Happy Birthday America

Today is Independence Day. Also known as the Fourth of July or America's birthday. This year she is 238 years young. It was back in 1776 that our founding fathers signed the Declaration of Independence declaring the colonies' independence from Great Britain. And the rest they say, is history.

Celebrating an American holiday while living overseas is always a bit different than it is back in the United States. First, since it isn't a local holiday, it is business as usual for the host country. That can make it easier to run out and buy last minute items but it also adds to the sense that the day really isn't a holiday. When we were in Albania, the Fourth of July was always a working holiday for us where Glenn and I would join our Ambassador in the receiving line at the Embassy's annual Independence Day reception. While we were there the reception was never actually held on the holiday itself (which always resulted in a lot of explanations about celebrating the 4th of July on an entirely different day.....), it was the closest we ever came to attending a celebratory party. Last year on the 4th we were actually in the Ionian Islands with a wonderful group of international friends and our eating, drinking and spending time with friends was reminiscent of the 4ths we had spent on the water with friends back in Norfolk.

So what are we doing this year? Last night we hosted a cookout for friends (old Albanian habits of not celebrating on the holiday itself die hard). We fired up the grill and cooked traditional American foods of hot dogs, hamburgers and barbecue chicken with all of the traditional sides. Because we are finally in a community where people understand the concept of bringing a dish to share, the meal was augmented with a wonderful assortment of international dishes. (And I'm realizing that it is so much easier to entertain when I don't have to do all of the cooking!). Today the rest of the SHAPE community is working but Americans have the day off. So this morning we are cleaning up from yesterday's festivities and exploring the Friday market. This afternoon we will head over to SHAPE to join the community in a giant 4th of July celebration. Everyone says this is one of the biggest events of the year with music, food and carnival games. We've promised Sidney that we will stay for the fireworks (at 2300 none the less since the sun sets so late). Whereas in Albania fireworks were a daily occurrence, Sidney hasn't seen any since we've arrived in Belgium so he is excited. The festivities probably won't be the like ones back home but they will be as close as we can get so we will enjoy this little piece of Americana.

So Happy Birthday America, with love from Belgium!

A Citadel On The Meuse: Namur

Namur with the looming citadel above

Because this is Belgium and you can't let a little (or a lot) rain stop your plans, a recent rainy weekend found us exploring the citadel in Namur. I'll be honest; prior to arriving in Belgium I had never heard of Namur but we hadn't been here long before people started telling us that this small city in central Belgium was a place we had to visit while we were here. And despite the rain, I'm glad we went.

With a population of just over 100,000 people, Namur isn't large. It is the capitol of both Namur province and the entire Wallonia region. Perched on the banks of the Meuse River the highlight of the town is its citadel. It is the first thing you see as you approach the town and you simply can't miss it because simply put, it is huge and one of the largest fortifications in Europe.

The original citadel dates to 937 but over time its perimeter has been expanded with its last major addition being added under Dutch control in 1675. It started out small but as the importance and regional influence of Namur grew, so did its citadel. Tunnels were built and expanded upon, a church was built within the confines of the walls and the walls were further expanded. Because of its strategic location Namur and its citadel were at various times occupied by the Spanish, Austrians, French and Dutch. The city fell to the Germans during both World Wars with the citadel being pillaged of its iron and metals in 1940. Like so much of Europe this granite fortress has a long and storied history. And a more complete history of the citadel can be found here.

Just a small snippet of the grounds. There are tunnels
throughout these walls

As we discovered, the beauty of the vast network of underground tunnels means we could escape the heaviest of the inevitable Belgian rain. We joined a small group of fellow tourists on a Dutch and English tour of one kilometer of the underground passages. (There are a total of 8 kilometers of tunnels under the citadel which is the largest underground network in Europe). Starting at Terra Nova, the highest level of the citadel, we descended down narrow stairs and deep under the ground. The tunnels had been developed as a means for soldiers to safely traversing the citadel grounds and were used from medieval times all the way through World War II and they had been adapted as the times changed. As we descended down the hill we moved from the 17th century and into more modern times. Small windows through which cannons could be shot gave way to even smaller openings for rifles. In the aftermath of the chemical warfare of World War I the tunnels were fortified with cement to make the chambers airtight and provide safe havens should the soldiers come under a chemical attack. (This portion of the re-fortification was never completed since the Germans captured and pillaged the citadel without the use of chemical weapons in 1940 during the Battle of Belgium).

