These boots are made for...viewing?

I tell you, Belgian girls love themselves some boots! This time of year, probably about 90% of them are wearing boots. You have many variations: boots with jeans tucked into them, boots and long skirts, boots and short skirts, boots and shorts, little ankle-high boots, flat-heeled boots, high-heeled boots, suede boots, leather boots, plastic boots, boots with fringe, boots with buckles, combat boots. They love their boots.

The Choir

Last night I went with a friend to choir practice with a local (Belgian) choral group. Now, for those of you who know me, you know I'm an early-to-bed person. Well, choir practice starts at 8:30. Or, more accurately, people start arriving at 8:30. It doesn't actually start then. Practice goes for about an hour and half and then the social hour starts. Imagine me trying to be social at 10:15 (the champagne helped...)

I went partly because I miss singing and partly because David was out of town and partly because doing things like this is good for me. At least that's what people - extroverts - are always telling me. I wasn't sure I'd continue to go; it was sort of a trial run for me. But the choir director announced they had a new member and the rest of the choir took it for granted I was there to stay. They were delighted to have somebody new and it was bisous all around, both upon arrival and at departure. So I guess I've joined a choir. 

The Local News

I started watching the local news recently - ok, yesterday - because there's nothing else on at 7:00 while I'm waiting for dinner to be ready.

The big news is the cold. In case you haven't been following the European weather, we're in the midst of a deep, deep freeze. It snowed in Marseilles yesterday and in Spain today, and it hasn't gotten above freezing here in Mons since we got back last week.

Tonight there was a story about what they have to do to get barges through the boat elevator on the central canal, since both the canal and the elevator are frozen. There were also stories on the SPCA sheltering homeless folks' pets and farmers' efforts to thaw water for the cows (who are, remember, in the barn for the winter). Last night they did a piece on the demand for home heating fuel these days and how long people have to wait for delivery. "They should think and plan ahead!" one provider said. Then there were the kids sledding, down a snow-covered hill (instead of off the roof, if I heard correctly...).

What's really interesting is all the different accents I'm hearing. Some sound positively Canadian. This will definitely require more research.

Germans and food

A partial list of the things you can eat or drink at a German Christmas market: bratwurst, curry wurst, steak on a rock, fondue, raclette, mushrooms in cream sauce, mulled wine, mulled wine with amaretto, mulled wine with rum, salt pretzels, cheese pretzels, sugared pretzels, fried battered bananas, fried dough balls, apple fritters, fried potato pancakes*, a dozen variations of of sugar-coated almond, Italian pizza, German pizza, French crêpes, Belgian waffles, waffles coated with chocolate, tacos, burritos, cheese spätzle with or without onions, shish kabob, candy of a billion sorts, hot chocolate, hot chocolate with rum, schnapps, schnitzel, fried fish, pickled herring, baked salmon on a roll, smoked ham, baked ham, cotton candy, and popcorn.

*With apologies to Ben Franklin, reibekuchen is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

My first breathalyzer!

We were coming back from Germany today and stopped at the rest stop in Spy. (Don't bother trying to be cute about this, Pop. We've already made all the jokes. Besides, it's pronounced "spee" in French, which is far less interesting.) As we were leaving, a gang of Belgian policemen waved me over to the side of the parking lot. After checking my license and registration (the first time anyone has asked to see my Belgian license!) the officer assigned to me asked if I had had anything alcoholic to drink. "Yes, officer. I had a cup of glühwein at the Christmas market in Cologne this morning." Only I said it in French, where glühwein is vin chaud, meaning hot wine. "No problem," he said--in fake English. I had to blow into the thing and passed. They wandered off with my license and registration to make a note of it for their stats, then we were on our way.

It's a good thing it wasn't a grease-alyzer, though. That I would have flunked big time. I had, after all, been to a German Christmas market.

Christmas in Germany

We just spent several days in Germany, where the Christmas decorations are up and the markets are going full blast, serving liters of Gluehwein, tons of brats, and piles of those delicious greasy potato pancakes. It's all about Christmas there. 

We were reveling in the lights and atmosphere and food and drink but I couldn't help thinking how ironic it was that if we were home in the States, we'd be grumbling about the premature advent (not Advent) of decorations and the pressure to buybuybuy. In Germany it just seems right. 

Bezoek onze productpagina

For some reason Hewlitt-Packard has apparently decided I'm a Dutch speaker, as they have taken to emailing me ads in that language. I know I should send them to the junk folder, but frankly, I appreciate the practice, because in theory I do know some Dutch.