A Constant in a World of Turmoil

by Anabelle Moreira (United States of America)

Making a local connection Belgium

I was seating once again in a bathroom stall. It was the first week of September and Belgium was already showing me its grays. As I walked into the school bathroom, I felt the drops of rain down my curls. Walking against a cold wind that screamed I didn’t belong there, I felt chills down my spine, my body knew this wasn’t my place. Nobody seemed to notice me. I sat in the stall and started eating my Nutella sandwich. I questioned my motives for being 7,350 km away from my tropical paradise while I daydreamed about palm trees and coconut water. “Welcome to your year abroad” – I thought to myself – “How did you ever think you would make a friend so far away from home?” – I ended my self-beating rant while unable to stop the moisture coming down my cheeks. There was I, bound to the Belgian city of Roeselare for a whole year. I finished my sandwich and pretended I flushed the toilet by the end of recess. I then went towards my classroom, carefully observing if someone had noticed my little refuge. The rain had picked up during my self-inflicted exile and I was completely soaked by the time I reached my bench. Class started in this unfamiliar language I struggled to comprehend. A full month hadn’t been enough to grasp the complexity of these sounds. I opted out for writing in my own language and dream about running away while I still could. Belgium was a mysterious land for me. With only 30,689 km², it held 3 ethnic groups, Flemish speaking, French speaking, and German speaking. I was placed in the culture-rich Flanders, where cities such as Bruges and Gent impose their majestic medieval history. I found solace getting lost in the intertwining streets while eating pannekoeken (Belgian pancakes), waffles, frietjes (fries), chocolate, or drinking cherry beer. Discovering Belgium became my favorite pastime. I started enjoying the long walks among the canals and through the cobblestone streets. I discovered the wonders of a country that I ignored before setting foot at Brussels Airport. That cloudy September day, something changed. A girl, who I had completely overlooked, approached me. It was a cold Thursday afternoon. As I picked up my bike to ride home, I felt my fingers cold as ice. She was pale white, long dark hair that anyone would have envied back home. Her nervous but friendly smile warmed my heart. “Hi Anabelle”- she mused nervously – “How are you liking Belgium? Do you miss home?” My first though was to lie, to tell her the rehearsed speech I had prepared for every time someone asked this question. I don’t know what prompted me, but without noticing I poured out my deepest secret: “I’m not sure why I’m here” – I replied – “ I miss home, I miss my friends, and the weather is too gloomy for my liking. Other than that, I love the food” I finished off ashamed, like I was confessing the worst of the crimes. She smiled gently as she nodded. “I can understand that. Our classmates can be a harsh crowd. I was originally in another class, but I missed a year. My friends are still in the old classroom, you are welcome to join us” she said as she gave me the smile of an accomplice. Here she was a Belgian teenager, with who I had something in common. Next day I find a card and a gift on top of my bench. “Happy Birthday” - it read – “this might not be home, but you have a new friend”. I felt my heart pounding as I looked around to find Hanne smiling at me. How on earth did she know it was my birthday? From that day on the Belgian grays didn’t matter. I fell in love with the country I had overlooked, and I gained new friends that were totally different from me. That bathroom stall thought me strength and perseverance. At the end of the day we are all the same, we are just culturally different but that makes our relationships rewarding. I haven’t seen Hanne since my year abroad, but she was my constant in a world of turmoil.