Ho paura un po' (I'm a little scared)

It's been a month.  Certainly time for an update.  It has just been such a packed month, I find myself catching my breath only now.  I had a fantastic visit with the family, busy and adventurous (though no matter how cool we looked in our driving gloves and sunglasses all'italiana, I think we can all agree on the desire to leave the Alfa Romeo behind next time...or at least start out with more maps).  I think my parents and brothers have officially been converted to the magic of "antipasti" as meals - I'd say one of the best parts of the trip was just picking out 4 or 5 weird cured meats at the deli for the hungry masses, and then seeing which one each person liked the best.  I mean, this is Italy, we are not talking turkey breast here.  I know Al loved prosciutto crudo, Mom loved the salame from Tuscany, Josh was into speck, and Dad...well, human garbage disposal, I think he just dug all of them.

Then, only days after the fam returned stateside, I flew off to Paris for my first real visit to France.  Mamma mia, what a magical city.  I stayed with my friend Lauren, who is living this semester in a gorgeous apartment in the Marais (think Greenwich Village funky/hip vibe).  And after my body got over the initial shock of copious amounts of butter in my food (seriously, is it possible to eat that much butter and cheese?  Apparently yes, though I nearly went into pastry and quiche induced comas on numerous occasions.  Additionally, people really do buy baguettes on a daily basis, carry them under their arms with the morning paper, and eat them pretty much all day long), I fully fell in love with Paris.  In fact, more than anything, it made me miss New York - it seemed to just whet my appetite for the big city again, an international atmosphere where the metro always runs and there is always something new to discover.  Even better, the entire city was in bloom and the Parisians had not yet attacked every living plant with hedgeclippers (they seem to like their plants in the shape of boxes), so I pretty much felt like I was in some fairytale land all weekend.  Screw the Trevi Fountain, I should have left coins in the Tuileries pond - I MUST go back to Paris.

As for photos, Flickr has been giving me troubles, so here is a link to my facebook album of Paris pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2225835&id=122324&l=756ce08d3a

So now I find myself back in Bologna with only one month to go, and I would be lying if I didn't say I am so excited to go home.  I love Italy, I love Europe, I love a lot of things about my life here.  You really don't expect the type of education you get, however, while living abroad.  Needless to say, I have learned that I am very American in a lot of ways, and I am ready to be American again.  Having said that, I am honestly afraid to leave.  In the grand scheme of things, 10 months is not a lot of time.  And yet I have officially been steeped in Italian culture and life, almost 24/7, for nearly a year, which in a way makes me less American than I used to be.

An example: coffee.  You might not consider this to be a big deal, but hear me out.  I love espresso with all of my heart, so much that I need to make sure I don't have more than 2 or 3 a day (no stomach aches, please).  In fact, I am planning on returning with an arsenal of espresso pots, cups, and "cucchiaini" (little spoons) because of my deep true love for caffè.  And yet, I still like American style coffee too - it's nice to enjoy it when I have the time to sit, like a cup of tea.  So what do I do next year at school?  Do I buy the American coffee pot and coffee grounds too?  Will I need to start buying double coffee?  Hell, I probably can't even afford that.  And isn't it so strange that Americans are so much more scheduled, on time, and workaholics than Italians, yet American coffee takes so much longer to drink?  You'd think the efficiency of espresso would actually be more desirable.  But back to the point - can I have my cake and eat it too?  And if even just coffee sends my head spinning into confusion (much less cultural analysis), who knows what's going to happen with regards to all the other lifestyle changes I'll have to go back to.

Coming here was not easy, but going back might be even harder.  I can't wait for America in so many ways...but I'm a bit scared of it too.

Gelato. 'nuff said.

I like to think that I'm fairly capable of making decisions.   So why am I always in crisi when I walk into a gelateria?  Seriously, you'd think I was picking out the last gelato I'll ever eat, or at least that the fate of the world hangs in the balance, when in reality I'm probably going to get another one tomorrow.  I have narrowed it down to the following problem.

A small cup or cone is always 2 flavors, as in double the choices, and double the decisions.  There are so many more options you immediately have to weigh in.  Do you go for a classic combo, such as caffe/chocolate, or pistacchio/nocciola?  But what if you want something fruity?  This presents a further issue - strawberry plus another fruit?  Or perhaps strawberry plus something like caffe or crema or, dare I say it, fior di latte?  Mind you, this is before taking into account any of the "fancy" flavors you find at some gelaterie (my favorite here in Bologna has one with pecan prailines, I'm a sucker for it every time).  

