Welcome to Tiensestraat 276

The first item of action when moving to any city is securing a living space. So from my first morning in Leuven until the moment I signed a contract, my sole concern was to find a "studentenkamer". These are private rooms subsidized by the University. They consist of a small room usually with furnishings and a bed, commonly with shared bathroom and kitchen facilities. The reason I sought these rooms over studios, flats and apartments is simple: they're cheap, like the budgie. Most went at around 230-270 Euros, and from 300-350 Euros for a room with a private bathroom. On top of this there is often added a 50 Euro utility bill.
I found a place for 205 Euros per month, all in. Out of the eight places I had already seen, this was by far the cheapest, and none of the others gave me a private shower and 3 metres of windows looking out over the rooftops of the city. The views of most kamers (rooms) are limited to the building on the other side of the street.

I first found the place as I was walking down Tiensestraat looking for signs that said, "Kamer te huur". Smelling the warm, yeasty scent of a bakery, I noticed in the window just such a sign. And so I inquired within, taking note of that scent that I would smell every morning for the next 11 months. When I asked for a viewing, the woman behind the counter gave me a set of keys and in broken English instructed me to go to the top floor, that she could not come up with me and tend to her shop at the same time. By the time I reached the room, I understood that the 75 stairs may have been a factor in her choice to stay in the shop. The stairwell had water damage and some mould... not a good sign. But it was clear that work was being done, for the thick wallpaper was being stripped off for future replacement. There were three things that I first noticed when I entered the room. First, it was a dusty mess. Second, the floor is so sloped that it takes my skateboard 2.3 seconds to roll from one side of the room to the other. The third thing, however, put all other concerns into perspective: a large desk facing a span of windows 3 metres long. From this new writing desk I could look out over the city of Leuven and contemplate.

Only two doors down from me is a small supermarket with everything I need for day-to-day provisions. Good thing, too, for I have no kitchen and no fridge or freezer. I shall purchase a hotplate or an electric grill, and buy fresh food daily. Hopefully this will in fact help me save, since I will never be able to hoard and always know the cost of each individual meal. Living cheap is a life skill. Gotta practice it as much as possible.

My second day in Leuven, I had found a perfect place for myself. Hem duril'a. That day I had already went through the aggravating process of registering as a student at the university. But the biggest task of the day was carrying two large luggage bags weighing 23 kg each from the hostel to the stairwell. This 20 minute portage was not extremely enjoyable. I dragged them through a construction zone, a train station tunnel, and down 3 blocks on the ringroad. Then came the 75 stairs. After getting my bags up into the room, I sighed in relief, hem duril'a.
There was much to be done, however. The room was a dust pool, and so I set about the three hour task of dusting and sweeping to every corner. By the end I had collected a veritable mountain of dust.

But finally I could remove my scarf from my face and breath easy in this room that through my labour had become more of a home to me. Since then I have cleaned the shower and the sink, the windows and mirror, and all the furniture. I have purchased a rug for outside my shower door to prevent water from spreading to other areas in my room. Aside from that, I have placed in the room many posters, a degree, and an opened box of Kellogg's Smacks. The nesting process is nearing completion.

My place, as I have explained, is in a very convenient location. Not only am I near stores and bars, but I am less than ten minutes from both the philosophy department and the skatepark. Let's just say I've decided it's worth my 205 Euros per month. With the first month and security deposit made, all I have left to do is meet the neighbors...

"A Friend is Better than a Stranger"

Well,
Here I am in Leuven.
After five years of steadily growing anticipation, I have finally arrived in that place I once heard of in a classroom back home. Now I anticipate new classrooms, and do what I can to make my new room a suitable home. It has been five days since I drove with my cousin Huub from Maasbree to Leuven and signed in at the de Blauput hostel. Since then I have registered as a K.U. Leuven student, I have secured a room for then next 11 months, and I have registered as a Leuven resident at the Stadhuis (City Hall). Not to mention, I have recieved lessons in Arabic and shared in interfaith dialogue with a doctor from Sudan. I have discussed the disappointing direction that American capitalism is headed towards... with an undergraduate student from Ohio. I have shared excitement about coming to a new city and shared concerns about culture shock with a girl from England. Needless to say, the K.U.Leuven posters weren't lying when they proclaimed that my experience in Leuven would be an international one!
My first day in Leuven happened to be a Belgian national holiday and the final day of a three-week long celebration in Leuven. Midway operators yelled out the Flemish equivalent of "Everybody wins!", and vendors listed off the benefits of their products. To my horror, every main street was as crowded as a Disney park at Christmas. On my first morning on this first day of my year in Leuven, I was not so surprised that there were people of all ages drinking in the street. What did surprise me, however, was the sheer number of people doing it at 10 a.m. on a Monday.
By noon 40-year-old couples staggered in each other's arms, doing everything in their power to walk in a semi-straight line and not spill their beer. Bands played on street corners, where crowds would dance and sing along to a somewhat unnatural mix of Belgian folk music, dancehall, and nineties American pop. With only the slightest hint of seriousness, I once again ask myself, what have I gotten myself into this time??
The answer came later that evening in the form of a very moving conversation with a medical doctor named Amir from Central Sudan. The night before, I had noticed that my roommate at the hostel had a prayer shawl and rug, so I wrote a note to him while he was out:

"Hello, my name is Josh and I'm from Canada. I hope we meet sometime soon. Cheers, salam!"