During our tour we saw small chambers that were the sleeping quarters of hundreds of soldiers. Officer quarters were "roomier" but not much more comfortable. Offices, dining areas and communication centers also filled the chambers off of the tunnels. Sidney marveled at being in a place where "the soldiers lived and fought" and by the end of the tour was pointing out the various characteristics o the tunnels. It felt as though we were walking through a maze and by the time we finally reemerged at the foot of the gatehouse I had lost all sense of direction. But as our guide lead us back up the hill pointing out the various underground spots we had visited, it all started to make sense. 

And despite the intermittent rain the grounds were beautiful. They were expansive and mysterious and we wandered from one path onto another exploring the hidden nooks and crannies that make up the citadel. At the highest point of the hill we were afforded sweeping views through the lifting clouds of the river valley below us. Because we are in the midst of recognizing the 100th anniversary of the onset of World War I, the grounds include a small temporary exhibit depicting the destruction of Namur that occurred under German occupation. Pictures really do speak one thousand words.

I wish it hadn't been so wet during our visit but we are glad we visited. And we know we'll go back --hopefully on a drier day. After all, Namur is just one hour away from Mons.

The gatehouse

A misty view of the river from
the citadel

If you go:

Terra Nova
Route Merveilleuse 64
5000 Namur
+32 (0) 81.65.45.00
info@citadelle.namur.be

Open seven days a week from 30 March to 29 September, hours vary
The "Citadelle Pass" is 9 Euro for adults, 6 Euros for children between the ages of 5 and 18, senior citizens and teachers and grants access to all of the major sites.

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: The White Cliffs of Dover

Myth Busters

I hate stereotypes and stereotypes regarding gender roles really get me steamed. Before becoming a parent, I made myself a promise that I would raise my children, regardless of their sex, to not associate everything with a specific gender. I wanted them to see that both men and women can fulfill any role they set out to achieve. It sounds great, doesn't it? But then there is the reality and as of late, I have been forced to confront it head on.

Whether I like it or not I am surrounded by gender stereotypes on a daily basis. Living in an overseas military community the vast majority of the military members are men. They are the ones who get up, don a uniform and go to the office every morning. That leaves us trailing spouses, who are predominantly women, to get our children to school each morning, shop for groceries, care for the house and any deal with any other assorted issue that arises. What I consider to be antiquated roles are even more difficult to break out of since as a non-Belgian spouse, finding employment of any kind is next to impossible for me. I knew this coming here and (for the most part) have accepted it since I can see the bigger picture. But an impressionable four year old who sees the world in terms of black and white? He just doesn't interpret it in the same way.

Sidney notices everything that goes on around him and from his first day at school he started asking questions. The first was why there were only mommies dropping their kids off in the morning. (There are a few dads as well but not many). I explained that the daddies were at work so the moms did drop off in the morning. He nodded and didn't say much until the one morning when he noticed a dad dropping off a classmate. He quickly turned to me and announced that the child must not have a mother if his dad was bringing him to school. I quickly corrected him otherwise. But a few days later he announced that another classmate didn't have a father so his mother had to go to work. That lead to Sidney asking if I went to work. I explained that my job at the moment was taking care of him and his father. But even as the words rolled off of my tongue (and as I sit here typing this) I cringed a bit. Reality or not, it just sounds so antiquated and a throw back to another less liberated era. This Sidney took to heart since he started chattering about how my job was to take care of him. He extended this to food and cooking and reacted in horror when I suggested that perhaps his father could go to the store to shop or could even cook dinner. In his four year old world this violates his norm and he informed me that it simply wasn't possible for his father to perform those tasks. So much for my goal of raising a liberated son.

