myownshoes: adventures in authenticity: offerings

Heading out into the big wide world in this way has allowed me to experience the generosity of others in new and beautiful ways. My friend Melissa gave me an envelope of letters before I left, one to open for each week of travelling. My Dad and Step-Mom bought me a new camera as a going away gift, which has allowed me to take better photos than I ever have before. My friend Kristin and I spent the day before I left together, and as she was helping me pack, she literally gave me the shirt off her back ("Do you have a quick dry shirt? No? Here, have this one"), as her husband Cle washed her earplugs for me so that I could take those as well. No kidding. I am blessed with true friends.

Often when I explain Couch Surfing to others, their first question is "Do you have to pay anything?" When I respond that you don't, the question that typically follows is, "What do the hosts get out of it then?" There is regularly this sense of bafflement at the fact that there is no monetary exchange involved. I typically explain that I normally buy a small gift for my hosts, and also that Couch Surfing can be seen through the lense of "paying it forward" - I am graced with the generosity of others while I am hosted, and then someday I will treat a surfer in my own community (provided that anyone ever wants to visit K/W) with the same generosity that I have been treated with. Even this isn't mandatory though. I guess it surprises us, this genuine human generosity without any expectation of payment in return. I remember my first Couch Surfing experience so clearly, showing up at Maren and Espen's door in Bergen, Norway, with my friend Deb, in April 2009, and being given a key to their small one bedroom apartment almost immediately, as though we were old friends, and an air mattres to sleep on, in the middle of the kitchen floor. So giving were these two, that so long as Deb and I were asleep, they couldn't even open their fridge. I remember being speechless at the capacity for generosity within each of us. Another common question is, of course, "Is it safe?" I could rattle on about the variety of safety features built into the site, and you know, probably there is a tiny minority of people on Couch Surfing who are creepy, socially inept, etc. However, in my experience (which betwen 2009 and 2010 now includes being hosted 11 times), not only is this safe, but it is perhaps the way to meet the most kind, generous, and interesting people in your chosen destination.

Here I am in Hoeilaart, just outside of Brussels, couch surfing with a couple who embody generosity. Ian, born in England, and Monique, born in Mauritius, met in Brussels, are retired from the European Commission, and spend their days doing things like attending biology lectures at the university, cooking gourmet meals, playing with their 5 grandchildren, and I am sure countless other things. Everytime I say "thank you", Monique replies, "Pleasure", with such genuineness in her face and voice that it is evident that hosting strangers in her home truly is a pleasure. I arrived on Monday to a dinner of savoury pancakes with smoked salmon, vegetables from the garden, and a delightful apple/plum pudding for dessert; as Monique showed me the guest room and bathroom (I have my own king sized bed), she said, "We have been given all of this, and so we want to share". This feels luxurious; I feel like I have eaten and slept like royalty while I have been here, while at the same time, in conversation, Monique and Ian have the warmth of old friends.

Perhaps I am thinking more about generosity these days as I have been on the receiving end of it so much over these past 3 months. It's been quite a different way of living for me, being so generous with myself (being able to ask each morning, "What exactly do I want to do today?"), while receiving such kindness from others. I am reminded that sometimes I stink at allowing others to truly care for me. I also realized, as Monique and Ian cooked for me, did my laundry (in my defence, I asked several times if I could do this, but Monique would have nothing of it - "The machine does it, it's no problem" she kept saying), and allowed me to lounge around their house, that I am actually more tired than I had realized. Dare I say it? I am becoming ready to be back home.
Lonely Planet describes Belgium's weather from Nov-April as "wretched", and I must admit that I have been on the receiving end of this as well. A bit like visiting St. John's, NL, at Thanksgiving last year, yesterday the weather went from rain, to overcast and dreary, back to rain, to, oh look a bit of sun, to...hail? Yep. Hail. The rain yesterday was actually less than Tuesday's however, so I was able to see a good portion of the City Centre by foot.

Brussels is an interesting combination of stately, delicious, sleekly modern, and political. After taking the escalator up from the train platform on Monday, I was greeted with the smell of...chocolate. Or was it waffles? Probably both, in fact. This is not a normal train station smell, but then again, nor is it a normal downtown street smell, but wafts of chocolate and waffle irons are present in the city centre as well, given the density of these types of shops. Belgium is known for their chocolate, beer, and waffles; I have had all three since I have been here, and have not been disappointed. (They also claim to have invented French Fries, but apparently there is some controversy about this. At any rate, after my fries smothered in mayo at 1am in Amsterdam, I figured I was good for a little while.) The EU Headquarters are here, which makes the city culturally and linguistically quite diverse. During my short stay, I have learned a little bit about the language conflict between native Dutch and French speakers in Belgium; Brussels is in fact the only area of the country that is officially bilingual. Aside from Quebec, this is my first time travelling somewhere that is French speaking, and I am really enjoying practicing my French. I have also surprised myself at the fact that, though it is certainly not pretty, it is somewhat functional. Yesterday, a woman asked me for directions to the Contemporary Art Museum in French, and a) I knew the answer and b) I replied in French and c) she understood me. This felt great. One of the many things that inspires me about European culture is the value that is placed upon learning several languages. I have been catered to, linguistically speaking, in 10 differenent countries now (another incredible form of generosity - people leaving behind their Mother Tongue to speak to you in yours), and someday I hope to be able to switch to somebody else's language for them. I am inspired to brush up on my French and start learning some German. A funny little quirk about Brussels is Mannekin Pis, a tiny statue of a little boy peeing that has become a bit of a phenomenon in the city: Mannekin Pis chocolates, Mannekin Pis t-shirts, Mannekin Pis, well, everything, pretty much. And, a sizable crowd gathered to take photos at all times, regardless of the wretched weather.

I leave both Belgium and the Netherlands wanting more, and I am reminded of Michaela, my Couch Surfing host from Vienna (over 2 months ago - hard to believe!) who, with travel-wisdom that I had not yet acquired, told me that when I didn't see everything in a place that I had wanted to, this was not a reason to despair, but simply a reason to come back some day. These past 6 nights, 3 in Brussels and 3 in Amsterdam, have been a bit of a tease really, and very different from my normal style of travelling, spending several weeks in each country. I thought it would be worthwhile taking a short peek while I was in the area, and perhaps I will indeed be back someday...There is certainly a charm about these countries, and culturally speaking, I have much left to learn about them.

I've been a bit of a moody Liz these past few days as well. Already an introspective highly-sensitive personality, my menstrual cycle (sorry if this is too much information) tends to wreak havoc on my body and emotions when life is proceeding rather normally. So, I decribed this week recently to a friend as "PMS meets leaving-Europe". It's been interesing, and still I can see changes in myself that this trip has perhaps brought about. My newfound ability to remain a bit more present in the moment for example has been helpful. I can witness my insanely intense emotions without being overcome by them. And I can be okay on my own in Belgium the midst of this. Newness. And good to remind myself of this sort of newness, when the mean voice in my head counters with, "You're going back home and you don't have your life figured out yet". Mean voice, what does that even mean? I'm soooo done with that voice.

I will leave you with a few more photos from Belgium, and then two photos which I will refer to as "The many faces of Amsterdam". I am now off to jump on a bus to Paris, where I will spend these last five days of this adventure, sight-seeing of course, while also preparing myself for the adventure that is returning to Waterloo. As I have been endeavouring to see this time as Being, real-life, NOT as a vacation, then perhaps it's not an ending at all. A transition, sure, but not an ending. Real-life continues on, and life can continue to be as authentic and intentional as these past three months have been. Yes? Yes.

Sending my love
xo