Today was a magical day.
It started with some very bad news about a serious accident just a stone's throw away from the EU-buildings. Sometimes I wonder what impact fate has, if people who heard about or witnessed the accident now drive and walk more carefully, preveting an even greater accident from happening or preventing the death of a person who will change the world. Nobody lives or dies without a cause. This was a reminder that life is fragile and that nothing should be taken for granted. Suddenly I felt very grateful and special for having survived 25 years on the face of this earth.
At work we had rice porridge and glögi (a Finnish version of mulled wine, a Christmas drink) for lunch. In the dim candle light I felt it. Christmas was coming. And you know what else? I was getting soaked up with my own thoughts.
After work I went to a cafe to spend a while writing my diary before meeting with my flatmate. In the end she couldn't come, which was actually very good. Sitting there in the corner of a busy cafe, watching people, having brief eye contact with bypassers, I reached another level of consciousness. My thoughts started flying and during the more than three hours I sat there, I wrote pages and pages about life, attitudes, personality, perception, subjective and objective truths and myself.
I found out that even after all these years, I actually don't have any idea who I am deep down.
What a liberating feeling to understand once again how dependent I am of everything, how vague my personality actually is and how my life is the sum of thousands of lucky coincidences.
I have been fortunate enought to meet people here in Brussels who have stimulated my intellect immensely, even just with their presence. Now that I gave myself time to stop for a while, all supressed thoughs conquered my mind. I have the tendency to become very philosofical sometimes, so the process of elaborating my thoughts into actual ideas and understandings was more than thrilling. The waiter at the cafe invited me a second coffee, maybe thinking I was a writer who had been inspired by the place. Later I walked in the Christmas lit Sablon area without really touching the ground or seeing anything.
Having returned to reality, the song What A Difference A Day Made was on my mind. Enjoy this time. It can be magical in its own special way if you let it.
perjantai 25. marraskuuta 2011
perjantai 11. marraskuuta 2011
The European Job
Confidentiality is a tricky business. Practically everything I see at work is restricted, limited or confidential, so I'm not entitled to say much about work. Suddenly I feel like 007... But, my duty as a friend and an entertainer on A Life Through New Eyes Online is to open the curtains a little to the magic wonderland of the European Union.
The part of the world that is ruled from Brussels
I am doing my internship at the Finnish representation to the European Union. Our job there is to protect Finland's interests and to report back about what is happening on the international scene. In practise, I am usually seen at the European Council, where all the 27 member states have national representatives. It is a massive forum where views are exchanged and a unified voice of Europe is formed. It is one of EU's three main institutions. The Commission is the executive body. It is the official representative of the EU, present at all our meetings at the Council. The Parliament is the only institution where the members are directly elected through national elections. In the parliament they don't represent the countries but rather the different political parties. The parliament is the legislative brach of the EU. Believe me, this picture has cleared up tremendously while being here.
The Justus Lipsius building, the home of the European Council
My job in specific is to attend the meetings of the Political and Security Committee and different working groups, mainly the Committee for Civilian Aspects of Crisis Management and the Political-Military Group. Security issues, that's why everything is so confidential. We discuss past, present and potential crises in basically the entire world, focusing on countries where the EU is active, like Kosovo, Georgia, Afghanistan, Sahel, Libya, the Middle-East... What you read about in the news, that will be on our agenda.
The work is very hectic and if truly engaged, the hours of a day are not enough for everything. The pace can be exhausting and the days can be long. Still, it's very thrilling. The first days I was just shining with happiness when I was sitting as the only representative in the Finnish seat (sidenote, we don't have flags to indicate nationality. We have signs, ours saying "Suomi, Finland").
This is the big scene. This is the heart of Europe. This is the place where our decisions affect the lives of thousands of people around the world. What a power rush. More than anything, this is an even more valuable experience than I could have thought. Before I had a very vague conception of what this big "machine" did. Now, besides from knowing how things are done, I also understand better why they are done the way they are. I know who people are (Catherine Ashton is a person I refer to regularly nowdays). No matter what I will work with in the future, this acquired knowledge will serve me well.
All in all, I am very happy with my job. A valuable experience combined with living in Brussels, no complaints here. This is the reason why I am here. It doesn't matter that I have graduated. I had this opportunity and I took it. I was actually following my heart instead of the loud-voiced logic. How refreshing! Might do that again!
I am doing my internship at the Finnish representation to the European Union. Our job there is to protect Finland's interests and to report back about what is happening on the international scene. In practise, I am usually seen at the European Council, where all the 27 member states have national representatives. It is a massive forum where views are exchanged and a unified voice of Europe is formed. It is one of EU's three main institutions. The Commission is the executive body. It is the official representative of the EU, present at all our meetings at the Council. The Parliament is the only institution where the members are directly elected through national elections. In the parliament they don't represent the countries but rather the different political parties. The parliament is the legislative brach of the EU. Believe me, this picture has cleared up tremendously while being here.
My job in specific is to attend the meetings of the Political and Security Committee and different working groups, mainly the Committee for Civilian Aspects of Crisis Management and the Political-Military Group. Security issues, that's why everything is so confidential. We discuss past, present and potential crises in basically the entire world, focusing on countries where the EU is active, like Kosovo, Georgia, Afghanistan, Sahel, Libya, the Middle-East... What you read about in the news, that will be on our agenda.
The work is very hectic and if truly engaged, the hours of a day are not enough for everything. The pace can be exhausting and the days can be long. Still, it's very thrilling. The first days I was just shining with happiness when I was sitting as the only representative in the Finnish seat (sidenote, we don't have flags to indicate nationality. We have signs, ours saying "Suomi, Finland").
This is the big scene. This is the heart of Europe. This is the place where our decisions affect the lives of thousands of people around the world. What a power rush. More than anything, this is an even more valuable experience than I could have thought. Before I had a very vague conception of what this big "machine" did. Now, besides from knowing how things are done, I also understand better why they are done the way they are. I know who people are (Catherine Ashton is a person I refer to regularly nowdays). No matter what I will work with in the future, this acquired knowledge will serve me well.
All in all, I am very happy with my job. A valuable experience combined with living in Brussels, no complaints here. This is the reason why I am here. It doesn't matter that I have graduated. I had this opportunity and I took it. I was actually following my heart instead of the loud-voiced logic. How refreshing! Might do that again!
Swedish-speaking Finns
As the Finnish language question is not internationally as well known as the Belgian or the Canadian one, I'll shed some light on that for my dear non-Finnish readers. This short personal approach is very superficial but for the interested one's there's a great deal of passionate text to be found on the subject.
Finland has two official languages, Finnish and Swedish. The Finland Swedish originates from the time when Finland still was a part of Sweden. Swedish was the official language used by nobles and officials, but the majority of the people spoke Finnish. In 1809 the modern day Finland became an autonomous part of the Russian Empire but the status of Swedish remained the same. When Finland gained its independence in 1917, Finnish had become the leading language. Today 5-6 % of the Finns on the mainland are Swedish speaking, living mainly in the southern and eastern coastal areas of Finland and in the Finnish archipelago.
The yellow indicates the Swedish-speaking area of Finland
The Finnish Swedish is bacally the same as Swedish Swedish, the main difference being the pronounciation. Here in Brussels I was walking with a Finnish friend in a very touristy restaurant street speaking Swedish. The waiters approached us and spoke Finnish to us, which was quite surprising actually. Well, what you should know is that I don't have a Finnish accent. I speak a different language.
Finnish and Swedish names differ greatly from eachother. My name is strictly Finnish, so people are quite often surprised that I also speak Swedish. Vice versa, people with Swedish names are often automatically assumed to speak Swedish. This is not always the case and it can even contribute to small scale self-questioning, especially considering that many of these people would have had the chance to learn Swedish if their parents would have decided so.
Having grown up in a city with 0,5 % Swedish-speakers, I have been fortunate to be able to go to a Swedish school. It has mainly contributed to building my identity. I have come to know a culture surprisingly different from the traditional Finnish one. I have been perceived as interesting and different just because I speak fluent Swedish. I have spent a summer in Norway when I was young and felt independent and strong, because I could communicate easily with the locals. Finnish employers highly value knowledge of Swedish language, because it is very useful but only a few people really have it.
Both languages are mandatory subjects in school but when Swedish-speakers communicate with the Finnish-speakers, either Finnish or English is used. Swedish has a very strong position in the Finnish society, which causes sometimes great frustration and even violent outbursts in the Finnish-speaking population. A good example is the following. Dick Harrison, a Swedish professor in history, wrote an article describing the the hateful approach to the Swedish language in Finland that had surprised him. After publishing the article, he received numerous emails stating that a Swedish person should not mix himself in a Finnish internal issue, especially considering that Sweden is only trying to invade Finland; that the Swedish have been depriving the rights of the true and original population of Finland since the beginning; and that Swedish is a small and unimportant language that it is unnecessary to study. The internet was filled with hateful speech about Harrison, who could not believe what was happening. His life was being threatened for truthfully describing the situation in Finland.
The idea that "true Finns only speak Finnish" is rooted in many and it is virtually impossible to have an objective public debate on the matter. Finland will not be divided into two but with parts of Finland where virtually no Finnish is spoken, the Swedish language is not going anywhere. Nor is the Finnish hostility towards the Swedish langage. A never-ending story.
