Anticipation and Expectations

Warning, this is another lame post. After yesterday's post, I was hoping I'd get to write a positive, glowing post revealing some details after that somewhat vague write-up. But no. Instead, I'm back in limbo for another month.

There is really no other way to put it but I'm sad. I'm not sure why or where I came up with the notion that I'd have an answer today, but that didn't happen. Without going into too many details, I think I'm mainly let down by my expectations. That's what is leaving my bummed on the day. Overall, the day went fine...possibly even went positive. And I haven't been deported. I just wanted some answers and a little resolve after all the worrying and stressing I've been going through.

So instead, I regroup. Resilience is one of my fortes. I'll put my head down, get some work done tomorrow even though it's Saturday (apologies to all those unanswered emails today...) and maybe take it a little easy after playing entertainer for the week. A calm, quiet weekend at home sounds luxurious and restorative.

 I'll be back tomorrow. With a little more spark and joie de vivre, I promise. I know I've got it pretty good with this life I lead......

Tomorrow: March 10th

Tomorrow is an incredibly important day for my life, my career, sort of my everything. The date has been looming for nearly three months and a lot of things come down to a decision. This has nothing to do with my team nor my employer. More the country I live in.

Basically, send me super good wishes and warm thoughts from tonight through tomorrow afternoon Euro time. Hopefully, I'll have a joyful and gleeful post tomorrow evening that'll be a bit more informative. 

The Night I ate Potato Chips for Dinner and Other Musings

It's been that kind of week. It's actually been that kind of month but for two weeks of it, I was at training camp in a nice hotel where there was a healthy, tasty buffet with a good variety of foods and someone to give me fresh laundry and clean towels every day. Having someone else handle all the basic necessities in life meant I could handle working all day and still smoothly flow through the day.

It's a bit pathetic, but I never went to the grocery store this week. I have worked 12-15 days and I just didn't have the time nor the effort. If I was going to have a little bit of free time, I was either working out or wanted to have some normal, social time.  (I got to grab a movie this week and it felt amazing to just go sit in a theatre. So normal!)

• Tuesday night: Deliveroo from a Korean place. Bibimbap and rice with kimchi. It was good but cost more than I thought it deserved. But super fresh and if I didn't care about price, a win.
• Wednesday night: Frozen "carrot noodle" soup buried in the depths of the freezer. Also sustained me over lunches. Eggs of served as breakfast. I was smart enough to grab a dozen of fresh ones when I got home.
• Thursday night: a 1/2 a bag of Walker's Deli Modena balsamic potato chips. I loved them and I'm a little ashamed of that. I did sneak in some (defrosted) frozen peas as I headed to bed because otherwise, life seemed to be going off the rails.
• Friday night: Takeout from Le Botaniste. I learned my lesson from the overpriced Korean place and could use the extra steps, so I decided to walk and get take out. It was heavenly. Organic. Vegan. Gluten-free. And I have a few leftovers for tomorrow's lunch.

It was a crazy week. And the start of many crazy weeks. Probably six months worth of crazy weeks. I decided on Tuesday that if I am going to handle this, I need to outsource the things I can. Someone else might need to cook my food, (still in a healthy way) and that's one option that I can choose to relieve some stress. Maybe my next month will be a maid? 

2016 Reflections

My life has changed so drastically over the past six years. In December 2010, I was taking injectable hormones in an on-going attempt to get pregnant. I had found out midyear that I was infertile and by New Year's, I was on my last round of hormones. Everything was a total and complete failure and my body failed to respond to any of the drugs. The doctors told me I couldn't bear children. Got to love autoimmune issues....

At the time, it was devastating. I was completely lost and I had no idea what my future or even dreams looked like anymore. I was so lonely throughout this process. At the time, what felt like such a tragedy was actually simply a fork in the road. I had two paths: keep fighting for that dream or create a life that made me happy in a different way. I decided to quit fighting. I threw my hands up and basically started blindly following my passions. If something made me happy, I kept moving towards that. There were definite moments of devasting heartbreak but I knew that life wasn't for me. And the road towards this life of greater content and happiness was really that simple--focusing on the things that made me happy.

