When Good Beer Goes Awesome

How can one have a blog about living in Belgium without bringing up beer? No credible blogger can. OK, I don't know what makes me credible, but I'm still going to devote this entry to beer. One beer in particular.

I recently had a conversation with Joe, a fellow beer geek (yeah, I'm a bit of a beer geek, dork, snob, nerd; choose your label, I just really dig beer) and author of Thirsty Pilgrim (go on, check it out!) about one of our mutually-favorite Belgian beers: Rodenbach Grand Cru. This is a fantastic tipple with a deep amber/brown color, fruity-oaky aroma, mild bitterness, malty-sweet and characteristic sourness on the pallet. It's this sourness that generally puts people off.

It's strange that this beer is pretty readily available, yet I haven't met a single Belgian who actually likes it. I know they must be out there. There was a time not long ago when the non-grand cru version (sweeter, less sour) was enjoyed by many, often with a shot of grenadine added. Maybe these people grew up along with their taste buds and enjoy the occasional Rodenbach Grand Cru when they want a hit of nostalgia. They just haven't revealed themselves to me.

Now back to that conversation among beer geeks... besides just drinking beer, we both really enjoy pairing food with beer (or vice-versa). That's how the subject of the Rodenbach Grand Cru was brought up. It's an extremely difficult beer to pair with food. I would usually drink it on its own on a warm summer's day, as it is a highly refreshing beer. It was on a recent warm-ish autumn afternoon when I decided to quench my thirst with a Rodenbach Grand Cru. I was also a little bit hungry, so I grabbed a bag of Hot Sweet Chilli Crac-A-Nuts (Crac-A-Nuts - a worthy subject on its own). Time froze and a glow from the heavens fell upon me. Thai food! Of course! The Rodenbach perfectly complements the florally-sweet/sourness of the tamarind and lime flavors while the beer's slightly roasted malty sweetness cuts through the fiery spice. I think Pad-Thai would be a perfect dish, especially with shrimp (Joe likes his Rodenbach with shrimp). I made a stir-fry seasoned with tom-yum paste that worked extremely well with the beer.

I can no longer imagine Thai food or Rodenbach Grand Cru on their own. To me, they should be enjoyed together. It's a good thing there are plenty of very good Thai restaurants in the Brussels area.

The Stare

A very odd habit that I've observed among Belgians is what I call "The Stare". I notice it nearly every time I'm out walking somewhere. Inevitably, at least one person I cross will stare me down. They'll look me in the eye and the stare doesn't waver. The Stare usually starts a few steps away and will usually last just until I pass the starer. It's not just a glance and a look-away. It's a full-on stare with the head turning until I pass. No matter what I do, they seem transfixed. I've tried smiling, saying hello, staring back, but nothing stops The Stare.

I think I've noticed The Stare in Flanders more than other areas of Belgium, but I could be wrong. Maybe it's a European wide thing and I've only recently noticed it.

I'm not sure what else to say about The Stare at this point. It confuses me. I don't really have a theory as to why it occurs. Maybe there were times when I've had a giant zit on my forehead or something, but certainly not every time. Maybe I'm just weird looking.

Have you noticed The Stare? I'm curious about this one. Please comment.

My Fault, Up Yours

Driving in Belgium. Where does one begin? I suppose with a one-word description: madness. Seriously, every time I make it home safely, it's a religious experience. I really don't understand why Belgians are so rude on the road. They're nice people, but they seem to think that courteous driving practices like keeping intersections clear or allowing another driver a moment to move out of their lane will cause the universe to implode or something.

Rather than fighting against the madness, sometimes you just have to go with it. I still try to allow people to merge, especially if they make the strenuous effort to use their blinker, but there is one important Belgian driving strategy I've learned and will readily use when necessary. When you do something wrong and/or stupid, like go forward in a left turn lane, don't apologize to the guy honking his horn. Get mad. Gesticulate wildly and shout. It doesn't matter if the other drivers can't hear you. The more serious the infraction, the more animated the gesticulations need to be. The point is to make the other drivers think THEY are the ones who've done something wrong. By the time they realize YOU'RE the idiot, you'll be long gone. Brilliant! Give it a try. If executed properly, it works every time. 