Finland has two official languages, Finnish and Swedish. The Finland Swedish originates from the time when Finland still was a part of Sweden. Swedish was the official language used by nobles and officials, but the majority of the people spoke Finnish. In 1809 the modern day Finland became an autonomous part of the Russian Empire but the status of Swedish remained the same. When Finland gained its independence in 1917, Finnish had become the leading language. Today 5-6 % of the Finns on the mainland are Swedish speaking, living mainly in the southern and eastern coastal areas of Finland and in the Finnish archipelago.
The yellow indicates the Swedish-speaking area of Finland
The Finnish Swedish is bacally the same as Swedish Swedish, the main difference being the pronounciation. Here in Brussels I was walking with a Finnish friend in a very touristy restaurant street speaking Swedish. The waiters approached us and spoke Finnish to us, which was quite surprising actually. Well, what you should know is that I don't have a Finnish accent. I speak a different language.
Finnish and Swedish names differ greatly from eachother. My name is strictly Finnish, so people are quite often surprised that I also speak Swedish. Vice versa, people with Swedish names are often automatically assumed to speak Swedish. This is not always the case and it can even contribute to small scale self-questioning, especially considering that many of these people would have had the chance to learn Swedish if their parents would have decided so.
Having grown up in a city with 0,5 % Swedish-speakers, I have been fortunate to be able to go to a Swedish school. It has mainly contributed to building my identity. I have come to know a culture surprisingly different from the traditional Finnish one. I have been perceived as interesting and different just because I speak fluent Swedish. I have spent a summer in Norway when I was young and felt independent and strong, because I could communicate easily with the locals. Finnish employers highly value knowledge of Swedish language, because it is very useful but only a few people really have it.
Both languages are mandatory subjects in school but when Swedish-speakers communicate with the Finnish-speakers, either Finnish or English is used. Swedish has a very strong position in the Finnish society, which causes sometimes great frustration and even violent outbursts in the Finnish-speaking population. A good example is the following. Dick Harrison, a Swedish professor in history, wrote an article describing the the hateful approach to the Swedish language in Finland that had surprised him. After publishing the article, he received numerous emails stating that a Swedish person should not mix himself in a Finnish internal issue, especially considering that Sweden is only trying to invade Finland; that the Swedish have been depriving the rights of the true and original population of Finland since the beginning; and that Swedish is a small and unimportant language that it is unnecessary to study. The internet was filled with hateful speech about Harrison, who could not believe what was happening. His life was being threatened for truthfully describing the situation in Finland.
The idea that "true Finns only speak Finnish" is rooted in many and it is virtually impossible to have an objective public debate on the matter. Finland will not be divided into two but with parts of Finland where virtually no Finnish is spoken, the Swedish language is not going anywhere. Nor is the Finnish hostility towards the Swedish langage. A never-ending story.
lauantai 5. marraskuuta 2011
The War Zone
The flu finally got me. Almost everybody here at home have been sick and at work too so it was my turn. Having eventually learned from past mistakes, I stayed home yesterday and tonight aswell. Sigh. Not skipping salsa tomorrow, though. Anyway, I thought you'd be interested in lerning a bit about the language struggle here in Belgium.
Belgium is geographically divided into two main language regions. French is spoken in Wallonia and Dutch (Flemish) is spoken in Flanders. German is also an official language but it doesn't cause great concern. Brussels as a third region is officially bilingual.
The language issue seems to be a sensitive topic for many and some claim it to be the main source for all political problems in Belgium. Both languages are mandatory in school but apparently the French-speakers have some motivation problems with learning Dutch. It's a no-no to speak French in Flanders. Brussels is situated in Flanders but it's inhabited by mainly French-speakers. Only 7 % of the population in Brussels is Dutch-speaking. French is spoken everywhere. Dutch can be heard here and there, just like English, Arabic, Portuguese, even Finnish. Dutch is a West Germanic language. I manage to understand some bits and peaces, so in theory learning it shouldn't be too hard, though it reminds me of the highly impacting series called Matroesjka's (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matroesjka's).
In practise almost everything is in both Dutch and French here in Brussels. Still, it can annoy people. Before in the Brussels metro you could hear music from the European charts. The problem was that there were many songs in French in the list. The complaints flooded in and the music was changed. Now there is 70% English, 15% Italian and 15% Spanish music played. (After 9 p.m., it's only classical music in the air). Tough line but the people aren't complaining.
Belgium has gotten the dubious record as the country with longest time without a government. Today 510 days and counting (follow the count-up at http://lerecorddumonde.be). The previous record was made by Iraq with 289 days. This has turned out not to be a huge problem, as many services and a great deal of political power is handled on a regional level.
When I have tried to ask people about the political situation, the general comments have been that it's too complicated for a foreigner to understand this, that there is no real solution and that things are going well in any case so I shouldn't worry. The wounds run deep on both sides and just the memories are most likely enough to keep these two regions apart for a few generations or so. A problem is also that Flanders is more prosperous and some see it subsidizing Wallonia, which wasn't always the case. A sizeable minority especially in Flanders has voted for parties that support splitting the country in two. The fate of Brussels would probably be one of the biggest issues.
For some reason, here people have had no problems understanding that I speak Swedish and yet I don't feel Swedish. I'm a proud Finn, no matter what language I speak. It's the same here. Everybody are Belgians, united by the monarchy, Tintin and French fries (that actually originate from Belgium). Apparently the country is close to finally forming a government again. Still, this is only a temporary solution - once again. Will there be peace? Probably not.
Belgium is geographically divided into two main language regions. French is spoken in Wallonia and Dutch (Flemish) is spoken in Flanders. German is also an official language but it doesn't cause great concern. Brussels as a third region is officially bilingual.
The language issue seems to be a sensitive topic for many and some claim it to be the main source for all political problems in Belgium. Both languages are mandatory in school but apparently the French-speakers have some motivation problems with learning Dutch. It's a no-no to speak French in Flanders. Brussels is situated in Flanders but it's inhabited by mainly French-speakers. Only 7 % of the population in Brussels is Dutch-speaking. French is spoken everywhere. Dutch can be heard here and there, just like English, Arabic, Portuguese, even Finnish. Dutch is a West Germanic language. I manage to understand some bits and peaces, so in theory learning it shouldn't be too hard, though it reminds me of the highly impacting series called Matroesjka's (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matroesjka's).
In practise almost everything is in both Dutch and French here in Brussels. Still, it can annoy people. Before in the Brussels metro you could hear music from the European charts. The problem was that there were many songs in French in the list. The complaints flooded in and the music was changed. Now there is 70% English, 15% Italian and 15% Spanish music played. (After 9 p.m., it's only classical music in the air). Tough line but the people aren't complaining.
Belgium has gotten the dubious record as the country with longest time without a government. Today 510 days and counting (follow the count-up at http://lerecorddumonde.be). The previous record was made by Iraq with 289 days. This has turned out not to be a huge problem, as many services and a great deal of political power is handled on a regional level.
When I have tried to ask people about the political situation, the general comments have been that it's too complicated for a foreigner to understand this, that there is no real solution and that things are going well in any case so I shouldn't worry. The wounds run deep on both sides and just the memories are most likely enough to keep these two regions apart for a few generations or so. A problem is also that Flanders is more prosperous and some see it subsidizing Wallonia, which wasn't always the case. A sizeable minority especially in Flanders has voted for parties that support splitting the country in two. The fate of Brussels would probably be one of the biggest issues.
For some reason, here people have had no problems understanding that I speak Swedish and yet I don't feel Swedish. I'm a proud Finn, no matter what language I speak. It's the same here. Everybody are Belgians, united by the monarchy, Tintin and French fries (that actually originate from Belgium). Apparently the country is close to finally forming a government again. Still, this is only a temporary solution - once again. Will there be peace? Probably not.
tiistai 1. marraskuuta 2011
Aftermath
Greeting from a country on hold. Today Belgium celebrates All Saints Day, tomorrow All Souls Day, so the streets and the offices are
empty. We at the representation follow the Finnish calendar so we stay
put at the office, in my case mainly communicating with Finnish
colleagues and preparing for the coming week.
Life is getting as settled as it can. My new home is with a Finnish-Cameroonian family in the nice municipality of Woluwe St. Pierre. The family has 3 kids between 3 months and 9 years of age. In addition, the house is the home of an au pair and an intern at the European Commission, both Finnish girls. It's a busy house with somebody always at home and three languages constantly in use. I was personally extremely happy to have found a place for the resting 2 months. The people are nice, the public transport works well and I have my own space and privacy. What I especially enjoy is that the father plays his guitar and sings blues every now and then. Blues can make me very dreamy, so I'm sometimes in a wonderful state of mind.
The episode with Mhamed didn't get an ending. On Thursday, when we were supposed to meet, I started calling him after waiting for half an hour. He was on his way. Next call, he was with a friend. Next call, he was in the nearby metro station. Next call, he was in a completely different part of town. At that point Mhamed was super drunk already and I was quite certain that all the cash he had had with him, was gone. After 2h of waiting for him, I went home.
I left Mhamed a very serious voice mail, saying I would call him on Friday and that I would come where ever he was. I called him from the office with another intern listening as well, in case I misinterpret something. After a long, confusing and frustrating conversation I had an address and directions that made sense. After the call the intern who was with me commented that Mhamed is a total nutcase. Well... yes. My hopes weren't really high up but I went to this place. I called him that I'm downstairs, he said he was coming down. 15 min later I called him again but I didn't understand much of what he's trying to say anymore. The third call got through but the only thing I heard was loud Moroccan music. After that he didn't answer me anymore.