Each year since 2010, I've looked forward to the next year and thought, "This will be my best year yet." And I'd end each year thinking, "almost..." or "next year will be the year." Looking back on 2016, I can honestly say it's been my best year since my life took such a major change in direction. It wasn't always easy, but it is turning out pretty great.

Things I learned, relearned or built upon

• Trust your intuition.
• Allow minor fails for major gains.
• Focus on flow. Make decisions based on flow and intuition. Everything doesn't need to be an uphill battle.
• Behaviors and actions mean more than words, comments or statements. 
• Appreciate the calm, quiet times. Remember to recover.
• Patience is crucial. Everything doesn't need to be fixed, healed or figured out immediately.
• Life ebbs and flows. 

Goals for 2017

• Continue following and building upon the lessons learned in 2016.
• Push myself personally and professionally when it comes to decision-making, processes, and efficiency.
• Achieve a greater level of calmness, particularly in stressful or emotional situations.
• Keep appreciating living abroad and this crazy life in Belgium. I have no idea how long it'll last.
• Cherish those amazing relationships in life that are built upon love, trust and respect. Make sure they all know how important they are to me.

Day in the Life: Christmas Edition

I don't think I remember how different Christmas Day is for me in Belgium until it happens. As a kid, I grew up with the super traditional Christmas where everyone went into the living room together, opened gifts and ate breakfast. Now that I have nieces and nephews, the tradition continues with the big difference now that I do it with a mimosa in hand. Yet my last American Christmas was five years ago. 

In Belgium, it is very different, very quiet. That doesn't mean I don't enjoy it. I love where I am in life right now and I appreciate these moments. Yet, glancing through everyone's Instagram stories and seeing American Christmas, I felt nostalgic. Every year, the quietness catches me off-guard and makes me miss spending time with my bigger family. 

Here is a glimpse at my expat Christmas:

1am: A nice walk home from Christmas Eve dinner at Carte Blanche. We left around 12:30am and stepped outside into a fairly warm Belgian evening. We walked the long way home along the canal to check out the boats. Then crawled into bed full, happy, and content. 

8am: Woke up and remembered it was Christmas morning. My bed was so warm and cozy so I decided to doze a little longer.

9am: Spent awhile in bed catching up on instagram and Facebook and reading through Flipboard. 

10am: Tried talking the roommate into bringing me coffee in bed. Total failure. That guy can sleep so late, it's almost impressive.

10:30am: Major Christmas fail! Went out to make coffees and learned we only had one pod for the coffee machine and were totally out of milk. It was comical and sad all at the same time. So instead I made a little Christmas breakfast. Neither of us were super hungry yet, so a few eggs and fresh fruit. But to make the eggs special, I cooked them in a little foie gras. Amazing.

1:30pm: After some lazy TV time, we bundled up and headed outside. What was supposed to be a little stroll turned into a nearly 15km hike around town. 

3:00pm: Before returning home, we swung by the neighborhood kerstmis chalet and grabbed two little glühweins to warm up and celebrate the day.

3:30pm: I took a nice long bath followed by a 30-minute nap. It felt so incredibly luxurious. 

5:30pm: A little pre-dinner spread of pate, wagyu beef bresaola, gluten free crackers and more berries.

6:45pm: Headed out into a rainy Belgian evening to meet our Christmas dinner dining companions. Four of us expats got together and did all-you-can-eat ribs for dinner because that's obviously what you do for Christmas. 

10:15pm: It was such a fun evening of laughs and stories. It was a great group to spend the holidays with but sadly, the roommate was feeling under the weather (and woke up this morning downright sick....) by the end. We were home and asleep by 11pm. And no, we didn't have the chocolademousse van de huis.

Getting into the Holiday Spirit

Christmas isn't the same Christmas when living abroad. I'm far away from family and most of my friends. This means I don't have the obligatory office parties, attendance at my niece and nephew's string Christmas performance or the need to avoid the never ending parade of cookies. I'm not spending time out shopping for gifts or fighting for parking spots. It is a very different life from that in the States, and it is so refreshing.

