Birthday Blog

Me and Thibaut

The snowman we made (Maria, Liam, Megan, Magda)

Leuven in Snow

The Stadhuis at night in snowfall

Francesco, Me, and Stefano

Matt and I

Me, Lauren, and Chase - the three December birthdays

Leah returning fire on those who bombarded her window

Megan making a snow angel

The courtyard during the snowfall

Hello everyone! I thought I would drop in one last quick blog before the end of my time here in Leuven this semester. This is my official Birthday Blog – that’s correct, I’m officially 21, and can now enjoy the wonderful world of alcohol. Though I must admit, it was quiet anticlimactic turning 21 in a place where the drinking age is 16, we the Loyola Huis celebrated anyway. We not only celebrated my birthday, but also Chase’s (on the 17th) and Lauren’s (on the 14th). We also enjoyed the festivities last night, so that no one would have to worry about catching our flight home on the 19th (we leave the huis at 6 am).

The morning of the 17th began just as any other in Belgium. In the recent weeks, the weather in Belgium had turned to bone-chillingly cold. It seems as if the stone cities welcome and trap the cold in their cobblestone roads. The temperature was so low and the wind so biting, that even simple tasks such as riding our bike back and forth from class have become laborious. Yesterday morning, the typical overcast hung over Leuven, blotting out the sun and stealing away any warmth that it would provide.

I woke up around 11 and was hustling around the huis, taking care of various chores in preparation of coming home, when I happened to gander out the window – it was snowing! Now we had been told that in Belgium it rarely gets below freezing and that it’s even rarer to see snow. However, as I looked out the window, I noticed large flakes falling, not just flurries or drops, but big, large full snowflakes – coming down hard.

Grabbing my camera, I went outside to take some pictures of the huis under snowfall. The snow was about an inch thick by the time I got outside, however, I wasn’t out there for more than 5 minutes, when slowly, the rest of the Loyola house began to make its way outside. Like bees to honey, before I knew it there were 15 people outside playing in the snow – building a snowman, making snowballs, throwing them at the windows of people inside writing papers.

Slowly, the playing and joking turned into making a snowman, and from that into a full-fledged snowball fight. We eventually ended up in a fight with the people from across the courtyard. They had wandered outside while we were having our own snowball fight and began to join in. Soon enough we had the Loyola huis vs. the opposite side of the courtyard. Unfortunately the people across the way had to learn the hard way that you don’t start a war with Americans in a game that is primarily based on throwing. The fight ended when Liam and I flanked the group, who was so startled that they literally ran into their house – a mission complete.

There’s something about snowfall that captivates people. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that freshly fallen snow has a peaceful effect that makes landscape and scenery appear more beautiful or that there is something in the snowfall the brings out the inner child in people, but that afternoon out in the snowfall was one of my favorite memories bonding with the gang – something I’ll always cherish. Before long we were tired from playing in the snow and soggy from the snowball fight, so we all head inside to warm our fingers and toes.

Later that night, we held a celebration in the common room to celebrate the three December birthdays. Then those of us brave enough to venture out into Leuven (with nearly 4 inches of snow on the ground!) slipped and slid down to the Oude Markt for the evening – apparently Belgium’s about as good as Baltimore when it comes to handling the snow.

Though it was icy and bitter cold, the warmth of our fellowshipped carried us all out together. As we enjoyed all the “world’s longest bar” has to offer, we finally concluded our first semester here in Leuven.

"Home" Alone

Me with Porto Antico and the city in the background

Sailboats in the harbor

Genova - water and mountainside


The view from the hostel my first night

The view the following morning

The old city gates and walls up in the mountainside

The Neptune Ship

Me on the Neptune (its a sad batch of pictures when you travel alone)

Porto Sint Andrea (Old City Gate)

Christopher Columbus' house and the city gates in the background

View of the city at sunset from the top of the Porto Sint Andrea

Sunset over Genova

Me with the hostel's view

Castello Sforzeca (Milan)

Me and the Duomo in Milan

Vittorio Emmanuel Gallery

The Duomo at Christmas time

The Duomo at Night

I Navigli (The old Canal and Antique Market)

The Antique Market

“He declared it such that none of those he had ever seen could equal it. And he seeks to excuse himself, saying that he has so greatly praised the others, that he no longer knows how to praise this one, and that he fears being accused of exaggerating everything beyond measure. But he defends his praises” (pg. 24, Conquests of America, Todorov).