Now I'm done. He still has my money and there is a fat chance that I'll ever get it. I sent Mhamed an email with easy instructions how he could still leave me the money and that I don't want to have problems with him. I doubt this has any effect but curiously new, almost bitchy, sides of me are emerging (for the record, bitchy is a word that is hopefully seldom associated with me). Anyhow, revenge is sweet. I have Mhamed's passwords to his email and to Facebook, I have a photo of him, a color printer and some knowledge about where he usually goes. So, if I don't hear anything from him, I'll go on a personal crusade and blacken his reputation or at least what's left of it. Exploring new sides of myself. It's a bit scary, though, if I can actually do something consciously evil. We'll see.
No matter what the outcome, I would most likely do everything all over again. This has been so interesting, so obscure, so "educational" to me that as an experience it's valuable. The only thing is that I could strangle Mhamed with my bare hands for all the hours I've been standing outside waiting for him, first waiting countless hours for Mhamed to come and open the door to my home (the record was 3h), then waiting for him to come to a meeting that he himself proposed. I strongly dislike people being late for no excuse. That's the Finn in me talking.
In any case, from now on I'll move on to happier things. I've been noticing a worrysome change of tone in my speech, almost a kind of negativity. It's time to get rid of that and get the old Hanna back. Hello world, I'm all yours!
Life is getting as settled as it can. My new home is with a Finnish-Cameroonian family in the nice municipality of Woluwe St. Pierre. The family has 3 kids between 3 months and 9 years of age. In addition, the house is the home of an au pair and an intern at the European Commission, both Finnish girls. It's a busy house with somebody always at home and three languages constantly in use. I was personally extremely happy to have found a place for the resting 2 months. The people are nice, the public transport works well and I have my own space and privacy. What I especially enjoy is that the father plays his guitar and sings blues every now and then. Blues can make me very dreamy, so I'm sometimes in a wonderful state of mind.
The episode with Mhamed didn't get an ending. On Thursday, when we were supposed to meet, I started calling him after waiting for half an hour. He was on his way. Next call, he was with a friend. Next call, he was in the nearby metro station. Next call, he was in a completely different part of town. At that point Mhamed was super drunk already and I was quite certain that all the cash he had had with him, was gone. After 2h of waiting for him, I went home.
I left Mhamed a very serious voice mail, saying I would call him on Friday and that I would come where ever he was. I called him from the office with another intern listening as well, in case I misinterpret something. After a long, confusing and frustrating conversation I had an address and directions that made sense. After the call the intern who was with me commented that Mhamed is a total nutcase. Well... yes. My hopes weren't really high up but I went to this place. I called him that I'm downstairs, he said he was coming down. 15 min later I called him again but I didn't understand much of what he's trying to say anymore. The third call got through but the only thing I heard was loud Moroccan music. After that he didn't answer me anymore.
Now I'm done. He still has my money and there is a fat chance that I'll ever get it. I sent Mhamed an email with easy instructions how he could still leave me the money and that I don't want to have problems with him. I doubt this has any effect but curiously new, almost bitchy, sides of me are emerging (for the record, bitchy is a word that is hopefully seldom associated with me). Anyhow, revenge is sweet. I have Mhamed's passwords to his email and to Facebook, I have a photo of him, a color printer and some knowledge about where he usually goes. So, if I don't hear anything from him, I'll go on a personal crusade and blacken his reputation or at least what's left of it. Exploring new sides of myself. It's a bit scary, though, if I can actually do something consciously evil. We'll see.
No matter what the outcome, I would most likely do everything all over again. This has been so interesting, so obscure, so "educational" to me that as an experience it's valuable. The only thing is that I could strangle Mhamed with my bare hands for all the hours I've been standing outside waiting for him, first waiting countless hours for Mhamed to come and open the door to my home (the record was 3h), then waiting for him to come to a meeting that he himself proposed. I strongly dislike people being late for no excuse. That's the Finn in me talking.
In any case, from now on I'll move on to happier things. I've been noticing a worrysome change of tone in my speech, almost a kind of negativity. It's time to get rid of that and get the old Hanna back. Hello world, I'm all yours!
torstai 27. lokakuuta 2011
Guess
Wanna guess what happened?
Apparently some of you are experiencing the same problems as I am, we can't comment on anything. But, feel free to send me a line on Facebook or an e-mail if your imagination is flowing. I'll tell you tomorrow what happened :P
Apparently some of you are experiencing the same problems as I am, we can't comment on anything. But, feel free to send me a line on Facebook or an e-mail if your imagination is flowing. I'll tell you tomorrow what happened :P
Temporary relief
Greetings from a new home! I'm sitting on my bed, watching out the window to a peaceful street in a nice, very Belgian neighborhood and feeling relaxed. My mum and brother came to visit me last week and we explored a bit of the Dutch countryside, riding roller-coasters and eating cheese. Now, back in Brussels, my folks safely in Finland, I feel it surely is time to rest.
The move-out-move-in went quite well in the end. Now I have a key to my new place and all my things in one place so it's good. In 30 minutes I'm meeting Mhamed again. We haven't had contact since last Thursday when I was kicked out. Then we agreed that I'd call him this weeks Thursday, which I did, and now we're meeting so that he would give me back my money. I have no idea what's going on with him, no doubt it shall be interesting hearing all the stories he has to tell this time.
I'm not really sure what to expect of this encounter. On the phone Mhamed said we should have a cup of coffee - I'm just worried that's because he need to explain how tough his life is and how he still doesn't have the money. Mhamed isn't by the way apparently making an effort anymore with his talking. He has somehow stopped speaking in full sentences and in stead speaks out randomly chosen words and fills out the blanks with gestures. On the phone for natural reasons that doesn't work so I felt quite stupid asking excuse me after everything he said. What a weird guy.
Last week I wrote to the local authority that helps foreigners in Brussels about this issue, mainly considering possible lost of money, identity theft and my name getting mixed up in thing I don't know about. They called me on Tuesday, basically saying that "Bad luck with the money, next time don't pay in advance", "You shouldn't worry about identity theft" and "What possible harm could come of this afterwards?". Gee, thanks.
So, now I'm off to see what more surprises lay ahead. Wish me luck!
The move-out-move-in went quite well in the end. Now I have a key to my new place and all my things in one place so it's good. In 30 minutes I'm meeting Mhamed again. We haven't had contact since last Thursday when I was kicked out. Then we agreed that I'd call him this weeks Thursday, which I did, and now we're meeting so that he would give me back my money. I have no idea what's going on with him, no doubt it shall be interesting hearing all the stories he has to tell this time.
I'm not really sure what to expect of this encounter. On the phone Mhamed said we should have a cup of coffee - I'm just worried that's because he need to explain how tough his life is and how he still doesn't have the money. Mhamed isn't by the way apparently making an effort anymore with his talking. He has somehow stopped speaking in full sentences and in stead speaks out randomly chosen words and fills out the blanks with gestures. On the phone for natural reasons that doesn't work so I felt quite stupid asking excuse me after everything he said. What a weird guy.
Last week I wrote to the local authority that helps foreigners in Brussels about this issue, mainly considering possible lost of money, identity theft and my name getting mixed up in thing I don't know about. They called me on Tuesday, basically saying that "Bad luck with the money, next time don't pay in advance", "You shouldn't worry about identity theft" and "What possible harm could come of this afterwards?". Gee, thanks.
So, now I'm off to see what more surprises lay ahead. Wish me luck!
perjantai 21. lokakuuta 2011
The Move-out
I’ve been laughing a lot these past few days. Not for any other reason than the absurdity of my situation. Dad said that he
has been very pleased that this time I decided to stay in Europe, where
it’s safe and secure. Hah! I’ve travelled and lived in the Americas and
in Asia, but the moment I settle in another European country I face the most threatening situation so far. There you see, you can
live most peacefully in a country with serious insecurity and the
misfortunes can find you anywhere, even when you feel most at ease.
Thursday was supposed to be my move-out day. The plans changed and I asked if I could stay with Mhamed Thursday night as well, and then on Friday morning I’d go. Okay, yes, sure. We had also agreed earlier that because I only lived in the apartment for one month, that he would return me the 320€ I paid extra. Having little confidence in that he actually would return my money, I had seriously a plan of taking his small flat screen TV as a deposit. I know that that would most likely be regarded as theft but what wouldn’t a young woman do if she's short on money and has no guarantee of payment?
I had packed some of my things earlier so that I would take them to the office and avoid carrying a very heavy suitcase. On Thursday morning I was leaving for work with my smaller bag. Mhamed strongly urged me, almost commanded me to take my computer with me. The little I was able to make out of his talk was that somebody was coming to the apartment and that he didn’t want any trouble for me. That’s when I packed everything of the slightest value in my bag and left the apartment, hoping that I would be reunited with the rest of my stuff in the near future.
Later the same day I returned home. Mhamed hadn’t answered my text messages (he knows how to read and send messages now), so I was a bit worried if he would be home. He was. When he opened the front door, what I saw was a huge pile of suitcases, a tense Mhamed and my own suitcase by the door. I asked what was going on. Mhamed, in an almost angry way, said that everything’s finished and that I have to go now. As evidence of that he wasn't joking, he pointed at my suitcase and said that he had packed all my things already and that there was nothing in my room anymore. Quite determined I made my way to my room and the kitchen to see if it was true. Yes, all my cupboards and closets were empty and it seemed that everything, even my underwear and my dirty clothes, were in the bags by the front door.
