The Soirée.

I've decided to dedicate one post to the soirée, before writing about the rest of what's happening in my life. So, here goes.

Beginning of September: I was at dinner one day and Etienne asked me if I wanted to go to a soirée with Arnaud. I agreed, not entirely sure what it was. In fact, I'm still not entirely sure. Regardless, as we got closer and closer to the date, I started freaking out more and more, comme d'habitude (as usual). One night Anne-Michèle and I chose one of Alix's dresses for me to wear (it's absolutely gorgeous, by the way. Navy blue halter with a flowy skirt. Gosh I love those flowy skirts.) and she found a shrug for me to wear with it to cover my tattoo. We went shopping the day of the Fête de Wallonie and bought shoes and a necklace to go with it. I was totally set for the big night.

A week or two before: Anne-Michèle told me after dinner that all we needed now was to go to the hairdresser. There may or may not have been a mild exclamation of disbelief/terror/panic when I heard this. Mais ça va.

3 days before: Minor flip outs during English class with Emma and Talia.

1 day before: Anne-Michèle told me that I needed to use some self-tanning lotion.

The day of: I went to Namur with Rotary. Just thought I'd throw that out there. Then I reapplied the tanning lotion, per Anne-Michèle's request. We found a small purse for me to take.

1 hour before: Anne-Michèle did my hair. She did a blow-out, then curled it. I love love loved my hair. She did an AMAZING job. Seriously, my hair looked great. After the hair came the dress. Then the makeup. Then the sweater. Then the merciless stuffing of my cell phone, gum, a pen, some bobby pins, and my little perfume thing into the clutch. After that, I toyed with the idea of putting on the heels, but decided that I'd rather make it down the stairs in one piece, so I just went barefoot. I got downstairs, and Anne-Michèle handed me a pair of pantyhose. Back up the stairs I went to add those to the ensemble. I came back downstairs after that, and I was all ready to go. Arnaud was doing something with the GPS, and then Anne-Michèle and Amaury wanted to take pictures. I basically just stood there while they snapped oodles of photos with various picture-taking devices. Arnaud was laughing. He, however, did not get his picture taken.

After the photos, we left. I had made it 20 minutes without a mishap, so one was bound to come soon. I was wearing the heels when we left the house. I forgot that there aren't any lights outside, and my brain, in its laziness, had decided to forget that there are steps coming down from the door. No, I didn't fall, I merely made a loud, stumbly, scraping noise as I descended. So... I pretty much fell, but landed on my feet.

We got in the car and headed on our merry way after that. It was a pleasant car ride until Arnaud told me that there was the possibility that we would be sitting at different tables. Cue panic. But since the people throwing the party knew that I'm American and don't speak French, they probably put us at the same table. End panic.

We arrived at the soirée at about 9pm and I immediately sunk into the grass when I stepped out of the car. Thank you, heels. There's a reason so many women hate you. I managed to get out of the grass just fine, and when we walked up to the house, the first person I saw was my third host sister, Camille. I talked with her for a second before Arnaud and I went inside to greet the parents of the party. When Arnaud introduced himself, they immediately looked at me and said, "The American!" (In all honesty, that's a fairly common reaction. It's as though I'm expected to look different or have a flag painted across my face. I really look just like all the other people out there in the world, promise). After greeting the parents, we found a board with little pieces of paper listing people's names on them. These tell you which table you're sitting at. We flipped them over, and what do you know, we're at different tables. I was totally ready to flip out, but then I decided it wasn't really a big deal. I mean, it's one night. I can manage to eat a meal with a bunch of people I've never met before and who speak a language I don't understand, right? No sweat.

I found Camille not long after that, and she introduced me to her friends, all of whom were very nice. They spoke French with me, which was a nice change from the English I usually get. During this time, Camille told me not to talk or dance with any guys who were wearing only pinky rings. The pinky ring is a tell-tale sign, apparently, that the guy is a money-obsessed, snotty jerk. Well, what the hell do I know, I'll believe it. Not long after that, it was time for dinner, so we all filed inside. Camille helped me find my table. We waited for a few people to sit down, and then she walked up to a guy and this conversation followed, in French, of course:

Camille: Hi, what's your name?

Random Guy at My Table: Olivier.

Camille: Hi Olivier. This is Mikayla, she's my host sister. She's American. She's going to sit by you at dinner, and you're going to talk to her, okay? Have fun.

