THE PERFECT PIE

Warsaw is full of pie...

My goodness, can you believe this weather?, the butcher said, handing over my chicken breast, his resigned voice giving the impression of someone who has been tricked by cruel life into living in Brussels, the one city in the world Summer Fairy has entirely forgotten. I know, it's unbelievable!, I nodded my head in understanding, thinking I myself was one of those people. Yes, it's been rainy and grey forever, and I have already given up hope that things would get any better before May 2012. Worse still, Jandro is away right now, going to the beach (yes, to the beach, my friends!) and generally enjoying the fiesta, while I have to put up with 13 to 17 degrees, and work. 

Now it is clear to you that anyone in my position would have resigned themselves to sobbing into the pillow. And yet I have more spirit than I myself imagined. Obviously, I am a fighter, a survivor... a warrior, if you will. I decided not to give in to the omnipresent Weltschmerz. I picked up my new Paul Auster book, an umbrella and some cash, and hopped on the bus which was supposed to take me to our newly-discovered paradise on earth: Tea for Two, also known as The Absolutely Best Pie in Brussels. They have a wide range of teas as well of course, but who cares about the tea when there is Pie. The Absolutely Best Pie in Brussels, mind you.

15h43. I get off the bus. I ignore the infernal drizzle (I'm not entirely sure there is drizzle in hell... but you know what I mean), skip happily towards the house of pie and... find out it's closed for the long weekend. My smile fades, the drizzle becomes annoying, and I utter an unbecoming word. I stop skipping and start thinking. I notice I'm much better at the former.

16h00. I arrive at Le Pain Cotidien, not far away from my original destination. Even though it's a chain, it has always looked cosy to me from the outside, and the pies are generally well-reputed. I walk in, the place seems awful, and so I decide to keep looking. My friend the drizzle envelops me in a welcoming cloud of dampness.

16h25. After wondering aimlessly around Ma Campagne, hoping for a Tea for Two twin to magically appear, I arrive at rue de Bailly. Surprised to see a place I recognise, I stand on the corner, trying to figure out which way is more pie-probable. I turn left, check out an ice-cream place for pies (none), and then walk right, towards Louise. I become hopeful upon noticing a big sign which says Le Chocolatier, but it turns out to be a chocolate shop. Drizzle drizzles and I continue my search.

16h40. I stumble upon another Pain Cotidien. This one looks much better, and, feeling desperate, I enter, pushed in by the rain, which is becoming stronger now. I'm not convinced but I sit down, take out my book and order a green tea and a cherry pie with crumble. The place seems all right but I get a chain feeling from it. The tea is fine but the pie is mediocre. I eat it anyway because it will cost me a lot of money. Disappointed, I leave soon after I finish the pie, even though the original plan was to spend a lazy afternoon, having tea and enjoying the goodies and the atmosphere of a nice tea house. No goodies and even less atmosphere push me back into the rain.

17h45. I get back home and hang out my clothes to dry. The only thing that can save me now is jasmin tea, chocolate biscuits and a good film. The steaming cup of tea is already waiting. Do excuse me, I really must go and watch Singing in the Rain to stop myself from getting a clinical depression.

And who says only pregnant women have cravings.

POLISH CUSTOMER SERVICE - A CASE STUDY

Oh glorious Poland!

Chapter 1: Introduction and background information

Nice Polish girl as I am, I've always seen my country as a warm, welcoming place, full of polite, helpful people. During my time abroad, this idea grew stronger and stronger, while This would never happen in Poland! became one of my favourite reactions to life's unpleasant twists and turns. Obnoxious waitress in a Gabonese café? Why, this would never happen in Poland! Very expensive public transport ticket? No, this would never happen in Poland! Policemen refusing to speak any other language but Flemish? Clearly, this would never happen in Poland. But still. You get the idea. Oh glorious Poland, the land of the brave, home to pierogi, where the sun always shines except from November to March!

What comes next? Life itself, my friends. Ready?

Chapter 2: The argument

Last week, we went to Warsaw on a short visit. On the plane, I was daydreaming of all the pleasant things I was going to experience: family, friends, food, the overwhelming company of my compatriots (what do you think of my propensity for producing alliterations? Alarming?). I was brought back to reality by a loud Galician Ha! and a poke between the ribs, inevitably coming from Jandro, who was frantically going through his Polish conversations book. I looked at him askance (whatever happened to people using the word askance  in their writing?) and he provided me with the following quote:

During your time in Poland, you might come across unfriendly or even unhelpful service. Do not get discouraged. This happens frequently in Poland, and is a remnant of the communism, when what we now understand as "customer service" was practically nonexistent.

