HI EVERYONE!
And so it begins: waking up to missed facetime calls (sorry Aunyae), not responding to texts (sorry everyone), and making my parents wish they had another, less vagabond child (sorry mom and dad).
I made it to Belgium! I really did! This week has already been a whirlpool of awkward coffee dates, even more awkward group-bonding, jetlag, some crazy BMs, and being told to organise my google calendar with Chat GPT. Ew.
I am regretting not writing down everything I’ve done everyday because it’s already beginning to escape me. I’ll start with my house.
Picture this:
You’re 22 but look 15, operating on 2 hours of sleep, and lugging a duffel bag that’s supposed to wheel but instead demonstrates suicidal tendencies as you carry it up and down airport escalators.
This is how Julian collected me, BO as potent as ever. Luckily, the train to Leuven only takes 15 minutes and I only got 2-3 judgmental looks for wearing capri leggings. When we arrived in Leuven, we lugged our crap to my very cute shopping street. I would like to take this time to advertise it to the ideal locale: are you a wealthy Italian man with deteriorating eyesight, and a craving for cake? Mechelsestraat is the place for you, as it’s primary industry seems to be several Italian restaurants, eyeglass stores (there’s three directly next to each other?) and one bakery that charges 16 euros for a slice of tiramisu.
Ok, so now, picture the above ^, but now you arrive at your apartment. You see, as expected, that the shop below is empty as the building has been abandoned for two years. You think, ‘surely my extraordinarily European landlord (shoutout to Willem) has cleaned up’. Your 19 year-old roommate lets you (Unc) in and you are greeted by fluorescent lighting illuminating the broken stair banister, unpainted walls, cobwebs, and all of your hopes and dreams.
I don’t want to sound like a negative nancy. I am paying 450 euros a month and honestly, if I tell myself I am in Brooklyn, then the apartment is mentally transformed into a luxury. That being said, I do think the house was vacated as long as it was due to the police busting up what I can only imagine to be a crime syndicate ran by dust bunnies.
My room is small but charming and I expect my ass to look great by Christmas, as I live on the top floor in what used to be the maid chambers. You can only imagine how fitting it felt when one of my roommates told me she has never done laundry or cleaned before. She’s 27. I am the maid in the maid chambers.
By the way, I am writing this from the town’s main library. It’s stunning, doesn’t smell like tunabox (shoutout UStA) and there is a carved depiction of jesus on the crucifex staring me down as I write this. His feet are oddly long.
Honestly, I really love it here. It’s the perfect size city—just within a five minute radius of my apartment there is probably 40 restaurants with all kinds of cuisines, several grocery stores, cute bakeries, a huge street with just bars, and I have discovered that on Friday and Saturday nights there is a group of older men around the corner from me who play brass instruments to classic American covers. Have you ever been serenaded to Sweet Caroline on the Tuba? It’s a dream.
I’ve been spending my time going to campus tours, forcing random people to go on coffee dates with me, decorating my apartment and exploring random things. There’s so much stuff to do here. For example, within the span of an hour and a half, in just one location I managed to see the screening of a Mongolian Indie film, a classical concert of a new composer (her last name was Vanhoeknocker, and I think this is very important to tell you) and a pop-and-lock competition, where I fell in love with everyone and wanted them to fall in love with me with a quiet but potent eagerness.
I’ve had cocktails, read books, made a fool of myself, been intimidated by the incredibly accomplished people in my program (some guy just got back from years of fieldwork in the Amazon and I spent the summer scrubbing dishes, but to each their own, I guess), gotten sick, had some long-distance level sex (TMI sorry Julian), eaten Belgian fries, waffles, and chocolate, and now I am about to start working on my thesis. It’s weird to feel so content and happy and excited for what’s to come. I know I am missing some key parts of what I have already done here, but I think what I really want to highlight is that I am feeling happy. Happy! Me! I’m happy!
I still miss my friends and my family (especially the dogs), and I miss being in everyone’s orbit. I hope that from even so far away you still consider me as someone in your orbit, because I love being near people I care about, regardless if we’ve spent years together or weeks, seen each other recently or years ago. Think of me as Pluto, planet or not (Pluto is totally a planet, I will die on this hill).
Stay classy,
Piper
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