I’ve also been questioning whether it was such a good idea to name my blog after Ben and I – as much as I don’t have some top secret identity, I don’t particularly like the idea of being so easily recognisable.  There probably aren’t that many Ben and Lauras in Brussels.  I’m also a bit shy about the idea of colleagues reading it – especially all the whinging.

Anyway, based on the two points above, I’ve come to a decision.  What I need is a more specific, fun, Brussels based blog, with less of my actual name in the title.  If it could be more purple, that would also be quite nice.

Let me introduce you to http://welcometobrussels.wordpress.com/.  Please update your favourites, feed reader thingies, and lists of links accordingly.

I’m still in the process of moving some of the appropriate parts of my archive across, so apologies if some of the posts look a little familiar for a while.  I’m doing it manually because, a) I’m mental, and b) in the spirit of being more Brussels-centric, I thought I’d better edit them a bit.

Don’t worry – Belgians of the week has survived the cull!  And check out the new masthead – what could be more Belgian than a rain-swept Atomium?

So, I suppose all that remains is to say a big thank you for reading this blog, and for commenting, and for linking to me, and being so lovely.  Sorry for ignoring you recently, expect better service soon.

My office is officially English speaking, but there are roughly five other languages in constant use.  People generally speak to me in English, but occasionally they forget and speak to me in Norwegian.  Out and about, if I stumble across my words in French, people will switch to English instantly.  Sometimes I put on an accent when this happens so I don’t feel so rubbish at languages.

I’ve been having French lessons for about six months now, and I can see an improvement.  I can now speak in about five tenses (none of them particularly well).  When my colleagues talk in French, I can follow the conversation without too much difficulty.  I usually miss the point, and laugh at the wrong times, but I’m better than I used to be.  If I join in, I usually do it in English to avoid missing the small window of opportunity to say something meaningful.

I’ve located my exact problem with understanding French.  I focus on the words that I don’t understand and completely miss vast chunks of conversation while trying to translate something, which usually turns out to be utterly useless – deciding whether they were going to or from somewhere, for example.  It’s all very well knowing what the problem is, but how the hell am I supposed to work around it?  Any tips?  Please??

I was going to point out my favourite moments, but I loved the whole thing, and spent the whole video pissing myself with laughter.

Enjoy!

‘Comment on dit plâtre en anglais?  You know, what you put on a broken bone.’

‘What do you call this?  We say trombone.’

‘What do you call the snail without a house on his back?’

For the record – plaster cast, paper clip, slug.

Since then I’ve been asked for more complex translations – phrases, obscure things which I wasn’t aware there were names for – you get the idea.  The problem is that I’ve incorporated a lot of French words into my vocabulary, and, for example, when asked how to say convivial in English, the thought process goes something like this:

Convivial…  I know this word…  Is it an English word…?  It sounds French…  But maybe we use it, too…  Maybe I’ve just picked it up…  No, surely English speakers would understand it…  Oh shit, they want an answer…

‘I think we say the same…’

My colleagues looked sceptical.

Last week, we were talking about sanglier.

Colleague 1: ‘Comment on dit sanglier en anglais?  Is it wild swine?  It’s wild swine in Norwegian.’

Colleague 2: ‘Yes, it’s wild swine in Dutch, too.’

Laura: ‘Hmm…  We say wild boar.’

All colleagues literally ROFL.

Laura: ‘What?’

Colleague 1: ‘Boar?  What kind of a word is that?  Hahahahaha, that’s so stupid!  Spell it for us!’

Colleague 3: ‘This is the thing that Asterix hunts?  B-O-A-R.  It’s a stupid word.’

Laura: ‘What’s wrong with boar?’

All colleagues: ‘B-O-A-R.  Boar!  Hahahahahaha.’

Laura (dejectedly): ‘Is this because I laugh at your languages?’

I’m still confused, but a few days later I was cheered up:

Laura: ‘Comment on dit shredder en francais?’

Colleague 1: ‘Beeeen….  Destructeur du papier.’

Laura: ‘Haha, destroyer of paper.  I like it – logical!’

Colleague proceeds to look on the internet to check.

Colleague 1: ‘Déchiqueteuse?  That’s not a word…  Oh, maybe it is.’

Laura: ‘It’s ok, I preferred your word.  I think I’ll use that.’

It’s good to know it’s not just me who struggles with her own language…

I must have mentioned this before, but if not, the metro stations play music on the platforms.  Nobody seems to know why.  I’d always wondered if they played the same music in all the stations simultaneously, and this week I discovered that they do. Or, at least, they do at Arts-Loi and Trone.

The next mystery to be solved is the choice of music.  Who could possibly think of playing all of the following?

And, most bizarrely….

I have a vision of a suggestion box in STIB headquarters, where employees put their ideas in and all of them get played…  You can’t tell me that any editing goes on!!!

Je suis très serieux et je n’aime pas aller faire du shopping.

J’aime prudence, économie et de rester dans le portefeuille de Laura.

Je monte la garde auprès de le blog pendant que Laura pense à quelquechose a écrire.

ELLE DOIT AUSSI ENTRAINER SON FRANCAIS, OU JE VAIS ÊTRE EN COLÈRE!!!

Mon francais n’est pas bon parce que je suis UN LION – je ne peux même pas parler!