- This would never hap... - but I was interrupted.
- We'll just have to wait and see, won't we? - my boyfriend definitely didn't see eye to eye with me when it came to marvels of Poland but I would prove him wrong.

Chapter 3: The case studies

ONE: The holiday didn't start very well. Jandro got sick almost immediately and so, instead of having a nice pierogi lunch, I trotted off to the nearby pharmacy. The pharmacist was a young girl, completely unsympathetic to my boyfriend's sufferings. She was impolite, impatient and wouldn't even respond to my thank you at the end of our transaction. For a brief moment, I thought Jandro might have had a point. But then again, an exception proves the rule. Or something.

TWO: We were on our way back to my parents house, trying to catch a bus. I approached a bus driver, who was sitting inside the vehicle parked at the bus stop, visibly waiting for his departure time. I was extremely polite and asked if he could please tell me please what time he was please leaving please. According to the schedule, he barked. I went away to check the schedule, while he turned on the engines. The bastard was going to leave at that very moment and we nearly missed the bus! Jandro 2 : Kasia 0. But I was still hopeful.

THREE: The final blow came where I least expected it - at the airport. I will allow myself to quote the whole conversation I had with the check-in lady upon our departure:

Jandro (making the effort of speaking Polish): Dzien dobry!

Lady: ...

(We proceed to weigh the suitcase.)

Lady: You must take out 400 gramms.

Me: Really?

Lady (sniggering): Really. If anybody breaks their back moving the suitacase, it will be your fault.

(My passport and Jandro's ID are lying on the counter.)

Me: Can I take the documents, please?

Lady (sarcastically): Have I checked in the gentleman?

Me: I don't know, have you?

Lady: I haven't. Not with your hands on the documents anyway.

(I start to feel desperate. What have I done wrong?)

Me: Thank you, goodbye.

Lady: ...

This counts as at least five points for Jandro. I lost miserably at the "Who has a more realistic vision of Polish customer service?" game.

Chapter 4: Final conclusions

You all know my analytical mind, so it will come to you as no surprise that this experience led me to several conclusions. One: Polish customer service is much worse than your European average. Two: Polish customer service is at times similar to your African average. Three: Kasia living abroad tends to idealise every single country she lived in (don't even get me started on the wonders of Gabon!).

Epilogue

While catching a bus from the Charleroi airport to Brussels, I observed the following scene: a foreigner wants to board the bus without a ticket. The bus driver explains that they must get a ticket first. The foreigner doesn't understand and tries to get on the bus. The driver laughs good-naturedly, explains again, shows the guy where the ticket office is and gently pushes him towards it saying Hurry up, we'll be leaving soon! And there is really only one thing I can say: This would never happen in Poland!

For more photos from Poland, click here.

FIRST DAYS, LAST DAYS AND ALL THE DAYS IN BETWEEN

Working in Brussels

Last night, as I arrived home slightly tipsy after a few drinks with my colleagues, I smiled and thought to myself: it's gone far better than expected, the job thing. I have to admit that, new and surprising as this realisation might seem, Brussels has actually treated me quite well job-wise. Now that things are finally falling into place, I will try to explain why.

I seriously started looking for a job in Brussels at the beginning of February. I wasn't sure what kind of job I wanted but I was positive that the kind of job I didn't want was teaching elementary school English. No more maîtresse. No more wheels on the bus, little ducks who went swimming one day, no more sit down jump up high high high. A new career please, and make it interesting. 

My assets, I figured, were: languages, working experience (even if not in the areas I was aiming at) and enough attitude to win my audience at the interview. My weaknesses: no work experience in the areas I was aiming at and not enough attitude to lie about the latter. With the fierce Brussels competition, I could only start my non-teaching life by doing two things: applying for internships and crossing my fingers. I did both, full time.

After what seemed like ages but was indeed less than two months, I got my first interview and then a second one, on the very same day. The first job I got, the second one - I didn't, but I felt relieved: all I needed was one job, after all. I took it, even though it was an unpaid (yes, by "unpaid" I mean "unpaid" as in "working for free") internship and decided to make the best of it. 

