The Rolls Royce of Cat Shelters…Right Here in Belgium!

(Lucie's first post!)
Anyone who knows me knows how much working at animal shelters means to me. There are some wonderful shelters at home run with devoted volunteers and supported by generous philanthropists; it’s no different here. The major exception, however, is the sheer size of the shelter where I’ve chosen to devote one day each weekend. It’s called “Animaux en Péril” (Animals in Danger) and it’s in the small town of Braine l’Alleud, just a 5 minute drive from our home in Waterloo.

Every Saturday morning, anywhere from 10 to 90 cats await me at the shelter. The first thing I had to get used to here was thinking up French names for the beloved felines who are awaiting a permanent home. It was hard enough choosing creative names in English when I volunteered at the shelters at home, let alone in FRENCH! The second thing was how hard I had to work once I got there. When you have to clean up after so many cats (the litter alone is CATastrophic!), it takes much longer to get that task done. Usually there are two volunteers who work in the “cattery,” but for the last three weeks, I’ve been going solo. I have to clean approximately 125 cubbies, refresh the many bowls of kibble and water, wash the floors both in the “cattery” and in the cats’ litter room (which is off the sleeping quarters), and ensure that food and drink are changed outside in the “kitty garden.” That leaves precious little time to socialize those kitties that might not be as personable as we’d all like. BUT, I do make time, even if it means having to stay a little later than normal.

In addition to the cattery, we have 2 quarantine areas, to care for the sick animals and to segregate the newcomers from the general population for 5 days. We have a fully equipped kitchen where the food for both the cats and the dogs is prepared, a laundry room, gift shop and cafeteria (with outdoor seating for the nice summer days), and a surgical theater where area vets donate some of their time to do the neutering and other more serious procedures. I’ll share more details next time!

The Earth Moved... Really!

A couple of weeks ago we had a real, live earthquake here in Waterloo! Granted, it was only about a 2.4 on the Richter scale, but Lucie and I certainly felt it at home, about 8:45 at night, as we were sitting watching TV. It felt like a subway running through the basement of the house, lasting about 5 or 6 seconds. Only, the nearest subway is about 10 miles north, in Brussels. Having grown up in California, I said to myself, "That sure felt like an earthquake." But remembering I was living in Europe, I said to myself, "Time to cut back to just one case of beer a night." Sure enough though, the next day Lucie heard on the local French news that we had experienced the Big One. Well, for Belgium it was a Big One. She heard that of all the countries north of the Alps, Belgium gets the most earthquakes. Now there's a good trivia question for your next game night!

The Beer Bike: Great "Exercise"

I saw my first "beer bike" last week in a tiny town in Holland. What an idea! Seven or eight folks, 30 liters of beer, and a designated driver (actually two on the one I saw, one front and one rear)! Physics being far from my long suit, I still can't quite understand how the drinker/riders are able to pedal from the side of the bike. Maybe they actually can't, but no one tells them, just so they can later claim they were out riding for their health. If I had a few bucks to invest, I'd head to the biggest party campuses in the U.S. and market this idea.

In Muenchen Steht...

Ein Hofbraeuhaus (sorry, as a German speaker, I have to spell it right, even if it looks bizarre). I first visited this institution back in 1973, as a college kid. I remember being impressed with the beer, size of the restaurant, beer, the vomitoire in the men’s room (don’t ask), and the beer. Last week I visited the place again, this time with Lucie and Robb. The place hasn’t changed much and, on a cold March afternoon, crowds were fortunately not a problem. Nor is smoking any more, thanks to new laws which are sweeping across Europe like the winds from Scotland!

Back in 1973 I took a menu with me and, for tradition’s sake, did the same thing last week. Robb now calls me a Hot Boy and maybe even God was watching, since only three hours after this caper my Nikon was stolen when I left it in our rental car at the Munich airport for all of 10 minutes unattended.

Back to the menu, it’s fun to compare entrees as well as prices. In 1973 there were 13 different sausage plates available; today, just 8. There are still 3 soups, but none of today’s match what could be found 36 years ago. There were 23 main courses back in 1973, including (I’m taking this from the English version of the menu, which is a lot more fun) roast pork, boiled beef, milt sausage, and “lights” (I can’t even tell what this is from the German or French versions; all I know is that it was very cheap, so it’s probably best not to ask). Today it’s down to 12 meals. There is still a surprisingly wide array of wines available, now as then. As for beer, we still have the mainstays, Helles and Weizen, but current tastes are evidently moving toward tutti-fruity, as evidenced by three additions to the menu where beer is mixed with various soft drinks. Menschenskinder!

