Take a Penny, Leave a Penny.

After you make your selection of lunch at the cafeteria, you walk up to the cashier. Just beside the cash register, you see a small black box with a concaved lid, in a bowl-like form. There is no sign that says “Thank You”, “Tips”, or anything else. There is mostly just one and two-cent coins in it, with a few larger coins dispersed throughout, and even a one Euro coin. What do you immediately think? Take a Penny, Leave a Penny? Me too. Now lets throw in the added variable that you are in a foreign country and are aware that some customs are not the same. Fearing that perhaps it is a tip jar, you hold off utilizing this possible feature of the cashier for the time being.

My first day of work, my boss, Dave, took me to lunch down in the NATO cafeteria. Here you can get a pretty good lunch- soup, bread, fruit- for less than 2 Euros, add a salad and still get out for less than 3 Euros. When we went to pay for lunch we went through the line farthest to the right, as it is closest to where we picked up our food choices. Being new in a country, I found a level of comfort in routine and went back to the same cashier every day. Even when that line would be a little bit longer, I would wait. I liked that she knew that I didn’t speak French and rang my meal up pretty fast, as she knew what I was getting. So this routine went on for a while. That is until the “tip jar incident”, as it has come to be known as, occurred.

As stated, I felt a little unsure about what the purpose of this dish was. I had even described it to my boss, wondering what he would make of it. His response was, “I would think it’s a ‘take a penny, leave a penny’ dish.” But still, I waited. Then one day I was a few cents off, and instead of waiting for me to pull out more change the cashier reached down and grabbed the necessary 3 cents from the dish and used it to complete our transaction. Well, I thought my question had been definitively answered. She had used the dish in the customary ‘take a penny, leave a penny’ manner. Within a few days I was again short just a few cents. I timidly reached down to the jar, selected a two-cent and a one-cent coin to make up for my deficiency in funds, and handed them to the cashier. She took the coins without any indication that anything was awry. In the meantime I was also discussing the matter with Ryan, who is also from the U and is also interning at NATO and who I eat lunch with everyday. He too concluded after all the evidence that had been gathered that this dish was in-fact designated for the ‘take a penny, leave a penny’ system. Within a day or two I was back again to the same problem, I was three cents short (the salad is charged based on weight and so it is a different price everyday). This time I confidently reached down to the dish to retrieve the needed amount when I was shocked out of my confidence with a loud and abrupt voice.
Her: “No!” (with a French accent, sounding very offended)
Me: head shoots up, eyes huge
Her: “This is for ME!” (each word being spoken with sharp purpose)
Me: still staring in an embarrassed/shocked/paralyzed by panic way
Her: “One day, maybe two times, but not everyday” (sharp purpose continuing to be added to each word)
Me: (turning to Ryan who was behind me in line.) “Do you have 3 cents?” in a hushed and hurried voice.

Ryan quickly dug through his wallet and came up with the needed 3 cents. I handed it to her and quickly moved to the table area. I wouldn’t consider myself easily ruffled. But all I could think about in that moment was getting out of there. This woman had thought I was stealing from her, and she was incensed. She seemed to think that I understood fully what I was doing. I had quickly dismissed any notion of trying to explain to her what had happened, knowing that a smile, laugh, and a quick explanation would probably not make it through the language/cultural barrier. I could just imagine myself trying to explain. “You see, in the States, where I come from, when people put coins out, they want you to take them, and use them to buy their food. So that is why I stole, I mean borrowed, I mean used your coins.” By her immediate and sharp reply as soon as my fingers had touched the coins, I didn’t figure I would get much of that across. Plus, I was too startled/embarrassed/paralyzed by panic to make much of a defense.

I resolved to make amends for my offense by going back through her line the next day and giving her an extra 20-cent piece. I had even set aside one in my pocket as to make sure it was ready. I would go through the line, place it in the TIP JAR, move on without saying anything while keeping my head down, never to return. But the next day, coin in tow, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face the lady who had been so incensed thinking I had tried to steal from her. Then two, three, four days went by. Pretty soon they had replaced the cashiers with new ones. I thought my chance was gone. But a week latter she returned, for a few days. By then I had built up the muster. I went through her line, and triumphantly placed my 20-cent coin in her dish of coins, possibly even pulled off a smile, and put my head down, disappearing to the tables never to return again.