In the five years I've lived in Belgium, I've never returned to the States for Christmas. I've headed back each year for Thanksgiving, but Christmas is tough with December training camps and January training camps/races.  In addition to the logistical challenges, I simply love the holidays here. Gent is already a magical place year round. Add in Christmas lights, Christmas markets and glühwein, and I'm obsessed.

The first year I moved here, I was a little concerned about having Christmas so far away from my family. Would I be lonely?  I was living in Oudenaarde and we went out to an amazing Christmas Eve dinner at Margaretha's. It was several courses, and they timed it so everyone left soon after midnight. When we walked outside, it was snowing for the first time of the year. It was that magical, flurry snowflakes that you see in movies. I knew Christmas in Belgium would work for me.

With all my travels lately, I arrived in Belgium on the 15th of December and had nearly zero holiday spirit. I think it was all the warm weather places. I've never had Christmas somewhere warm, so it felt more like mid-June than two weeks before Christmas. I hadn't been wearing scarves, gloves or furry boots. There was no Jingle Bells or Silent Night. 

I've spent the past five days pouring myself into Christmas. I put up lights and stockings, bought extra bottles of bubbles, double-checked our holiday dinner reservations. I spend each morning as long as possible in my warm, soft winter pajamas. All that was left was locating the perfect living tree or bush to bring inside the apartment. We settled on a Christmas shrub that we plan to move out onto the patio following the holidays. Hopefully, it'll survive the transition; I never like buying and then discarding/killing a tree or plant just for my enjoyment around the holidays.

Now I'm ready to celebrate!

Feeling Frustrated and too self absorbed

I haven't posted much this week despite aiming to do it every.single.day. I couldn't exactly put my finger on the reason. I've been super stressed about work this week, which definitely hasn't helped but I don't think that is specifically the cause. 

A lot of the reason is juggling life. In addition to work being full gas, I had to submit a massive binder worth of documents into the Belgian government yesterday. It took a month worth of daily effort, working (and paying a very pretty penny) to a Belgian bookkeeper and simply persevering through a language I'm far from fluent in. And at the end of all of this, I have no idea if they'll extend my visa. I hope they will, I believe they will, but really I have no idea. Also, I don't know how long it'll take them to get me an answer. My current visa expires in February so hopefully, I'll have an answer before time gets tight.

Then there are a lot of little things adding up -- one that stands out is trying to figure out Obamacare for next year (I've loved the Belgian system and now with Trump president, who knows if Obamacare will even exist, especially for those of us with pre-existing conditions). I feel fortunate I have an alternative but I would love to stop spending $500 a month for a US insurance that I don't really use. The only reason I do it is I'm terrified I'll get really hurt or sick and need to go back to the States. Wish I had a crystal ball which could tell me what was the right decision.

And the last stress might just be the most vapid and vain and it's the biggest one. I've been basically obsessed with losing my surgery weight. I'm not eating carbs, trying to eat as little as possible, drinking a ton of water, walking all.day.long, lifting, doing yoga, etc.etc.etc. It isn't budging. I head to Hawaii in a little over 10 days and I would like to feel more confident about myself. Sadly, I bought bathing suits months ago that I don't think are going to get worn. And I don't know what else I can. 

I know my weight fluctuation isn't huge and I'm still a fit, healthy woman. I get this shouldn't fall under the "important" column but I'll admit I'm obsessed. And turning into a fairly awful human because of it. Hungry Fitzalan isn't a pretty sight. Hungry, stressed Fitzalan is a full on nightmare.

Maybe I'm so obsessed because I feel like my weight is the one thing I should be able to completely control. Vapid, yes. Frustrating, yes. Is it adding to an overall unhappiness right now? Definitely. Now I just need to figure out how to climb back out of here because it isn't fair to me or any of the other people who have to interact with me. 

Surgery Recovery: Day 3

On Monday, I had maybe the most intimidating expat adventure to date--surgery. As I've explained before, I've been battling autoimmune-related arthritis in my feet for over a year now. I went and saw the doctor last week and he said there were no more non-surgical steps left to take. He said the recovery would see me off my feet for about three weeks and the full recovery is six months. Looking at my upcoming travel schedule, I knew I needed it done ASAP. So I booked surgery for Monday and spent the weekend basically trying to minimize total fear and still enjoy walking out in the sun. I think I had my own form of nesting take over, and I started making soups and muffins. Anything to direct all that nervous energy.