In fact, I don't know that I could ever order a gelato bigger than a "piccolo," because increased size means increase in flavor options.  The reality of this situation really sucks, because sometimes I do want more than 2 scoops.  But can you even fathom mixing 3?  I'd probably be standing there just deciding for a solid half hour.  

And a final off-topic note - I put up new pictures of my trip to Dublin and my trip with my friend Lauren to Lake Como from last weekend!

La fortuna degli irlandesi (The luck of the Irish)

Some conclusions about Dublin (or Ireland in general):

1. The people are so damn friendly.  Seriously.  I was in St Stephen's Green with my friends last Saturday morning, and some guy just came up to us and said "Hey, what do you think of my picture?" and proceeded to show us some pencil sketch he had done.  The best part was, he wasn't even trying to sell it to us - he really just wanted to show it to us.  So we all said, "Wow, cool!" and this guy went on his merry way.  That was it.  And I think this sort of thing, along with all the old men in pubs saying "Cheers" when you leave and people being extremely willing to give you directions, is pretty normal for Ireland.

2.  Life is pretty much one big pub crawl.  And the Guinness really does taste better.  In fact, I think all the beer tasted better.  Perhaps this also has something to do with the warm, fuzzy feeling you get when you walk into any Irish pub, but still.

3.  Rugby. is. AWESOME.  I'll say it - rugby trumps football.  We got to watch Ireland stomp Scotland on Saturday afternoon, accompanied by the rest of Dublin (who was out drinking Guinness in their Ireland jerseys to see this go down).  And all of this was even more exciting because now Ireland is in the championship today against Wales and, if they win (the game's in one hour!), it will be the first time since 1949!!!  NB: This last part I learned from the Irish guy, James, I sat next to on my flight.  James actually reminded me of an Irish version of my dad (and he has a daughter named Rachel who just turned 21...WEIRD), except that he was able to give me a history of Irish rugby while also providing me with about 10 bars that I should go to on my visit.  Sorry Dad, as far as I know, your knowledge of Dublin pubs is less extensive.  But I still love you anyway.

4. Whiskey.  Why is it so "masculine"?  We went to the Jameson distillery, enjoyed an informative tour (did you know they import barrels from Kentucky that have already been used for bourbon?  This way the whiskey doesn't pick up the wood taste of a new barrel during maturation) and got a drink at the end (duh).  Our friend Griffen, however, happened to be the only girl at a table of 10 who did the whiskey taste test at the end of the tour (Jameson trumps Johnny Walker and Jack Daniels, apparently).  It was half hilarious, half feminist-infuriating, but overall thoroughly enjoyable to mock her and snap pictures from the sidelines.  All in a loving way, of course.

5.  It's ok to wear a Patagonia and rainboots.  Thank god this is acceptable somewhere outside of America.  On Sunday we took a day trip to Hoath, just a 20 minute train ride outside the city and right on the ocean.  So we spent the whole afternoon hiking along the cliffs - the water was that perfect shade of northern blue, and there were these huge bushes of yellow flowers blooming everywhere (spring! It actually does exist in March!).  It was such a perfect day - and it was such a Watervale day (kind of like doing a European Baldy hike).  And we met even more friendly Irish on our way, most notably the guy with the really cute dog and the family who directed us to - wait for it - the pub at the top of the mountain and end of our hike.  Perfect reward.  Great success.

6.  Europe is so weird with potato chips.  They have the strangest flavors, I sometimes can't believe they exist.  I haven't been updating pictures of this, but I have definitely been keeping track - I think I'll have to compile an album of evidence at the end of the year.  Some winning examples: "Prawn" in England.  "Jambon" in Spain.  Anyway, Ireland's recent addition to the list: Cajun Squirrel.  Someone want to tell me who hires the whacko that agrees to produce this?  I'll just go hurl now.  

7.  I have some incredible friends.  I know the world is smaller now, it's easier to stay in touch, it's easier to travel.  But this past weekend in Dublin, I was just so struck by how lucky I am to have found such down to earth, loving people who, even after distance and time apart and a lot of new experiences in between, are still some of the greatest people I know.  I am loving my year here - I really am.  But it was just so reassuring that even in a strange place and thousands of miles from the Lake Michigan beach, we could all fall so easily into the laid-back rhythm of our friendship.  It can be hard to have friends and family all over the world, so spread out, but it makes your time together even more special and your relationships even stronger.  So for that, I feel really lucky.

