Matthew in the Spotlight

Matthew played a duet in the band concert last night. That may not seem remarkable to many of you, but here are a few things you need to know about Matthew: He hates to be in front of people--he has yet to sing with the primary for Mother's Day. He hates to get dressed up. He hates to be the center of attention, unless of course he is talking Pokemon Mystery Dungeon strategy. He is not big on collaboration. He is not much for extra effort.

Now, here are a few things you need to know about last night: He volunteered to play the duet. He wore a white shirt and a tie AND his shoes. He stood at the front of the stage. There were several hundred people in attendance. He played with another person. He bowed.

Wow, that is just about all I can say...wow. I wish I had had my camcorder.

PS: Matthew plays the baritone. He didn't mess up.

Thanksgiving

Happy Holidays! I have just completed what I hope is the busiest week of the year, and now have a few moments to catch up on recent events. Thanksgiving is the Passey family's favorite holiday. There are several key ingredients to a successful turkey day: No school, lots of food, and lots of people. Traditionally, the no school is a no brainer, but since Belgium is a special case, no school has become an issue. Only Americans and Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving--Belgians celebrate Beer. Consequently, school is in session on Thanksgiving day. Last year I made the kids go half day. What a colossal mistake. I ended up spending an hour of prime cooking time running all over Brussels collecting children. Lest you think I exaggerate here, Sarah had a special off campus service project at the Salvation Army home for "stinky, creepy old men" (her words, not mine) in downtown Brussels and I went around the same statue several times and the wrong way on at least two one-way streets trying to find her. This year I learned my lesson and we all slept in--Heaven. Part One--check.

Part Two--lots of food. That is not a problem. But I must discuss part three so you can truly appreciate part two.

Part Three--lots of people. At home in Texas, family fills this requirement. We haven't had any luck so far in importing relations for our Belgian Thanksgiving, so we have to resort to begging friends to eat with us. This year the begging paid off so here are the details of Part Three--lots of people combined with Part Two--lots of food. Robin and John Keesling with their two boys, Dallin and Pierce, brought three pies, sweet potatoes, and drinks. Alicia and Jean Paul Chausee with their two girls, Giselle and Valarie, brought a turkey, rolls, and three pies. Karen and Tim Forsyth and their son, David, brought green beans, flowers, and two pies. Ilene O'Dwyer and her daughter, Monica, brought brownies. And Reece and his girlfriend Magoscha who is Polish and had never experienced Thanksgiving, brought flowers and a very open mind. I made Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato pie, Grandma Passey's Red Cabbage, Traditional Penrod Cranberry Jello, rolls, and three pies. For those of you math wizzes out there, that equals alot of dessert. Parts Two and Three--check.

The kids worked off their desserts watching movies (surprise, surprise) and we adults had great fun talking traditions, politics, and telling stories on our kids. After everyone left and the dishes were done, the kids declared the day a success. "Not quite the same as family, but pretty fun." High praise from a teenager.

Snow!

We've got snow! Actually, we had snow...it is all melted now, but what we had made for a great Sunday afternoon. We had Stake Conference yesterday and for our family that means Sunday afternoon naps. When I curled up under my blankets and gazed out the window on my way to blissful slumber there were giant flakes whisping around. When I woke up a few hours later there were several inches on the ground and 5 pair of sopping wet mittens drying on the radiators, with pairs 6, 7, and 8 in use outside. Matthew and Julia ran over to the park and made as much disorder as they possibly could in the pristine blanket there and then headed home to tear up our back yard.

They soon had plenty of company, and although it was bitter cold, the snow was perfect for snowmen and lobbing snowballs at the mother from the second floor terrace (Thank you Matthew!)
I took these picture at about 5:30 pm. It was completely dark and cars were sliding all over the road. By 10:00 this morning, all the snow was gone and the sun was out for a few minutes. It doesn't get much better than that--great play with easy cleanup. Now I just have to get all those mittens put away!

Lombardy and the Lakes

Travel consumes vast amounts of time, money, and conversation here in Belgium. While buying the most amazing red raspberries in the market last week, I learned all about the vendor's upcoming trip to Dubai, his last year's trip to South Africa, and his thoughts on traveling with a baby--he and his wife are expecting their first child soon. Whenever conversation lags, "What trips do you have planned?" never fails to perk things up. And thanks to school schedules, we have lots of time to explore.