And that was all. Olivier was actually very nice, and he and I talked quite a bit during the course of the meal, which was quite delicious (the meal, I mean, not Olivier...).

What did we eat?

Well, the first course/appetizer-y thing was raw salmon rolled around little shrimp. It was actually pretty good, despite my aversion to raw meat and seafood.

Second, we had a form of potato (I'm thinking it was potatoes au gratin, but I really have no idea), something involving ham and a sauce (really great sauce), something I'm hoping was chicken, and something else I can't remember. It was all super delicious though. I loved it.

Desert was an AMAZING raspberry/sugar creation. The raspberry was like a serbet kind of thing and was SO yummy. I wasn't a huge fan of the sugar part, but the raspberry. Yes. Incredible.

This whole meal was accompanied by a roll (one of the best parts of any meal, in my opinion) and two wines, one white, one red. Both were quite good.

After the meal, we all went outside as the waiters cleared out the tables so people could dance. Camille found me and we went outside with her friends for a while, then we went in to dance. Yes, I did dance. I actually had a lot of fun! There were little platform thingies for people to dance on, so I joined Camille and her friends on one of those. It was great fun. We would go outside for some fresh air for a while, then go back in and dance some more. During one of our trips outside, someone walked up behind me and said, "What is your name?" in ENGLISH. I told him, and he and I started chatting about English, me being in Belgium, and his time studying English in England. Camille came back over, and we went inside to dance some more. As we were walking, she told me to be careful; that guy had a pinky ring. I didn't really give the guy another thought, and just started dancing again. All of a sudden, the guy appeared right next to me, dancing. Camille and I moved across the dance floor, and he followed. No matter where we went, he was no more than a minute behind us. It was a little creepy after a while. At around 12:45 (yes, am) I went outside and the guy followed me. He commenced what I'm sure was a lovely soliloquy about how much he knows about America (he's been to Washington DC and Chicago, after all), every reason he could think of that demonstrates why Belgium is better than America, and the brewery his uncle is buying. What did I gain from listening to this? there are approximately 164.7 things I would have rather been doing than standing there, including, but not limited to:

watching grass grow

attending a Justin Bieber concert

learning Korean

singing karaoke in Polish

attempting a back flip, heels and all

Luckily, Arnaud came to my rescue. He came over and said, "Shall we go? I have to be up early tomorrow." I think he was my favorite human on the planet at that moment. I turned to Mr. Pinky Ring and said, "Bonne soirée!" and bolted. As Arnaud and I were walking to the car, I thanked him profusely for saving me from the pinky ring guy. He said, "Yes, I saw your face... and I heard him talking about Belgians not having to use ID cards..."

The drive back was passed discussing the fact that Arnaud has never seen the Wizard of Oz, the possibility of an afternoon of watching Disney movies (ahem... :P), and blasting Ke$ha songs. Then, we got back to the house, and I passed out in my room, exhausted.

That, my good people, is the story of an American girl, a pair of heels, and an evening in Europe.

Aujourd'hui

Voila, la maison.

Voila, the house.

I went shopping with Anne-Michele today. We went to a grocery store kinda thing and bought two types of wine, some cheeses, strawberries, cola, laundry detergent, and some other stuff. There were tons of waffle-shaped cookies. I've seen them at every store I've been to so far.

We also went to la commune again, but this time it was to get my visa verified. The woman who worked there wrote something in my passport, made some copies of it, and then asked if I had any information from my school here. I said, yes, in my room at home. So, Anne-Michele and I went home, got the paperwork, and took it back over. So now, I'm all set to go.

I'm still getting used to my new phone. It's turned off most of the time because I don't have a charger for it yet. I'll have to get one one of these days. I don't know how I'm going to get to Carrefour though. I'll have to talk to Anne-Michele.

I finished "Naked" by David Sedaris today. I must say, he's one of my favorite authors. His essays are easy to read, humorous, and I just love to read them. I wish he wrote in French (he does have a house in Normandy, after all), but after reading about his struggles with languages in "Me Talk Pretty One Day" (I think it was that one), I can understand why he doesn't. Maybe I'll be able to find them in French at a bookstore. I need to find a bookstore first, though.

I finally got around to taking some pictures of my house, so here they are:

The front yard.

The back of the house and part of the soccer net.

The driveway.

The kitchen.

The bathroom. Note how the toilet is next to a window.