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Christopher Columbus wrote copious notes and journal entries throughout the duration of his voyage to America – and even more upon its discovery (that is if he really discovered it and it wasn’t found by the Chinese in 1421 – see 1421). In his entries, Columbus often wrote with intimate details about what he was seeing, uncovering, and feeling. He wrote great superlatives describing each new forest, or island, or tribe.

However, he also realized how unconvincing great superlatives might be in describing his discoveries, and how others would doubt them: “He declared it such that none of those he had ever seen could equal it. And he seeks to excuse himself, saying that he has so greatly praised the others, that he no longer knows hoew to praise this one, and that he fears being accused of exaggerating everything beyond measure. But he defends his praises” (pg. 24, Conquests of America, Todorov).

I suppose in the long run, my discoveries and travels here in Europe over the course of the year will fall short of Columbus’ – though not by much. However, it appears that Columbus and I, besides both tracing our lineage back to the Italian port city of Genova, also have one other thing in common – a fear that our descriptions will not be taken seriously because everything we describe seems so majestic that we don’t know any other way to describe it. And I, as he did, still defend my descriptions to be as accurate as I could have made them. So with that in mind, I’d like to tell you my next tale.

I had come up with the idea for that Columbus quote a while ago and have been waiting to use it, trying to decide on the perfect opportunity. I figure what more appropriate to use it than now, as I begin to describe for you my solo trip to the land of Columbus – Genova.

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As I left the house, it was still too early in the morning for the sun to shine its beautiful face. The darkness, worsened by the cold rain, impeded my vision as I rode to the train station. And as I locked my bike in Zone 34 in the underground bike parking garage, my adventure to the homeland had officially begun. I was traveling alone this trip, however, I was determined not to let that get in the way of my discoveries.

The shoddy weather at the start of my trip was in large contrast to the beautiful sunshine that greeted me as I got off my Ryanair flight at the Milan Beragamo Airport. I had slept for most of the flight but woke up in time to the see our transition into Italy – signified by the tips of the Alps jutting through the clouds as we passed over. Seeing the Alps from the sky is perhaps one of the most important visuals for anyone traveling through Europe to see.

After taking a bus into Milan from the airport, I completed my trip of trains, planes, and automobiles, with a train ride out to the coastal city of Genova – my home coming. Though my lineage actually traces its roots back to the small village of Bertone (which I discovered over my background checking for this trip is a small 20 villa village that doesn’t even lie in the same region as Genova and was thus unattainable for my travel purposes), Genova is where I most commonly refer to my family as being from. So to travel to see the city that my ancestors passed through over a hundred years ago in route to the United States, was very special for me.

For most of the train ride out to Genova I did some reading, however, I was often distracted by the beautiful landscapes that filled the window of the train car. As we popped in and out of long tunnels, I would catch a glimpse or two of magnificently colored Italian country homes, built in the valley in between, or sometimes right into, the green mountain sides. Genova sits on the backside of the Alps facing the coast. So for the train to get there, it first had to dive into deep tunnels, some lasting 10 minutes that caused my ears to pop. One of the highlights of my ride out was when an older Italian man and I had a conversation in Italian about my trip. It didn’t last very long, and I think he was offended when I asked him if he spoke English (I couldn’t pick up much of his muttering, but something about how he spoke French, German, Spanish, Italian, but all the youth want to learn is English). He eventually grew weary of my poor Italian and fell asleep.