At the beginning of the year, we asked the kids where they would like to go and then wrote as fast as we could as each threw out suggestions that ranged from Paris to Egypt to a Mediterranean cruise. After throwing out the odd balls and completely unrealistic (I don't think we'll make it to China this year) we had a master list of Passey Possibilities.

With October break on the horizon, we decided on Milan and Lake Como for the simple reason that roundtrip airfare for our whole family (seven bodies) came to a grand total of 84 Euros. One of these days I will have to devote a post to the treasure hunting that is European travel planning. We found an adequate apartment on the lake, rented a car, and set out to explore and eat.

We started off in Bergamo, a really great town with an upper city accessed by a funicular railway. The morning was misty and grey, but we found the city strikingly beautiful. There was a great cathedral complex and plenty of gelato. I am constantly amazed by the number and splendor of Churches throughout Europe. Italy must have more churches per capita than any other country.

Lake Como is spectacular. The lake is long and narrow and ringed by tree covered hills and craggy peaks. There are small villages dotting the shore and ferries criss-cross the lake carrying cars and people from village to village. This has been prime real estate for centuries, and there are Villas enough to attest to the wealth and taste of Italian aristocracy. All along the lake you can glimpse terraced gardens with marble statues and hidden alcoves. Many towns are almost completely car-free. The houses are built on the steep slopes of the lake and narrow passages lead from the main street through the maze of dwellings down to the lake. The houses are painted the warm colors of the mediterranian: shades of coral, sienna, and deep, rich, yellow. We hiked up the steep hill on the outskirts of Varenna to the old fortress overlooking the town. Surrounded by olive and cedar trees and encircled by an impressive wall, the castle had its own collection of armor and weapons ready for use. Benjamin cannot resist a good sword or spear and he soon had Julia and Anna outfitted and ready to spar. Anna held her own pretty well, but Julia was a little top heavy and kept wobbling around like a drunk.

By far the favorite activity was finding and sampling the best gelato. There are gelato stands everywhere and we got pretty good at finding the bargains and comparing the quality. Stracciatella and Amarena are the favorites, although I think Matthew sampled every lemon flavor he could find. Gelato and shoes seemed to be the big sellers in Italy. I don't think I have ever seen such delicious boots in my life.

We spent our final day driving through Northern Italy into Switzerland. We love Switzerland. Since we didn't have a set itinerary, we just drove toward anything that looked interesting. We found a ruined church, a small monestery, an impressive waterfall, and St. Moritz, the famous ski town. We got stuck on an unrealistically narrow street, searched far too long for an affordable lunch, and admired the clean, free toilet facilities. We decided that we definitely want return to Switerland. Therein lies the problem with Passey Possibilities--the list just keeps getting longer!

Lille Brocante

Wherever you turn in Europe, tradition greets you. In the US, we think something that has lasted 60, 70, 80 years is a treasure. Here, traditions have a longer life.

It is no secret that I love old things. Give me a cardboard box in a dim corner, partially obscured by a ratty guitar case and hideous throw pillows, and I see a potential gold mine. I love to dig through decades of random domestic detritus and rise triumphant with a carved jett acorn clinging to its powdery elastic cord, the final three beads of a once treasured bracelet. It's crazy, I know, but it's fun. The fact that I have no idea what I am going to do with that little acorn does not diminish the joy of it's discovery. Just one more difference between David and me...

So, tradition meets treasure in the Lille Braderie. Braderie come from the French " to get rid of," and this market has been a fixture in the French border city of Lille since the middle ages. Tradition has it that the servants and slaves of Lille were allowed one day from dawn to dusk to sell their owner's cast-offs. What started as a daylight second-hand sale has ballooned into what some say is the largest Flea Market in Europe--lasing virtually 48 hours straight--from early Saturday morning until well past midnight on Monday. The center of Lille is closed to traffic and there are thousands of stalls ranging from fine antiques to Indian scarfs, from cheese the size of tractor tires to college kids selling old posters and "paraphenalia."

It is impossible to see everything, as the sale winds up and down the major roads, but spills over into the side streets and back alleys. In some spots it is so crowded that movement actually stops and people are locked in the epitome of European "clumping" tendancies. We were trapped in a solid block of humanity for 15 minutes, while an optimistic but misguided gentleman tried to carry an 19th century gate-leg table over his head against the flow of several thousand serious shoppers. We finally escaped by crawling under tables and squeezing between cargo vans and wrought iron fences.

