As the train pulls out Brussels we pass the green farmer’s fields and are relieved to see a blue sky and sun. Belgium’s weather can make or break your day, sunny weather can make it perfect while the worst rain can make any day outside seem like torture. Unfortunately as we approach Bruges it starts to get noticeably greyer. Bruges (or Brugge in native Flemish) used to be a port town and a commercial centre for the lowlands during medieval ages. However silting resulted in the town losing access to the sea. The city once received merchant fleets from Italy’s Genoa, but as it was cut off it was slowly abandoned. The atmosphere of the city led to it being called “Bruges-la-Morte” (Bruge the dead). Luckily however this resulted in a form of stunted development where the city retained a great deal of its medieval charm and has since been re-founded as a sort of tourist attraction. The popularity of the city has created an industry that maybe makes the city seem a tad fake (aka the abundance of horse carriages) but its still one of the prettiest cities I’ve seen. The title “Venice of the North” might be a bit much, but the canals and streets certainly make it much nicer than Amsterdam, which is actually a little rotted.
Its freezing, and my coat is at the dry cleaners so I’ve got a spring jacket one. It’s a typical Sunday in Belgium which means almost everything is closed. Lucky for us there are two shops open selling some clothes still under their post-holiday sales. We’re shopping in the stores when it starts to pour rain. I buy a scarfe and a jumper, Tatevik gets a jumper too. When we go outside the rain has stopped and there’s a blue sky overhead. But as we look around we notice the blue is actually a patch among dark black clouds. The weather decides to be schizophrenic, rain, sun, rain and sun, hail, wind, sun, etc etc.
are closed until then. However just a bit further down there is another cosy bar where we take a seat and warm ourselves. I order a Kwak, which is a beer served in a very distinctive glass, a ball at the bottom with a narrow neck and a wide mouth. Because the glass cannot be rested on a table, it is served in a wooden cup holder. The shape of the glass means that as you drink the beer the vacuum created in the bottom ball sucks the head back, meaning you can drink the beer even with 2 inches of foam on top. On Wikipedia I read the theory that the glass was designed for horse carriage drivers…makes sense… 
Notice the upward trend? The most noticeable is senior military men. With few exceptions they all "look" and "talk" like the leaders from Hollywood. They are tall with a full head of slightly greying hair, they have deep voices and sharp features. Of course this doesn't affect his abilities at all. But when you have to trust the judgement of someone you don't even know, what else do you have to rely on?Jarek takes a moment to apologize for Martin while we walk back, of course he certainly doesn't have to, and I guess neither does Martin (though from a purely management point of view my job satisfaction went to about 0 that day). I understand, it just sucks is all.
Built for the 1958 World's Fair, Atomium has been called the "Eiffel Tower of Brussels". The comparison is accurate to the extent that both were temporary structures that were only intended to last a few months, both of them became popular tourist attractions, and consequently both of them are now overpriced traps.
After spending so long in the line we walk around and take a quick look at the view before sitting down in their funky 1970's lounge. The stairs from the top ball are closed so we have to queue to take the lift back down. In the line we run into Andy and that Hungarian fellow (I'm crap with names) from NATO. The middle ball contains a gelato vendor, oooooh. We walk down to another sphere, it has a neat glow-in the dark display, but that's about the most exciting thing. The remaining spheres contain mostly old barbie dolls, old photos and movies. The rest is closed off because of maintenance work.
My favourite lesson from 1st year psychology was the one about “cognitive dissonance”, which means the incompatibility between 2 cognitions. Basically the tensions that exist between 2 opposing thoughts. In psychology the term can also refer to the driving force of the mind to change or harmonize our ideas to eliminate cognitive dissonance. An experiment to demonstrate this involved 2 neighbourhoods, one was left alone while the other had someone go door to door asking people to sign a very vague petition supporting the environment. People seldom dispute the environment as a good thing worth supporting and the personal cost of signing a petition is about nil so it was very successful. Two weeks later campaigners went to both neighbourhoods asking if they could install huge ugly signs on their lawns for an environmental campaign. In the untouched neighbourhood most people refused, as the benefit to the environment from ugly lawn signs is small but the personal cost of having to see them every time you come home is great. In the 2nd neighbourhood the campaigner would say “Hello, we got your name from a list of supporters of the environment who signed a petition and were wondering if you would...” These homeowners suddenly experienced cognitive dissonance, they might actually have been apathetic about the environment but such a self-image was at tension with the fact that they had signed the petition. Now when confronted by someone who externally identified them as “environmentalists” the rest of their thoughts were forced to harmonize with that image. Maybe the sign isn’t that ugly, maybe it really will help the cause, maybe its my duty to have an ugly lawn sign, etc. The result is that when compared to the control group, there was a very significant increase in the number of people willing to install the signs.
