Reinstalling life - version 2.2.

2.2. Not a chapter number from a school manual, although it could be. Indeed, it starts a brand new one in some particular book. In my life’s one – with big lessons to learn.

I owe you some explanation about numbers and 2s, as promised in a previous post. (Apologies to my Hungarian readers for writing in English this time, but it saves some precious time to redirect my international friends to the very same webpage as opposed to writing everything in 3 different languages.)

2.2. is the date when I left behind the green fields, the dark Guinness and the grey clouds. The day when I flew out from that little island that gave me so much, bringing both pain and joy to my life throughout the last 4 years. It marked numerous pages in that Book and also deep in myself.

Ireland, in my view, is one of the best places in Europe for all kinds of artists, for people wanting to escape the reality of the cruel loud world out there to find some peaceful and quiet shelter and look into their own often troubled mind. All I am writing here makes probably no sense (i.e. nonsense) to all the Irish who have never left their beautiful and laid back country (so can’t compare), neither to others who have never been around there.

Ireland has much to offer – but it took me time to notice its well hidden treasure under layers of superficial networking, extra short skirts, litres of beer and rain, thousands of pubs and foreigners, dozens of rugby matches and tons of sheep. It took me time to see more into this controversial country (with their Haunting Great Famine, their Dead Celtic Tiger, and somehow lost identity in that big Anglo-American Ocean), also because I was stuck in my own troubled past. I was desperately trying to rewind my timeline and to replay my carefree childhood instead of opening my eyes and heart to welcome all the change of this wild world. As we know, change is scary. We know what we loose without having a clue what we may gain.

Of course, I lost much and gained much and I’ll just never be the same – as much as Ireland will never be the same for me either. It is somehow part of me now. It helped me to grow up and also to explore hidden places and get to know someone inside-out. Myself. Ireland is a natural beauty of magic sunsets, rainbow skies, eternal hopes for a beam of sunlight, strong team spirit, genuine friendliness, and much of trust and laughter, with many talented musicians.

No doubt, but it was just too late for me to press ‘reinstall and reset’, as I was already gone somewhere else in my mind. I am sure I’ll return some day, as a tourist at least, to escape the civilized and over-regulated craziness of Continental Europe.

In fact, deep inside of me I must admit, we were never compatible, not for the long term at least. It was more like a fall-in / fall out relationship, a with or without you problem and one must realize, no matter how hard, that this can’t go on forever. Even if it means pressing Alt+Ctrl+Delete and restart again. Sometimes that’s the only way in life to get things in order and working again.

Yes, sometimes we should all clean our virtual memory, archive useful data, save important connections, reorganize our personal database, redefine our tasks, reset our goals and reschedule our diary. To sum it up: create a big mess to see what remains after. All that resists the storm is strong enough to persist with time. Like my friends who are still there for me after 4 years in spite of the mere 2000 km between us. Like my family. Like some special memories.

“Sometimes we need to get lost to find ourselves”.

So here I am. Lost again. Not in translation. Only in Brussels. Getting closer to one home and more distant from another. Stuck between two worlds in order to create world 3.0. How many homes one person can bear?

As much as the heart lets in.

Home is where your heart is. Your family lives. Your friends are. Where you can share love, where you are loved. Where you feel good. Where you just want to stay no matter what and regardless how long. Home is a temporary shelter, a reassuring smile, a caring hand, a touching word, a loving heart. An adventure, a comfort zone, a place to go back to anytime we leave.

02.02 is the date when I reset the counters and started a new era, keeping everything that deserves to be kept and letting in all the new impressions that may be worth to be lived.

02.02 in fact started back in 12.10.12, last October when I spent a pre-reveal weekend in Brussels to see how we could connect. We could rather easily – compared to Dublin. It was then followed by 12.01.13 when I spent a full week there to collect the first impressions of my new home. Home was then room #221 on the 2^nd floor for a week. Then came 02.02.13 turning the pages, closing the green Irish chapter and starting something new. Something that I can still paint in any colour - if I am creative enough.

So as an in medias res / start, two days ago I crashed my brand new car while trying to get out from the not that brand new garage of my nearly brand new home at No.42. Somewhere in the heart of Brussels. (By the way, my flat is on floor #2). Pretty annoying. It happened on a Monday morning, early enough especially as per GMT, so I could have an excuse. A bad one though. I also have an excuse as road conditions were icy enough and the slope down to the garage is built in a rough 45 degree angle, plus is just wide enough for an old Twingo. Me driving there a bigger car, with a probably smaller engine. We could not find a breakeven point to break through that morning, not even at 3rd attempt – so me, not that invincible -, just slipped back into the unwelcoming darkness of the cold garage, leaving some blue marks on the wall and some white on the car. Embarrassing. Great start for a new life.

Then God had pity on me and sent someone to save the day and the car. He was actually 100% human – and also Hungarian. As I discovered it after 15 minutes of English conversation. Life is amusing. Surprising. Unpredictable. A brand new neighbour of mine.

It was pretty much the 1^st positive local impression since my arrival here after so many disappointing and discouraging experience with people who only wanted my money: agents, liars, taxi drivers, beggars and real-life businessmen. No trust and no friendship in business – I learnt this for a lifetime. Business is all about money. Is Brussels all about money? ...my life is not for sale.

