Nine days later from arriving into Belgium, both St. Joseph (the patron saint of finding housing) and the Holy Infant, assisted me in finding a place. I am not entirely surprised because both have always had my back, and both play an important role in the Christa Apostolate.
My housing is perfect for me, in many ways everything I’ve asked for. The main request was for the housing to be located close to a Roman Catholic church with daily Mass and close to where I have classes, so the commute would be bearable.
En route to looking at the property, I passed a cobble-stoned alleyway in the direction fo St. Anthony’s Chapel and noticed these balconies adorned with beautiful flowers. And I said, “Lord, I want a balcony. Give me a place that has a balcony … … one day.”
A couple days later from having first viewed the property, I signed my lease. The building only has studios. Of the 60 tenants who live in my building, I am 1 of 4 with a BALCONY! The Lord is so good; I feel really blessed! Additionally, all tenants have a kitchenette, private bathroom, desk, and couch. I’m very content with my place because I am close to 2 churches – St. Damian and the College of Leo XIII – both of which have daily Mass, one of which has Eucharistic Adoration, and the other has St. Damian actually resting in the crypt! I am 6 minutes away from the building where all my classes are and within walking distance to the main road Naamsestraat.
After signing the lease and alone in my studio, I couldn’t help but just look around and start crying – but strictly out of joy. I was so exhausted from having searched at every hour for housing, tired from waking up at 3 or 4 in the morning from students coming back to the Guest Housing, and mostly just remembering how difficult it’s been to get to where I am now. Finally, a place to rest and call home while I’m here.
Week by week, something gets accomplished associated to me trying to settle in Leuven. The first week it was registering for classes and securing housing, which is amazing in that there are still plenty of students looking for housing who came here BEFORE me. And I am getting the basics for my studio – plateware, tea kettle, power strips/extension cords, cleaning supplies, food, bedding, etc. It’s slowly looking messy and like home!
The genius of the liturgy is its ability to inculturate itself within the genius of the local culture. I have been attending Mass in Dutch on Sundays and plan on continuing this every so often. Right now I am just observing and participating when possible. It has been interesting so far. The music is so beautiful.
There are a couple liturgical practices I am a little confused with because I haven’t seen them anywhere else; and admittedly, some things were very very new. For now, as I am a newcomer to beautiful Flanders, I am hoping to learn more about the Flemish Catholics and their history.
At the beginning of my search, I had hoped to stay at a convent and tried very hard to find accommodations with two communities. Unfortunately, this fell through; and for a while, I was very disappointed. But I am actually next door to the community of sisters and I am so thankful for this because I need to see their witness. It brings me joy to see them and reminds me to pray. I’ve been invited to tea some time!
My mother visited recently and brought the sunshine from Uganda to Leuven. Since having arrived, I think I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen the blue sky. And since she’s arrived, the weather has been warmer, the skies have been blue, and the chance of cloudy with rain has been minimal.
She’s done in Africa what I hope, more or less, to one day do: spreading the message of God’s love and mercy. She was invited by the Archdiocese of Kampala in Uganda to do a 2-day workshop on the Divine Mercy and establishing prayer cenacles that promote the devotion to the Divine Mercy through recitation of the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy. I’m proud of her and many times I have to do a double-take asking myself, ‘Is that my Mom??’
I’ve never seen it before in anyone else; but when my mother speaks, she has an unbelievable talent with extemporaneous speech. I think it’s a gift. She has the ability to say the most profound, holy things that speak to the heart in the most simplistic and accessible ways.
For myself, my preference is to have everything I want to say in paper format. I have no idea how she does it. I just know I’m in admiration.
I’m still getting adjusted. Certainly not as fast as I’d like, but that’s just how the culture is here. Stores open by 830 or 9 and close at 6. My classes finally have a rhythm and I am starting to pick up a pattern with each day. I like routine, so I’m starting to feel more and more comfortable with my neighborhood, the school, the buildings, the hours stores open and close, the student scene (both undergraduate and graduate), climbing up hills, and walking on cobblestone streets.