We’re at the bottom of Versant Nord and I’ve got all my gear, well almost. Actually I’ve got no tuque, boots, or wrist guards. The first is easily remedied, I try to do 1 run with nothing but the icy air starts to freeze my brain and I cave into an overpriced red Oakley hat from the ski-shop. The boots are sitting back in our rented condo, so for today I rent a nice pair of Burtons. But the wrist guards pose a problem. The ski shop doesn’t sell em. Of course I don’t need the wrist-guards to ski and will probably be just fine without them…but the last time I said that was in February 05 when I went to Whistler and veered off an icy run into a stream, smashing my wrist into hundreds of pieces. Now I’ve got a metal structure holding it all together, kinda like the steel frame of a building, all hidden below a few scars that have yet to go white. I haven’t been on a snowboard since then.
Statistically most accidents happen at the end of the day. My buddy Paul once told me that the sign that you were done skiing was when you used the words “last run”. Rather than actually taking one more run, when he found himself saying “one more run” he knew that he ought to quit and get a beer. The reasons are quite simple, after skiing for 6 hours of icy weather your body begins to feel exhausted and remembers the ungodly early hour you had to wake up at. Maybe that hangover from the night before finally kicks in. Or in my case, the rotten sleep because of jet lag. Your legs feel rubbery and aren’t as responsive, and you lazily let yourself slide. The mind also slows, you don’t notice the grooves in the snow, the presence of people around you. You don’t react fast enough. Everyone else is like this too, meaning that the run is now an obstacle course filled with other tired skiers who are little more than projectiles. Finally, and this is particular to the time of year, it darkens even around 3. The shadows across the snow can play tricks on the mind and it suddenly becomes difficult to tell if you’ve got powder underneath or a sheet of ice. I’ve only had a few bad accidents, and almost all of them have happened on the “last run”.
to shut down. There is a big blue sky above us and the moon is a pale white. We can see over the brown mountain range of the Laurentians. It’s the last day and we all wish we could ski more. If we haul ass to the bottom we might catch the last chair up for a “last run”…but I instantly know why that’s a mistake. Instead we savour the run taking it slow and making big S’s in the empty lane. Last time we were here I was always the fastest one down, leaving everyone else in my tracks. Now I'm 2nd slowest, only slightly faster than Caitlin who crawls ahead, too chicken to risk the speed. Sarah and Tim have been leading the pack, but Tim finally still slips on the ice and takes his only dive of the trip, scooping up a bunch of ice down his bum. So the curse of the last run strikes again, but an icy bum now and then never hurt anybody.
When I was 6 years old I got on a plane for the first time in my life to go to Disney Land in Florida. About 4 months later my parents were divorced and my mum had moved to Montreal and I was taking the plane every few weeks. Even then I somehow knew I looked a little pathetic taking my 4 year old brother by the hand into the airport with a little suitcase in tow. Flying back in those days was at least a somewhat civil experience. Today modern flying is constituted by part cattle farm, part prison, part Kafka novel. This adventure starts at Brussels airport, probably the most inept airport I’ve ever been to. I was there only one week prior for a flight to London, and now that it’s Christmas its thrice as bad. Tatevik and I barely catch the airport bus, and only because it is stalled by the huge volume of people lining up for it to get to the airport. While in the queue we stand next to two Frenchmen who almost break into a fist fight while trying to get on. We get to the airport with almost 2 hours until the flight but quickly realize that its gonna be a bit of a crunch. The check in line alone snakes far down the terminal. I bought the ticket with Air Canada but they don’t fly to Brussels, so I have to take a connection to Brussels with their “partner”, BMI which is basically a cheapo charter which sells tickets for as little as 10 euros but with absolutely no frills.