And these stereotypes continue and are reinforced by his surroundings. From toys ("boys play with cars, girls play with dolls") to choice of colors (pink is a "girl" color) my son is picking up on and verbalizing the very stereotypes I had hoped he would never experience. According to the all knowing four year old girls don't play baseball or football either. Boys grill since girls don't like fire just as they mow the lawn and girls sweep the kitchen. Just yesterday, after meeting Glenn for lunch, Sidney informed me that his father had to go to work to earn the money that his mommy spends. I can only surmise that he has picked up on these things at school since I know these words have never been uttered in our household. So what is a mom to do?

At the moment I counter his girls don't work statements with reminders that I did have a job outside of the home when we were in Albania and that when we return to America I will once again be working. Both concepts are a bit hard for him to grasp since his mind operates in the here and now. His one question was who will take care of him if I have a job so I reassure him that I can really do both. He seems skeptical. I remind him that Glenn cleans around the house just as much as I do and that he does all of the vacuuming. My son's smart response? Girls don't like the noise of the vacuum so boys have to do it. But I'm not completely without hope. Sidney does love to help me cook and even has his own play kitchen where he whips up pizza on a regular basis. He has recently become enamored with the movie Frozen (I know, its a sad day when I am relying on Disney princesses to break gender stereotypes). But he loves the music and readily watches what his classmates call a girl movie. He may be all rough and tumble but he recently converted an Easter basket into a purse (his words) since it is so much easier to carry his toys (matchbox cars) in a bag instead of his hands. (This is the European influence coming through). So all is not lost.....

Is this enough? Absolutely not. Is it a start? Maybe. But in reality I know this is going to be a life long struggle and all I can hope is that we model the right behavior at home and that someday it all clicks.

The Prettiest Little Town In Belgium

Its been called the prettiest town in Belgium and having visited, I fully agree. If you've only seen one picture of a Belgian town, chances are the picture was taken here since over 2 million tourists visit each year. The town has miles of canals, and narrow cobble stoned streets meandering past well preserved medieval brick buildings. And yes, since it is so beautiful, there are tourists, lots of tourists. So what Belgian town am I talking about? The answer is Brugge.

Located in the northwestern area of Flemish Belgium, Brugge is a picture perfect postcard city of just over 100,000 residents whose center is a UNESCO world heritage site. Fortifications were first built around the town during the first century BC in an attempt to fend off pirates. Its strategic location and waterways made it an important trading port during the 12 through 15th centuries when the textile trade flourished. This was followed by an economic decline but the 17th century saw the revival of the lace industry and today Brugge is known for their famous handmade lace. During the 19th century tourism became a focal point for the town's economic revival with this trend continuing today.

The architecture:

Traditional "step" roof lines

A peak through an ache at one of the many steeples
dominating the Brugge skyline

My favorite house; the building itself is quaint and perched
right on a canal but I love this little patio garden.

There must be a lot of fireplaces in this house

Like just about every town or city in the BENELUX region, Brugge is just under two hours away from Mons making it a perfect day trip. That is just what we did last week on a perfectly sunny yet cool first day of summer. From the moment we stepped off of the train and into the large park surrounding the city center I knew we were in for a treat. Living in the middle of a city with few trees, I was immediately struck by the amount of green space in Brugge. From the trees and flowers to the green way surrounding the canals, this stone and brick town felt lush. And the stone and brick buildings lining the narrow cobble stoned streets of the city center were just so beautiful. Brugge is known for their steep "stepped" roof lines and it seemed as though just about every building had this architectural detail. Even the commercial areas of the town, filled with both unique boutiques and international chains had a quaint feeling about them. Businesses catering to tourists stood side by side with restaurants and shops where the locals buy their provisions. Despite its touristy reputation, Brugge felt like a real town where locals and tourists exist side by side.