People here are really into mineral water, and it's driving me crazy. I don't know if I'm just not used to the flavor or what, but I really detest it. I didn't like it in the U.S., I don't like it here. Oh well, it's better than getting some sort of germ from the tap water. Anne-Michele said that it's possible to drink the tap water, but that l'eau minerale (mineral water) is better. So, here we are.

So, you know when you give someone directions for how to do something? Like, "You put the candles on after the cake is baked, not when it's still batter," or "You go right at Apple Street, then you go left at the big cow statue, then you go right again at the field with all of the old cars. If you hit the ocean, you've gone too far." In the U.S., we always say "you." You do this, you do that, you attack that baboon with a leaf. Here, they say "one." Like, "One can take the bus anywhere in Belgium," or "One can find lots of school supplies here." It's proving to be a challenge for me to switch into "One Mode." But I think it makes more sense to say "One does this, one does that, one puts her right foot in, takes her right foot out, etc." Plus, with the formal and informal "you" that the French speakers have going on, it's no wonder they say "one." It would be too complicated to use "you."

I'm not really sure why people say Belgium is so dreary and rainy. Yes, it has rained every day so far, and yes, when I wake up in the morning, the clouds are so dark that it could be anywhere from 4 am to 8 pm, but there has also been sunshine every day I've been here as well. Not nearly as much as there is in Colorado, but enough for me. It's sunny right now, and I can feel the rays warming up my hands as I type this. The sky is blue, with tons of puffy white clouds overhead. It's pretty much a paradise, at least for me.

I think I may be the only person in this country who does not own a pair of leggings.

Other things I've noticed about fashion:

• EVERYONE wears skinny jeans. At least, the women.
• Women also wear lots of flats as well. I brought a pair with me, yes, but not tons of them. It's very common to pair skinny jeans with flats.
• Women also wear 3-4 inch heels as well. While shopping. And pushing large carts at Ikea. I don't know how they do it. Maybe they've just acquired the balance after years of practice? I'd try heels, but I'd probably die. So, I'll stick to my apple shoes. Nice and flat and non-threatening.
• I have not seen any tennis shoes here besides the ones in my armoire.
• No one wears tank tops. I think I've seen one girl's shoulders since I've been here. It's making me crazy, since I only have 3 shirts I can pair with my tank tops to cover them up.
• People wear the same clothes two days in a row. I do that with jeans all the time, because they're such a pain to wash. But here, people will wear the same shirt and sweatshirt/sweater/jacket. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing (it's great if i ever forget to do my laundry), but I've always thought that there's something nice about putting on a new, clean shirt in the morning. It's refreshing. It helps me start the day off right. Or maybe I'm just a little weird.
• There are tons of rain boots in my house.
• Body piercings are not nearly as common as they are in the U.S. I saw maybe five facial piercings at Ikea. A few women have double ear piercings, that's all. I feel like a pincushion compared to them.
• I've only seen two people with tattoos. One older man who had an eagle-ish bird (I couldn't see from where I was standing) and a young woman who had three stars on the inside of her wrist.

One thing many people associate with America is obesity. And in all honesty, I can't blame them. America is not a healthy nation, mentally, physically, or spiritually, at least in my opinion. I've always heard how healthy Europe is, with the fresh foods, walking everywhere, and overall interest in health. I thought that when I came to Europe, I'd be surrounded by tiny, stick figures posing as women and muscular, athletic men. I've found that it's not the case. I've seen a number of overweight or obese people at the store, at parties, and out on the street. I don't mean to criticize them in any way; I just wanted to point out that there's a bit of a misconception about Europe. Sure, overall the people here appear to be healthier than most American's I've seen, but it's not as though everyone here is crazy about exercise. I don't think I've done a very good job explaining myself here, but at least I tried.

Apparently, you have to have a special uniform for gym classes here. I am now 107% determined to get out of fitness, as opposed to the 104% I was yesterday.

Stores:

Every store I've been to except Ikea has had the carts I've always associated with Aldi's. You have to put a coin into a slot on the handle to detach the cart from the one in front of it. After you're done shopping, you put the cart back into the line and put the little key thingy from the one in front of it into the box with the coin in it, and voila, you get your coin back. I know that's not the best explanation, but that's the best I can do for now.

I haven't seen anyone chewing gum since I've been here. Anne-Michele bought some today, but I wonder if it's for some other purpose... I don't know what that purpose could be, but still...

Well, I think that's all for now, folks.

Mikayla