Also Mhamed's room was fairly empty. All the books, the computer, everything except for the furniture was gone or in the suitcases. Mhamed was leaving the apartment as well. It seemed unclear even for him where he would go but next week he would maybe have a chance to stay at the psychiatric department outside Brussels (did I tell you about that he has regular appointments with a psychiatrist?).
In his very confusing and illogical way of speaking he told me that his sister was sitting in jail at the moment for something that had to do with drugs, I think. Apparently it was the police that had come today to the apartment, taking possession of his things for unpaid debts. He would meet the police on Friday again. Mhamed also said that there were drugs in the apartment but it remained unclear if the police had found it. (Here I have to bring forth my suspicion of the “police” actually being some gang, a Moroccan gangster or something of that sort.).
So, there was no TV to claim my own nor time to take one last photo of my dear flatmate. Mhamed was very persistent with me leaving and carried half of my things out on the street. He kept repeating that he’ll never again do this cohabitation because he didn’t want me in trouble for things that he’s doing. This part I actually believed. So, there I stood, 9 o’clock in the evening, with 4 bags, alone and laughing at what just had happened. This was probably the fastest move-out I’d ever had. I didn’t even have to pack myself! Fate had apparently decided that things should go smooth, because a few hours earlier an intern at my workplace had at her own initiative said that I could stay with her for the night if things went bad. Well, they did, so I called my savior and got a taxi to her place. There I got a warm welcome, tea, a bed and a person who listened to my version of the evening’s events.
As I said in the beginning, this has been mainly funny for me. People who have heard about my misfortunes have commented that I seem surprisingly calm and relaxed. It’s actually quite simple to take things lightly when both my body and my possessions remain intact (well, to some extent at least). Mhamed did not want no harm to me nor did I feel at danger at any moment. Now it remains to be seen what the next chapter with Mhamed contains.
Thursday was supposed to be my move-out day. The plans changed and I asked if I could stay with Mhamed Thursday night as well, and then on Friday morning I’d go. Okay, yes, sure. We had also agreed earlier that because I only lived in the apartment for one month, that he would return me the 320€ I paid extra. Having little confidence in that he actually would return my money, I had seriously a plan of taking his small flat screen TV as a deposit. I know that that would most likely be regarded as theft but what wouldn’t a young woman do if she's short on money and has no guarantee of payment?
I had packed some of my things earlier so that I would take them to the office and avoid carrying a very heavy suitcase. On Thursday morning I was leaving for work with my smaller bag. Mhamed strongly urged me, almost commanded me to take my computer with me. The little I was able to make out of his talk was that somebody was coming to the apartment and that he didn’t want any trouble for me. That’s when I packed everything of the slightest value in my bag and left the apartment, hoping that I would be reunited with the rest of my stuff in the near future.
Later the same day I returned home. Mhamed hadn’t answered my text messages (he knows how to read and send messages now), so I was a bit worried if he would be home. He was. When he opened the front door, what I saw was a huge pile of suitcases, a tense Mhamed and my own suitcase by the door. I asked what was going on. Mhamed, in an almost angry way, said that everything’s finished and that I have to go now. As evidence of that he wasn't joking, he pointed at my suitcase and said that he had packed all my things already and that there was nothing in my room anymore. Quite determined I made my way to my room and the kitchen to see if it was true. Yes, all my cupboards and closets were empty and it seemed that everything, even my underwear and my dirty clothes, were in the bags by the front door.
Also Mhamed's room was fairly empty. All the books, the computer, everything except for the furniture was gone or in the suitcases. Mhamed was leaving the apartment as well. It seemed unclear even for him where he would go but next week he would maybe have a chance to stay at the psychiatric department outside Brussels (did I tell you about that he has regular appointments with a psychiatrist?).
In his very confusing and illogical way of speaking he told me that his sister was sitting in jail at the moment for something that had to do with drugs, I think. Apparently it was the police that had come today to the apartment, taking possession of his things for unpaid debts. He would meet the police on Friday again. Mhamed also said that there were drugs in the apartment but it remained unclear if the police had found it. (Here I have to bring forth my suspicion of the “police” actually being some gang, a Moroccan gangster or something of that sort.).
So, there was no TV to claim my own nor time to take one last photo of my dear flatmate. Mhamed was very persistent with me leaving and carried half of my things out on the street. He kept repeating that he’ll never again do this cohabitation because he didn’t want me in trouble for things that he’s doing. This part I actually believed. So, there I stood, 9 o’clock in the evening, with 4 bags, alone and laughing at what just had happened. This was probably the fastest move-out I’d ever had. I didn’t even have to pack myself! Fate had apparently decided that things should go smooth, because a few hours earlier an intern at my workplace had at her own initiative said that I could stay with her for the night if things went bad. Well, they did, so I called my savior and got a taxi to her place. There I got a warm welcome, tea, a bed and a person who listened to my version of the evening’s events.
As I said in the beginning, this has been mainly funny for me. People who have heard about my misfortunes have commented that I seem surprisingly calm and relaxed. It’s actually quite simple to take things lightly when both my body and my possessions remain intact (well, to some extent at least). Mhamed did not want no harm to me nor did I feel at danger at any moment. Now it remains to be seen what the next chapter with Mhamed contains.
keskiviikko 19. lokakuuta 2011
Murphy's law à la Mhamed
I'm sure most of us know a person who has constant bad luck. Whatever could go wrong, goes even worse. Murphy's law doubled. Mhamed is one of those people. The amount of drama in his life is incredible - also litterally incredible to some extent. "Normal" people have their problems, this week they're sick, next week they have a fight, after two months they have a deadline they cannot meet.. Well, with Mhamed this goes on a daily basis. It has become almost frightening returning home every day, waiting to hear what misfortune has touched Mhamed this time.
Most often Murphy doesn't have anything to do with our misfortunes, it's just our own behavior that leads to a destructive conclusion or it is our own perception of the reality that is off. Here are some examples. Bad luck: Mhamed most likely has bronchitis. Reality: He sits and sleeps in front of an open window but doesn't wear socks, shoes and a warm blouse. Bad luck: Mhamed has walked too much and has sore feet. Reality: He doesn't wear socks in his shoes. He justifies the whining and the complaints by showing his dirty feet, that are dirty only because he walks bare feeted at home. Bad luck: Mhamed has serious problems with his stomach and liver. Reality: He drinks at least a bottle of wine or vodka every evening. The deep fried food doesn't help either. Bad luck: Mhamed's clients don't always pay him. Reality: He works illegally as a translator etc so there are no contracts signed or taxes paid. He has the most dubious clients that don't have any money themselves either. If someone decides not to pay, there's not much to be done.
These are everyday issues here at the apartment. The most interesting misfortune of the week was a specific event. Twice we've had a Polish cleaning lady named Maria at our house (she's not cleaning my room or the bathroom, that's for sure,plus I've never seen her, so I actually don't know if she's an imaginary friend). Anyhow, on Friday she came again. When I returned home, Mhamed was waiting for me, sobbing and drying tears from his eyes. Maria's father had died accidentally in Poland. She had been crying here and Mhamed, being [quote] a humanitarian, felt utterly bad for her. He was panting, crying, making weird noises and kept on saying how Maria needed him and how he needed to go to the funeral in Poland. Me reacting to everything Mhamed says nowdays in disbelief (seriously, how could this too have happened?), closed my door and ignored him the rest of the evening.
On Saturday I was going to catch a flight to Montpellier (return ticket 92e, gotta love Ryanair..), so I had planned to leave home at 7.30. At 6.05 by bedroom door flies open and in comes Mhamed, notably uneasy and a bit out of this world. He opens all doors, turns on all lights, prepares a bath for himself and throws some of the content of his warderobe on the floor. I, half sleeping, inquire what the hell is going on. "Maria needs me!", "I have to go and help Maria!", "I need to go to Poland!". Right.
I pointed out that A) this was not his problem, B) he did not have the money to go to Poland and C) he owed me my one months rent. His response was an illogical story of how he's a humanitarian, how he is like Mother Teresa (he's done that comparison a couple of times already) and how people are more important than money. Then he made several phone calls, also to Maria. Those calls ended quite quick so I'm not all too convinced that Maria was even aware of "how much she needed him". Poor woman, I thought, having her father die and then, on top of everything, having a disturbed person calling at 6 am.
Then Mhamed walked around, talked to himself, made some very weird noises while bathing that resembled those of a horse, made a circus out of choosing clothes and talked to me, perfectly unaware of my attempts to have a few more minutes of rest. Why bother. The entire situation was mainly funny in all its incredibility, so I was somewhat amused, at least until Mhamed couldn't find his socks and decided to look for them in my drawer. That's it, enough. So we got him clothed and ready. By the time I was leaving to the airport, he wanted to lend 20e. When I refused and reminded him about his debt to me, he made it very clear in a non-verbal way that I was no humanitarian.
I was somewhat worried if I could return to my Brussels home on Tuesday evening. Fortunately, Mhamed was home, gloomy. He said he had just returned an hour earlier from Prague (?!?!) where the funeral was held. I have some serious doubts about that he went anywhere in the first place but why he would tell that, I don't know. As I told you earlier, there isn't too much logick about him so this just adds up to the reasons why I'm out of here! I'll be moving on Thursday, again. Mhamed mentioned that briefly just a moment ago, saying that this [quote] beautiful dream will come to an end. At that point I had a hard time keeping my act together. It's been a dream alright!