Today, on my last day, which came sooner than expected, I can tell you that it was a good choice. I learned a lot, met some lovely people, and had a very comfy and pleasant plunge into the job market in Brussels. I am now moving on to something which seems more intense, more stressful but slightly more challenging, too. However, I feel sad to leave behind the fantastic work environment (not to say "work in environment", hope some of you will get the pun!) I was lucky to become part of. 

Today is not about my future job. Today is about saying goodbye when you wish you didn't have to.

Today I can't stop thinking that the first day may have been tough, the last day is sad, but... all the days in between were great. Thank you.

NOT SO BORING BELGIUM OR TOP FIVE OF BELGIAN CURIOSITIES

Belgium: so many surprises in store!

You'd think Belgium is a boring country. It's small, it's full of European institutions and...? Few average non-Belgians know much more about this country. Still, it has proved to be anything but boring so far. Brace yourselves. Today, the Top Five of Belgian/bruxellois curiosities. Here goes.

5. Belgian weather

Yes, I tend to end up in places with rather extreme weather conditions. After the notorious Galician rain and the infernal heat-slash-humidity of Central Africa, I have arrived in what seems to be the most unstable country in the world. Weather-wise. I'll get to politics later on. The seasons in Belgium change every day, twice a day, and you pass from an extremely hot summer in May to rainy/sunny spring in June to autumn cold and windy days in July. By now, I am half expecting snow in August, closely followed by high temperatures and falling red leaves. For all I know, it might happen. A final piece of advice: just in case, always wear layers, don't invest too much in summer clothes and have an umbrella with you at all times. And don't give up on an activity just because the weather is not perfect for it - you might end up not ever doing it in the end!

4. Belgian national dish

Belgian national dish is called chips in British English but French fries in American English. Now, most people on the planet - including the French - consider chips their own nation's invention. But the Belgians have taken it one step further: they actually think that fried potatoes are a dish! And so you can buy them in the street, in enormous quantities with your sauce of choice, while the crockery stores offer special porcelain cones for chips, if what you're planning is a fancy fry feast. I'm sorry, Belgian friends! Fries are a side dish to the real food. Simple as that.

3. Belgian budgerigars

The first time we saw a parrot peacefully perched on a branch, we thought it was someone's pet who was enjoying a few stolen moments of freedom, having escaped from its cage. And then there was another one. And then a different park, and more parrots still, and a Polish girl looking at them in disbelief. Finally, I read that several kinds of exotic birds were set free when a ZOO was closed in Brussels, and - did they not see this coming? - many of them died. However, some proved to be immune to the weather craze described in point 5 and today form part of Brussels wildlife as much as pigeons do. Fascinating stuff.

2. Belgian political situation

The country has not had a government for 13 months (ever since the elections on 13 June 2010) and... well, nothing. The king is doing his best to urge the politicians to do something about it. The politicians are doing their best to ignore the king. The right-wing Dutch-speaking nationalists remain the right-wing Dutch-speaking nationalists. The left-wing French-speaking socialists remain the left-wing French-speaking socialists. And the Belgians, who, by the way, are obliged to vote by law, just don't care anymore. The country has been working for the past year, in the end. So let the politicians be. We'll have some fries instead. In a fancy porcelain fry cone!

1. Brussels job market and the intricate world of internships

When I first came to Brussels I was excited. I was beginning a new life and hoping to recycle my professional career. I was young, motivated, spoke several languages, had lived in three different countries and felt I could take over the world. How hard could it be? In one word: very. Of course, I was young, motivated and proficient in quite a few languages but... I was also one of many. Exactly how many, I didn't know at the time but I soon started to suspect we were millions.

It took me two months to find my first internship (luckily, I'd never fooled myself I could get a job other than teaching straight away), and, even though from these four months' perspective I think it was an excellent experience, it must be said that the job turned out to be unpaid. In total, I must have answered around 60 ads, which resulted in several breakdowns, three interviews and two job (internship) offers. In the case of the second one, which is paid and which I will be starting in August, I was informed that I was chosen out of a staggering number of 560 applicants.

