Small succeses: parks and scooters, bureaucracy and rehearsals

So, I'm in my apartment waiting for my first load of laundry to wash and celebrating this great accomplishment with some espresso and a new blog post. (It took me about twenty minutes to figure out the washer...it's allegedly "universal," which means it uses incomprehensible line drawings to explain "this button is for cold wash." It would have been easier in French, or, for that matter, Flemish) Huzzah for me and my clean clothes.

This has been a busy week, which I guess isn't surprising. After all, it is the first week of classes. I've learned that 1) you should check your ULB schedule obsessively (like we checked email at Davidson) because classes have a sneaky tendency to change locations at the very last minute; 2) you should always have a backup plan just in case the professor doesn't show up (two of my classes were no-shows); 3) you wait a polite "quart d'heure academique" before you escape to freedom; and 4) under no circumstances whatsoever should you ever have your student card mailed to the Bureau d'Inscriptions rather than to your home address. Worst. Decision. Ever. Three and a half hours of standing in line in the temperamental weather, alternately sweltering in my trench coat and freezing in the sudden grey Belgian gloom, listening to the faux-sirens of the baptemes (read: hazing/hell month for new "pledges" into ULB's "academic clubs"), while learning all sorts of new creative ways to mash French swear words together from my fellow line-waiters. If the DMV and the post office had a temperamental, punch-drunk child, the line at the Bureau d'Inscriptions would probably look something like it. But, three and a half very hungry hours later, I got my student card and my attestations and celebrated with a cone full of pasta (all food in belgium apparently comes in cones.)

I also continued the party by getting my student MOBIB card, which means I can now ride the metro and it not cost me as much as a European Diet Coke each time. This is a big victory. It also means I can swipe into the metro rather than using the dinky little paper punching thing. This means I won't keep missing the metro at Gribaumont, which means my commute just got so much better. (Those of you who don't use the STIB, which is probably most of my readers, may not appreciate this; let's just say that I'm not a morning person so anything that makes a morning easier is a Godsend.)

Yesterday morning, I also tried out my first scooter. I am currently on a much-talked-about hunt for a scooter, because it really is the best way to get from where I live to anywhere in Brussels, especially at night (I learned the hard way that the last metro I can take leaves at 12:25 am. That was a long walk home) While I have calmed down, quieted my Roman Holiday impulses, and moved on from insisting that I drive a Vespa in Europe, I am still looking for a scooter that is both practical (aka, it works, preferably without that picky weird thing called a clutch) and pretty. This one was decidedly the former, less of the latter. That said, scooters are not as complicated to drive as I thought. The hunt is intensifying next week, so more on this later. 

Earlier this week, I explored the Parc de Woluwe, which is near my house. It's stunning, huge, and hilly, the perfect place for an easily-distracted used-to-run-cross-country runner. There are pretty cottages that look like the Seven Dwarfs should live there, swans on a lake, lush forests with rocky paths, a full set of tennis courts (random), a tree stump cut into a seat, a suspension bridge which swings over an avenue (gulp!), and miles of rolling, lush, green hills. (It felt like miles, at least; I've evidently not been running a ton :) The day couldn't have been more perfect, and I couldn't have been happier. I think this park and I are going to be seeing a lot more of each other. 

On Wednesday I also went out to the museum. It's always surreal to take the 44 out through the beautiful forests of Tervuren, which is a sleepy Flemish suburb of French Brussels, and to get off, walk past a gas station, and then run into this gorgeous palace that seriously looks like a little Versailles. Knowing who Leopold II was and how he got the money to build this piece of architectural confection makes it all the creepier. That said, the folks at the museum were anything but creepy. They gave me good coffee and laid out internship options while, sadly, informing me that the renovation project I'd hoped to work on is on hold because the architect is apparently befuddle about how to redesign this problematic palace so that the taxidermied lions can fit in more ethically, or something. I'm a little bummed, but am looking into other cool things that they do (and they do a lot). So more on this once I know more. I can already say, though, that I'm going to like working there. The people are friendly and whip-smart, the workspaces are big and full of light, and the coffee is particularly black and strong. 

Last night (okay, so my chronology is all over the place, sorry! bad historian bad), I went to the first rehearsal for the ULB orchestra. I was again pleasantly surprised. Not only did they give us dinner (cheese sandwiches, but oh, what cheese!) and beer (of course :), the musicians were also really friendly and surprisingly sociable. That's not to say that orchestras aren't sociable in general (oh, my DCSO friends, I have not forgotten orchestra tours :), but the one I played in at Sciences Po in Paris was made up of a rather quiet bunch that certainly wouldn't have all barreled off to the local pub after practice. These guys seem slightly raucous but very fun, and they clearly love music just as much if not more than they love Jupiler. This is a good thing.

The sun is shining and my laundry is just about dry. Time to celebrate small successes again. :)