I do feel a bit bad about telling so negative things about Mhamed. After all, despite all his flaws he stll is a person that wants no harm to me. But, people have been worried about me so it is better that I tell how things lie in stead of keeping people guessing. Also, the situation in all its absurdity is something that only very few come across with, so hopefully this will serve as a Lessons Learned for some.
Take care of yourselves - so will I.
Most often Murphy doesn't have anything to do with our misfortunes, it's just our own behavior that leads to a destructive conclusion or it is our own perception of the reality that is off. Here are some examples. Bad luck: Mhamed most likely has bronchitis. Reality: He sits and sleeps in front of an open window but doesn't wear socks, shoes and a warm blouse. Bad luck: Mhamed has walked too much and has sore feet. Reality: He doesn't wear socks in his shoes. He justifies the whining and the complaints by showing his dirty feet, that are dirty only because he walks bare feeted at home. Bad luck: Mhamed has serious problems with his stomach and liver. Reality: He drinks at least a bottle of wine or vodka every evening. The deep fried food doesn't help either. Bad luck: Mhamed's clients don't always pay him. Reality: He works illegally as a translator etc so there are no contracts signed or taxes paid. He has the most dubious clients that don't have any money themselves either. If someone decides not to pay, there's not much to be done.
These are everyday issues here at the apartment. The most interesting misfortune of the week was a specific event. Twice we've had a Polish cleaning lady named Maria at our house (she's not cleaning my room or the bathroom, that's for sure,plus I've never seen her, so I actually don't know if she's an imaginary friend). Anyhow, on Friday she came again. When I returned home, Mhamed was waiting for me, sobbing and drying tears from his eyes. Maria's father had died accidentally in Poland. She had been crying here and Mhamed, being [quote] a humanitarian, felt utterly bad for her. He was panting, crying, making weird noises and kept on saying how Maria needed him and how he needed to go to the funeral in Poland. Me reacting to everything Mhamed says nowdays in disbelief (seriously, how could this too have happened?), closed my door and ignored him the rest of the evening.
On Saturday I was going to catch a flight to Montpellier (return ticket 92e, gotta love Ryanair..), so I had planned to leave home at 7.30. At 6.05 by bedroom door flies open and in comes Mhamed, notably uneasy and a bit out of this world. He opens all doors, turns on all lights, prepares a bath for himself and throws some of the content of his warderobe on the floor. I, half sleeping, inquire what the hell is going on. "Maria needs me!", "I have to go and help Maria!", "I need to go to Poland!". Right.
I pointed out that A) this was not his problem, B) he did not have the money to go to Poland and C) he owed me my one months rent. His response was an illogical story of how he's a humanitarian, how he is like Mother Teresa (he's done that comparison a couple of times already) and how people are more important than money. Then he made several phone calls, also to Maria. Those calls ended quite quick so I'm not all too convinced that Maria was even aware of "how much she needed him". Poor woman, I thought, having her father die and then, on top of everything, having a disturbed person calling at 6 am.
Then Mhamed walked around, talked to himself, made some very weird noises while bathing that resembled those of a horse, made a circus out of choosing clothes and talked to me, perfectly unaware of my attempts to have a few more minutes of rest. Why bother. The entire situation was mainly funny in all its incredibility, so I was somewhat amused, at least until Mhamed couldn't find his socks and decided to look for them in my drawer. That's it, enough. So we got him clothed and ready. By the time I was leaving to the airport, he wanted to lend 20e. When I refused and reminded him about his debt to me, he made it very clear in a non-verbal way that I was no humanitarian.
I was somewhat worried if I could return to my Brussels home on Tuesday evening. Fortunately, Mhamed was home, gloomy. He said he had just returned an hour earlier from Prague (?!?!) where the funeral was held. I have some serious doubts about that he went anywhere in the first place but why he would tell that, I don't know. As I told you earlier, there isn't too much logick about him so this just adds up to the reasons why I'm out of here! I'll be moving on Thursday, again. Mhamed mentioned that briefly just a moment ago, saying that this [quote] beautiful dream will come to an end. At that point I had a hard time keeping my act together. It's been a dream alright!
I do feel a bit bad about telling so negative things about Mhamed. After all, despite all his flaws he stll is a person that wants no harm to me. But, people have been worried about me so it is better that I tell how things lie in stead of keeping people guessing. Also, the situation in all its absurdity is something that only very few come across with, so hopefully this will serve as a Lessons Learned for some.
Take care of yourselves - so will I.
tiistai 11. lokakuuta 2011
Instincts and experiences
Haha. Where to begin. Well, dad was here and about now he's landing in Helsinki. It was wonderful to have him here. We had a really nice time, road tripping in northern France and spontaneuously also in Holland. Renting a car might actually be my new big thing. The freedom,the countryside, the scenery, the authenticy of it all.. Aww, loving it. The worse part is the car. Even small scratches can end up costing dearly. Fines can double in amount because of the extra administrative charges the rental company demands. Any minor fault or misunderstanding - you pay. But still, driving past fields and farms is just wonderful, so if the company recognizes the risk that the 30e car rental can become a 730e + major stress load -day, then I'm all up for it.
Thankfully everything went well for us. My dad is a good driver and I'm good at reading maps so we explored a whole deal in 3 days. We stayed at a small B&B in the French countryside (more exactly Le 8 Bis in Saint-Gobain, Picardy), the house was built in 1780 and was renovated really nicely so it was worth a Tripadvisor recommendation. Coming back to Brussels the first time we we're very lucky to find a parking space just 5 blocks from my house. The second time we were lucky to spend only 2:15h in traffic in Brussels trying to get to the main train station. This was probably the first time I was caught in traffic this bad and also made me all less understanding for people who take their cars to the city centre. This morning I made almost the same journey with metro on 12 minutes.
Here in Brussels we stayed at my place. Mhamed was supposed to go to Köln for 5 days. Noup. When we came home from the airport with my dad he was waiting in front of the door, saying he locked himself out and left everything inside. His dodgy friend was also with him. That evening, or any other, they didn't go anywhere. This friend slept in Mhamed's bed (did I mention Mhamed regularly sleeps on a sofa?). Mhamed slept on the floor, coughing heavily all night. Well, now I got my first picture of Mhamed, here with my dad.
On Saturday we left for France. I leaft my key with Mhamed whose mother supposedly was coming over. On Sunday evening we came back, only to find Mhamed still here. He was extremely drunk, singing and dancing around, talking to himself, walking in and out of my room, suddenly shouting in arabic at the trash bin in the bathroom. He also (unfortunately) talked to my dad and also his girlfriend, convincing everybody that something is seriously loose in his head.
Apparently that same "friend" was sleeping on the sofa again. He was not reacting to any calls or pokes. Occasionally, when Mhamed regained logical consciousness, I managed to find out that the friend was someone who he would help on Monday in court for stealing a car. He was not responding because he was on methadone. Before passing out, he had drank my dad's beers and eaten his bananas that were in the kitchen. Mhamed on the other hand had had a big fight with his mother and his sister who is the owner of this apartment. Now the sister wants Mhamed out and me as well. She also kept the key I had lended to Mhamed.
You can imagine how happy I was that dad saw all of this. It hasn't been this bad earlier but this was just plain ridiculous. The worse part is that I don't have a key but instead a heck of job searching for yet another flat. This feels like failure in a sense because I had promised to myself that I will stay here the 3 months no matter what, just to prove that I could. Well, now it's just way too intense and just plain stupid for me to stay here anymore. I already have all my valuables at work. Sometimes pride just isn't worth it.
The little voice inside of me is saying "Told you so". I know. Coming here was all but a safe choise but you know me, I like the adventure. For sure, this has been a really interesting experience and it will be a funny memory to tell about later on. When I was saying goodbye to dad he said "Girl, I think you're even too courageous.", referring to my experiences abroad and now this. I know I have made many choises that have been risky and I'm very fortunate for not having me or my posession damaged. Whatever is looking after me has a hell of a job keeping me safe. I'll try to take better care - by finding a nice and calm flat for 2 more months in Brussels, to start with. But then again, my instincts tell me to carry on living and exploring life. I'll do that.
Thankfully everything went well for us. My dad is a good driver and I'm good at reading maps so we explored a whole deal in 3 days. We stayed at a small B&B in the French countryside (more exactly Le 8 Bis in Saint-Gobain, Picardy), the house was built in 1780 and was renovated really nicely so it was worth a Tripadvisor recommendation. Coming back to Brussels the first time we we're very lucky to find a parking space just 5 blocks from my house. The second time we were lucky to spend only 2:15h in traffic in Brussels trying to get to the main train station. This was probably the first time I was caught in traffic this bad and also made me all less understanding for people who take their cars to the city centre. This morning I made almost the same journey with metro on 12 minutes.
Here in Brussels we stayed at my place. Mhamed was supposed to go to Köln for 5 days. Noup. When we came home from the airport with my dad he was waiting in front of the door, saying he locked himself out and left everything inside. His dodgy friend was also with him. That evening, or any other, they didn't go anywhere. This friend slept in Mhamed's bed (did I mention Mhamed regularly sleeps on a sofa?). Mhamed slept on the floor, coughing heavily all night. Well, now I got my first picture of Mhamed, here with my dad.