Waiting to get wheeled away. Every person questioned what foot and they kindly drew this arrow on my left leg.

The surgery was to take out my big toe joint, clean things up in there and add in screws. We showed up at the hospital at 8:30am, figured out the whole Belgian registration system and then sat in the day surgery waiting room for about an hour. After that, everything went quickly. I was rolled back by 10:15am and was into the post-op room by around 12:30pm. All the doctors and nurses were fantastic and made sure I understood everything that was going on. By 3:30pm, we were getting back to the apartment. 

All smiles heading into surgery. I was just eager to get it all over with and hopefully be on the path to less pained feet.

I won't share a picture of the actual wound because I think it'll gross out too many people. But I have about a 4-5 inch scar down the inside of my left foot starting up at the top joint and stretching down to about the arch. There are 10 stitches. I'm hoping it looks like a good shark bite once it heals.

All I've done for the past three days. It's getting old....very, very old.

Since getting home, I haven't left. It is starting to wear on me. I've spent all my time either on the couch or in bed and I'm antsy to move. There is only so much Netflix I can watch and Flipboard I can read. I'm pushing to get out later today but opinions are still mixed if that is a good idea. 

All that nesting worked out and I've been enjoying some amazing late summer corn chowder (link to recipe).

I was on a fair amount of pain meds the first 40 hours, but the pain started to decrease by yesterday afternoon. As of now, I'm only taking pain meds at night. That's when the pain is by far the worst. Feels like lashes of pain. Icing has actually proven to help with pain more than the actual pain meds, so I've been trying to ice it as much as possible. Pain meds and my stomach don't go together well, so I'll be happy when I'm totally off them. How people get addicted completely confuses me.

It is a look of fear and trepidation every time the nurse removes all the dressing and cleans it out. It hurts but I know it'll help with healing. I also like getting a chance to look at the wound and see how much its healed since the previous day.

One massive benefit of the Belgian health care system is that they send a nurse to the apartment every single day to check on me, clean up the wound and change the dressing. It is absolutely amazing and I look forward to seeing her every day and knowing my wound is being well kept. The first few days, it was bleeding so much that I was told I had to stay bedridden. But today, she said it looked fantastic and that I might be allowed to actually get out and about!

So far, so good on this crazy expat adventure.

Day in the Life: GP Stad Zottegem

One-day small Belgian races come with a huge, huge benefit---sleeping at home! I've had two races this week, GP Jef Scherens in Leuven and then GP Stad Zottegem in.... Zottegem. Both were within an hour's train ride, so I got to wake up and sleep at my apartment both days. After my previous month and a half of travel, I don't take days at home for granted. If I didn't live so close, I probably wouldn't attend these races for work, but I can't have my guys racing so closely and not support them. Here's a quick glimpse at my day:

8:00am--Wake up. I know.....it's nothing short of shameful but after all the jet lag, I just try to listen to my body. Shower and check the weather for the day. At Sunday's race, it was cold and raining. I wore basically all the gear I owned, but today is looking like a gorgeous summer day. Shorts, tank top and sandals!

8:30am--Check email, double check trains, drink coffee and throw in some laundry. This whole sleeping at home thing is awesome.  

9:20am--Out the door. It is already HOT, so I grab the tram to the train station. I want to delay the wet dog look.

9:50am--Soy latte and egg sandwich from Starbucks. The sandwich said it had an egg and some spinach, so I was planning on just throwing out the bread. The spinach was instead blended with cheese. Total bust in my gluten-free, dairy-free life.

10:05am--Train to Zottegem. It's delayed 10 minutes.  Lots of funny sounds and shaking, so I'm a little concerned we are never going to make it. Because it is such a low-key race, I'm not terribly concerned about my arrival time.

10:30am--Did some work on the train. I know this is one of the quietest moments of my day and one where I can sit with my computer and decent Internet and crank through some things.

10:50am--Arrive in Zottegem. I have about a 1.5-kilometer walk from the train station to the race start. The heat has really started to crank up.