Pictures soon!

Rachel Natalie Cassandra Barcelona

So it seems that in my unfortunate boredom and continual studying during the months of January and February, my desire to get out of Bologna wound up with me making a lot of travel plans, and these travels have begun.  Meaning I am pretty much going to be in transit every week for the next three months.  I obviously know how to fill my planner...talk about wanderlust to the extreme.

So last weekend began my 3-month whirlwind tour, when I went to Barcelona with Natalie and Cassandra.  This was kind of the trip that started it all - in the winter misery, we somehow landed on booking the flight to Spain.  I was so excited to go I think I could have run there last Friday.  And yes, this happens every time I go somewhere new, but this time I really mean it - I LOVE BARCELONA.

This place is fantastic.  It is on the ocean but has the mountains behind it - what more could you ask for? I can see how in about 3 weeks or so it could get way too hot to travel there and do the tourist thing (you might just want to lie on the beach).  But our weather was amazing - 65+ degrees every day, always sunny, tiny bit of ocean breeze.  Who knew spring actually starts in March?  So here goes the cliff notes version...recommended viewing with pictures (already on Flickr).

Sights:  

-GAUDI GAUDI GAUDI (an architect you should look up if you don't recognize his name).  We saw Palau Guell, Casa Mila, Casa Battlo, La Sagrada Familia, and Park Guell

-Barri Gothic and the Cathedral of Barcelona (the old section of the city)

-La Rambla - the famous street in Barcelona that leads right down to the sea

-El Mercat - a gigantic food market, totally packed with Spaniards and tourists galore, and yet people seem to actually do real grocery shopping there

-Port Vell, and a lot of sailboats

-the Arc de Triumf and connecting parks

-a Roy Lichtenstein sculpture of a gigantic head...so goofy.

-I could actually go on forever.  We walked ALL DAY on both Saturday and Sunday, so this list doesn't even cover the fact that I saw so much of the city just walking through it.

The Big Bummer:

This city is so well curated, and offers so many amazing activities (the biggest aquarium in Europe!  All of the Gaudi houses and tons of other examples of the moderisme style!).  However, they all cost un sacco di soldi - literally, a sack of money.  Each Gaudi house was something like 15 euros just to see inside.  Student budgets do not allow for such costs.  Obviously this is a reason for me to go back ASAP.

Food (duh):

-At the market, you can buy 1/2 a pineapple pre-sliced and with a little fork for 1 euro.  Pineapple being one of my favorite fruits, this experience was obviously repeated more than once.

-PAELLA!!!  Sunday night we took the recommendation from our hostel and searched for a restaurant called Salamanca.  It was one of those things where it was sort of in the boonies, in a quiet neighborhood and we were sort of unsure that we had followed the right streets, and then out of nowhere pops this little local joint in which you are the only tourists and the food is absolutely incredible.  I have never had such fresh clams, mussels, shrimp...and the crema catalana wasn't too bad either!

"Come mai!?" (And how!?):

-Do as the Spaniards do?  We took a nap on Saturday night at around 9 pm so we could go out "on time" for a drink...in Spain, "on time" for going out is around 12:30 or 1 at the earliest.  Some places don't even open until 1.  We made it out for drinks...and lasted until 3:30...but really, I don't know how they do it.  They must be awesome power-nappers.

Souvenirs:

-1 red spanish fan, so I can dance flamenco

-1 mosaic tile of the letter "R"

-cut-out postcard, from which I can build my own Casa Batllo

-a serious desire to learn Spanish and/or Catalan

And tomorrow, I'm off to Dublin to have a very Irish St. Patrick's Day with my friends from Watervale.  This should be a riot.

Polpette!

Here is the problem with the word "polpette": the only good way to say it in english is "meatballs," but that doesn't really capture the true gist of the word, because "polpette" doesn't imply anything about meat.  Translated, it should really say "little edible balls," but I think we can all agree that this brings to mind all the wrong kinds of images and definitely doesn't sound appetizing.  Regardless of this discourse, this is what I found myself making in an Italian cooking class last week.