We saw some beautiful furniture as well as fabulous junk. I came home with three enamel canisters, three bakelite easter egg molds, a WW2 surplus messenger bag for Benjamin, a French writing award pin, a really cool silver something that will be great on a necklace, a WW2 Belgian liberation pin, and several other things that I can't quite remember, but are really fantastic. But my favorite find was the Braderie itself. I have discovered tradition-- and I already know what I'll be doing on the first weekend of September 2009.

Brussels Flower Carpet

There is always something going on in the Grand Place. We have seen the trappings of concerts, flower markets, weddings, gigantic christmas trees, even a tennis match. However, the most famous Grand Place event is the bi-annual flower carpet. For three days only the square gives up most of it's space to a vast collection of begonia blossoms artfully arranged into a replica of a classic carpet pattern. The kids and I went down on Friday afternoon to watch the garden club members create the 700,000 blossom masterpiece. In just four hours, workers transform an enormous piece of plastic tarp into a replica of a Savonnerie carpet.David and I stopped back by on our way home from Amsterdam to see the finished product. The viewing balcony was closing down so I climbed up on a railing at the end of the Grand Place to take these pictures. It took me a while to get down...people kept handing me their cameras!

Where Did September Go?

I lost September somewhere between stray homework pages and Cross Country meets. The only proof that it existed at all are the bags under my eyes, the calendar pages that have more black than white, and the gas needle on empty again. I am running off to the next event, but here is a little of what we have been doing! Julia loves on anything she can find. (I have no idea whose dog this is!)

Anna and Sarah dig volleyball after volleyball in Amsterdam, Luxembourg, The Hague, Waterloo...

Benjamin flashes his smile and his eyes in every female direction, and when he has time, runs Cross Country.

Matthew hides out in the car playing Pokemon Mystery Dungeon and stays as far from the camera as possible.

David travels to Norway and Croatia, and irons lots of shirts.

I get people where they need to go and...well, other fun things too...

Work Permit?

The US has a reciprocal agreement with the Belgian government. Well, at least one. Spouses of foreign diplomats can be issued a Type C work permit, allowing them to easily and quickly work on the Belgian economy. This sounds like a great plan, and I thought I would put it to the test. After all, I am the spouse of a diplomat as my nifty black passport attests, and as I don't know how long that will last, I thought I might as well take advantage of all the perks I possibly can. What I discovered, however, is that with most administrative policies in Belgium, things are neither quick nor easy.
Here is a brief timeline:
I applied through the US Embassy in October 2007, thinking that I would like to sub at the kid's school during the winter months. By February, after several follow-ups, I had no paperwork. David made a call to the Embassy, and presto, within a week he came home with several official documents in French that appeared to be a work permit. With the winter months about over, and school holidays coming like ocean waves, it was May before I actually spoke to the school. They were pleased to have me sub, and while filling out paperwork with HR, I was told that I probably didn't need the work permit after all but that they would let me know. Fast forward through summer to the week before school starts. The school called to finalize paperwork and discovered that they did need a copy of the permit after all. That is when I discovered that what I had was not in fact a work permit, but a permit to get a work permit. Getting the actual permit required a trip to the Commune-the Belgian equavilent of a city hall--plus a trip to the Ministry for...you guessed it...Work Permits. After two trips to the Commune, a supplimental trip to the Embassy for more paperwork, and one more trip to the Commune, I was ready to face the Ministry. For all you Harry Potter fans out there, there were some startling similarities.
I arrived at the address only to find myself IN the train station. Not exactly what I was expecting. After asking directions to the Permis de Travial, I walked into a waiting room on the order of a public health clinic. After twenty minutes of watching two cute little African boys tackle each other and push every button in the room, my turn finally arrived. I found my way to a back cubicle where a young man, eager for his lunch break, awaited. Here is a synopsis of our conversation, translated for the benefit of all:
Worker Man: May I have your papers?
Me: Excuse me?
WM: May I have your papers?
Me: Oui
WM: Oh, I see you have the wrong papers. These are the old papers. You need the new papers. Here they are.
Me: Thank you. (Try desperately to decifer the French directions and fill out the forms correctly. I don't want to have to come back.)
WM: This permit, it is for co-habitation? (meaning, living together but not married)
Me: No, I am married.
WM: This David Passey, he is Belge, no?
Me: No, he is American.
WM: May I have your Marriage Certificate please.
Me: (??????) I don't have my marriage certificate.
WM: Oh, but you must have a marriage certificate for this permit.
Me: (Pulling out every official document that I have stating I am the wife of David Passey, and I have several--including the permit to get a permit) I don't have my marriage certificate with me, as a matter of fact, it is not even on this continent, but these papers attest that I am married to David Passey.
WM: Oh, this is very bad. Excuse me please.