Anyway, after weeks spent on immoweb.be, countless calls, dozens of viewings and some sleepless nights, I found THE place to live. A dream.

Then I moved in.

And woke up.

Have you seen the old movie featuring Tom Hanks when he buys an old house for a fortune that actually falls into little pieces from Day #1 as he and his wife move in? I remember it every day here – fortunately the situation is not that bad. Building is still standing - in a very nice, central area of Brussels, main reason of my choice – only little annoying things give a bittersweet taste to this just-got -ready cake.

A bit windy bedroom, a bit old bath tube, some falling wooden windows that do not open and some others that do not close… Missing painting, broken tiles, curtains in urgent need of a big cleaning, spare bed’s cover of a full wash and overall, everything of a slight makeover. I am sharing the flat with a big spider just above my bed, walking in and out through a big hole close to the ceiling. Luckily I can’t really see him as some light bulbs are also missing or defective.

Anyway, all is fine, thanks for asking. My 2^nd good impression was Mr Maes, “ezermester” as we call these DIY masters in Hungarian who popped in last Monday, (yes, the very same Monday), and fixed the tap and the shower head in the bathroom and sorted some minor technical issues. Another angel. May be the next Pope. He invoiced the agency for his good deed.

Me, I only paid for an industrial giant hover (in cash, as Aldi here would not take cards for payment, nor the local cinema!) that actually does not clean by water as I originally thought - considering size and weight - but hovers it. Good when you’re flooded. Hopefully does not happen on a weekly basis. Because I wanna get rid of it urgently! Some improvement urgently needed to my French vocabulary too. Pictures not always being expressive enough as example proves. Anyone in search of such a nearly new (once used) device, please send me contact details and will get it for very little.
Another failure of my cleaning weekend was the folding couch I meant to clean. Well, always check the label before you wash anything. If there’s no label, then don’t experiment by washing machines. At least not at 60 degrees. No God will fit that cover onto that matelas again. We were fighting for an hour or so, but I lost the battle before it actually started. As if trying to push back toothpaste into its tube… or something similar. I may need a new one… or an oversized bed sheet to hide the damage done.

Important, because the original state of the apartment was recorded in details when I signed in, so I must be careful with these little mistakes. An independent “expert”, billing 300 EUR for an hour – I just found a new vocation ! – took pictures of each detail, existing mark, crack, scratch and other damage and will write a few page-report in a few month time to underline with words what pictures can’t tell so that it can be compared to the future state of the same place when moment comes to leave. And then agency can keep your deposit. Good business for all – but you.

Me, my flat and my little spider :)

To enhance my comfort feeling, I decided to visit Ikea on a sunny Sunday afternoon –when it was actually open, because of the school holidays I guess. (Otherwise all is closed here on Sundays… and many shops also on Mondays. That’s the price to pay for weekend shopping. Remember this is only the Capital of Europe, not a big city.) The idea must have been brilliant as half of Brussels got the same. After half an hour stand still Qing by the motorway’s corresponding exit, I decided to recalculate my itinerary and instead of the Swedish furniture shop I visited the symbol of Brussels and its exhibitions which are actually rather interesting if you are into architecture and art nouveau. Of course, I had to Q a unnoticeable 10-15 minutes, but I was delighted to have made that last minute itinerary change. The Atomium is a reminder a short glorious past in Europe’s history… long gone by now. It is definitely worth a visit…maybe not 11 euro but after all, I live here. There’s also a tiny forest in the surroundings – but get dressed, it is winter here!

 Mini Europe in the European Capital

 

What’s next? Well, a few other Qings at a few places. Just to have the legal right to stay.

Already started - still nothing sorted yet. I queued at the “commune” (sort of city hall) here and there some hours in order to be registered as Belgian resident (not citizen) but after 3 attempts in various offices (as official websites talk about everything but the important things you would really need to know like opening hours, papers to bring, process to follow, etc) I only got to a point where the Police (!!!) will come to my declared address some day at some time in the coming months, regardless if I am there or not, and will leave there a paper (provided that the agency figures out before which is my door bell and mailbox) with a date and place of an other appointment when I may eventually get to see someone else at some other office and fill in some other papers, so then a few weeks after I can go back to Q again at office #1 and get a notification indicating when I can go and Q and collect my ID card at office #2. (PPS number I miss you!) With this then I can go and Q somewhere else again to be registered as a legal resident and then another day at some other window I may ask for a parking permit also to eventually not to be fined every night when I am parked in front of my own building where I currently unofficially live. In 2014 maybe. Uhhh. Fortunately I have a private garage. Unfortunately it’s winter – and the exit is icy and steep. Back to the beginning.

But as we know, no beginning is easy on this Earth. Let’s start with how we got here… However, as long as you are loved and supported by people close to you, no matter how far they are, it is manageable. I am alive, so no bureaucracy can prevent me from being also happy. I am confident enough that in a few months time I will legally exist in Brussels. What is a few month time on our timeline? Peanuts.

After then, you can also come and check me out here without any risks and with some peanuts and beer :)