I seriously cannot believe it took me this long to take a cooking class here - how did I let this happen?  The class I went to was through a company called Taste of Italy, which holds a few classes a week in seemingly every area of cooking possible - pasta dishes, desserts, antipasti, fish, you name it.  And while the obvious choice would be making pasta by hand, I am pretty sure I would do that exactly one time in my life.  A pasta "chitarra" (those schmancy tools that cut the pasta dough into linguine) is not exactly on my list of items to buy.  So I instead decided to sign up for the polpette class (thinking it would serve me pretty well in the future)...and I am so glad I did.

So I arrive at the cooking school (more difficult that you want to imagine, grazie Italian public transport) and, what do you know, it's me and 5 Italian mothers and/or grandmothers, 2 possibly retired and quite nerdy Italian men (pursuing a new hobby? impressing their wives? more power to them!), and a yoga-toned 30-something woman named Frederica with wildly curly hair and a serious passion for food (really, the way this woman's eyes lit up when we started talking about the dishes...I hope mine do the same!).  Before I could get too intimidated (you do NOT mess with Italians and their food - add in my imperfect language skills and I started wondering if I would be able to hold my own), I met Maribel, a woman who works for Taste of Italy and is actually from the U.S.  In other words, I had my very own translator.  And did you know the word "miglio" means "quinoa"?  Because I sure didn't.  Thank god for Maribel.

We all piled into the kitchen, where 3 assistants were busy running around and preparing the various stations.  Armed with recipe packets, it looked like we would be making 6 different types of polpette.  And this is when our chef, Maria, started explaining the various dishes to us.

Think of Maria as a cross between an Italian grandmother and one of those tough-love Southern waitresses who calls you "honey" and is damn good at her job.  Seriously, this woman knew what she was talking about.  Though I couldn't always follow along (again, thank god for Maribel), I learned so much from this woman.  For example, we rolled all of our polpette in cornstarch instead of flour before baking or frying, apparently because cornstarch is less absorbent and this keeps the meatballs lighter.  And peanut oil is apparently one of the best frying oils because, in the end, its flavor doesn't overpower the other ingredients (especially for delicate flavors like fish).  Always salt at the END, especially in a world where lots of things are pre-salted.  Cut green onions with scissors so as not to crush out all the juices.  I could go on...

So it was basically organized madness, because cooked all the dishes pretty much at once.  We would be working on one thing, then run over to a different station to hear another little sage nugget of advice from Maria (add some cornstarch if it's too liquidy, it needs to be a sauce!), then run back to sauteeing veggies, and so on...hell, it was fun enough just to 

Three hours of hard work later, we feasted.  I mean really feasted.  I ate at least 3 of every polpette we made.  Not to bore you - or make your mouths water - but I came home with an arsenal of recipes (granted, in Italian and in metric measurements.  Though Maribel is emailing them to me in english and US measures.  How have we not caught on to metric?  This is why I am also buying a digital food scale).  The line-up:

-Lentil-quinoa-pumpkin polpette rolled in sesame seeds

-Potato polpette stuffed with sauteed veggies and served with a red wine reduction sauce

-Pork meatballs in tomato-red pepper-black olive sauce

-Spinach and bean polpette stuffed with mozzarella

-"Polpette della nonna" (your average meatball, I think ours were mostly sausage)

-"Polpette di pesce" (fish! we made pulp out of fresh shrimp and fish!) in tomato sauce served with polenta

I cannot wait to make these again.  I have some pictures on flickr (what is it about Europe that makes me photograph food all the time?)  I cannot wait to take another class - I'm thinking pizza.  Time to conquer the fear of homemade dough.  As soon as I get the recipes in english, ask me and I'll share!

Yoghurt, fra le altre cose... (Yogurt, among other things)

Dear Sterzing-Vipiteno,

Please, for the love of all pro-biotic cultures everywhere, distribute your yogurt in the U.S. You have so many products...what's the harm in expanding across the ocean (much less the rest of Europe)?  Since I eat your yogurt a solid 3 times a day, if not more, I have a strong feeling I won't survive without it when I go back stateside.  Just the tubs of plain yogurt in a few select grocery stores would be enough, seriously.  Think about it.

(for your admiring pleasure, in either Italian or Deutsch: http://www.milchhof-sterzing.it/)

(but seriously, I do eat this three times a day.  It's like osteoporosis-fighting heaven in my tummy.)

Dear America,

Learn how to make awesome yogurt.  Thanks.

In other news, today I went to Carnevale in Venice, which I realize now is basically the Italian version of Halloween, but it lasts a whole week and involves waaaaaaayyyy more parties, shows, and alcohol.  The city was so packed and nearly everyone was decked out in costume (ranging from baroque Venetian wear to, I kid you not, massive furry duck suits).  So it was more like Halloween times a gazillion, with lots of Venetian masks...and it was a complete blast.  Pictures are up on my flickr page!  