I realize I have transferred so much of my living back in the USA to my life here in Belgium; and unsurprisingly, it’s not working. Everything from my clothes and shoes to eating to my American expectation of efficiency and customer service – there has been a couple culture clashes. My clothes are not used to the weather, my shoes are not fit for the cobblestone streets and I find myself tripping over my own feet. I miss the 24-hour convenience of stores and longer hours of operation. The hours with several stores, school offices, and government buildings vary.
My first meltdown happened in the first week of class. No apartment. Late for classes. Days within the close of registering for courses. No access to the internet to catch up to my classes that require I access the net. There was a situation.
Because access to the net is really essential at KU and the fact that I couldn’t access it was incredibly stressful. I couldn’t follow my courses to see what the homework was or what books to order, and I still had to register for classes. I had tried various times in the week to go to all these coffee shops and bars that said they had the internet. So I’d buy something and attempt to use the internet, but then the connection always failed.
Earlier in the day I had asked the student librarian what time the library was going to close. She said 10PM, but when I got there at 930, I was immediately told by the same woman I could not go in because the building was closing. So I said, “But you told me the library closes at 10PM. And she just looked at me. So I continued and said, “So, I have a half an hour.” I could feel my blood boiling because I had just left a place where I had been able to access the net but left it so that I could get to the library and then make some copies. And she said, “The library officially closes at 10, but we begin to shut everything down in 5 minutes. So, we’re closed.”
At that point, I stared right at her and gave her the dirtiest look. My eyes were so angry, I pursed my lips and just threw my hands up and stalked away. Everything at that moment that I touched, I slammed – my locker, the turnstyle, the doors. I have a temper at times, and it was one of those times where I just exploded.
And walking back home, I scowled at God yelling at Him, ‘Why did YOU send me here?!’ I argued that I WAS RIGHT and that I have a right to be angry. I cursed everything from the internet to the student to the cold weather. I just exploded. And I refused to stop, I just wanted to let my believed justified frustration and anger out.
But I couldn’t let go that after everything I said to God, I felt crappy. I felt bad that I had responded so poorly and that I had made someone else probably feel bad when it really wasn’t just her but the accumulation of several stressful days, and she was just the last straw and an easy outlet. And even if I was right, I still shouldn’t have treated her that way.
The next day I went to the library to use the internet, but I was mortified that the same student the night before was also working the morning shift. I realized I forgot my ID, so I was not able to go through the turnstyle. And I wanted to apologize. I called to the woman who once she saw that it was me, made no attempt to get up from her chair which was far away and she looked annoyed. So from the turnstyle, I had to yell my apology. The people from the elevator, foyer, and lockers all stopped and turned to look at me, and I realized an unwanted audience was attentively listening. At that moment, I wished the people of Belgium did not understand English.
I admitted my fault and apologized for my behavior the night before and everything that had led up to our encounter. Her cold stare turned soft, and she simply told me she understood how things were stressful and accepted my apology.
I realize the more I am here, I have to be conscious of the cultural differences – even in communication, which was at play with the student librarian. There are other areas I’m trying to be more mindful of.
Just this past week, my Annex 15 (necessary documents from the City Hall) arrived, and now I can pursue the other administrative aspects of settling in. Saturday is the local market day where I buy my fruits, vegetables, olives, and bread for the week. Meat products I buy at the butcher where all the Asian stores are. Though I am in Belgium, I still cook like a Filipino, so all the ingredients I need are there and the prices are student-friendly.
Being from Chicago, we’re pretty used to bad winters. The fact it was getting increasingly cold balanced with some autumn weather was a good indication winter was quickly approaching and would be very cold.
The winter jacket I brought was not warm enough, so I ended up buying a jacket that I equate more or less to a stylish sleeping bag. My shopping Guardian Angel was so helpful, as this jacket was on sale (less 50 Euro!). Exactly the next day, the temperature dropped and I was wearing a sweater and a vest. I had to go home to change into my new jacket because it was freezing, and I could no longer feel my feet after 30 minutes. Belgian winters are a beast!