Despite the fact that I left at 7 am from Leuven, I didn’t arrive in Genova till about 5 pm. As I shuffled out of the train station, I noticed the sun going down and quickly darted up a hill to try and catch a glimpse of it. Though I missed the actual sunset, the sky was still coated in reds, yellows, and blues – beautiful welcoming for me.

After the sunset, I spent my first night in Genova just wandering the city. Though I had purchased a map, I preferred instead to follow the aura of the Christmas lit streets (Europe really is more beautiful in Christmas lights). There is something more relaxing about just wandering though a city with no goal in mind and just coming across landmarks. That first night, without any intentions, I managed to see a majority of the main tourist sites and scout out my approach for the following day. I saw the black and white checkered St. Lawrence Cathedral, the Porto Antico, Christopher Columbus’ house, and the Old City Wall Towers.

When I had finished with my walking and was at the point of exhaustion, I started my search for the hostel. I knew based on my research that it wasn’t that close to the downtown area, however, what I didn’t realize was how high it was. As the bus zigged and zagged its way up the mountainside, I began to get nervous, fearing that I would miss my stop. When I arrived at the youth hostel the bus driver, seeing as how I was wearing a stuffed backpack and was the only one on the bus, pointed it out to me, saying “l’ostella.”

One of the benefits of my winding ride into the hillside (rhyme intended) was the view. The view of the city from above was spectacular. The harbor appeared to be a village of stationary fire flies, glowing in the darkness of the hills and ocean that surrounded it. From the hostel I could see for miles, and had a birds’ eye view of the entire city – something I appreciated just as much the following morning.

Friday morning I was up early to see the city in its entirety. I first climbed upward from the mountain perched hostel to what remained of the Forte Castellaccio and the old city walls. Genova was engulfed in ancient city walls which date back to the 11th century. The only break in walls were forts surrounding gates. From the valley looking up, the castles and forts, perched at the tips of several mountains, looked something like the Lord of the Rings Beacons from the Return of the King movie. After seeing the ancient wall, and wandering through some significantly creepy woods, I decided it was best to head down to the city.

I spent the morning touring the Neptune boat – which sits floating in the harbor – and the Aquarium which is the largest in all of Europe. The Aquarium that I visited, was part of a multi-complex “Aquarium Village” which I didn’t feel like paying for nor did I have the time to visit entirely, so I just saw the aquarium. From the aquarium, I traveled over to the Porto Antico, which was the Old Port from Genova’s industrial age. The two more significant monuments of the old port are the Bigo (a modern architecture model of the old cranes that used to lift loads off of barges and now plays host to an ice skating ring in the winter and concerts in the summer) and the Bolla (a spherical shaped glass botanical garden).

After I finished my walk through the Antico, I grabbed some gelato and for the first time since I left for Italy sat to relax on a park bench. I looked up through the sailboat masts, past the crystal blue water toward the red, pink, and orange houses that dotted the mountainside. It was then that I was struck by the simple beauty of the city. For the first time it hit me that what I was seeing now was probably similar to the last thing my relatives saw as they set sail for America, their last view was that countryside, the last view of their home – that house adorned mountain. It was a very moving experience to think about leaving a home you could never return to – especially as my own individual homesickness had sunk in as my trip home for Christmas break was on my mind.

From the water front, I again headed over to Columbus’ House to see it during the daytime. I knew that it had random hours of operation, and I was lucky enough to find it on a day when it was open. The man at the desk was very enthusiastic to either 1) speak English or 2) profess his knowledge on the history of the Columbus house. Either way, because he didn’t have much to do, seeing as how I was the only visitor, he decided to give me a personal tour of the house (I finally realized why Italians are built so small – because their houses are so small). Columbus’ family had been wool merchants for generations. Despite the small house, which 9 family members occupied, the Columbus family was middle class. In addition, they did not condone Christopher’s desire to sail the seas.

Once my tour of Columbus’ house concluded, I headed over to the old city gate – the Porta Sint Andrea – where I dashed up the steps to catch the sunrise. I ran up and down both towers to catch the view from each peak. The view from the top of the towers was gorgeous and the yellowing rays of the sunset slowly faded to orange and blue as the sun slowly set behind the seas – of all my moments on my trip into Italy, that was by far my most peaceful, just me and sunset.