And what about prices, 36 years on? In 1973, you got about 2.7 German marks to the dollar. Today, it takes about $1.30 to buy a single Euro. But to keep the math simple for you, I’ll handle the conversions. A liter of beer: 1973 - $1.12 ; 2009 - $9.30 Roast pork: 1973 - $2.40 ; 2009 - $11.60 Apple strudel: 1973 - $1.25 ; 2009 - $5.25 Bratwurst with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes: 1973 - $1.70 ; 2009 - $7.95 . I guess you get the point. Ouch! But now ask yourself how much you were making a year back in 1973. Suddenly not all that terrible any more, eh?

Male Kissing – It’s A Guy Thing (here in Belgium…)!

There’s no denying that we Americans are a bit prudish when it comes to physical contact. A firm masculine handshake is nearly always the correct choice when men meet, whether for the first time or as long-lost buddies. Once in awhile we might consider something a tad more “intimate,” such as a touch (very brief, if you please) on the arm, maybe even up to the shoulder (normally reserved for WW I trenchmates who have just been reunited in a nursing home after not seeing each other for 90 years…) . But for anything beyond that, well, in our culture there just has to be a female at the other end.

Not so over here in Europe! As 19 year-old Robb will tell you, you cannot be considered a real friend among the guys without a cheek kiss whenever you meet up with your male buds. This is a requirement each and every time you come together, not just on birthdays or other special occasions. It wasn’t easy for him to adapt to this cultural norm, but he is now a full-fledged male kisser, and seems no worse for the wear, so to speak. I’m happy to say that I’ve never been put to the test yet (a Belgian dude probably would not appreciate a low-pitched scream slipping out of me without warning).

I’ve found that different countries have differing requirements for the number of pecks to be shared by male acquaintances (I call it the Kiss-Factor, or K-F). Here in Belgium, a K-F of one is standard. In other European countries, I’ve often seen it raised to a K-F of two. Down south a bit and in other far-flung areas of the continent, I’ve even seen a K-F-3 several times. Picture this: ten guys get together for dinner and begin a K-F-3 ritual. Face it, everybody’s eating cold food tonight! But I believe three is the max, as well it should be. Anything beyond K-F-3 and I don’t think we’re in the just-friends category anymore. I mean, why do you think they call it fourplay??

Just 3 Days Every 2 Years...

On a cold, rainy, gloomy February day it's nice to think back to this marvelous event. For just 3 days in mid-August in even-numbered years they "blanket" the Grand Place in Brussels with more than 700,000 begonias, laid out in an intricate tapestry pattern. Each time it's a new pattern, so those-in-the-know can instantly tell which year the photo was taken simply by the pattern made with the flowers. Why only 3 days? Apparently the "shelf life" for these flowers is not too great and by Day 4 the Carpet of Flowers would evidently already be looking a bit threadbare. Why only every other year? Can you imagine how much time and trouble goes into this massive project, just to have to destroy it all again 72 hours later? It's just too depressing to put on any more often than that, I guess. This year the weather gods smiled down on us and every picture looks like a postcard. We sure could use a little bit of that sun right about now...

If It's Tuesday, It Must Be Trash Night!

Once every couple of months here in Waterloo they have a major-trash-item pick up, where you can put just about anything in front of your house and have it picked up. Old furniture, appliances, in-laws, you name it. OK – I’m exaggerating a bit: I don’t think they take appliances. But just about anything else is fair game. The pick up date is well known and, on the evening before that pick up, as most of us are just finishing carting heavy items to the sidewalk, you can see a veritable caravan of junk-seekers, lurking in wait to prove the adage that one man’s trash is another man’s garbage. The stuff isn’t even allowed to get cold before someone in a van or pick-up drives by and whisks it away. The trash company must love this arrangement, as do these intrepid scavengers, these Kings of Crap, Regents of Refuse, Gods of Garbage. It makes me wax poetic, just thinking about it. Sad, isn’t it? In any case – true story here – last time we had the pick up there was a fellow in our front yard just after dark, his car engine running, with a spelunker-type hard hat with built-in flashlight, scavenging through our old bed frames, and other objets d’junk, searching for that elusive pot of gold, or maybe just a piece of scrap metal that could be resold for a Euro or two.
But getting back to the Europe on Zero Dollars a Day, we have noticed several neighbors pitching what appear to be quite serviceable mattresses on the Day O’Trash. So, once again, please picture yourself something of a derelict. You walk through any Belgian neighborhood on the “right” night, find yourself a dream mattress, carry it off to a highway underpass (preferably near a Carrefour) and you have now perfected the ultimate European Vacation – lodging for nada!
Let the tourists spend their inheritance on gold faucets and embossed terry robes. We’ve just shown you how to have it all here in Europe, without need of a wallet. Or kitchen. Or house. Heaven help us is our government reads this blog; our monthly stipend will be slashed!