Saturday, July 5, 2008


aka: A Normal Evening in Brussels

aka: Do I Look Jewish?

A strange thing happened to me the other night. I went out, as every evening, about 9:00 for a long walk with Truman. We usually take a 15-45 minute walk (depending on how tired we are). This walk turned into about an hour and a half. Here I am, innocently walking along a sidewalk in Brussels just a few minutes from my flat. Suddenly I find myself accosted by an elderly woman. Okay, she didn't actually do the first accostation; that was Truman who, as we were passing the woman, felt the great need to reach up and lick her fingers. He does this sort of thing a lot, and I always get smiles and friendly chatter out of such embarrassing moments. No different this day. The woman turned to me and started chatting away. And chatting. And chatting. Within the space of a block of shared sidewalk, she basically told me her whole life story. It turns out, she's Jewish. Her father escaped Austria into Switzerland before the Haulocaust. Interesting. "Where are you from?" she asks me, of course in French. "I'm from the States", I say.

Conversation takes a drastic change. Ah, she has a friend who was born in Maryland but moved to Canada. He's also Jewish. His wife and he live only a few blocks away and shouldn't I like to meet them? "Of course," I say, not realizing, until too late, that she means this exact moment. So off we go, to meet more Jews.

They had a lovely home and shared the nicest wine with me. "How strange..." I think as I'm sitting on their veranda. Moments ago, I didn't know any of these people, yet here I am on their private veranda, enjoying a nice glass of wine. Now I have to explain to my hosts why I'm not able to house sit their flat for them on their next trip to the U.S. in two months. How strange. How Belgian. How Bruxellois. Things like this happen here for many reasons. Most people who live here in Brussels are foreign (I am American, the accosteress Swiss, her friend American/Canadian, and his wife Dutch). People here are lonely, and they reach out to anyone who has the faintest connection to them. In this case, I apparently look Jewish and that was enough.

I didn't think much of that particular aspect of my experience. I was too busy thinking how strange it was to show up at someone's house I had never met and be offered a glass of wine and an evening chat. But the next day we had a new student at French class. He was instructed to guess each student's nationality. Most he quickly guessed: 4 Spaniards, 2 Italians, 1 Indian, 1 Afghan, 1 Brit... and then me. He looked at me for 2 seconds and promptly asserted "Ah, tu es d'Isriel, non?" (You're from Israel, eh?). Israel? How strange. How coincidental. How funny.

I was telling some fellow interns this yesterday, two of which are Jewish. After a chuckle, the Jewess next to me asked, "But how did they both know you are Jewish?" to which the other Jew nodded. Unbelievable. I explain that I am not Jewish. Really. Looks of disbelief. "I'm 1/4 Italian, 1/8 Swedish...." and they drop it.

So here I am: 4 people (3 of which were Jews) in less than 1 week have thought I am Jewish. I've only had one other person in my entire life ask if I was Jewish (a girl at school who was asking everyone because she just found out that SHE was Jewish).

I ask you, my dear readers, do you think I look Jewish? I would humbly present that I can do one killer of a Jew-from-Brooklyn accent, but I've never thought I also look Jewish. What do you think?

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Waterloo, Part Two

"Waterloo" is just so rhym-able, don't you think? As a follow up to some questions asked in the comments to my first Waterloo section: The Battle of Waterloo (June 1815) was the battle where the French Napoleon was finally defeated by the British, Dutch, and assorted Italians and Germans, such as they were at the time. The battle took place close to the small town of Waterloo in the United Kingdom of the Netherlands (now southern Belgium). It is widely lauded as the end of French Imperial colonization on the Continent, though this isn't quite accurate. For more information, check out the wiki article:

Below you'll find an assorted array of photos, including an upclose of some French amour worn into battle. Nice stuff. We also wondered into the calvary camp and got some pictures of them doing some exercises. Unfortunatly, we couldn't stay for the actual battles (engagements) because the doggy was getting tired (not to mention me). Hope you all enjoy.