jumbled

Today was a normal day. Nothing new, nothing exciting.
Just a normal day at school.

I find myself talking all day long. Yes, yes, Emma and I generally socialize with each other in English, so my conversations with her don't count. I also often talk to Eduardo, the exchange student from Mexico, in English. Although, I often forget that his primary language in Spanish, and he is not fluent in English, so I'm almost positive that he can't understand half of the things I say. He always smiles and laughs though, so at least I think I'm having a legitimate conversation with someone.

The students at my school for the most part speak in French with me.

Yesterday during my English class we had a Belgian boy talk to us who spent the last year in Finland as an exchange student. He told all of the other students in my class that they HAD to speak with us in French all of the time. He said it wasn't until he went to Finland and was trying to teach French to other people that he realized just how complicated the French language is.  He gave the advice that I have known all along; speak French as much as possible. And the majority of the time, I have been.

Sure, there is the occasional Belgian person (ahem ahem, Mathieu, I know you're reading this) that refuses to speak French with me, because they believe their English is better than my French, and anyway when I speak French "I. Sound. Like. A. Computer". But for the most part, people have been very helpful with speaking to me in French, and correcting me when I make a mistake.

And in all honesty, I truly appreciate all of the help I have been receiving.

But tonight, I wonder... what is it that motivated me to do this? To pack up my life in a suitcase and travel across the world, to a country I had never been to, without knowing a single person, speaking a language I had not even close to mastered. What desire was I trying to stifle, what craving was I trying to feed?

Of course, I have wanted to learn French since I went to Concordia Language Villages when I was little.
Summer camp, Lac du Bois. How much I loved it. I got to go away for two weeks, and during those two weeks, I was a completely new person. I had new friends, new activities, new sights, new fun, a completely new language.  I loved it. The new, the exciting, the unfamiliar.

And in Belgium, I am experiencing a similar thing.

Of course, I haven't changed much at all. In America I was loud, I was fun, I was a good listener, I was sensitive, I was thoughtful. In Belgium, I'm still loud. I'm still fun. I'm an even better listener, as I'm always straining to comprehend everything the person is saying. I'm still sensitive, perhaps even more so. And in Belgium, I'm still thoughtful. I find myself trapped inside my thoughts very often; thoughts that are a mixture of French and English words, pictures, as well as sounds.

But in Belgium, I am new, I am exciting. I am American.  And you'd be surprised how often I receive the same stereotypes.

"Do you eat McDonald's every day?'

"Is your life like high school musical?"

"Do you have pom pom girls at your school?"

No, I hardly ever eat McDonald's. No, it is not normal that people randomly break out in song and choreographed dance during the middle of lunch. Yes, we have pom pom girls, but it's nothing like you see in the movies.

America is notorious throughout the world. Whether good, or bad, everyone here has an opinion about us. In my history class, we probably talk about the United States more often that we discuss Belgium. And it really makes me take a second glance at the school system in America. How many times did we talk about Belgium in school? Maybe ten, tops. How many people at my school know where Belgium is? Probably half. How many people asked me if they speak "Belgian" in Belgium? A good 40% of the people I talked to before I left. It's just funny. Yes, we are the United States. Yes, in Belgium (as well as France, Spain, and a large chunk of the other countries throughout the world) the teenagers listen to more American music than they do French music; they watch more American movies and television than they do Belgian. And this could be expected.

I'm not saying American's are ignorant. It's just interesting to see how big of an impact my country has on the rest of the world. And how much of an impact it has had on me.

I love America. I am proud of my country. At a rotary meeting a few weeks back, another American sang the national anthem and I almost started crying in front of everyone. I don't think we're a perfect country, and of course we have many flaws. But overall, we are an amazing place to live, with opportunities and chances. And I like that.

Belgium is a very different country than the United States. There is a king here. The country has an ongoing battle between the Flemish and the French.

Before I came here I read that the country was 98% urbanized. I must have found this fact on a bogus website, because all I can see for miles and miles is country and farms.

I like it though. It's beautiful. And just like the United States, it has it's flaws.

But every day it is growing on me.

today I appreciate: endorphins