Worker Man walks to the cubicle next door and has a lengthy discussion in French. Worker man returns with new forms.

WM: Ah, it is clear to me now that you have the wrong papers. You need a Type B Permit. You must start again with new papers.
Me: I was told that I need a Type C Permit.
WM: No, no, you need this other permit.
Me: Excuse me, please.

Ok, at this point I start to panic a little because I know that I need a Type C permit, and I can't argue that point in French. So, I pull out my cell phone and call the Embassy work permit guy for back up.

Me: Hi. This is Beth Passey and I am at the Ministry and they are telling me I need a Type B permit, when I know I need a Type C permit. What should I do?
Work Permit Guy: Who are you?
Me: (repeat)
WPG: Who is your husband?
Me: David Passey
WPG: Just a minute, let me turn on my computer............................................................................
Oh yes, here he is. Yes, you do need a Type C permit.
Me: I explained that to the gentleman, but he insists that I need a Type B permit.
WPG: Ok, ask to speak to Madame Boin. She is familiar with the process.

Me: May I please speak with Madame Boin?
WG: Oh, I am so sorry. She is on holiday for another week.

Me: She is on holiday.
WPG: Ok, ask to speak to Monsier Director.

Me: May I please speak with Monsier Director.
WG: Oh, I am so sorry. He is on holiday as well.

Me: He is on holiday.
WPG: Ok, can you hand this phone to the worker guy.

Me: Could you please speak to this gentleman from my embassy?
WG: In ENGLISH?????
Me: No, in French.
WG: Oh, of course.

At this point, I hand my phone to the worker guy who begins a long and loud conversation in French. In the mean time, another worker has come into the office and called someone on the desk phone and is also speaking loudly in French. I am sitting in the chair wishing I was on holiday and only understanding enough to know that both workers are trying to figure out what on earth to do with the crazy American lady without a marriage certificate.
Finally the visiting worker hangs up the phone and utters the infamous phrase: Ah, this is a speical case. Then the regular worker guy hands me back my phone.

WG: Oh, it is clear to me now that you need a Type C permit. Let me see your papers.
Me: You have my papers.
WG: It is very good that you need a Type C permit. A Type B permit is very hard to get...there are lots of papers.
Me: I am glad too.
WG: May I see your marriage certificate.
Me: (Are you kidding me???) I don't have my marriage certificate.
WG: That is quite alright. I do not need your marriage certificate.
Me: Good.
WG: Oh, I think I have everything I need. You will need to go back to your Commune in several weeks to get your work permit.
Have a nice day.

Ok, so there are several ironies in this story, but the biggest is that I am writing this from a sub job at ISB. I still do not have my work permit, but apparently ISB is completely desperate for subs. When I explained to the secretary that I didn't have my permit yet, she said "That is no problem. You come and work tomorrow, and we will pay you when your permit arrives."
Hhhhhmmmmmmm.

Anniversary in Amsterdam

For many years we have had two anniversaries: The Anniversary, August 10, the day we were married, and more importantly, The Anniversary (Observed), the day, or weekend, or week, that we actually get to spend a few minutes together rediscovering why we got married in the first place. This year we spent our Anniversary (Observed) in Amsterdam. And we learned alot. We do still love each other, we do still like each other, we don't particularly love Van Gogh, Dutch candy is awful, raw herring has too may bones but a curiously appealing texture, and we are very sheltered. I am ready to start the scantily clad, chain smoking, window sitting, what am I doing with my life?, you do have other options, prostitute rescue mission. Dave, face pointing the other direction, said he would have to sit that one out. There is nothing like crusing a canal at twilight to bring out the romance of a place, and Amsterdam really glows at dusk. The water takes on an almost natural blue tint, contrary to its daily greenish brown, and the house boat inhabitants come out onto their decks to drink, laugh, and ignore the tourists. The houses feel more real, the churches benefit from the misty glow, and the counter-culture are all busy doing their counter-culture thing.

