We've got a house!

And it's big gorgeous. Sarah, we almost got your château. It has marble, tile, and wood floors, a huge kitchen with tons of cabinets and a built-in marble table. The master bedroom has closets!! Those who have lived in Europe will understand how huge that is. The master bath has one of those walk-in spray-you-from-all-sides showers. I may never make it to work. The village of Hautrage is across the canal, maybe a 10 minute walk away. Hautrage doesn't have much, but it does have a patisserie and a restaurant called Chez Coco. We don't have pictures of the house yet because of our software woes (suffice it to say that Steve Jobs hates freedom), but we hope to soon. Meanwhile, anyone who wants to MapQuest or GoogleEarth it can look for rue Delbory 10, 7334 Hautrage.

We're pretty stoked. We sign the lease on the 6th and should be able to move in on the 15th. The guy renting it now is willing to leave his AFN and SkyNet satellites for us. I get to buy a new mower (Donald, I'm thinking this is my chance to get a Honda) because I'll be taking care of lawn maintenance myself. I may regret it because I've been told that between the rain and the 18 hours of sunlight you get in midsummer, grass grows like a m...grass grows fast.

La Vie est belle

It's also the name of a new restaurant about two steps from the hotel where we're staying. They opened just a couple of days before we arrived, and since it's their first month we got an aperitif on the house. We were the only customers for the first half hour we were there, so we chatted a bit with the husband half of the owners. He's from just 25 km north of here, and his wife is from about the same distance in the other direction, which happens to be in France, so they split the difference and opened in Mons pour ne pas trop se disputer--so that they wouldn't argue too much. I asked about the music he was playing (Dylan, the Platters, Elvis, u/i Motown, bunch of 60ish French stuff) and got a long dissertation on how he loves anything that's useless (the place is decorated with marionettes and a French version of the Shoney's Big Boy) and how a lot of people don't step away from the serious side of life long enough to appreciate life. But this is where the French and the Belgians differ. Our restaurateur at least realized that he had given me more answer than I had asked for and made a wry little joke at his own expense. A Frenchman in the same situation might well have assumed that his long digression was the answer I wanted.

A thing I like about restaurants here: diners acknowledge each other's presence. They speak when they sit next to you, wish you bon appétit, and say goodbye when you leave.

After-action report, Sunday 2

David went to church twice today: once with Rita and once with the Anglicans while Rita went to the gym (the two services are back to back). I tell you, just when you think you've heard everything, the Catholics go and sing "Softly and Tenderly Jesus Is Calling." Boy, was I ever shocked. And pleased. They kind of countrified it and dumbed it down (no parts to sing in the refrain), but it was still nice. Then the Anglicans opened with a Charles Wesley hymn, albeit one I did not know. There were only 22 people in the Anglo-Episcopal service, but they were throwing a Belgian out of the bullpen and it's still the school holiday. Between the Communion and the small crowd I felt like I was at the 0730 service at home, except for the preacher's accent.

Two Couples

Last night we ate dinner at a restaurant on the Grand' Place, one we've been to a couple times already, so Pascal the waiter recognizes us. We got there about 6:45 but apparently that is pretty early on a Friday night because there was only one other group in the back dining room, and they were having their pre-prandial beers. An older couple came in then and ordered coffee and cake. Being the superb analysts we are, we devined that they had eaten dinner at home and had come in for dessert. (On the other hand, maybe they were on a fixed income and that was dinner...). Then a young, college-aged couple came in for cokes. Dame 1 (the older woman - and I do mean older, even older than me!) was sedate and very much in her own space, conversing in low tones with her man. Dame 2 (the young woman) was alternately in her fella's lap and then laced around his neck, apparently resting quite comfortably and possibly even catching a cat-nap. Not much room for the Holy Spirit between those two! Fella 2 sat there smugly enjoying his lady's attentions, while Fella 1 kept checking his watch and reporting back to his boss. We just thought it was interesting observing these two very different generations.

But why is it called Mons?

I didn't realize where the name came from until I saw the Dutch (Flemish) version: Bergen. Mons is plain ol' Latin for mount, and the city really is built on a little hill. The terrain around here is flat as a pancake--or flat as Kansas, if you prefer, which a bunch of Texas geography profs have proven is in effect flatter than a pancake--but Mons is on an itty bitty hill in the midst of all those Kansas-flat beet fields.

We passed

We took the class and passed the test for our SHAPE drivers' licenses today. Now all we need is a car before we can actually go get the license. We had to know all 146 traffic signs and to react to 50 traffic situations flashed on the screen for 30 seconds; several of them dealt with the dreaded "priority to the right" rule. Former Belgian drivers will be interested to learn that the rule is being altered as of 1 March: no longer will you lose your priority simply because you hesitate when approaching an intersection. Somehow in Belgium this is considered progress. For those who have never driven in a priority-to-the-right country, suffice it to say that this is the situation for which the expression "accident waiting to happen" was invented.

We're #1!

We've moved up to number 1 on the list for the house we haven't seen yet. Turns out the guy who was ahead of us on the list took the house we looked at Saturday, so now we're first for this one. Today after work we drove over there and peered in all the windows. I'm surprised the neighbors didn't call the cops. Apparently the realtor isn't showing the house yet because there's still some renovation work going on. We're hoping to be able to see it next week, before our option runs out. In the meantime, we continue to stack things up in the hotel room - and our express shipment hasn't even arrived yet!