I’ve got loads to tell you about; I’ve been very busy.  The busyness is my excuse for not writing sooner…  Have a list of some of the things that have been keeping me busy:

I have a job!  A real, proper job which will actually go on my CV!  In Belgium!  It’s just round the corner from Ben, too, so we walk to work together and discuss what we want to do on holiday (lie on the beach and eat a lot), the latest news on both iPhones in general and when his new iPhone will be delivered (yesterday), interesting cultural differences we’ve noticed with our colleagues (mine like Handball – what is Handball??), and whether or not the one legged croaky beggar outside Carrefour on Place Stephanie really hasn’t got a proper voice (he was spotted (by a handball loving colleague) in a bank, wearing a suit and holding a normal conversation).

Ben turns 30 on Thursday.  He doesn’t seem too worried.  He remained unconcerned when I brought up the possibility that it might be time to trade him in for a younger model.  Maybe he was hopeful?  Maybe he was aware that I couldn’t be bothered (and almost certainly couldn’t do any better).  To cement our bond, we’ve bought our first fridge – who said romance is dead?

I am trying to stop biting my nails.  My first tactic has been to try painting them.  It’s been two days, I haven’t bitten them and I feel quite fancy.  I don’t really like the way my nails feel a bit heavy and slimy though.  The first attempt at painting was a disaster, it took too long to dry and my hands got stuck together – no, don’t ask.

Hair Removal.  Sorry, men.  Heatwave = dresses.  Dresses = daily hair removal.   Shaving is easiest, but having very dark hair and very white skin means that it is very obvious when I miss a patch, or when the hair decides to grow back within three hours.  Waxing is messy, and I’ve got myself stuck to the bath with a rogue strip before.  I long for a Philips Lumea, but I’m scared that it wont work – they’re horribly expensive.  For the time being, I’m giving my epilator another try.  Yes, I know – OUCH!  I have a fairly high pain threshold and can tolerate it for, oooh… about a minute at a time.  This equates to about two inches of hair free skin.  Presumably, by the time I’ve covered the whole area, the first section will be growing back.  Sometimes it’s hard being a girl.

I’ve got a couple of weeks off soon so you can (probably) expect a more detailed update of life then.

You get the idea…

When I try and explain Fnac to people in the UK I struggle to find a comparison.  It’s kind of like Waterstones, HMV and Comet combined – but better!  It’s amaaaaazing.  Is there a British equivalent?

Now, they’ve opened a new Fnac on Ave de la Toison d’Or.  While this makes me very happy it is also dangerous.  It is within walking distance of our apartment.  Since Ben has banned me from buying real books instead of downloading them onto my Reader, I’ve been avoiding having a good look around.  However, when I went in today I learnt that recommending books to someone else is nearly as satisfying as buying them yourself.

Buying French books is still allowed – I need to highlight words in them and write stuff in the margins.  The ten unread French books on my shelf were looking a bit lonely so I thought I’d get them some new friends.

I started French lessons last week and I have two new tenses sort of heading towards being under my belt (although I tend to mix them up, forgetting when to use the infinitive or sticking an é on the end where there should be a u or an i*).  What better way to practice than to try reading some children’s books?  Books which are probably in that other stupid tense that I don’t know.

After much deliberation, I chose Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Matilda and Sacrées Sorcières (The Witches) both by Roald Dahl.  Now I don’t know which one to read first.  Le Petit Prince is the shortest and I’ve never read it, but it’s also the one Ben is least likely to want to help me with.  The Witches is the longest, but I remember less of the story than Matilda.

It’s not very good when your book decisions come down to length, is it?

*A u or an u?  Bof.

Trips to the cinema in Brussels are great though.  There are quite a few options but we usually head up to Kinepolis, by the Atomium, or UGC Toison d’Or, just down the road.  Both of these places are weird.  At Kinepolis you have to walk along an overhead thing to reach the ticket desks from the Metro entrance.  At UGC you venture down towards the earth’s upper mantle to reach the screens (not dissimilar to the Odeon on Brighton seafront) and exit through a strange construction tunnel that seems to move with each visit.  I haven’t been to UGC for a while, maybe it is easier to get out of now they’ve finished building the lovely shiny new Fnac (which deserves a post of its own).

The reasons I like the cinema here?  You mean construction site obstacle courses aren’t enough of a reason?  We go to version originale screenings so I get to read French subtitles while I watch (and Dutch too if the film is really boring).  If you accidentally manage to watch a film which isn’t entirely in English then it’s a very good opportunity to practice your French.  Angels & Demons = fail.  Avatar = massive fail.

The seats are amazingly comfy too – even Avatar, with its ten minute interval to prevent our noses from breaking under the weight of the ridiculous 3D specs, didn’t leave me with an achy back.  Achy bladder, yes.  Vague sickyness from eating a cone of pick and mix and a large carton of popcorn on my own, yes.  Achy back, for once, no.

Ben told me recently that they have loveseats in the back row at Kinepolis.  Since he makes me sit in the exact middle of the cinema for the optimum viewing experience, I was not aware of their existence.  Apparently the cinema is not the place to go if you want hugs from Ben.  It’s probably for the best, I’d only get annoyed with the slurpy teenagers sitting next to us.