Future comedy?
Ryan was thinking we could make a movie about our life here in Belgium. A documentary would be too boring so he was trying to get us involved to come up with a theme. In thinking about our life here the past few weeks we have had enough "experiences" that, with the right producer, we could have a decent comedy on our hands. Some things that could be included:
The way I draw people in. I must have a very approachable look about me. Everywhere I go it seems I am singled out by people to either talk with or ask questions/get directions. I almost always have no idea what is being said. Sometimes I just smile and nod. A couple of times I have lucked out and the people talking to me also speak English. Some of the run ins have been quite humorous. Even so, I might work on my mean and unapproachable face. Once I learn to speak French beautifully I will turn on the charm again.
We had someone from church invite us over for dinner. We were to take the metro to the train station (about 10 minutes) and take the train (22 minutes) to the station 5 minutes away from their house. It's a longish story but many phone calls and over 3 hours later we arrived at their house for dinner. At one point we got off what we realized was the wrong train and were waiting for the correct one at a deserted and cold train station and some concern was expressed about whether we would ever arrive at our desired destination. The "Gilligan's Island" theme song was running through my mind. It was then that we were comforted by the sounds of the prisoners in the prison yard just behind us serenading us with some French rap in the otherwise quiet and still night. We did enjoy a wonderful, although late, dinner that night and I'm sure we made a very interesting first impression.
Today I took Nicholas to the Doctor for an appointment that was made last week by someone in the medical office at the Embassy. Here's the short version. We go to the see the doctor. I still don't speak French. The doctor doesn't like to speak English but his wife, the receptionist, arrives and speaks English quite well. There is no record of an appointment for Nicholas on any day. Ever. Since he is missing school she said her husband can stay late and see us at noon. She asks for his name, which I spell for her. Letters are pronounced differently in French and English and letters like I in French sound like E in the English language. After a bit of work the name was spelled and she wanted my address. I know my address but by this time I had reverted to the mentality of a 3 year old. I was getting confused with my new address and my last weeks address, so we moved on. She asked for my phone number, which I didn't have with me. His birth date I was able to give her, but realized on the way home I had given her the wrong year. (He would be a rather large 4 year old). I had other obligations at home that I tried to reschedule but was told it would be very difficult/next to impossible, so, I had to call my knight in shining armor to rescue me. Ryan ended up taking Nicholas to the doctor while I talked and gestured with the person hanging curtains in our house today. There was a point of drama when I bust into tears, but we won't go into that.
The way I draw people in. I must have a very approachable look about me. Everywhere I go it seems I am singled out by people to either talk with or ask questions/get directions. I almost always have no idea what is being said. Sometimes I just smile and nod. A couple of times I have lucked out and the people talking to me also speak English. Some of the run ins have been quite humorous. Even so, I might work on my mean and unapproachable face. Once I learn to speak French beautifully I will turn on the charm again.
We had someone from church invite us over for dinner. We were to take the metro to the train station (about 10 minutes) and take the train (22 minutes) to the station 5 minutes away from their house. It's a longish story but many phone calls and over 3 hours later we arrived at their house for dinner. At one point we got off what we realized was the wrong train and were waiting for the correct one at a deserted and cold train station and some concern was expressed about whether we would ever arrive at our desired destination. The "Gilligan's Island" theme song was running through my mind. It was then that we were comforted by the sounds of the prisoners in the prison yard just behind us serenading us with some French rap in the otherwise quiet and still night. We did enjoy a wonderful, although late, dinner that night and I'm sure we made a very interesting first impression.
Today I took Nicholas to the Doctor for an appointment that was made last week by someone in the medical office at the Embassy. Here's the short version. We go to the see the doctor. I still don't speak French. The doctor doesn't like to speak English but his wife, the receptionist, arrives and speaks English quite well. There is no record of an appointment for Nicholas on any day. Ever. Since he is missing school she said her husband can stay late and see us at noon. She asks for his name, which I spell for her. Letters are pronounced differently in French and English and letters like I in French sound like E in the English language. After a bit of work the name was spelled and she wanted my address. I know my address but by this time I had reverted to the mentality of a 3 year old. I was getting confused with my new address and my last weeks address, so we moved on. She asked for my phone number, which I didn't have with me. His birth date I was able to give her, but realized on the way home I had given her the wrong year. (He would be a rather large 4 year old). I had other obligations at home that I tried to reschedule but was told it would be very difficult/next to impossible, so, I had to call my knight in shining armor to rescue me. Ryan ended up taking Nicholas to the doctor while I talked and gestured with the person hanging curtains in our house today. There was a point of drama when I bust into tears, but we won't go into that.