Grandpa Hansen

When I think of the measure of a man, my Grandpa Hansen comes to mind. Perhaps that is because he is a man to measure all else against. I did not know my grandfather very well when he was alive, but was convinced that I was his favorite, and perhaps only, grandchild every time I was in his presence. He would sit me down and in his booming voice ask how everything was going. He would tell me how great and wonderful it all was, and how pleased he was to hear it. He calls to mind the thought of men of former days, the type they don't make anymore. I often picture him the way he was in what is perhaps my favorite photograph. He is standing on the bank of a river, a younger man, having just caught dinner for his family. The fish are strung up on a line that extends the entire length of his great arm span. The line is so long, that in order to keep it up, he had to grab it in the middle with his teeth. He looks like the quintessential mountain man, standing triumphantly in his element. There is a mountain peak named after his father that I have climbed. I think a fitting place for my grandfather’s mountain would be the one next to it. The peaks stands tall and daunting in the midst of lesser ones that span as far as the eye can see. Anyone traveling there, especially anyone wishing to reach the summit, is taken aback at the shear mass of what stands before them. One of the most prized things I have received from my grandfather is my last name, Hansen. The Book of Mormon speaks of the importance of names, and how they are a remembrance of all that we can, and should be. I have always taken a sense of pride in my last name. To me in represents strength and a higher calling, and that is in no small part due to the man from whom it hails. I have much to do in order to live up to him and to honor my heritage. He is a true mountain of a man.

Madame Secretary

This morning I had the opportunity to go and see the Secretary of State speak at the European Parliament. Secretary Clinton was addressing youth from all over Europe. In my previous endeavors with hearing prominent politicians speak- as when I heard President Bush speak at CPAC when I was in Washington D.C. and woke up at about 3:30 in the morning- I thought I should get there early so that I could a. get in and b. get a good spot. The night before I looked on Google Maps to figure out where the European Parliament Headquarters is located. After some searching and asking around I realized that the EU Parliament building and the EU Commission are very different- a difference Google Maps fails to recognize- and I figured out where I would need to go. But as I have found out,- the hard way, yes. I promise to get to these tales in “Le Bus” when I finally post it- what you see on Google Maps and what things look like on the ground are very different. The “Ah, yes. I get off the Metro here, then I turn left at that building, and walk towards the park” often turns into “Oh wait, there are 17 exits from the Metro. There is a park over there, but there is one over there. Hmmm, maybe if I walk… nope. Now … which, um Metro stop did I walk out of?” Well of course this happened this morning. I instantly saw the building I didn’t want to go to directly in front of me at the end of the street I was standing on. I then walked a few blocks to my left, and saw the same building at the end of that street, which anomaly Google certainly hadn’t prepared me for. Fortunately for me, the EU is a pretty big deal here and I was able to ask directions without any real problems. But you didn’t come here to read about me getting lost, so I will skip the oddity that was getting my badge and get to the point.

Ryan, the other NATO intern from the U, and I made our way into where the event was to be held. On our way in we met a few girls who are also Americans who are interning for NATO HQ. There had been a few people in front of us, but the first few rows hadn’t been filled up yet. I suggested we sit in the second row right next to the isle. But Ryan pointed out 2 seats right up front. I agreed and we went up there. I was pretty excited. We were on the same side of the stage Secretary Clinton would be on. We stood up and got our pictures next to the stage, thinking it was pretty cool to be able to get that close. Then a guy came over to the two girls sitting next to us and asked them if they wanted to go up on stage and sit behind Secretary Clinton, and they of course were overjoyed at the idea. He then said in a general way that they were looking for people to go and sit behind her. I immediately said that I would like to and stood up and walked up there. Ryan and I positioned ourselves directly behind the chairs Secretary Clinton and the President of the EU would be sitting in, me being seated in the one that was closest to the chair she would eventually take.

We sat there for a while, all talking about how cool it was that we had been chosen- or chosen ourselves- to be up on stage and looked gleefully at all the jealous scowls coming from the audience. There were only 7 of us on our side and 7 others on the other side of the stage. A few minutes later I looked back and saw that one of the girls behind me was getting make-up put on her. I immediately thought, "Oh, she must be important if they are putting make-up on her."In short order I realized they were also coming for me. So the lady powdered my forehead and cheeks and then brushed them over. (I didn’t even realize until I got back to work that I actually had quite a bit of make-up on and that it was in my hair a bit.)
Secretary Clinton was running a bit late as she was talking to the President of the EU. Of course this meant a second round of make-up. Well in no time there she came from around the corner. I held up my camera on video mode, trying not to be too obvious. But when she made her way up onto stage and shook our hands, I turned it off. I was able to take quite a few photographs while I sat behind her, crossing my legs and doing my best to conceal the camera.She spoke for a few minutes about the direction of the EU/USA partnership and related issues and then took some questions from the audience. After about 45 minutes of her arrival she was off.