On Saturday we left for France. I leaft my key with Mhamed whose mother supposedly was coming over. On Sunday evening we came back, only to find Mhamed still here. He was extremely drunk, singing and dancing around, talking to himself, walking in and out of my room, suddenly shouting in arabic at the trash bin in the bathroom. He also (unfortunately) talked to my dad and also his girlfriend, convincing everybody that something is seriously loose in his head.
Apparently that same "friend" was sleeping on the sofa again. He was not reacting to any calls or pokes. Occasionally, when Mhamed regained logical consciousness, I managed to find out that the friend was someone who he would help on Monday in court for stealing a car. He was not responding because he was on methadone. Before passing out, he had drank my dad's beers and eaten his bananas that were in the kitchen. Mhamed on the other hand had had a big fight with his mother and his sister who is the owner of this apartment. Now the sister wants Mhamed out and me as well. She also kept the key I had lended to Mhamed.
You can imagine how happy I was that dad saw all of this. It hasn't been this bad earlier but this was just plain ridiculous. The worse part is that I don't have a key but instead a heck of job searching for yet another flat. This feels like failure in a sense because I had promised to myself that I will stay here the 3 months no matter what, just to prove that I could. Well, now it's just way too intense and just plain stupid for me to stay here anymore. I already have all my valuables at work. Sometimes pride just isn't worth it.
The little voice inside of me is saying "Told you so". I know. Coming here was all but a safe choise but you know me, I like the adventure. For sure, this has been a really interesting experience and it will be a funny memory to tell about later on. When I was saying goodbye to dad he said "Girl, I think you're even too courageous.", referring to my experiences abroad and now this. I know I have made many choises that have been risky and I'm very fortunate for not having me or my posession damaged. Whatever is looking after me has a hell of a job keeping me safe. I'll try to take better care - by finding a nice and calm flat for 2 more months in Brussels, to start with. But then again, my instincts tell me to carry on living and exploring life. I'll do that.
perjantai 7. lokakuuta 2011
The busy me
Thank you for your birthday wishes! It is nice to be remembered, I guess that's what we all want in the end. Well, my birthday turned out to be a bit different. The day at work was long, it started earlier and ended later than normally. The other interns that I had invited for dinner worked even later than me and Mr. Mhamed called me crying that he was sick (by this rate there is almost nothing with him that could surprise me anymore). So I went to eat cake and a falafel. Then I walked around in the city in my high heel boots and felt beautiful. Later I spent some nice hours on Skype.
October always feels like my month although this week has been very intense at work. Big meetings coming up and 27 countries trying to find an agreement on issues regarding conflict zones in the Middle East and Africa. That equals long days. At the same time I'll be travelling significantly. Tomorrow my dad will come here and we'll spend a long weekend in France. The next weekend I'll go for some days to Southern France to Montpellier to visit a dear friend who's there in exchange (big meetings taking place here in Brussels so the meeting venues are all closed, so I'm on "forced" holiday). I'm back on Tuesday. On Friday my mum and my brother will come here. Over the weekend (I'm free on Monday again) we'll go exploring the Netherlands. They'll be here for almost a week.
I kind of promised to myself that this time in Brussels would be different, that I would relax more, sleep in on weekends and not try to explore and see everything. Well... I'll try that in November. After this month, I will without a doubt need a vacation. Sleep, a very light movie to watch and simple, unhealthy food that's easy to prepare. Mmm... Oh yeah, then comes the All Saints Day that's a national holiday and there are no meeting so I'm employless for two days again. I'm hoping I can use my extra hours to take entire days off and to go to the countryside here.
So now I'm trying to find a B&B in the Picardy region for my dad and me. I come in late, I leave early (and in the mean time help Mhamed, like today that I helped him to connect his computer to wireless internet and to change his photo on Facebook. I also showed him how to send an email :P He still doesn't know how to read text messages but it seems to be a big problem to tackle). In short, I highly appreciate your messages and I will get back to you who took the time to write me longer messages, it just wont be right away.
Thanks for being here!
October always feels like my month although this week has been very intense at work. Big meetings coming up and 27 countries trying to find an agreement on issues regarding conflict zones in the Middle East and Africa. That equals long days. At the same time I'll be travelling significantly. Tomorrow my dad will come here and we'll spend a long weekend in France. The next weekend I'll go for some days to Southern France to Montpellier to visit a dear friend who's there in exchange (big meetings taking place here in Brussels so the meeting venues are all closed, so I'm on "forced" holiday). I'm back on Tuesday. On Friday my mum and my brother will come here. Over the weekend (I'm free on Monday again) we'll go exploring the Netherlands. They'll be here for almost a week.
I kind of promised to myself that this time in Brussels would be different, that I would relax more, sleep in on weekends and not try to explore and see everything. Well... I'll try that in November. After this month, I will without a doubt need a vacation. Sleep, a very light movie to watch and simple, unhealthy food that's easy to prepare. Mmm... Oh yeah, then comes the All Saints Day that's a national holiday and there are no meeting so I'm employless for two days again. I'm hoping I can use my extra hours to take entire days off and to go to the countryside here.
So now I'm trying to find a B&B in the Picardy region for my dad and me. I come in late, I leave early (and in the mean time help Mhamed, like today that I helped him to connect his computer to wireless internet and to change his photo on Facebook. I also showed him how to send an email :P He still doesn't know how to read text messages but it seems to be a big problem to tackle). In short, I highly appreciate your messages and I will get back to you who took the time to write me longer messages, it just wont be right away.
Thanks for being here!
maanantai 3. lokakuuta 2011
Quarter of a century
My 25th birthday is next week. A quarter of a century. Always I feel very mature, only to later notice that I was very wrong back then. Adulthood is not yet mine but I surely like to act accordingly. Having the bad habit of giving impeccable advice to everybody who don't even ask for it is a good sign of that. The trick would be to accept that I'm not always right. That wouldn't be too fun though. So, even now that I feel grown up, I will be laughing so hard at some stupidities that race in my mind.
Someone asked my age last Friday and I automatically answered "25". Later I understood that this is probably the last time that I anticipate my birthday. Being 25 most people have what they want in life. They have money, they're active, they probably have a partner by then, they stil have a youthful appearance and they actually get taken seriously. 19 is a nice (and legal!) age too but frankly, in the long run it would be frustrating to be called a girl all the time.
Again I was reminded about how fragile life is. How grateful we should be to be able to celebrate our birthday and to celebrate the gift of life. In the end, are you any less of a person with the years? Are you any less attractive when in stead of the smoothness of your skin you have self-confidence and experice? No. The years should be appreciated as such and not hidden under a net of lies. I do hope that I never feel a true need to lie about my age. It would be like denying everything I am, like begging forgiveness for who I am and what I have lived. Great goal. The only problem is that I'm saying this now that I'm 24-years-old. My mind might change rapidly when gravity starts to have a serious effect on my body.
When I think of the wonderful birthday's I've had - cardboard hats for my guests, the several meringue cakes in our dining room, the cake for my 18th birthday, the first time in Marilyn in Turku, the action day me being blindfolded, La Doña, laser tag... Beautiful moments that I've shared with you. So what are the plans this time? Thrilling. Yay. Last week Mhamed announced me very proudly that we were to go to a Moroccan restaurant together with his mother (who btw only speaks Arabic). This could be quite so interesting that I'm actually going - not that I would have several better plans. Above all, this will be yet another memorable day.
On Thursday we'll go out with some new interns to Place du Luxembourg where the traditional and incredibly popular after work takes place. It's just a bunch of young people in suits drinking beer but still it's quite nice. Then on Friday my dad will come to visit me here. Yay!! Really happy to have him here. Plus we're renting a car and making a road trip either to the Netherlands or France for 3 days. When dad's gone, I'll meet a Finnish friend here etc. This is how life rolls on and I'm eager to see every day of it.
Someone asked my age last Friday and I automatically answered "25". Later I understood that this is probably the last time that I anticipate my birthday. Being 25 most people have what they want in life. They have money, they're active, they probably have a partner by then, they stil have a youthful appearance and they actually get taken seriously. 19 is a nice (and legal!) age too but frankly, in the long run it would be frustrating to be called a girl all the time.
Again I was reminded about how fragile life is. How grateful we should be to be able to celebrate our birthday and to celebrate the gift of life. In the end, are you any less of a person with the years? Are you any less attractive when in stead of the smoothness of your skin you have self-confidence and experice? No. The years should be appreciated as such and not hidden under a net of lies. I do hope that I never feel a true need to lie about my age. It would be like denying everything I am, like begging forgiveness for who I am and what I have lived. Great goal. The only problem is that I'm saying this now that I'm 24-years-old. My mind might change rapidly when gravity starts to have a serious effect on my body.
When I think of the wonderful birthday's I've had - cardboard hats for my guests, the several meringue cakes in our dining room, the cake for my 18th birthday, the first time in Marilyn in Turku, the action day me being blindfolded, La Doña, laser tag... Beautiful moments that I've shared with you. So what are the plans this time? Thrilling. Yay. Last week Mhamed announced me very proudly that we were to go to a Moroccan restaurant together with his mother (who btw only speaks Arabic). This could be quite so interesting that I'm actually going - not that I would have several better plans. Above all, this will be yet another memorable day.