After the sun had bid me adieu, I headed out of the towers. Following one of the main roads, I found myself back at the waterfront where I may or may not have bought some of you Christmas gifts. I also enjoyed some Trafie Pesto – a homemade pasta dish covered in pesto – what Genova is most famous for. Afterward, I headed back to the hostel, where I enjoyed a good conversation about traveling Europe with two Englishmen – happy that I could actually be understood as I spoke.

I awoke the next morning around 10 and prepared to leave Genova, hoping to catch a train around noon back to Milan. As I strolled out of the hostel, I couldn’t help but take one last peak out from the vantage point the hostel provided – the colorful houses, the harbor below, and the sea beyond that. Before I boarded my train in the train station, I took one last look out at the city which I trace my roots to. Then I, like my relatives before, left Genova unsure if I’d ever return.

When I got to Milan, I decided to foot tour the city that day. I walked from the train station to the historical center – not a light walk. Milan is a city for shoppers (of which I’m not) and in the frenzy of the Christmas season, it felt like that old show on Nickelodeon (the name escapes me) where contestants would run around like mad men throwing things into shopping carts and racing to the finish line.

Most of the city was donned in Christmas trees and Christmas lights, and as I strolled to the center of town, I realized had never before seen the phenomenon of grown adults waiting outside shops before, like the line for Space Mountain in Disney world (yes I’m aware that’s a Nickelodeon and Disney reference in just as many sentences). The stores – Dolce Gobana, Giorgio Armani, Tiffany, Prada – were decorated for Christmas but still displaying the latest fashion, shoes, and questionable undergarment choices. I don’t think I appreciated Milan as much as Genova, Milan was a very beautiful city to visit, but not necessarily if you’re only looking to walk through – like I said, it’s a shopper’s city.

Over my two days there, I spent most of my time in the downtown Cathedral area. The tips of the Gothic spires thrust toward the sky to form the jagged skyline in the heart of the city. Milan’s Cathedral is second only to the Vatican in size and is a gorgeous gothic church. In the area around the Cathedral, I also sought out the Gallery of Vittorio Emanuele (a large open air but roof enclosed mall) and the Teatro Alla Scala (Milan’s famous opera house). Wandering for a bit I eventually grabbed an overpriced tourist dinner and headed back to my hostel.

My hostel, Misterbeem hostel, was one of my worst travel experiences, but I assume one of those character building, lesson learning travel experiences. It was basically a guys apartment with beds in the back room. Here’s a key for all you potential travelers out there, just because the price is low, doesn’t mean you’re getting the best bang for your buck. I spent the night listening to the scraping of something being moved on the floor above me (till about 4 in the morning) and the Indian owner listen to native music in the living room.

With my worst night of sleep in the history of my travels, I was ready to leave the hostel early the next morning. I first headed down to the Castello Sforzesco, a 12th century castle that was at one point built right into the old city walls. From there I headed over to the Santa Maria Delle Grazie where I paid to see an exhibit on display of the original writings of Leonardo Da Vinci. The exhibit was awesome and some of the ideas ingenious especially for the time period. I also tried to view the original copy of the Last Supper; however, tickets were sold out the morning I was there.

Though most of Milan is modeled after being a yuppie city, and as a result is very Americanized (there are McDonalds signs all over the city – more than I think in the average American city), one of my fondest memories of my trip was when I took a metro down to Navigli (an artificial canal that was once a main source of commerce in the area) which hosts an antique market right on the Canal on Sundays. I determined that was by far as Italian as Milan gets. The smell of fresh bread, pizza, and pasta lofted through the air as I took my time walking through the markets. I listened as the Italian natives debated amongst themselves over prices, haggling down to the last Euro. After I grabbed a hot Panini from a local shop (one of my best food purchases) I headed back to the metro and to the Duomo.