All of the Tri-Missions (NATO, Embassy, and EU) staff had been invited to a meet and greet later on at the Embassy, which was only a few short blocks away. As I had been there before, and had this time properly been prepared by Google, I made it there without any incident. We, of course, arrived there quite early. So again we were front and center. This time Secretary Clinton came in, walking right in front of us, and went up to the podium to make some short remarks. She thanked the US staff for all of their hard work and encouraged all of us to keep it up. Then she came down and shook some hands- #2 for me for the day- and took some pictures. From my review of my video records, she said it was nice to see me, and I replied that it was nice to see her. To be honest, until I watched the video I took with my camera, I wasn’t sure what, if anything, I had said. Then she was off to Geneva for a meeting that same night. How she did everything she did in one day I don’t know. I was busy and tired just following her to her 2 events that day, and she had 5 in between and was flying to another country that night to start it all over again.

I may not be the biggest fan of hers as a politician, but I think anyone can respect the Office. The Secretary of State does not make policy, they simply implement what the President mandates. Plus I think that we could use a good measure of goodwill around the world. And Secretary Clinton is like a rock star over here.

Ode to My Boss

Look left, pretend to understand what the person speaking is saying. Look right, pretend to understand the person responding. Laugh when everybody else laughs, hahahahaha. Blankly stare into the candle flame and daydream while everyone is caught up in their several conversations. Apparently all of those times of pretending to pay attention in large groups has translated over to conversations that don’t translate so well. Even when I was consciously thinking about it, I caught myself smiling when everyone else was laughing at something that had just been said. But this thing is good, no? My host family had two other couples and their daughter over for dinner tonight. They told me I didn’t have to join if I didn’t want to, as they would be speaking French all night. I said that I would like to. Most of the dinner group spoke fairly good English and I was able to have some brief conversations. But I enjoyed sitting there listening to them all speak in French. I think I understood the jest of their conversations, and may have even picked up a thing or two. Although, I don’t think their daughter speaks much French as she was doing what I was most of the night.

I thought it would be nice to give a little shout-out to my boss, Dave. Although he is unlikely to read this anytime soon, he has been a tremendous help in my stay here in Brussels so far. Arriving in a foreign country, getting settled in a new job, and recovering from jet lag are never easy, but can be aided by a nice person. And my boss is perhaps one of the nicest people ever. Here is a short list of some of the nice things he has done for me.

Arranged for someone to meet me when I stepped off the plane

Being at the airport when I arrived

Arranging a driver from the airport to NATO

Picking me up and dropping me off for my first few days of work

Taking me to his house for dinner several times

Lending me a towel (that’s a long story)

Bringing me laundry detergent to work in a water bottle

Leaving for Church early when he already has to be there an hour early to pick me up

Lending me money for my first month’s rent because I couldn’t exchange enough that week

Being patient as I ask the same questions again and again

Did I mention offering me an internship at NATO? 

Like I said, he isn’t likely to read this anytime soon, so I’m not just trying to brown nose the boss. Its great to meet genuinely nice people. He is perhaps the best boss I have ever had. He is giving me the lead on several projects and has been overtly nice and helpful my entire stay here. So here is to nice people and great bosses.

Might I add that my host family are also exceptionally nice people. Marianne bought 40 waffles the other day for me. She asked jokingly if I thought they would last 2, 3, or 4 days. I said hopefully more than 2. Marianne and Pierre are great people. I enjoy talking with them each evening when I arrive home from work and we sit down for dinner. They are very accommodating and have really made me feel at home.

As promised, the next post will tell the tales of Le Bus.

Local Cuisine.

Since I have been in Belgium I have not had a problem with buying things. As soon as someone has realized I only speak English they immediately switch over to accommodate. My interactions, while brief- I never want to push it past “how much?”, “that one”, or other short phrases- have not been too difficult or frustrating, but like I said I try to keep it short. While the people are nice enough to speak English for me, I can always see that twinge in their eye saying “Ah, an American who comes over here and expects us to speak his language, he should have learned some French.” Yesterday I went to the metro station to get my bus pass, but I apparently got there too late and they were out of numbers to get in line. So I left and planned on going back early the next morning. I began to think of this “twinge in the eye” and how I could avoid it. I thought maybe I could pretend to speak some other European language, like say German, or rather with a German accent. At least then I would be a fellow European and would be finding a common language that was secondary to us both. I began to picture this scenario with the saleslady I had seen at the bootik and this is what I was afraid would happen.