I have heard horror stories of eternal interns, who seem to be a phenomenon typical of Brussels: they are currently doing their sixth internship, and still cannot find a proper job. This kind of broken European dream scares me a bit. Hopefully, I'll beat another 500 people when applying for an actual job (this is my newly-regained confidence speaking). All in all, I think I'm still suffering for the job-hunter's trauma: it's enough to say that in my little world Brussels' job market is actually more disturbing than the lack of government. How self-centred can you get, eh? I am slowly regaining my balance, though: the government did beat the budgerigars after all!

Disclaimer: This list is highly subjective. If you think that Madame Pipi (i.e. a typically busty lady dutifully guarding public toilets and collecting the toilet fee), omnipresent in Belgian establishments, should have been included, leave a comment and I will consider your claim.

LOW COST TRIPS AROUND BRUSSELS: KASTEEL VAN GAASBEEK

Kasteel van Gaasbeek

Here's some basic Flemish for you: Kasteel means castle. Gaas stands for gauze, while beek means brook. To this we add the common-knowledge fact that van is the same as of, and we arrive at a perfect translation of the whole name. Yes, my friends, Kasteel van Gaasbeek is no more than the Castle of Gauze Brook, and who needs Dutch classes anyway if such excellent toponym translations are available with just some good will and a bit of google. There we went a few weeks ago - to the Castle of Gauze Brook, formerly home to one weird lady, today a real door to the past, which miraculously made us look under 26, so that we could pay the reduced fee.

Destination: Kasteel van Gaasbeek
Transport: DeLijn bus 142 from Midi to the Gaasbeek stop.
Equipment: picnic, walking shoes and a camera.
Cost: DeLijn ticket (1,50 € one way) plus 7 € entrance fee (unless you are - or look - under 26, then: 5€).

The bus conveniently stops right next to the castle park entrance which, in case you still have doubts in spite of its grandeur, is clearly marked with enormous signs informing that you have indeed reached Gaasbeek. The park is huge, very beautiful, and features several lakes, lanes, paths, bits of forest, meadows and lawns - perfect for any outdoor activity from hiking to biking to picnicking.

Any way you go, you will eventually arrive at the castle itself, which, placed on a hill, towers over the park and its lakes. Now the tricky part: do your best to look under 26 and the nice ticket lady will give you a cheaper ticket even if you admit that your real age is 27, while for some people even 33 (I'm sure some people won't mind this indiscretion). For the price of 5 € you are handed an audioguide and off you go... to the garden, where you await a human guide as well.

Gaasbeek park

The two guides complement each other - human giving you the number in three to four languages, audio chirping into your ear in your language of choice. Effect: human guide smiles with appreciation when human non-guides in unison and complete silence turn to a painting or piece of furniture described by the audioguide whispering in their ears. Human guide then answers non-guides' questions, while the audioguide patiently waits until a new number is announced by its human counterpart. In this happy way you take a tour around the castle and you find out that:

• the castle's last owner, Marquise Marie Arconati Visconti, was a very strange lady;
• the castle's last owner, Marquise Marie Arconati Visconti, liked dressing as a boy in her 60s.;
• the castle's last owner, Marquise Marie Arconati Visconti, constructed several secret passages and hiding places, so that she could a) meet her lovers and b) spy on the other people in her household;
• the castle's last owner, Marquise Marie Arconati Visconti, had a relative who liked dressing as a Turkish prince (or something to that effect);
• in the middle ages people washed twice a year - a general remark which caused a lot of giggling;
• people used to sleep in a sitting position, as lying was reserved for the dead;
• XV-century toilets looked like thrones.

Horses in Groenenberg

Enriched by this knowledge, you proceed with your visit. Upon appointment and having paid an extra fee, you can also take a stroll in the French garden, which is still kept in a traditional, XVI-century way and thus very fragile. Apparently, very beautiful, too. Appointment-less, however, we explored the park instead, and found a picturesque chapel, as well as - wait for it - a "Pavilion of Pleasure", whose purpose, sadly, remains unexplained.

If all this is still not enough for you, leave the premises, cross the street and wander off to Groenenberg, another huge garden (although a bit less well-kept), full of old trees (including three sequoias) and horses. In addition, it is nearly deserted, and will be perfect if what you're looking for is a secluded spot. 

All in all, an excellent trip within 30 minutes from Brussels, perfectly doable once you've dedicated three to four days figuring out your itinerary on the DeLijn page, which might just be the least user-friendly website ever created. Apart from that - Gauze Brook rules!