I spent my last few hours wandering around the Duomo or sitting inside it just thinking and admiring its beauty. Then I threw a model of the Duomo at Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi.* Finally, I headed back up to the train station, where I caught my shuttle back to the airport. Despite the fact that I left and landed in Leuven that day, I arrived too late to catch the last train home. As a result, me and the Charleroi airport became a little more friendly that night, as I slept on her floor.

Finally the next morning, after commuting 3 hours from Charleroi back to Leuven, I had completed my trip back to my homeland. With the knowledge that I had experience the same city as my heritage, and see some the sights they admired when leaving, I laid my head down on my pillow and passed out from travel exhaustion.

*For all extent and legal purposes, I didn’t actually throw the Duomo at Berlusconi, but I thought it would add an interesting twist to my story. But you should Google it because it’s an interesting story.

S-anta-inter-claus-klaas

Leuven Stadhuis with Christmas decorations

Leah, Me, and Tayla

Liam, Matt, and Me

Matt singing at Karaoke - what I believe was something by Miley Cyrus

Some of the Belgians singing a Dutch Christmas Carol

Matt and Sinterklaas

Sinterklaas calling out his Zwarte Piets

Sinterklaas' visit

‘Ello puppets! This shall hopefully be my shortest blog yet, as I did very little last week, and I have a slew of stories from this past weekend to tell you about. My week last week primarily consisted of two Christmas parties and a Dutch final.

With the bitterly cold winter setting in upon us, at some points reaching – 3 degrees Celsius (what that is in American I have no idea – ignorance intended). Even simple tasks such as riding our bikes or walking to class have become chores as the cold cuts through the air stinging any part of our skin that is unfortunately exposed – hands and cheeks are the most commonly punished. However, with the cold has come the Christmas season, and that has been a much welcomed addition.

As the Christmas season inches closer every day, the Huis has prepared accordingly. Our common room has been transformed into a Christmas living room – complete with paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, an Evergreen tree decorated in ornaments and lights, and wrapping paper hung over all the walls. In addition, each of the unit kitchens has been decorated with lights and wreaths and whatever else helps bring the Christmas spirit abroad.

The first bit of our celebrations came when we celebrated the Belgian Sinterklaas holiday, sponsored by the Belgians in our huis. On December 5th, we all left our shoes out in the halls with a note to Sinterklaas, a carrot stick and a beer. We awoke in the morning to shoes full of all sorts of candy and quick eats. Then on the night of the 6th, we all met in the common room for Sinterklaas’ visit. Sinterklaas brought with him a giant book (essentially a naughty and nice list) where he proceeded to call up members of the house and then call them out on various misdeeds that have been performed over the course of the first five months. In the typical Belgian tradition, good children are rewarded with presents and candy - whilst bad children are taken away in Sinterklaas' bag.

Fortunately for the huis, Sinterklaas didn't have nearly enough room in his bag for everyone. However, he did provide a bit of embarressment as everything from smoking in the house, to boys wearing pink, to loud party throwers, to song singers were called in front of Sinterklaas to first be embarrassed and then be given something sweet. Matt was called out for singing “Be Prepared” from the Lion King too often – which of course he proceeded to sing for the group after he was called up, which wouldn’t have been so bad except he made me be the hyena background singers, of which I surprisingly didn’t miss a beat (I didn’t realize that him listening to that song nonstop would actually have lead to me memorizing it).

After the Belgians showed us what Christmas means to the children of Belgium, the American students returned the favor by throwing our own Christmas party – featuring a familiar Santa Claus, yours truly. Last Wednesday, we all gathered to celebrate the Christmas holiday American style, I – with a pillow under my shirt – donned the Santa Claus outfit and took some requests from some of the people in the huis for Christmas presents. In addition, we also exchanged Secret Santa gifts at the party.