And since I'd rather not relive in great detail the tiresome stories of my oral exams that are finally finished (seeing as how it involved my professors staring into my soul with looks of academic judgement, a lot of butterflies in my stomach, and some lovely stuttering on my part) I'll just tell you that I passed them :)  So as we say, "avanti"...moving on!  

Oggi ho fatto qualcosa italianissimo (Today I did something really Italian)

First of all, pictures from my Cologne/Brussels trip are up on my Flickr page if you feel the urge to see a photo of a leige waffle with a massive bite out of it.  And you know, some other cathedrals and art and stuff.

On a different note, I have to be honest.  I am pretty bored.  There are the mildly bored days, and then there are the bored-out-of-my-mind days, which in general averages out to a lingering boredom over all days.  I know, I know, you are all scoffing at this, thinking "What are you even saying!!??  You are in ITALY!!!"  This is true.  I am in Italy.  But I am also waiting around for a few things:

1.  To take my last exam, which is still two weeks away.

2.  For the weather to get better.  I am so done with winter.

3.  For my friends who are studying abroad for the semester to get here.  And get settled.  And then get traveling with me.

4.  For my new classes to start.  Again, a couple weeks away.

5.  For the weather to get better.

So I hate to say it, but I am in a quasi-state of limbo, where I want a little "pausa" from traveling, where I do need to spend some time studying (though I work best under pressure so that won't really happen until a few days before my test), and yet even with tutoring, studying, and doing crossword puzzles, I have a liberal amount of free time on my hands.  (Note: who would have ever guessed that there is such a thing as too much free time?  I almost - dare I say it - can't wait to have homework again next year.  Or at least to be busy).  So with this free time that I don't know what to do with, I found myself doing something so Italian, it's almost embarrassing.  I looked out my window.

Alright, go ahead and scoff again.  This probably makes no sense.  However, Italy is a country of looking.  Appearances count.  I even was taught in my Italian film class about the "strong tradition" of not just looking out the window, but looking AT people.  Think of the little old woman who sits behind the shutters of her second floor apartment and watches the street below.  Or even think of the old Italian men who sit on park benches or at cafes, watching the people go by.  And though it might be a stereotypical image, it is certainly based on truth, and continually my friends and I lament about how we can never walk outside in sweatshirts and pj bottoms as we do in the US because we would be more or less ostracized.  Get the idea?

So today, I suddenly found myself standing at my window, staring out and watching the street below.  Not to be anticlimactic, but the only thing I really concluded was that the people riding bikes must be freezing their butts off.  And yet, I had my "woah" moment when I found myself then actively looking into the windows of people's apartments across the street, at which point my imagination started to run wild with what sort of people live there and what kinds of situations might be going on behind their shutters.  At which point I freaked out at my own ability to participate in this nutty version of people watching that is such a "tradition" here.

So boredom and free time breeds transformation into an Italian elderly woman.  Good to note.

Up next - the dreaded oral exams.  And not the dentist kind.

Quando la mia vita è odorato di waffles (When my life smelled like waffles)

Ok, so this is slightly overdue...mostly out of my own laziness.  So I figure it's about time I let you all know that, first of all, I made it back to Italy in one piece after a whirlwind tour of the States, and secondly, that I fill you in on what I did just two days after getting back to Europe.  I took what I would consider to be my first really solo trip and went to Cologne, Germany and Brussels, Belgium.  And to preface - only an hour before going to the airport I was on the phone with my mom, contemplating the prospect of moping around Bologna all weekend (it was a pretty lonely place when I returned) versus getting out and taking this trip that I had planned (even at the cost of no internet communication for a few days).  So a definite thanks to mom for lighting the fire under my butt.