But for me, Brugge is all about their waterways. Today the canals remain a focal point of the town resulting in Brugge being referred to as "the Venice of the north". They meander for kilometers through the town with low slung stone bridges spanning the waterways and connecting all parts of the city center. Because we had been told it was a Brugge "must do" we joined the masses and took a surprisingly inexpensive (7 Euro a person which is a steal by European standards) tour of the canals. Seeing the town from the water provided us with a whole different perspective. While the streets were crowded with tourists and despite the number of boats on the canal, the water was strangely relaxing, making us feel as though we weren't one of the thousands who had descended on Brugge for the day. I loved the houses whose walled backyards abutted the canals. I dreamily envisioned what it would be like to be able to sip after dinner drinks from my own canal side perch. (Hey, a girl can dream!). Passing under the bridges spanning the waterways was an experience as well. I knew they all had enough clearance for our boat to pass underneath but there were several where we could reach up and touch the underside of the bridges.  Now that is low.

After our boat tour we retraced our route on the roads, passing over the bridges we had just gone under, standing on the canal banks to see where we had been, and exploring tree filled plaza. Lunch was eaten in one such square in the shadow of the Belgian stepped rooftops where we ate traditional local foods, drank Belgian beer and watched families peddle by on their bicycles. Despite the crowds it was all wonderfully serene.

Canal views:

There wasn't a lot of head room when traveling under
the bridges

Boats were zipping up and down the canals  providing us
tourists the best views of the town

So pretty

The entire family fell in love with Brugge. In fact no sooner had we left than Sidney started talking about wanting to go back. He's also been pointing out the roof lines in our neighborhood that "have stairs just like in Brugge." We know we will be going back so be forewarned, if you visit us in Belgium we will be taking you to Brugge.

Disenchanted

With our long anticipated trip back to the United States rapidly approaching, I've been thinking a lot about America. I've been contemplating the things I've missed the most, the aspects of American society I can still do without. Given my limited amount of time, I've been trying to decide what are the must-dos on my East Coast bucket list. And much to my surprise, my contemplations are much more complex than I had originally thought they would be.

As sad as it might sound, the more I think about it there really isn't a whole lot that I really miss about the United States. (There, I said it). Yes there are friends that I miss but our nomadic lifestyle --and that of so many of our friends--- has made living in close proximity to friends and family virtually impossible. I haven't been able to see my family as much as I would like but thanks to Skype and my parents' willingness to travel we have kept in touch on a somewhat regular basis. As silly as it sounds I really miss good Mexican food but as a result of not being able to find it in Europe, my own Mexican cooking skills have been improving. I find myself longing for fresh Maine air, which ironically I haven't really experienced in over twenty years, but summer in Belgium is turning out to be remarkably similar to summer in Maine so my longings aren't really that bad. So I guess this list is pretty simple. But then there is the list of what I don't miss.........

It has been so long since I've really spent time in the U.S. so my first hand knowledge feels a bit dated. But simply put, I don't miss the image of America that I keep seeing and hearing about in newspapers and on television. Through my snippets of news I keep hearing about increasingly polarized politics in Washington, the separation of church and state being eroded in a way that makes me very uncomfortable (my own words and not something I've heard anyone actually say), what feels like weekly mass shootings and other horrible tragedies and a general environment where instant gratification and the idea that bigger is better regardless of the consequences reigns supreme. I know I must be missing some of the big, good news stories, but all in all what I am hearing makes me feel sad and disappointed in my own country.

Perhaps it is because I have such distance from home that I feel this way. Or maybe it is because of this very distance that I do. It is hard to not compare what I am hearing on the news to what I am seeing on a daily basis here in Belgium. Big bad Washington has always been a point of contention amongst Americans but by the sounds of it, politics has gotten so unbelievably ugly that the only thing happening in DC is mudslinging from both sides of the aisle. The ongoing stalemate and inability to pass any legislation is especially embarrassing as we as a country talk about the importance of being a democracy and the art of compromise. Are we really setting the example that others should follow? While President Obama bemoans the fact that out of 185 countries in the world, the United States is one of just three (Oman and Paupa New Guinea being the other two) that does not provide paid family leave for the birth of a child. How can we consider ourselves to be a great world power yet fail so miserably when it comes to taking care of and providing for our own people? And then there is the gun control debate. As the recent slaying of police officers in Las Vegas demonstrates, the ability to legally carry a concealed weapon in no means protects the community. Yet we refuse to regulate guns while banning that oh-so dangerous European import of Kinder Eggs out of fear of children choking on the small toys. If we as a country are so concerned about our children's safety why has it become so easy to receive waivers to not vaccinate children against deadly diseases? And then there are the global warming deniers and......well the list just goes on and on. All of these are issues that my European friends have questioned me about. And my explanations? I just find myself shaking my head in discouragement.