At the Thanksgiving dinner, we were all assigned a Secret Santa partner, with the intention of leaving notes and small presents throughout the past couple of weeks to help everyone feel a little more at home during the holiday season. My Secret Santa (one of the Belgians, Anke) spoiled me pretty good leaving me notes, candy, and beer around just about every corner. Then for my Christmas gift gave me a Belgian “Vriendenboekje” or “Friend Book” – a book full of questions for my friends to answer about their relationships with me. She took it around to most of the members of the house and had them fill in a section. For the Americans that meant testing their Dutch skills, and for the other Europeans, such as the Slovak Hero Martin for example, that meant just writing whatever they felt like. The end result was an awesome Christmas present full of memories, stories, and jokes that I will cherish.

However, despite the Christmas cheer, and just to show you that life here isn’t all play and no work, our two Christmas celebrations, were divided by a Dutch Final for all the Americans. Last weekend most of the Americans didn’t travel as we took time to make sure we passed the Dutch exam. The final was easier than most of us anticipated (knock on wood) and hopefully nobody will be repeating the course.

The final highlight of the past week was when we celebrated being finished with Dutch by going out to a Karaoke Bar after the final. We were joined by several of the internationals and a really fun time was had by all. Tot Ziens Nederlands!

Well that was my past week – within the next couple of days I hope to have up my blog about my trip to Genova and Milan!

Thinking Home for the Holidays

Bruges Grote Markt at night

The full football crew

Pre shaving No Shave November

Post shaving on shave December

Bruges at night

Gabe, Liam, Tim, Matt, Matt, Stack, in Bruges

Matt, Stack, Gabe, Liam by the ice skating ring in the Grote Markt (Bruges)

Brussels Grote Markt lit up in lights

A cheers at Delerium for the Rome Crew's visit

Brussels at night under Christmas lights

Tim, Stack, Matt, Me, Liam, Gabe, Matt outside the Grote Markt

Bruges at night

Bruges Grote Markt lit up in lights

Gabrield (in from Rome) and I playing with our pipes

My table at Thanksgiving dinner

Me, Francesco, Matt, Endy, Nick, Matt, Thibaut, Liam, Tim

The National Anthem started here...

...then carried here...

...and ended here.

(Fake) cheering on our team


The aroma of a turkey basting, or mashed potatoes cooking, or apple pie baking is quiet possibly what makes Thanksgiving the greatest of the purely American holidays – rivaled only by the loud bangs and bright flashes of the fireworks on the Fourth of July. One of the largest testaments to its allure is that the day before Thanksgiving is the largest travel day in all of America – and the day after is the greatest shopping day. However, what truly makes that November Thursday so special for everyone – especially college students – is that it brings together families in a selfless atmosphere with no other intention but to spend time with one another. Perhaps this is also why it was one of the largest homesickness causes in the Loyola Nachbahrhuis. It seemed as if in the week building up to Thanksgiving, every American in the house had a family story to tell, or a recipe to describe, or a tradition to explain – it’s just that type of sentimental holiday that strikes everyone deep down inside.

So for those among us, myself included, whose minds were drawn across the Atlantic this Thanksgiving, we took special care to try and bring the American celebration here to Leuven. The festivities began with the arrival of 23 former Nachbahrhuis residents in Leuven. The “ole’ timers” were celebrating their 5 year reunion since having left Loyola. Apparently, the rule for people returning to Leuven after 5 years goes something like this: current Loyola students can’t pay for a drink. That’s right we welkommen’ed the alumni who proceeded to keep the drinks coming on the first night we ran in to them.

The next morning, Thanksgiving, the friendly affections of the night before were erased, as the current Loyola students took on the former in the only game that should be played on Thanksgiving – football. Shaking off some of the headaches caused by the night before, the two groups battled for half a game, ultimately ending in a 21-21 tie, when we decided to end the game amiably. One of the main highlights was the spontaneous, and humorous, belting of the National Anthem. It was in the middle of a play, that those of us on the sidelines realized that we hadn’t paid our country homage before the game. The song started as a joke, and a murmur, but eventually grew to a loud screaming as we all placed our hands over our hearts and shared in America’s favorite song. However, the humor arose, when the players on the field, in the middle of a play, were spurred by our patriotism, and almost in unison, stopped playing, turned toward us and placed their hands on their hearts and sang along. I supposed that could be the first, and last, spontaneous national anthem that began midway through a game. Though that would not be the last time we saw the alumni, it was one of our most prized memories with them. We were thankful for their visit and even more so for their generosity. I suppose it will be up to us one day to “pay it forward” and shower Loyola students with a couple of free drinks, and a free football.