Salam is one of the only Arabic words I know, and perhaps it is the most useful for making new friends: it is a holy greeting that essentially means peace be with you.

Anyway, the conversation I had with Amir on the next night was most certainly opened by this very simple and yet infinitely complex word. I shall not explain in detail what we discussed, but I can tell you it involved sharing our ways of personal prayer, a comparison of our respective faiths, as well as a proper exchange of food. In exchange for one of his granola bars, I gave Amir a fresh pear from Huub's garden. With this he broke the day's fast (Ramadan). We discussed two reasons or justifications for fasting. The first justification is simply that fasting is the instruction of God. In a world of faith, there is no greater justification. The second justification is perhaps more aligned to strictly scientific outlooks: to limit the satisfaction of appetites for food, intoxicants, and sexual pleasure increases spiritual appetite for understanding, wisdom, and awakening. Such a concept was not new to me, as it is the 'second reason' for so many other mystical traditions, be they Christian, Jewish, Hindi or Buddhist. I welcomed it as a healthy reminder after a long day of festivities and a long week of jovial beer drinking with Thijs and Liesbeth in Maasbree!

Finally came the answer to my earlier question concerning my current situation. My heart was tickled when Amir taught me my second Arabic phrase: Hem duril'a. This utterance essentially means "I am satisfied". One says this when they finish a prayer, a meal, or when they get caught up in happiness, sadness, frustration, and so on. It is a way of accepting with open arms one's fate. An ecstatic moment elapsed as Amir promised me that he would, whenever I requested, teach me Arabic free of charge. At this moment the two of us understood that we had made a very special bond. Hem duril'a. We finished the evening with prayer: him on his rug and me bed-side.

It seems that the two other people I met may becomes friends during the year, albeit perhaps not friends with such a spiritual link. Perhaps. The future is yet-to-come. I met a German philosophy undergrad from Ohio in the hostel as well. He had spent the previous year studying in Austria, and surely it had rubbed in. He and I shared our views on North American media, consumerism, and corporate control. Our discussion was not limited to Walmart, small-town quarterback stardom, and the complete obliviousness of a large section of the population to what is really going on in the world, beyond the shield of corporate-controlled media. My new friend decided that perhaps it was growing up in such an environment that led him to such a great interest in Marxist and Socialist theory.

The third person I had a good conversation with was a law student from England here on exchange. I met her at the 'Stadhuis', the City Hall, to register as a resident. We discussed our mutual early onset of culture shock, as she told me that I was the first person she was able to have a real sort of conversation with... one not in embarrassed, broken English. It was nice to not have to worry about the language barrier for a bit. I suppose I shall meet her and her friends soon, and together we can, so to speak, break that barrier down over several alcoholic beverages.

Something I said to Amir quite perfectly sums up my attitude during these first days in Leuven: "A friend is better than a stranger."

A day in Maastricht

Maastricht: impressive architecture, beautiful college girls, and tasty apricot pie.
Of course there's much more to discover in the Limburg capital, but one must not deny the power of first impressions. During my initial visit to Maastricht, I was struck by the sense of youthful energy given by the many students of the city's university, along with the firm sense of tradition offered by the city's buldings, cobblestone streets, and ancient city walls.
Liesbeth, my friend and relative with whom I am staying for my first week in Europe, brought me to the city to check out the sights and to visit the Brasserie Bonhomme, a little restaurant owned by her relative. Bonhomme is a fairly new eatery found on 'Het Bat', built on the banks of the Maas only two years ago. Already it has become a well established business. I am told the Limburg province is known for its pies... well, Bonhomme is no exception to the rule! My first dish there was the apricot pie, for this is a favorite in my family which I have never tried. If you are ever in Maastricht, visit Bonhomme and order apricot pie!

After pie, Liesbeth and I took a walking tour of an old section of Maastricht. There is an information centre near Bonhomme which offers a guide pamphlet with information about some of the major attractions of the city. Even without a guide, however, one will quickly notice the distinct style of architecture in Maastricht. Rows of multi-level buildings sandwiched together line the streets, many of which are slightly leaning due to the age of their foundations. Because they are so close, each building supports the other. Even the newer buildings are designed in such a way that they will not be too different from the old ones, and many old buildings are renovated rather than removed.





There is another distinct characteristic of the architecture in Maastricht: the very soft, sand-colored bricks of which most of the oldest buildings are composed. These bricks are made from marl, dug from the nearby grottos. At one point in time Maastricht and all of the Netherlands were completely under water, and so marl formed from the sediment at the bottom of the sea. For this reason the bricks are soft enough for passers-by to carve their names into! On the other hand, such a soft brick allows for artisans to carve ornate decorations into walls and facing. Aside from decorating the exteriors of the several exquisite churches, marl stone decorations are also found on private residences, reflecting the nobility of the past inhabitants of each house.




When I wasn't looking up at the facing of the buildings around me, I was checking out the many fellow students in this town. Maastricht is filled with beautiful college girls! Woohoo! One of my favorite things in life, and I'm not ashamed to say it. It was exciting to get a first glimpse of student life in Europe, only two days into my time here. And let me say, the prospects were wonderful. I look forward to studying at university here...