov.17: the New York Times called Molenbeek a “working class Brussels neighborhood.” That’s one way to describe it.
  • Hello Belgian army! Guys with machine guns are patrolling Brussels North Station. I wonder what they are thinking about. How do they stay alert all day? Do they get coffee breaks? What if they get an itchy trigger finger? All unanswered questions, but I was glad they were there.
  • “Don’t be a slave to your empathy.” - A muslim commentator on Flemish TV when asked about the refugee situation in Belgium, and whether he thought radical muslims were also entering the country. 
  • In the elevator at work I saw a guy who said he had to go home because his daughter was sick. She wasn’t really sick, he said, but she was scared. She’s 11.
  • More sirens.
  • My dad loves Molenbeek. I used to live 5 minutes walk from there and whenever my dad would come visit he’d always do his grocery shopping in Molenbeek. He especially liked the fruit, dates, nuts, and Turkish delights. “If I lived here,” he told me one time, “I’d do all my shopping in Molenbeek.”
  • What happened in Paris is still very fresh, and there’s a nervous sense that Brussels is next. Still lots of talk of war, which is interesting as I’m now reading the book “What Terrorists Want,” by Louise Richardson, a terrorism expert and Vice-Chancellor at Oxford University, and I’m on the chapter “Why the War On Terror Can Never Be Won.”
  • Taking the train into Brussels everyday. Not as carefree as usual. Maybe it’s just my over-active imagination.
  • The War On Terror Can Never Be Won because: “If victory means making the United States invulnerable to terrorist attack, we are never, ever going to be victorious. Here’s why casting a conflict in terms of a war one cannot win is a big mistake. By dispatching an operative into any Starbucks, subway station, or shopping mall in the country and blowing it up, a terrorist group could demonstrate that the most powerful country in the history of the world has not been able to beat it. This is making it too easy for the terrorists…The ultimate goal of any war must be to deny the adversary what it is that he wants. Terrorists want to be considered at war with us, so to concede this to them is to grant them what they want, instead of doing our utmost to deny them what they want.”
  • J'aime the fact that the French are protesting against fear by going to the cafés.
  • I’m torn about going to war. Iraq was a big mistake. Afghanistan only slightly better. Would it turn out better if it weren’t just America’s war? How can we fight radicalism without creating more of it? I don’t know, but we need to do something.
  • “You get used to terrorism.” – French author Michel Houellebecq
  • Friday, Nov. 20: NYT now referring to Molenbeek as “Jihad Central.” A bit harsh, I thought, but I’m also so glad we didn’t buy that apartment we looked at there. It was a cool space, but the neighborhood
  • Friday night, I went for a few drinks in Brussels after work. Hm, where can we go and not get shot? That’s my over-active imagination talking again, right? Three Duvels later I had forgotten all about any threat. There was an army truck parked in front of Central Station, but you know, whatever.
  • “You get used to terrorism.”
  • Late Friday night, the terror alert dial in Brussels turned from 3 to 4 – the maximum level. An unspecified “immanent and severe” threat was cited. More specifically, one of the Paris attackers was sighted in the area and thought to be wearing explosives.
  • So much for protesting fear. Brussels cafés, shops, restaurants and metros closed all weekend. Better safe than tipsy. Sorry, sorry.
  • #BrusselsLockDown blows up on Twitter. 
  • The lockdown continues into Monday. Schools closed now too. Working from home until further notice.
  • Read another article this week with this eerie line: “The Islamic State has come to be known around the world by names like ISIS and ISIL. But in Raqqa (Syria), residents began calling it Al Tanzeem: The Organization.”
  • Cancelled my trip to London. Cancelled my trip to Paris. 
  • Concert in Brussels cancelled. Now it’s personal!
  • People keep saying, “Be safe.” I know what they mean, but what are we supposed to do?
  • Tuesday: I got an email from the director of the school where I take evening classes for French. It said that there was a bomb scare at the school today. Classes cancelled.
  • Got a text from another friend: “I am working from home at the mo. I am however travelling to London tomorrow to see the kids. It is crazy stuff but I think people are overreacting a bit! We’re giving these idiots exactly what they want…Chaos and & fear…”

Monday, March 30, 2015

USA deconstructed

Last weekend my daughter's school had an open house. Everyone was welcome, whether you went to the school or not, and activities were organized around the theme "travel." In different classrooms, parents from various ethnic backgrounds put on workshops related to their country of origin.

The kids could get a henna tattoo from Pakistan, learn a Russian folk dance, practice writing in Arabic, hear a story from Macedonia or Sweden, decorate German and Moroccan cookies, sing a song in Chinese, play a game from Iraq, or make an American flag.

I've met other English-speaking parents at the school, from South Africa and England, but as far as I know I'm the only American parent. So you can guess who ran the American flag workshop.

I showed the kids, most of whom were between 3 and 5 years old, a real American flag and asked them to go crazy and make their own. It was a lot of fun and the results have a Jasper Johns quality that I really love.




















Saturday, May 3, 2014

Diversity's many faces

Quirky Belgium

The Travelled Monkey - Diversity's many faces
This year Mechelen celebrates 50 years of diversity. Various (multi-)cultural events are being staged around the town, including this collage on the post office. It is part of the FACE-IT project, depicting over 120 people from different origins that call Mechelen home. Photo by John Weaver

 
Today, half of all the children in Mechelen that are 11 years old and younger come from an immigrant background. That means either themselves, their parents, or their grandparents were born in another country. With 128 different nationalities represented in this town of about 82,000, it’s worth asking what that means for one’s identity?




Saturday, March 29, 2014

Obama watch

Pic of the week

Photo by John Weaver

Belgium was buzzing this week with the visit of Barack Obama, his first visit to the E.U. capital since becoming President. 

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Celebrating Iranian new year in Belgium

Quirky Belgium

The Nowruz, or Persian New Year, festival includes jumping over fire while singing the traditional song Zardi-ye man az to, sorkhi-ye to az man, which literally translates to "My yellowness is yours, your redness is mine," with the figurative message "My pain/sickness for you (the fire), your strength (health) for me." The fire is believed to burn out all the fear (yellowness) in their spirit in preparation for the new year. Photos by John Weaver


Around the world, here in the Northern hemisphere at least, we celebrate the start of spring this week. And with spring comes optimism, or at least a looking forward to warmer, greener, longer days.

But for Iranians it’s even more than that – it’s Nowruz, the Persian New Year.