After the game with the Alumni ended, the current Americans, and Europeans, started up a second game, where we prized ourselves in showing the Europeans how to throw and catch an American football. I think by the end of our second round of play most of the girls and the Europeans felt pretty involved – a sign that I had at least tried to spread the wealth around as quarterback.

Despite our now long beards courtesy of No Shave November (in which we also had a Shave December – design contest on November 30 into December 1 to see who could shave the best thing into their beards) the gentlemen in the group still managed to dress up class for Thanksgiving dinner. Later that night, the Loyola Nachbahrhuis gathered for a second time to celebrate the staple of the Thanksgiving tradition – a meal together. There were about 74 of us, including Professor Forni and her family, as well as Christel and her husband, that gathered for dinner at a local restaurant within walking distance (though what in Leuven isn’t) from our huis.

Matt and I did our part to explain the significance of Thanksgiving to the Europeans, as we put on a performance at the beginning of dinner, practicing our improv comedy: one…word…at…a…time. Matt began, and I followed, each of us only allowed to us one word to try and describe the story and the other forced to play off of the formers word choice. We also had Liam and Nick, act out what we were saying – forced to do the bidding of whatever randomly came out of our mouths. By the end of the performance we had quite a few chuckles and received a nice ovation – perhaps that’s a sign of our skill, or just European hospitality – and afterwards a number of people asked us how long we had to rehearse to learn our lines. To which we impressed a number of them when we replied, “No, we just didn’t it right on the spot, we didn’t practice that” – hopefully that means our comedic futures are bright.

Though the meal wasn’t quite a Thanksgiving celebration in the traditional sense, our dinner did include some turkey and some mashed potatoes, followed by homemade desserts which various members of the huis put together – with everything from speculous tiramisu, to homemade apple pie. The meal was filling to say the least, and a nice way to celebrate a Belgian Thanksgiving.

We had hardly recovered from our food coma from Thanksgiving, when the Nachbahrhuis played host to the largest amount of people this semester. Rome invaded Belgium for the first time since the Roman Empire, as 15 Loyola students studying abroad in Rome (and 1 from Ireland), came to visit the capital of the EU. The huis was literally overflowing with students, as we had to utilize all the pillows from our couch, and the couch itself, to accommodate the large number.

With the large group of Romans used to wearing t-shirts and jeans, winter arrived in full fledge in Belgium. What had been 60 degrees the week before was now at its warmest 40. Not to mention, for the three days that we hosted visitors, it rained freezing rain for two. The Belgian winter is a nasty thing: full of cold rain, dark skies, early sunsets, and biting winds. Unfortunately it arrived as we were trying to show off our homeland to our friends.

However, with the arrival of the Belgian winter, also came a special treat – the arrival of Belgian Christmas decorations. Slowly the cities of Belgium have begun to be engulfed in the red and green lights of the Christmas season; turning what are typically stone cities into bright and beautiful winter wonder lands.

The Christmas celebration became most evident with our travels throughout Belgium. We took the Rome students to Bruges on their first full day here. The small circular city is what every visitor to Belgium should walk away with as a visual in their mind. I didn’t think that Bruges could get any more magnificent until I saw it lit up in the colorful lights of Christmas. As we approached the Grote Markt in the center of the city, we could already hear the chatter and rustling of the Christmas market. As horse drawn carriages – sporting Christmas wreaths and on rare occasions Christmas lights – clicked and clacked their way around the cobblestone streets, we wandered into the Belgian Christmas festival. With an ice skating rink in the middle and a slew of tents surrounding it, the Christmas celebration was a welcomed addition to our typical Bruges experiences.