I know I sound a bit bitter and yes, disenchanted by my homeland. And I hate that feeling, I really do.
I'm hopeful that my trip back to the U.S. will reinvigorate me and renew my belief that America really is a great country. I'm hoping to see a perspective that I have been missing and feel renewed hope that as a country we are on the right track. And I will see that, right? I hope..........

We Have Survived

Bundled up for the first day of school

Today is Sidney's last day of pre-school for the year. Although he started in February and only spent five months under the strict tutelage of Madame Isabelle, his Belgian, French speaking teacher, he has learned so much. In many ways he started as a shy little boy and has emerged as a much more confident  and worldly boy. But although short, it hasn't been an easy road.

For the first few weeks Sidney alternatively liked and hated school. At the end of the day he would say he had fun but then refuse to get out of bed the next morning. He would literally glue himself to his booster seat once we reached the school parking lot, requiring me to pry him out of the car and bring him kicking and screaming into his classroom. He said he didn't know what was going on since everything was conducted in French. Disliking the lunch that was provided by the school and refusing to even try it, he would be ravenous at the end of the day yet have no idea what was even offered on the menu. He would tell me he was good during the day but my appearance in the classroom at pick up time would immediately illicit a laundry list from his classmates reporting of everything Sidney (supposedly) did wrong during the day. On various days Sidney would come home with scribbles on the top of his head, paint on his arms and face and torn knees on his jeans with no real explanation as to how they all got there. Madame Isabelle initially said he was adjusting then she told us that he really needed to get better about listening. I began to wonder if our son would be kicked out of pre-school. (He wouldn't be the first one).

But gradually something changed. Sidney started listening to Madame and stopped hitting or kicking back at children who supposedly did this to him. He started talking about playing with his friends and began telling us how to say various things in French. Much to all of our surprise he started at least tasting everything on his lunch plate and has reported that some of the soup is even good. Pasta dishes remain his favorite but he will now sample the meats that are drenched in Dijon sauce and he really looks forward to the days when they serve fish. His artwork is still quite creative but he can write his name and readily recognizes many words in both English and French.

Somewhere along the line Sidney stopped crying at the notion of having to go to school in the morning and now gets himself up and dressed most mornings without any prompting or supervision. We arrived during the blustery and cold winter months making dressing in layers a no brainer. School is ending with days that are filled with cool mornings and warm afternoons (which reminds me more of later September rather than late June) thus prompting debates of what is appropriate attire for the day. Most days we end up in a compromise. He is now disappointed when it is Friday and he can't go to school for a whole two days. The refrain of "why is my school closed Mamma" has become a regular Saturday morning occurrence. And as of 15.15 today, Sidney will be on summer break; what will the boy (and his Mamma) do? We have variety of activities planned for the coming weeks including an extended stay in the United States and two weeks of summer camp (which Sidney is only willing to attend because "it is like school but with more fun activities and everyone will speak English). Sidney is concerned that other kids will be at his school while he isn't but I've assured him that no one will be there. And I've promised him that when we return from America he will be able to back to his school. It will be the same school with some of the same kids but a new Madame. Sidney wanted to know if she would speak English or French and my reassurance that she would speak French seemed to comfort him. Yes, things have changed in the past few months. My little boy has grown up and loves school. A mother really can't ask for more than that.

And Sid on a recent school morning wearing a
compromise outfit