Real Life Willy Wonka

Chocolate is everywhere in Belgium...good chocolate...very good chocolate. A group of us went to one of the chocolate factories the other day: Passsion Chocolate, arguably the best chocolate shop in Brussels. The factory is run by 4 Belgian French employees. The current owner bought the shop from the original owner and designer of all their chocolates. He was a charming white haired gentleman with incredible good humor and class. They make everything by hand on the premises and deliver it to their shop each day. The workers were very gracious and extremely patient. Our racous group of American ladies was begging to buy their garbage and eating everything in sight. We watched them mold the chocolates then ate some. We watched them pour the chocolates and then ate some. We watched them dip the chocolates and then ate some. We watched them make the florentines and then ate some. We MADE nut and fruit encrusted chocolate coins and then ate them all. We licked spoons, stole seconds, ate the garbage, and looked for more. One of the girls got chocolate all over herself and was escorted to the kitchen for a clean-up and an apron. Well, the aprons were so cute and everyone wanted one so the owner went into the storeroom and came out with their rejects which we oohed and aahed over and promptly put on dispite the holes and stains. I am now the proud owner of an authentic, well broken in, chocolate permiated, Passion Chocolate apron. I love it.

They were so glad to get us out of there.

The best part is that the store is three blocks from my house...and they have free samples.

The Contrasts

Sarah is in Ghana. We are in Belgium. Today we went to the flea market where Benjamin bought a WW2 gas mask complete with instructions in French and Dutch. Our friend Marilyn bought a crystal bowl and a set of silver spoons. And a really cool chair for 15 euro. Then we came home and ate chocolate. Then we went to the Garrison shop and the library. Then we had a lovely dinner of grilled salmon with roasted celery root and leeks Now we are watching American Idol.

Here is a synopis of Sarah's first couple days as told by one of her chaperones:

"After much travelling, we have settled into our village. As I write this email, your children are making bricks out of soil, digging, and clearing brush.

Hot and humid air greeted us in the Ghanaian capital at about 2:00 am local time. Rather than spend two or three hours in a hostel, we decided to strike out for our village. Unfortunately, I can't report many of the details from our bus ride, since I slept nearly the entire way. We arrived at our village at about 1:30 in the afternoon (yes, unsurprisingly, the trip took more than 6 hours).

The rest of the day was spent settling into our accommodations and seeking shelter from the rain. Four families evacuated their houses for our stay. We are sleeping on thin mattresses and our mosquito nets have been installed. The kids have quickly adapted to their homes for the next week and a half. The villagers are extremely friendly and have gone out of their way to make us feel welcome. The village children are abundant and adorable. At our orientation meeting this morning, many of the village kids were comfortably resting in the laps of ISB students. We also had the pleasure of experiencing our first tropical storm yesterday. It began pouring (yes, pouring, not a Belgian drizzle) at about 4:00 and didn't stop before nightfall. This didn't pose many problems, though, as most kids were asleep --yes, asleep, not just in bed -- by 8:00! Really! It was reassuring to hear local people say it only rains once or twice a week.

We were up at 7:00 this morning in order to eat breakfast at 7:30. We were at the work site, which is just around the corner from our houses, by 9:00. A sweat had been broken by 9:15. After making sure everything was in order, I left the work site at about 10:00 to travel to an internet cafe, which is about an hour away from our village. The students, who are brimming with excitement, are interacting with villagers and learning that patience is required in Africa."

I cannot tell you how happy this e-mail makes me. It is spring break and Sarah is up by 7:00 and sweating by 9:15. I am really looking forward to seeing if the patience piece sticks. Actually she is already pretty patient, but there is nothing wrong with more. And for the record, I would gladly give up the chocolate to be mixing mortar with my girl.

The Names of NATO

Sometimes in the evenings, David tells us about his day. Here is an exerpt from tonight's briefing (we call them briefings).

"The International Staff calls us the Dirty Dozen. But Stephano and Ilona admitted that they shouldn't call us that to our faces because everyone in that movie dies."
"Who is "us?""
"The Like Minded Nations--Juozus, Nikolay, Frantisek, Dorothee, Judit, Svetlana, Marcel, Khan, Grethe, Tomas, and Ross--he is from Canada--the others clearly aren't."

David had to spell everyone's names out for me because let me tell you, other than Ross, none of these are pronounced remotely phonetically. And this really isn't an accurate list because David doesn't have his cheat sheet here where he has the appropriate key codes to make all the squiggly marks over and around the people's names.
People's names can be problematic. Here is an example: Yesterday Dave sent the US update to the Swedish CEP handbook (he is pleased because he cut it down by two pages although the legal section is still weak) --Oh no, I am now getting OpSec comments--to Tor-Bjorn who he is not sure he has ever met and is uncertain of his/her gender. He met someone from Sweden last week but can't remember the guy's name. But he is very tall.
I was never very good at names, but this environment offers a whole new realm of challenge. How do you remember a name that you have never heard before and would have to practice repeating 14 times before you can pronounce it correctly? I tend to stick with the Susans and Bruces at parties.
David is better. He gets more practice. He will be meeting with Ole, Christian, and Ragnar later in the month.