From One American Hug to Three Belgian Kisses

After an indescribably wonderful trip to AMERICA, I made it safe and sound to the Media Plus offices in Lommel, Belgium, just outside of Brussels. I was greeted by my enthusiastic colleagues (all of whom I must do the whole three-kiss-on-the-cheek thing, so it takes about an hour to say ‘hello’ to everyone). Coming back into Belgium I realized just how much character the little country really has. Even though 95% of the time it is overcast and/or raining and/or snowing, it has a cuteness about it, especially in the small villages where I stay while I am in the office. On every corner there is a snack shop or “frituur” serving all sorts of unidentifiable fried meats and delicious pomme frits smothered in repulsive mayonnaise (mine on the side, danku!). I am surrounded by the Flemish language (a slightly varied version of Dutch), not to mention the Italian, French, Spanish, and Hungarian of my colleagues. I also realized I actually really do miss the uniqueness of everyone I work with – they are all so different. Sitting at the lunch table (where I munch on a weird Belgian sandwich that never fails to have egg and mayo, no matter what you order), I look around and am confused how a Ukrainian, Bulgarian, British, Togolese, Hungarian, Canadian, and American can have such normal, everyday conversations about common life habits and routines. I got into the groove of being 6 hours ahead but one hour behind the country I was calling (Bulgaria) and also adjusted to the different phone systems, road signs, and food labels.

My week in the office was therefore a somewhat rough transition back into reality, and I was confused as to how a place so different could eventually once again become so familiar that I actually considered it reality (if that makes sense?) One extreme high and then extreme low occurred when the thousands of copies of the Croatia report arrived to the office. It looks amazing and perfect and I felt so proud – until I turned to the front cover, where under the title “Business Analyst” reads a “Kristin Kemy”. That is all I am going to say about that.

After a long night of clubbing in Belgium on Friday, Abbie, Slavy, and I woke up an hour later for our flight to good old Bulgaria. (As Slavy joked the whole way, “party in Belgium, hangover in Bulgaria!”) Our first stop after checking into our hotel was to our favorite traditional Bulgarian restaurant, and I surprisingly felt somewhat at home once again (or maybe it was just me trying not to think about how much I still missed everyone at my real home).

I knew I was really back in Bulgaria after our taxi ride home from dinner tonight. Slavy was not with Abbie and I, and of course the drivers always try to take advantage of us English-speakers. A crazy-haired lady who looked identical to Cruella Devil yelled at me that I didn’t pay her enough after telling me three different prices that she made up in her head. I have learned numbers 1-10 in Bulgarian so I can catch these little swindling tricksters. HA. Back to a life that is never easy, but always, always interesting.