11:05am--Arrive at the race. I have a few things I need to do before the guys leave for the start, including shoot a few videos. Always a juggling act between getting work done, supporting our sponsors and letting an athlete mentally prepare for competition. Also, there are numerous kid fans on-site, so I try give them a VIP, super memorable experience with the team. I always think that it is our one shot with these kids, our one opportunity to make a lifelong memory and I'm always driven to make it the best it can be. Before I know it, the riders are heading out for the start.

1:00pm--I find a cute restaurant to grab as much water as possible and lunch. I order what ended up being an impressive chicken salad....enough for several people. And because I am in Belgium, I obviously got fries on the side.... with mayonnaise.

2:30pm--The heat is now basically unbearable ...around 34C (100F), so I find someone's shaded front porch that is along race course. I hunker down, find decent Wifi and work until the race finishes. I mainly respond to emails, edit videos and fight with Wifi to get things uploaded.

5:00pm--Waiting for the race to finish. I start looking at my phone and hoping to get an earlyish train back to Gent. It looks like I have a little wait, but hopefully I can make it home by 7pm. I'm dreaming of a normal night at home, cooking my own food and taking it easy....maybe watching a movie.

7:15pm--The Roommate picks me up at the train station. He breaks the news that he has one of his sponsors in town (he works for a different team) and asks if I want to have dinner and drinks out with them. My dream of a salad and a night on the sofa quickly disappears.

7:45pm--A super quick rinse to get the layer of yuck from the day in the sun off and I'm out the door again. A glass of cava at the neighbourhood bar and then Indian for dinner. Despite my earlier hesitations, it isn't so bad.

9:45pm--I'm crawling into bed; I'm definitely dehydrated, but all in all, a good day.

An Expat Ode

I've felt it several times today: as I walked out of my apartment, located in the heart of the city, and again this evening sitting outside at my local 'Cheers'. This is home. 

I'm conflicted if I should feel insanely lucky or overwhelmingly proud. Maybe both. The fact I pulled off legally living in Europe without a sponsor and without any family lineage to rely on is nothing to sneeze at. In actuality, I was told it was impossible.

Yet, I'm sitting in a position of reapplying for my visa for the last time. That's because soon I can apply to be a citizen of this strange, small and wonderful country in a matter of months. 

I did this; it was all me. Not a single person helped make this happen, but I will give some credit to that one person who has been my Roommate through it all. Yet, no one held my hand. No one guided the way. I know no one else that has done it, so I couldn't learn from their successes or failures. There were no books on how to thrive in this foreign country, especially with no work and no friends initially, and trying to extricate myself gracefully from an already failed marriage.

It feels possibly like my greatest achievement. This strange, historic city feels more like home than anywhere I've lived in the States. Sure, I'm always the foreigner, but when I sit in my neighborhood cafe and listen to the sounds and watch the people, I feel so at ease. 

Thanks Belgium for taking me in.

Clueless Expat Hiccups

No matter how long I live in Belgium, it always seems like I'm a foreigner. I'm sure some of this has to do with a job that takes me out of the country so frequently and the fact most of my friends are other expats. I'm never truly here and I don't have a normal office/social life to teach me the intricacies.

Trash seems to be a funny topic of contention for expats and frequent travelers. I've heard other people have similar, amusing battles with what to do with trash. Last night, I dutifully put out all my trash. Today was slated to be a trash, recycling and organic waste day. We only get paper and glass once a month. Seeing we travel A LOT, that means it can be three months before we happen to be home on a glass or paper day. If you ever come over, I promise we aren't alcoholics or newspaper hoarders; we simply can't get rid of it.

Each time you think you've got a good grasp on things, something always pops up to remind you that you'll never be native. As I was making my coffee, I glanced out the window to see if the trash had been picked up. It hadn't. In hindsight, I should have known something was wrong last night when I put my trash out around 11 pm, and no one else's trash was out. At the time, I chalked it up to people enjoying Gentse Feesten a bit too much.