Saleslady: Bonjour

Me: Halo, how are you doing? (in my thickest German accent)

Saleslady: Ah, sprechen sie deutsch?

Me: (after a long awkward pause of blankly staring at her) G’day Mate!

 

Today I went on my first excursion into the heart of Brussels. It is an amazing city. One block is paved with old cobblestone streets and lined with homes that are centuries old, stacked one on top of the other, chimneys rising out of each one, and without a speck of daylight between them. The next block, or even the other side of the street, is paved with asphalt and lined with angular buildings all painted white with large windows and revolving doors. It is a spectacular sight indeed. I eventually made my way past the Belgian version of Le Arc De Triomph and into the center of the city, which today was filled with street vendors. I made my way around, enjoying the sights and sounds. The architecture here is really something. But the real story of the day, the real “something to write home about”, well that was food. Let me first tell of two items (masterpieces) I got from a bakery.

As soon as I pulled the first out of the bag I knew I was in for a surprise, it had looked soft and chewy, but it was crisp, without being crumbly. As I bit into this caramelized, heart shaped pastry I was immediately satisfied with my purchase. Even more than that, I was…well that one moment was worth the hours I had walked in the bitter, humid cold. If all of my walking and being cold had only produced that one moment, it would have been worth it. It was sweet and crunchy at the same time. It was not what I had expected but was better than anything I had thought it could be. I walked down the street, breaking bits of my pastry off and eating them, smiling until the last crumb. Next I pulled out the one that had appeared to be crunchy. It was a long, thinner bread with bits of chocolate in it. As I began to pull it apart I found that its golden brown crust was very thin and not crunchy at all, but soft and tasty. As I put it in my mouth, this moist, delicious morsel overwhelmed my taste buds. I had never known that bread could melt in your mouth. It was sweet, and doughy. By the time I finished both I was only a few blocks away from the bakery where I had bought them. I thought of returning for more, but I knew that part of their exquisiteness was that to me they were new, and novel. I didn’t want to ruin that by immediately returning for more to satiate my desire for their sweet, soft, crunchy deliciousness.  I have always liked bread, but this…well this is something else. In the true meaning- I can literally taste them now, hours later.

A few hours later I was heading home, but couldn’t allow myself to do so until I had tried what I had heard so much about, I REAL Belgian Waffle. I had been told that what Americans eat is not what the Belgians eat, and that is true. Why we eat the version we do, I will never know. The real version, the original, has no equal. This item I picked up from what appeared to be a sort of chain waffle place. I paid my Euro and 70 cents and walked away what was to be my first of many Belgian Waffles. I think from now on I will call the other stuff "American Waffles", or maybe even just “that bland crap you call a waffle”. While our waffle is made essentially from pancake batter, Belgian Waffles are doughy, caramelized, masterpieces (have I already used that term?). The outside glistens with a golden brown crust, caked in glaze. The crust is slightly crispy and the inside is soft and doughy (yes, made of actual yeast filled dough), and tastes better than anything that has ever crossed the Atlantic.

Now perhaps you think I have overplayed, overemphasized, my point. But you are wrong. Next up is chocolate. There are literally streets lined with gourmet chocolate shops. I’ve never been a huge fan of chocolate, but who could have ever thought a Belgian Waffle could be so good.

Getting Here.

For those of you who don’t know, Belgium is not so close to where I live. And accordingly it takes a while to get there. So instead of my usual routine of flying, which consists of packing hours before my flight and arriving just on time to walk onto the plane, often being one of the last people to get on the plane (which for Southwest can leave you with an isle seat since they somehow save money by not assigning seats. How that saves money I’ll never know- ink?) and arriving a few short hours later at my destination which is customarily somewhere in the West. But not this time. First off packing became a dilemma. I could only take so much stuff, two carry-on pieces and two checked bags weighing 50 pounds or less (which I have gotten very good at, having a number of bags coming in at exactly 50 pounds). As I had never been to Europe, I wasn’t too sure of what I would and would not need, and things here are more expensive, so I didn’t want to leave out anything important. So I spent hours going through everything, discarding tons of shirts, ties, and a suit, as I didn’t want to cut the 50 pound limit too close as I would like to have some leeway in bringing stuff back (you should get your orders in as soon as you can), but I had to be careful to take enough. Now, back to the aforementioned distance from California to Belgium. Most flights from the U.S. arrive in Belgium in the morning, Belgian time. This means a 6 am departure from California. And that means at 3:45 am departure from the house. So combine these two factors 1. Me packing and 2. Early departure and you get no sleep, at all.