On Thursday we'll go out with some new interns to Place du Luxembourg where the traditional and incredibly popular after work takes place. It's just a bunch of young people in suits drinking beer but still it's quite nice. Then on Friday my dad will come to visit me here. Yay!! Really happy to have him here. Plus we're renting a car and making a road trip either to the Netherlands or France for 3 days. When dad's gone, I'll meet a Finnish friend here etc. This is how life rolls on and I'm eager to see every day of it.
torstai 29. syyskuuta 2011
Life after the first shock
Far have I travelled, much have I seen, a life I have lived that was fairly unseen.
My life has mainly been about experiences. What I have not known or what I have not done - that is what has intrigued me, what has motivated me, what has kept me inspired. The more exotic, the better. So, now here in Brussels I face new experiences again but something is different. I feel uneasy. I feel like I'm at home but I'm not. I'm in Europe and that is the culture shock.
For an European, living in most of Europe is fairly easy. The mentality of the people, the values in life and the way of living are more or less similar. I can even eat exactly the same food here as I eat back home. The problem is that in my mind I'm abroad and it should be difficult. It should be a battle about avoiding being ripped off and stepping on cocroaches, putting on sunscreen every morning, waking up to people yelling on the street and buying breakfast from a shopping cart at a street corner. Here I have none of that, it's like I'm in Finland. That is the culture shock.
Still, some things are the same as in the exotic places.
The weather has been absolutely incredible these two weeks. It's summer. This week it's been around 24'c with the sun shining bright and me sweating. I came prepared for rain, wind and cold. Where are my summer dresses when I need them?
The people are nice as well, as they are everywhere. The few people I've gotten to know here I could easily have as friends. Among them are the interns at the representation that are girls only. We're a somewhat homogenous group of international, confident and motivated young women getting started with their carreers.
We, some of the interns, at an Ethiopian restaurant called Kokob. We had different stews served on a pancake of a bread with the taste of vinegar.
Last but not least, the men are the same. It is actually more a cultural thing but as Brussels is very international, you have everything here. This story includes Mhamed, my dear flatmate, as well. On Wednesday Mhamed had a Moroccan friend coming over, a ladies man, he said. This Mohammed (don't Muslims seriously have better imagination than naming all men after the prophet??) kept on/off looking at me all evening. When Mhamad started listening to his prayers, I had already gone to my room. In comes Mohammed who wants to use the bathroom that's in my room. In stead of returning to Mhamed, he sits on my bed and gets way too friendly. Urgh. Thankfully my "I really need to sleep now" get's the message through and he leaves. Mhamed was sincerely sorry for what had happened. So tonight that Mhamed left for work he told me not to open the door because this Mohammed had gotten some "ideas" regarding me and would maybe try and meet me. So much for the message getting through.. Conclusion: I still smile way too much, especially to men that tend to think too highly about themselves. I can't keep up with this nice girl mode, it's getting me in trouble no matter where I go.
So, all in all, I'm good, all is good. I have food and shelter, a job and a social scene, entertainment and time off. Feels like I've been here a month already.
My life has mainly been about experiences. What I have not known or what I have not done - that is what has intrigued me, what has motivated me, what has kept me inspired. The more exotic, the better. So, now here in Brussels I face new experiences again but something is different. I feel uneasy. I feel like I'm at home but I'm not. I'm in Europe and that is the culture shock.
For an European, living in most of Europe is fairly easy. The mentality of the people, the values in life and the way of living are more or less similar. I can even eat exactly the same food here as I eat back home. The problem is that in my mind I'm abroad and it should be difficult. It should be a battle about avoiding being ripped off and stepping on cocroaches, putting on sunscreen every morning, waking up to people yelling on the street and buying breakfast from a shopping cart at a street corner. Here I have none of that, it's like I'm in Finland. That is the culture shock.
Still, some things are the same as in the exotic places.
The weather has been absolutely incredible these two weeks. It's summer. This week it's been around 24'c with the sun shining bright and me sweating. I came prepared for rain, wind and cold. Where are my summer dresses when I need them?
The people are nice as well, as they are everywhere. The few people I've gotten to know here I could easily have as friends. Among them are the interns at the representation that are girls only. We're a somewhat homogenous group of international, confident and motivated young women getting started with their carreers.
Last but not least, the men are the same. It is actually more a cultural thing but as Brussels is very international, you have everything here. This story includes Mhamed, my dear flatmate, as well. On Wednesday Mhamed had a Moroccan friend coming over, a ladies man, he said. This Mohammed (don't Muslims seriously have better imagination than naming all men after the prophet??) kept on/off looking at me all evening. When Mhamad started listening to his prayers, I had already gone to my room. In comes Mohammed who wants to use the bathroom that's in my room. In stead of returning to Mhamed, he sits on my bed and gets way too friendly. Urgh. Thankfully my "I really need to sleep now" get's the message through and he leaves. Mhamed was sincerely sorry for what had happened. So tonight that Mhamed left for work he told me not to open the door because this Mohammed had gotten some "ideas" regarding me and would maybe try and meet me. So much for the message getting through.. Conclusion: I still smile way too much, especially to men that tend to think too highly about themselves. I can't keep up with this nice girl mode, it's getting me in trouble no matter where I go.
So, all in all, I'm good, all is good. I have food and shelter, a job and a social scene, entertainment and time off. Feels like I've been here a month already.
sunnuntai 25. syyskuuta 2011
Flatpartners - flatmates?
After an intensive search, I finally found a room to rent here in Brussels. Until mid-December, I'm living on Rue Lepage 8, in the Sainte-Catherine area, about 5 blocks from the main square. I have one big room with double bed and it only costs me 320€ per month. Believe me, that's cheap. The apartment is a duplex with kitchen, toilet and bathroom. The other room is occupied by a person called Mhamed Gabbas. He is Moroccan, a muslim and homosexual. He works as a translator witht he muslim society in Brussels and at home he listens non-stop to the Quran.
My room with a Marimekko Fatboy (!!!). Apparently I'll get a desk next week.
Mhamed is exactly the kind of person people make fun. He's super gay in his behaviour and in his way of talking. He's 49-years-old but very immature in many things and even childish in some. He also treats me a bit like a child sometimes, warning me about a hot stove or of a slippery floor, also having the tendency to tell the same things at least twice a day. I'm the first person to share the apartment with him so we're just starting to get the hang of this. Now were both very cordial and polite but let's see how this goes. I'm a patient person but it might be that soon I find out that I'm not..
Mhamed is a "modern" muslim (according to his own saying), he drinks, eats pork meat and - well - likes men. He still hasn't gotten over his last boyfriend, that ended up marrying his sister and who now is dating a black man. Catastrophe! There's a lot of drama in his life but apparently not many friends, so he is seizing every opportunity to talk with me. He keeps repeating that we're a family.
His English is like my French, so we manage on both languages but occasionally it takes time for the message to come through. Now his mission is to teach me more French, so he's repeating important words to me and speaks to me in a clear way. Sometimes he even pretends not to understand my English so that I'd be forced to speak French. This is aboslutely superb and if we continue like this, I'll be more fluent in no time. This, apart from the cultural interest, is reason enoug to keep me here.
I'm quite sure that the most interesting and funny stories that I have to tell about my time in Brussels will be about him. This will be a cultural lesson but most importantly, a lesson about myself and about people I haven't interacted with before. God, keep me sane.
Mhamed is exactly the kind of person people make fun. He's super gay in his behaviour and in his way of talking. He's 49-years-old but very immature in many things and even childish in some. He also treats me a bit like a child sometimes, warning me about a hot stove or of a slippery floor, also having the tendency to tell the same things at least twice a day. I'm the first person to share the apartment with him so we're just starting to get the hang of this. Now were both very cordial and polite but let's see how this goes. I'm a patient person but it might be that soon I find out that I'm not..
Mhamed is a "modern" muslim (according to his own saying), he drinks, eats pork meat and - well - likes men. He still hasn't gotten over his last boyfriend, that ended up marrying his sister and who now is dating a black man. Catastrophe! There's a lot of drama in his life but apparently not many friends, so he is seizing every opportunity to talk with me. He keeps repeating that we're a family.
His English is like my French, so we manage on both languages but occasionally it takes time for the message to come through. Now his mission is to teach me more French, so he's repeating important words to me and speaks to me in a clear way. Sometimes he even pretends not to understand my English so that I'd be forced to speak French. This is aboslutely superb and if we continue like this, I'll be more fluent in no time. This, apart from the cultural interest, is reason enoug to keep me here.
I'm quite sure that the most interesting and funny stories that I have to tell about my time in Brussels will be about him. This will be a cultural lesson but most importantly, a lesson about myself and about people I haven't interacted with before. God, keep me sane.
sunnuntai 18. syyskuuta 2011
Bonjour à tous!
Three days in Brussels have passed. This is the current setting:
I'm doing an internship at the Finnish permanent representation at the EU. Clearly speaking, it's the miniature government of Finland at the EU. It is us who participate in all the meetings, speak in the name of Finland and report back to our country of what is going on. My work involves security. Armed conflicts, civil actions, anything that the EU and/or Finland is involved in. Sofar I've attended a couple of meetings and wondered around the European Council building like a question mark but it will be fine.
I still don't have a place of my own. I'm trying, believe me. Foolishly I turned down some offers that were bad but in this situation I'm far less picky. Now I'm thanking any god out there that I have a roof over my head. A Finnish friend heard my cry earlier and gave me the name of a friend of hers who lives here in Brussels. I contacted her and since Wednesday, I've been crashing at her place. It's wonderful to meet people like that and in addition, this person is very nice too. I can't stay here for long, though, my conscience wont permit it.