The first thing about Cologne - how do the Germans make it so damn easy to get around?  Thank you, Germany, for your impeccably timed and reliable public transportation.  I seem to appreciate this more and more every time I leave Italy.  Upon waking up in Cologne the next day, I set out to do what seems to be the one skill I am really cultivating this year (besides learning to control my blood pressure while trying to purchase fish in Italy): really seeing a place in a very limited amount of time.  So, even though I knew I was going to freeze, I set off for downtown Cologne, determined to take it by storm.  And I have to say I am pretty proud of myself, because I checked a lot of cool stuff off my list (which again is just easier to list, for brevity's sake):

-Cologne Dom (Cathedral): This is literally the first thing you see when you leave the train station.  And it definitely hits my list of top European churches.  It's the most perfect gothic cathedral, and what's more, is gorgeous inside too (those arched groin vaults...thank you art history for making me appreciate them so much).  Then, since I had the time, I decided to climb up the south tower of the cathedral.  But oh yeah, it was 509 steps (and I mean real steps, not wimpy ones) - and it was so worth it for the view at the top.  Plus I then got to see "Fat Peter" - the biggest free-swinging bell in the world!

-EL-DE Haus: so slightly more sobering, but very cool nonetheless - EL-DE Haus was a gestapo prison during WWII, which today has been preserved and also has a memorial/museum on the upper two floors.  To be honest, I didn't last very long - not exactly the happiest of places - but the best part was the jolly old beret-wearing German guy at the front desk who talked with me for a solid 20 minutes.  I swear, this guy was so excited that I was just an American with German roots, and he was even more excited to tell me about the incredible history of Cologne (which was a capital of the Roman empire at one point, did you know?  In fact, they just have Roman and medieval walls kind of lying around in the middle of the city). 

-Schokolad Museum:  Ok, obviously I needed a pick-me-up.  So I walked along the Rhine down to the Chocolate Museum, which I think is owned by Lindt, because not only do they have three floors of exhibitions to bring you through the history of chocolate and how it is made, but they have a legitimate factory in there where you can watch women in white lab coats (sadly, not oompa loompas) bag little milk chocolates that start as mush at one end and somehow end up in little gold wrappers in about 30 seconds.  And yes, there were samples.  Duh.

So I was pretty content with my sightseeing and felt that the next best thing to do, after a quick coffee warm-up, was to grab a pretzel (I mean, I was in Germany after all) and walk around some of the roman ruins.  Since it was cold and dark at that point, I made it back to my hostel - and here is the beautiful thing about solo travel AND hostels - where I ran into Liam.  Liam, an Australian guy about my age, strikes up a conversation and before I know it we are making dinner at the hostel and enjoying multiple liters of koelsch (THE beer of Cologne, which is absolutely delicious).  So I made a fast friend, and now I have someone to visit in Sydney if the moment arises!

The next day I caught the train to Brussels, which turned out to be a blast (as only high speed trains through the Belgian countryside can be), and I arrived there midday.  I was so determined to hit the Beaux-Artes museum (it was a Sunday, and since all museums close on Mondays, it was my only shot!).  Well, I have to say, Brussels turned out to be a bit trickier to maneuver than expected.  So I trekked all over searching for this place for a couple of hours, and when I still hadn't found it, I decided it was time to throw in the towel.  Which is when I had the most heavenly experience of my weekend - for, there in front of me, in this huge plaza overlooking the city, I saw my very first waffle truck.

Now, it is important to note that there are actually two types of waffles in Brussels.  And I am wholly unconcerned with the inferior, but more famous Belgian waffle (the rectangular, deep dish type that is way too crispy for its own good).  No no no - there is another type of waffle in Belgium called the Liege waffle, and this one is what you get when you go to the waffle vans.  So, frustrated with my futile museum search, I go up to the truck and ask for a waffle, completely unaware of how amazing this is about to be as I hand over my 1.50 euro.  Seriously, I have never had such an awesome waffle - they warm it up, so the edges are a little bit sticky and crispy, but the waffle itself is really dense and - get this - has sugar crystals inside it.  I ate 4 in two days.  Though I feel totally justified because I won't get to eat waffles for another 6 months.  I should have just bought myself a waffle truck and stayed.  But seriously, the most amazing thing about these trucks - and really all of Brussels - is that, I kid you not, it smelled like freshly made waffles at all hours of the day.  Who wouldn't want to live in such a place?

I did some good sight-seeing in Brussels too, though it is definitely a bigger city so it was harder to figure out in the limited time I had.  But I went to the Museum of Musical Instruments (mostly because it was in this incredible art nouveau building), saw some Tin Tin comics, saw Mannekin Pis (the peeing boy statue!), the Grand Place, ate some more waffles, and got my own personal tour of the European Parliament (life really is all about the people you know)...but I'll spare you the boring details (instead you got to read in too much detail all about waffles, hooray!  Obviously I have my priorities straight).  I'll post my pictures as soon as possible!