I Feeel Good, na na na na na na na...

One of the advantages of having a blog is that it gives one an excellent outlet to complain. If you've read my previous posts, you've seen that I've exploited that advantage to its fullest. You might have wondered why I bother to stay in Belgium. I'm going to go in a different direction now because I really like Belgium and I like living here. I really, really do.

The main subject of this week's integration course along with a recent viewing of Michael Moore's "Sicko" reminded me of one of the major major positives of life in Belgium: health care. The quality and accessibility are excellent. The up-front costs are reasonable as well (though not free, as Mr. Moore might have you think).

Allow me to make a comparison between Belgium and the US health care systems by providing personal examples.

A few years ago I suffered a pretty nasty snowboarding accident in Colorado (yes, I was doing something stupid. Let's stay on track here). My wife had to drive me, near death (well, that's how it felt), about 2 1/2 hours away so I could go to the emergency room at our in-network hospital. I then proceeded to wait in the emergency room for another couple hours. Finally, I got some attention. I was examined by a few different people, x-rays were taken, etc. This was all good, but not once did I see an actual doctor. Nurse practitioners, nurses and so on, but not one single doctor. I was told a doctor looked at my x-rays, but he didn't look at me. The only upside is that, since I was willing to put up with all the suffering and waiting, the direct cost to me was reasonable. $100, if I remember correctly (I could be wrong).

Now for Belgium. About a year ago, I had an unusual problem and went to see a doctor. He was within walking distance - only a few blocks away. The doctor called me in at my appointed time and proceeded to examine me. He took his time, asked and answered lots of questions and took tests. I was in his office for a good 30-40 minutes. He determined I needed to see a heart specialist. He recommended one and called and made an appointment with her for me. I was given the time of the appointment, but told that I should show up early, because she usually runs ahead of schedule. Sure enough, I was seen before the time of the appointment. Some unusual and expensive tests were administered, a treatment given, and a follow-up appointment was made. At the follow-up appointment, my experience was similar, except that I had to wait to see the doctor for maybe ten minutes. The cost was so negligible, I don't remember what it was.

So there you have it. I think you know which system I prefer. Chalk one up for Belgium.

Feed Your Children

Upon my arrival to this week's integration class, I proceeded to get myself settled in. This included taking advantage of the free coffee (it's crap coffee, but it's free! One of the perks (ha-ha) of the class). I was standing in front of the coffee machine, my pointed finger en route to the button when a, um, gentleman taking the class decided that waiting his turn was for westernized sissies. He snaked me! I should've been mad, but how could I be? The situation was just too funny. We'll get back to this guy shortly.

This week's lesson itself was remarkably unremarkable. We were given a whirlwind lesson on Belgian history and politics and discussed laws and culture a little bit. That's good and all, but I'm sure none of us will remember much of the history. Political stuff is good to know, but not very useful since none of us can vote. The laws and culture, that's where things got interesting.

The instructor wanted to know how we felt about certain Belgian rights and laws and how they compared to those of our countries of origin. We learned that residents of Belgium are required to provide food for their kids. Good to know. We also learned that it's forbidden to hit one's children. This is where the gentleman in question had something to say. Actually, he had something to say about everything, so I admit that I zoned out a bit. I did gather that he felt that kids have too many rights in Belgium. By the end of this conversation, I was back on track. We then went on to the rights of women and, by law, that they are equal to men. Everybody agreed that this was good. Well, almost everybody. You guessed it. Our friend took issue with this one. He, very seriously, believes that women have too many rights in Belgium. These rights make it difficult for him to control his woman and his household. I'm serious! He said that! The rest of the class did not bother to mask their amusement. They were laughing AT him.

I began to think that there are definitely people who need an integration course. Then again, will it really make any difference to people like this? Will they ever change? I may not be Belgian yet, but I'm more integrated than some will ever be.