Australians Abroad - On Cultural Differences - First Impressions of Brussels

With ten days' notice at the beginning of October 2000 I found myself working in Brussels. To say that this was a surprise would be somewhat of an understatement, since I had barely started a telecommuting contract with the company a month earlier, and there had been no mention of the possibility at the time. But situations change, and sometimes we just have to go with the flow.

This accidental expat has barely been outside Australia before. A couple of visits to New Zealand to see an old flatmate from the years in Sydney, a flying 10-day trip to the US once; that was the extent of it. I had seen too many friends work multiple jobs for years to follow their backpacking dreams, only to return from Europe broke after three months, to ever consider it a viability. But when your job carries you off with promises of paid accomodation it's too hard to resist.

After 35 hours of travel I finally got to meet my employer, with whom I've had dealings these past three years through various net-based software projects. It's always good to be able to put a face to the name, and I was delighted at the reception. We headed straight for the pub, of course, and while walking home afterwards I tripped on the cobblestones and immediately gained legendary status - the locals have a high regard for the Trappist ales, and I had paid them the ultimate compliment. "It was the jetlag, honest" falls on deaf ears.

We're on the unfashionable side of the canal in Molenbeek, but it's a short walk to the Centrum - the main city area, surrounded by a pentagonal ringroad system - and her facilities. Restaurants and entertainment are plentiful, prices are comparable to home, and the natives are quite friendly. For the single male, I must note that they apparently have a law forbidding plain or overweight girls from using the streets, and I'm currently seeking the services of a good chiropractor to sort my neck out.

The culture here is diverse. Belgium is Dutch-speaking Flemish in the north and French-speaking Walloon in the south, and the third district - Brussles itself - is officially bilingual. All the street signs are in both languages, which makes reading a map interesting. Fortunately there are strategically placed internally-lit maps dotting the city, so you can't get too lost. Well, you actually can since every intersection goes in six different directions, but in a city like this you don't really mind too much, and I've spent many an enjoyable hour finding my way back home in the past 18 days.

My great sorrow is that I'm monolingual, and that the language I'm monolingual in happens to be English. The predominant language in use at work is French, and this would also be extremely useful in general. For my first week here I went without lunch, since I didn't know how to order food at the local shops. I'm not so stupid that I couldn't manage, "Un sandwich à club, s'il vous plaît" but as soon as I get a reply like "Voulez-vous la carotte là-dessus?" I'm utterly lost. Pointing at menus works anywhere, of course, and in many shops and restaurants they speak English well enough to make life easier. I can thoroughly recommend "Da Kao" Vietnamese at #38 rue Dansaert, where even the menu is in English.

After a week I started to forget how to speak English at all, which was rather weird since I hadn't yet acquired enough of anything else to get by. I thus began actively seeking out places where I could hear it being spoken, and found myself in the midst of a crowd of Manchester supporters at O'Reilly's at the Bourse. They were chanting and rabid, so I only stayed for the one Guinness. At home, O'Reilly's isn't regarded as a "real" Irish pub since it's a franchise, but here it's the only game in town. Subsequent visits have been more pleasant, and I even ran into another Aussie last night, on a weekend off from his London-based telecoms job.

At one stage Belgium generously handed out grants to African nations, and a large culture grew around the government buildings where this happened. They no longer do this, but the southern suburb of Ixelles is a predominantly African-based culture because of this piece of history. In general, there are around 10-15% black faces in the crowd throughout Brussles, and African artifacts are widely evident in the stores. In the B&B where I live the house owner is from the Congo, his wife is Parisian and their live-in babysitter is Hungarian. I work with five Belgians, one Spaniard and one Armenian, and my boss was raised in Scotland and Africa although his father is Flemish. Cultural diversity is integral to the Belgian lifestyle.

A conversation with a young Dutch woman recently led to some insight into how the Australian culture is regarded in these parts. She had travelled the world as a PR/organiser of musical events, and these travels included Australia. "The problem with Australia", she confided, "is that no matter where you go, from Cairns to Melbourne, it is all the same." I pointed out that this is seen as a great advantage by the locals, and makes life infinitely simpler. "Yes", she continued, "but you always have the strong sense of being on an island, even if it is a large one."

Yes, indeed. While we pride ourselves back home at being a tolerant lot, I wonder that we aren't in fact supressing diversity rather than encouraging it. Even in England they speak a different language every 50 miles, and it makes me reflect on our Gloria Sarah Titch for a moment. The seventies Latinized our way of life enough so that, as one friend put it recently "I can't remember the last time I put toast under my spaghetti" but I'm not sure that this is really enough.

But I have more pressing matters to attend, not the least of which is learning to order the second Orval in French without tying my tongue in knots and sending the waitress into convulsions. I'll get back to you later.