Talking about apartment hunting - last night I went to see a room. The "landlord" had gotten 134 inquiries about the room, so being elected is almost like winning the lottely. I don't have my hopes too up.
My French.. Well, I speak, I'm understood most of the times but in social settings I just can't do it yet. My time here wont change it and francly, I'm not all into learning French perfectly, but I manage.
Brussels. Well, sofar I know very little. There are tons of people in their late 20's here. Interns, officials, explorers, immigrants. It's a busy city with people working excessively, so also the entertainment is heavy. Once I manage to find a place, I'll explore more like I usually do (and when I get my bicycle!).
So this is me now. There's a lot of Finns here. They're all nice but I'm struggling a bit. I'd like to socialize more with diverse people but it's just sooo easy to stick with the Finns. Let's see what happens this fall. Three months is nothing. Three months may be everything. Time will tell.
I'm doing an internship at the Finnish permanent representation at the EU. Clearly speaking, it's the miniature government of Finland at the EU. It is us who participate in all the meetings, speak in the name of Finland and report back to our country of what is going on. My work involves security. Armed conflicts, civil actions, anything that the EU and/or Finland is involved in. Sofar I've attended a couple of meetings and wondered around the European Council building like a question mark but it will be fine.
I still don't have a place of my own. I'm trying, believe me. Foolishly I turned down some offers that were bad but in this situation I'm far less picky. Now I'm thanking any god out there that I have a roof over my head. A Finnish friend heard my cry earlier and gave me the name of a friend of hers who lives here in Brussels. I contacted her and since Wednesday, I've been crashing at her place. It's wonderful to meet people like that and in addition, this person is very nice too. I can't stay here for long, though, my conscience wont permit it.
Talking about apartment hunting - last night I went to see a room. The "landlord" had gotten 134 inquiries about the room, so being elected is almost like winning the lottely. I don't have my hopes too up.
My French.. Well, I speak, I'm understood most of the times but in social settings I just can't do it yet. My time here wont change it and francly, I'm not all into learning French perfectly, but I manage.
Brussels. Well, sofar I know very little. There are tons of people in their late 20's here. Interns, officials, explorers, immigrants. It's a busy city with people working excessively, so also the entertainment is heavy. Once I manage to find a place, I'll explore more like I usually do (and when I get my bicycle!).
So this is me now. There's a lot of Finns here. They're all nice but I'm struggling a bit. I'd like to socialize more with diverse people but it's just sooo easy to stick with the Finns. Let's see what happens this fall. Three months is nothing. Three months may be everything. Time will tell.
lauantai 17. syyskuuta 2011
Here I go again on my own
What truth lies in so few words. Once again, I'm in a new country, facing new challenges, all by myself and ready to embrace the future. What a busy month it has been!
Anybody who has ever entered my Facebook profile knows that I've been in Mexico. Now I spent there two weeks on vacation. It was amazing. Not only the things a saw and lived, but the things that I felt and the people I met. It was like returning home but as a stranger. Everything was the same but still different. It felt like my place. It was like escaping to a haven where all is good, where anything is possible and where I feel loved.
Maybe that's the key word. Love. I give love and I feel love. I love how I feel there. I love it when people hug me and kiss me without other intentions. I love it how I can speak to a stranger like a friend, dance like drug addict and laugh like a child. I feel cherished, important, cared for. I can show the love and affection I have for others. Some people I only met once but nevertheless I still felt the connection. Surely you all know what I'm talking about. You meet a person after a long time and everything is just like before. The smiles, the jokes, the ease of being, the chemistry. And then you're gone, like always.
Why did I return? For the food, for the culture and for my friends. One of the greatest reasons was nevertheless to pinpoint the development within me that has happened during these two years. I'm more mature, stable, self-certain and vivid. I'm less pensive and worrying. In good and bad. There's a change in all of us, but what has provoked it? What has given it its shape?
Change in ourselves is something we have little power over. You can decide to become something but most of the time, nature makes that decision for you. That is when you should pay notice, see the difference in yourself and study yourself. Are you the person you want to be? If you don't like what you have become, you have to work hard to make a change. We are never complete as persons. A disorganized person must never explain a mess by saying "That's just who I am.", because that's a lie. We are who we choose to be.
For me, coming back from Mexico and starting once again a new life in a new city, it's time for reassesment. Once again I have the tools to become something greater. You have them too. You just have to know yourself first and have people who love you for who you are. Then you can become anything.
Anybody who has ever entered my Facebook profile knows that I've been in Mexico. Now I spent there two weeks on vacation. It was amazing. Not only the things a saw and lived, but the things that I felt and the people I met. It was like returning home but as a stranger. Everything was the same but still different. It felt like my place. It was like escaping to a haven where all is good, where anything is possible and where I feel loved.
Maybe that's the key word. Love. I give love and I feel love. I love how I feel there. I love it when people hug me and kiss me without other intentions. I love it how I can speak to a stranger like a friend, dance like drug addict and laugh like a child. I feel cherished, important, cared for. I can show the love and affection I have for others. Some people I only met once but nevertheless I still felt the connection. Surely you all know what I'm talking about. You meet a person after a long time and everything is just like before. The smiles, the jokes, the ease of being, the chemistry. And then you're gone, like always.
Why did I return? For the food, for the culture and for my friends. One of the greatest reasons was nevertheless to pinpoint the development within me that has happened during these two years. I'm more mature, stable, self-certain and vivid. I'm less pensive and worrying. In good and bad. There's a change in all of us, but what has provoked it? What has given it its shape?
Change in ourselves is something we have little power over. You can decide to become something but most of the time, nature makes that decision for you. That is when you should pay notice, see the difference in yourself and study yourself. Are you the person you want to be? If you don't like what you have become, you have to work hard to make a change. We are never complete as persons. A disorganized person must never explain a mess by saying "That's just who I am.", because that's a lie. We are who we choose to be.
For me, coming back from Mexico and starting once again a new life in a new city, it's time for reassesment. Once again I have the tools to become something greater. You have them too. You just have to know yourself first and have people who love you for who you are. Then you can become anything.
torstai 18. elokuuta 2011
A year of my life...
... has passed since I last wrote an entry here. Welcome, dear readers! The year has been a roller coaster (when is it not?). After coming home from Vietnam I gave myself the permission to be a student, nothing more, for the coming year with all the benefits it gives. For the outside viewer this meant a lot of activities, happenings and travels. What a bliss to be carefree, without responsabilities, without nobody to worry about, with absolute control over my schedule and my daily routines. Never again will I have this freedom, so I need to remind myself that I used it well. Thankfully there are pictures to remind me of that, like this picture of the sky during the last evening of Pori Jazz Festival (photo taken with my telephone, quite happy with my Nokia!).
The most useful thing I did this year was to graduate. It was never a question of if I could do it but rather when I would do it, when I would be ready to face what it brings along. Am I ready now? No, by no means. So what you will be witnessing now is the transformation from a reckless student to a responsible careerwoman. I just hope that the transformation resembles that of a butterfly, that the true beauty of life is reached only after the process.
In one week I will return to Mexico where I spent a year of my life earlier on. When I come back, I'll spend one day in Finland and then be off to Brussels, Belgium, where I'll be doing a 3-month internship at the Finnish representation at the EU. I'll be home for Christmas and from there on it's an open road. Some plans are growing but more certainty will be reached along the way.
So as you see, I have managed quite well to avoid "adulthood" if you wish. My mind has gone through the theories of fear of growing up, of taking responsability and of throwing my life to waste. Also inability to commit myself to anything and hyperactivity disorder have been probable explanations. But then I thought, who cares? The ones who think that everything should be done by the book, that's who. If I'm happy, if I'm not hurting or causing trouble to anybody, then why couldn't I live like this forever if I like? Understanding this has brought peace to me. I will see, learn and live for as long as my moral and emotional obligations let me. Then it's time for reassesment.
This is the beginning of yet another adventure, not only for me but for you as well. You never know what life brings along. I would be more than happy to know who reads this blog even occasionally but more importantly, what goes on in YOUR lives. Thank you for being here.
The most useful thing I did this year was to graduate. It was never a question of if I could do it but rather when I would do it, when I would be ready to face what it brings along. Am I ready now? No, by no means. So what you will be witnessing now is the transformation from a reckless student to a responsible careerwoman. I just hope that the transformation resembles that of a butterfly, that the true beauty of life is reached only after the process.
In one week I will return to Mexico where I spent a year of my life earlier on. When I come back, I'll spend one day in Finland and then be off to Brussels, Belgium, where I'll be doing a 3-month internship at the Finnish representation at the EU. I'll be home for Christmas and from there on it's an open road. Some plans are growing but more certainty will be reached along the way.
So as you see, I have managed quite well to avoid "adulthood" if you wish. My mind has gone through the theories of fear of growing up, of taking responsability and of throwing my life to waste. Also inability to commit myself to anything and hyperactivity disorder have been probable explanations. But then I thought, who cares? The ones who think that everything should be done by the book, that's who. If I'm happy, if I'm not hurting or causing trouble to anybody, then why couldn't I live like this forever if I like? Understanding this has brought peace to me. I will see, learn and live for as long as my moral and emotional obligations let me. Then it's time for reassesment.
This is the beginning of yet another adventure, not only for me but for you as well. You never know what life brings along. I would be more than happy to know who reads this blog even occasionally but more importantly, what goes on in YOUR lives. Thank you for being here.
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