While Tim took the Rome students up the Belfry for a look from the city from above, Liam and I scouted out the Church of the Holy Blood. Though we had missed it in past endeavours, we were lucky enough to find that during advent, the relic of the Holy Blood has different hours, and we happened upon the church when the Relic was on display. Liam and I both viewed holy relic that is believed to be a vile of Christ’s blood that is now crystallized. Then we quickly called the others to get them there before the church closed.

Having finished at the church, we ran into the other half of the Rome group and then spent the next hour and a half just enjoying the bright lighted scenery as the sun went down and darkness descended on my favorite of Belgian cities. In our remaining time, we toured some of the Belgian back roads, stopped in a couple of chocolate and beer shops, and caught a couple of beautiful glimpses of the city lit up at night. With that, we grabbed a Belgian waffle in the train station and headed back an hour and a half to Leuven.

The next morning, after grabbing breakfast at Nosh, a local bagel place, we headed in to see most of the Italian group off. They were flying out early Monday morning, but wouldn’t be able to get to the airport in time if they stayed with us, so they were going to sleep in the airport overnight (apparently a common theme among cheap college students). Needless to say, we didn’t waste their last day and night in Belgium we took them in to see the capital of Belgium, and Europe for that matter – Brussels.

Brussels was magnificently lit up in Christmas lights. Following the advice and guidance of Tim, we traveled up from the train station to catch a couple of views of the city from above. The bright lights emanating from Grote Markt in the center of the city cast shadows on the clouds above which were blocking out the moonlight. After taking in our fair share of panoramic views of the city lights, we headed into the center of town to see the Grote Markt up close and personal.

Blue and red were the theme colors of the lights that decorated Brussels’ Stadhuis. We arrived just in time to catch a spectacular light show that the city had sponsored and put on. There was also a full sized nativity in the town square accompanied by a variety of different artist’s tents and souvenir shops. We then took the Romans down to be disappointed by the undersized Manneken Pis, though he was decorated in Christmas Garb.

After getting scammed at a relatively cheap tourist dinner place, we ended their trip in town as we end many trips with students that want to see Belgium, at Delerium Café, home to 2004 beers. Most of the guys there enjoyed their time with the vast selection of beers, and even I tried a new one: Delerium Christmas.

Yes, if there was one common theme on everybody’s mind over the past week, it’s been the idea of our eventual trip home for Christmas. The holiday season has brought everyone’s minds back to their own individual homes. Though I consider my little room here in Leuven, where I sit tapping away on my laptop, to be my current home, there will be nothing more satisfying than wrapping myself up in a blanket on the green and white striped couch in our living room, with snow falling outside (hopefully), and the aroma of Douglas Fir complementing my father’s Christmas CD’s playing softly in the background, back in ole’ Rutherford – home for the holidays.

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In these next couple of lines I’d like to fulfill my own family Thanksgiving tradition of naming some things I have found myself thankful for over these past couple of months:
For my loving family (extended and immediate) who continue to support me (and pretend that they’re interested in my stories) throughout my first semester abroad.
Especially for my parents, who have supported me in my trips, shown real interest in what I’m going through and have made this year (emotionally and financially) possible for me to try and find myself while traveling the world.
For my siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandma who continue to keep in touch and bring a smile to my face with their updates and e-mails, Facebook messages and Skype calls, and packages, especially the packages ; ).
For my wonderful girlfriend, Monique, who has done more to support my decisions and help me over the past year than I could have ever asked for and who continues to support me even though I drive her crazy and I’m so far away.
For the Nachbahrhuis, with all of its residents, those staying and those leaving us after this semester, it surely has been an interesting adventure starting our time here abroad, but one that I wouldn’t want to take with a different group of people.
And finally, for my readers, my family, friends, loved ones, strangers, who pay attention to my adventures humoring me and pretending as if my life is more important than it actually is.

To everyone:
Thank you. Happy (belated) Thanksgiving and have a Happy Holidays!