I love the markets in Europe--each city seems to have its own theme and specialty. Amsterdam of course is flowers, and tulips reign supreme. THIS is the place to get tulip bulbs. We also found the flea market (of course) which was an amazing jumble of african masks, indian fabrics, bicycle parts, produce, second hand clothing, counter-culture necessities, bad paintings, bizarre shoes, and general miscellany. David and I stopped to dig through bins of pocketknives and sewing scissors and we both found a treasure.

Rick Steves said that you really must try the raw herring sandwiches, and being of generally obedient natures, we did. Besides, we had a coupon. So now we can say we did it and we got a pretty healthy dose of Omega-3 in the bargin.

First Day of School

Back to School!

We are all ready and the bus is coming. The summer has flown and it is time to get serious. The kids left nervous but came home happy. Everyone likes their teachers (mostly) and is ready for the fun and challenge of a new year. Both Anna and Sarah are playing Volleyball--Anna on the Middle School team and Sarah as a starter on Varsity. Benjamin is running cross country but would really like to be playing football. Matthew and Julia are eagerly awaiting sign-ups for after school rock climbing, and Beth is getting reacquainted with Brussels traffic. Classes are harder this year with loads of homework--even on Friday! I love this time of year!!!!!

We are back in Belgium now and pulling on sweaters! What a contrast to Texas and Utah. We had such a great trip back home and loved visiting with the best people in the world. I got a little choked up at one point when I realized that everywhere I turned, there stood someone else that I love. And, the US has the best shopping in the world--OK, maybe China is better, but I'll take a good, air conditioned, TJMaxx any day.

We spent a wonderful two weeks with friends in Denton and several days with my family in San Antonio. Erin, Jennifer, Mom, and I escaped to Fredricksburg for a 40th birthday celebration--I can't be that old--and the men (with a little help from the >12 crowd) kept all 16 kids very well contained.

This was followed by the longest drive evveerrrrr through the great plains and smack into rodeo weekend in central Wyoming. No hotels for miles. Dave iron-maned it through till 5am when he finally found a room. Benj crashed on the floor, and by the time Dave and I finished carrying everything in, there were already two to a bed. That quickly became three to a bed! I now have a greater appreciation for my mom and her two sisters.

We had a great week at Bear Lake with Dave's family followed by another great week in Provo. Benjamin and Sarah spent the week at EFY, while David and I relived our college days at the creamery, DI, and the BYU Bookstore--I love that place! Fortunately, the drive home was not as long, and after three days of frantic shopping, home repair and maintenance, and last minute hello/goodbyes, we were off to Belgium again. Now school is about to start and life will return to our usual routine--lots of traffic, lots of French, and lots of studying.

We love our Texas home...we love our Belgian home...I just wish the two were closer together.

Civil Disobedience

Every so often, people just have to express their frustration. We all know the feeling: someone makes you mad, so you stew for awhile, and fume for awhile, and eventually you have to vent.

Since Brussels is the capital of the European Union, we get quite a bit of venting. The Tibetians camped out in front of the Chinese Embassy, which just happens to be down the road from our house, for about two weeks in the spring. I kinda got used to the chanting. Several weeks ago, the Icelandic fisherman burned tires in front of the Parliment, which just happens to be up the road from our house. That was a little less pleasant.
And just last week, the farmers, taxi drivers, and truckers expressed their disapproval of high gas prices by encircling the city on the main roads and parking for several hours. And guess what? One of the main roads runs right by our house! Literally hundreds of farm tractors drove into Brussels about 10 in the morning and parked around Montgomery Circle, one of the major crosspoints in SE Brussels for about 5 hours. The taxi's took over the inner ring, and the truckers parked on the outer ring effectively shutting down the city for the day. Fortunately we were warned several days beforehand so it was a vacation for some and a busy day for the metro.

Of course, everyone had to come out to watch and take pictures, and with the air cannons going off every few minutes and the armored police vehicles everywhere, it was quite a party atmosphere. We are getting even more education than we bargined for here in Europe!