Still, it didn't click. Maybe the trash guys were running late? I headed over to my computer and the Google icon was a Belgian flag. Only then did it click....today was a holiday. And not just any holiday. Today is Belgian's Independence Day. It's a big deal with all the fixings of any national day, including outdoor concerts, grilling and fireworks. Being the clueless Belgian, I had absolutely no idea. This would be exactly like not realizing it was July 4th until around noon...after all the morning parades had gone by. It seems impossible but apparently totally doable.

That little hiccup sounds cute but where the real headache lies are both in the trash conundrum and my lack of groceries. I leave on Tuesday, before the next trash day. My apartment will be empty again for 3.5 weeks. I can't leave eggshells, leftovers and lots of old milk cartons here. (We have missed recycling day for about seven weeks.) Yet, Belgium is really strict about illegal trashing. You can't just take it to a public trash can or a dumpster without the risk of a hefty fine. I'm going to have to get creative. So if you see me in running around in the dark of night, dressed like a cat burglar, hauling around a bunch of Hefty bags; I'm not trying to dispose of a body, just trash.

And the groceries....all the stores are closed here on holidays. This even includes most restaurants. I just got home on Tuesday evening and haven't done a real grocery trip because I'm leaving again so soon. It just didn't seem worth stocking up; I simply planned to play it by ear. My current options are eggs or heading out to one of the food trucks set up at the festival.

Belgium: +1. Fitzalan: 0.

Traveling Adventures: Mixing in the Family

I consider myself a professional traveler. I spend at least 170 days a year in hotels, airplanes and on the move between work and some personal travel. After several years, you find a rhythm that allows you to excel in the movement. You learn to pack your suitcase a certain way so you notice if something were missing and aim to keep it as light as possible. This comes with all sorts of tips and tricks, especially as a female who enjoys looking fairly decent while typically not having access to laundry facilities.

When I travel with other people, they usually are coworkers or friends who also travel constantly. We all know how to do it fairly seamlessly. But then there are the trips where you travel with complete rookies, and that isn't always so easy. Earlier this month, I had the joy of traveling with my 70-year-old mother and 13-year-old nephew. It was a span of generations, energy levels and interests. I served as the de facto tour guide and planner, which was a role I think I both excelled and failed at in equal portions.

It's a juggle and an adjustment; one I might not always handle with grace. When you live on the road, you learn that the little details count. You double check for your cell phone or keys. You problem solve all day long and lean on others to assist with problems and logistical details. These details didn't come as second nature for my travel companions. It felt like they were scattering backpacks, cell phones, books, apartment keys and jackets across Europe. It was both amusing and worrisome.

But all the troubles didn't fall on their shoulders. Unfairly, I expected them to slot in and help with details like reading a map to detour around a bike race, assist with navigating around the Champs-Élysées traffic circle from hell, searching for a gas station hidden in the belly of Paris' underground or being on the lookout for a parking spot in a crowded city. In the moment, I wasn't always able to understand why they couldn't have better travel skills. My annoyance and frustration weren't always well hidden, which maybe wasn't my finest showing. 

My work life comes with a daily schedule. We get told what time to get up, when to eat breakfast, what time to pack our bags out, what time to depart, etc. etc. We receive this information the evening before and every day basically has the same flow. When I'm home by myself, I'm crave not having a set day. Yet, this trip was a strange mix of travel but on personal time. It needed both flow and structure. Being the pseudo-local, that fell on me.

While I didn't always want to plan, it did mean that I got to see Europe through a whole new set of eyes. While I won't be a mother, I do have the opportunity to be an amazing aunt. And that experience was quite rewarding. My mom has been to Europe several times, but it was the first time my nephew had been on an airplane, left the country (and maybe tasted some bubbles). It was thrilling to show him different cultures and to walk back through history with him.

It was also fantastic just getting to spend time with my nephew. It sometimes amazes me that I've known this human his whole life. And now he is old enough to be exploring Europe and letting me sneak sips of wine during a fancy meal. It gets me excited about who he will become and the adventures we get to have as he grows.

Hopefully this was just the first of many travel adventures he and I will get to have again. I love showing him that the world is so accessible. Now I just need to wait until my niece is old enough to bring over, but I know she'll be the one running circles around me. She's already a little spitfire.