I did have one moment of worry as I arrived at the airport. I bought my ticket on studentuniverse.com (which is a great website for cheap flights if you are a college student or a professor), which means that I didn’t have any interaction with the airline in my purchase. Well when I arrived at the US Airways ticket counter, there were only flights listed to Phoenix. Well I started to panic a little bit; I knew my first leg was to Denver. Initially I started to wonder if I was at the right airline, check- yup, US Airways. “Oh no, am I at the airport on the right day?” Check e-mail, yup, January 25^th. So I get up to the counter and slide my card. No surprise, “Your reservation cannot be found. Please try United.” Ah crap, did studentuniverse.com mess everything up? Well turns out they had contracted out the flight, but you can imagine my no sleep-worried about getting to Europe, state of mind. The only other incident at the airport was my flagging for extra-security. I guess when you buy a one-way ticket to a foreign country at the last minute it looks a little suspicious.

Needless to say, I slept the entire first leg of my journey to Denver, where I had perhaps my last American mushroom-Swiss burger for 4 months (mmmm….I can taste it now). Then I slept from Denver to Philadelphia, not even remembering passing out. In Philly I learned that the flight to Brussels had been delayed, by an hour and a half. Well that sent me into a bit of a panic as my host family was leaving for a 10 day trip a few hours after I arrived. I had gone through a bit of trouble to ensure that I would be there in time to meet them before they left. So I sent off an e-mail to my boss informing him of the change (he had arranged a driver to pick me up and had a schedule worked out for my arrival) and to my host family letting them know I would be late and to hopefully have a contingency plan ready. I clicked send and boarded my plane, knowing I wouldn’t’ be able to get their responses. I slept 5 of the 7 hours of this flight, which was greatly facilitated by the fact that I had an entire row to myself and could lie down.

Ever come off a plane and had a guy there waiting with a sign that has your name on it? Well now I have. The Embassy had a guy waiting for me, which instantly abated any fears of my wandering around the streets of Belgium searching for NATO or for a big white house in Kraainem. Needless to say everything from there went smoothly. My boss and driver were outside customs waiting for me and drove me over to NATO. My first impressions were that it looked much like I thought it would. When we were coming in for landing I noticed that there would be clumps of houses, then vast areas of country with only a few houses sparsely scattered about. There is no urban sprawl here. And the houses and the general architecture were generally what I had expected. It is very beautiful here, but has been very foggy and overcast most of the time I have been here. It is also cold, very cold. I knew this before I came and expected to be prepared for it. I have lived in Utah for over 4 years and survived 2 Canadian winters. But Belgium has something that neither of those places has, humidity. And it certainly makes a difference.

My host family is very nice, Marianne and Pierre. They speak good English, but would like to improve. So we made a deal that they would help me learn some French and I would help them to improve their English. As I said before, they left shortly after I arrived here. They have a house in Southern France and have gone there for 10 days to escape the cold.

Well this post has gone on long enough, but I have just begun. Some things for next time… making breakfast when you can’t read anything is harder than you think, riding the bus when you can’t read anything or communicate with anyone is also harder than you think (and leads to wandering around from bus stop to bus stop trying to figure out where you are), and some other comical adventures, most involving language and customs barriers.

I have enjoyed every minute of my time here and my internship is going great. I have already learned a lot and look forward to some rewarding projects.

I Have Arrived!

Well it has been several months since I updated this thing. I was waiting for everything to fall into place before I started writing about my internship, and that seemed to take a while. Then when it all the ducks started to get blown out of the sky, well they all came down at once. So here I am, in Brussels at 3:40 am wishing I had gone back to sleep when I woke up- the time change can be a difficult thing. But I have heard that it is more difficult to come this way than to come back. For those of you who don’t know, I am currently in Brussels, Belgium doing an internship for the US Mission to NATO in the office of Civilian Emergency Planning, which is under FEMA (I have learned too many acronyms in the past 2 days I think my head might explode). As of two weeks ago I still didn’t have my interim security clearance because my fingerprints had not yet arrived at NATO (they took 4 weeks to get there). Once my security clearance went through I immediately contacted the housing coordinator and requested a place ASAP. They had a house set up for me pretty quick, and within a week of getting my security clearance I had bought a plane ticket and was packing for Brussels. So here I am now in my room in Kraainem, which is just outside Brussels, wishing I had fallen back asleep sooner. Well I wanted to let everyone know that I had arrived safely. I also wanted to get the ball rolling with this blog. So I will post more about my trip and my first few days at work later. But for now it’s off to get a few more hours of sleep before my first full day of work, the past 2 have been full of traveling around and signing documents and getting security badges and the what not.