Exploration mode

In a hopeful attempt to get a better grasp of Brussels' cultural life, I stopped by the newsstand yesterday and bought a copy of The Bulletin, also known as "The Bible", according to the newsstand guy. To give you an idea, it's supposed to be the local equivalent of your Time Out in London, the Parisian Pariscope and Madrid's Guía del Ocio.

I tried not to let its thinness bother me, despite the fact that it is a weekly publication. Entirely in English, i assume it is targeted at expats who, like me, clearly miss the big-city buzz. Flipping through the pages, I couldn't help but feel put off by the cinema listings (a full page and a half, woohoo!), the poorly written portrait of Axelle Red (seriously, people, is this all you have?) and the "Web Guru's" latest discovery (BookCrossing, whose newsletter I've been receiving for about five years now).

Still, I went on, brave little soldier that I am, and came across a couple of spaces which, fingers crossed, should be interesting enough. First one is Ad!dict, an organization that promotes creative research. Graphic design, photography, architecture, fashion, gaming, shopping and art in general. It reeks of too-cool-for-schoolness, but after London (and with a little help from CH, LVHRD and others), I'm more than ready to take it on.

Argos is the other. Argos, as in Brussels' contemporary art and media center, not UK's home retail chain. This one seems to be closer to a more conventional art... Museum. For lack of a better word.

Wish me luck.

In the meantime... The gallic shrug and other Parisian gestures, by Charles Brenner, accompanied by this article. And C'est So Paris. With no thanks.

This story is killing me. Reminds me of this parrot, Paco, we had when I was little, who could whistle the Cucaracha, play tricks on me by imitating my mother's voice and make fun of her very chatty guests by reproducing their intonations. Not thanking anyone for that either.

For the memories. And I'm gone.

Home

One or two years ago, my friend Damien Poulain gave me this postcard he'd designed himself. I had it at work, in London, never really thought about it. Then my boxes arrived in Brussels. I undid them on Wednesday and pinned the card at my new desk. It just made sense. I felt bleak.


Today, Brussels is rainy and I found a place. I love it. I love the area and I love the owners. She's from Spain, he was born in Uganda, raised in the U.K., in an Indian family. When we talk, it's an awful mix of French, English and Spanish. They own the entire house, redid the interior themselves, it's very tasteful. They told me they'd liked me, too. The neighbor is both American and Bolivian. He became their friend. Once we signed the contract, which we did over tea at their place, Avinash went downstairs and put my name on the mailbox.


I have a home in Brussels.