Serious question. Belgium really has it’s stuff together. Education system: On point. Economy: Killing it. Chocolates: Need I say more?
But before we even get off the ship in Antwerp, we have an IPAD day. Which basically means “In port academic day”… AKA we’re docked. I can stare out the windows and see Antwerp, BUT we have classes all day and aren’t allowed off. Bummer. Also, I got hit with a pretty heavy blow of homesickness and being around the same people 24/7 was really starting to drive me insane. You could be friends with Mother Theresa, but I think after living on a little ship with her and seeing her every single day, you’d be ready to throw even her out of a window. So needless to say, seeing land was a serious tease for me. I was more than ready to get off the MV Explorer, as much as I love it.
(Side note: For everyone who read my Berlin post, I promise this one won’t make you want to send me an angry/concerned/frightened email.)
The first day, I had a field program to an NGO in Germany that went to Freidensdorf (Peace Village), where children from war-stricken countries come to receive medical aid. The village houses over 300 children, age 3-12, from countries like Gambia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, etc. etc. It was honestly so beyond amazing. The organization itself was incredible; the amount of children they give medical aid to is astounding. We got a tour of the facilities, ate lunch, and then some of us went outside to play with the kids. I’m not sure how to describe it without it sounding unbelievable. These kids were some of the happiest, loving, most social children I’ve ever met, and almost all of them had a relatively extreme physical disability. Many were missing at least one limb, a few were without an eye (or both), some had swallowed acid, and many were in wheelchairs. Yet when we walked up to the playground, several came up to us, lined us up, and picked teams-playground style- for soccer. And we got our asses handed to us. Kids without any arms were spinning circles around us. I got kicked out of the goal by a boy missing an eye! Eventually we all got rotated out, but not without getting our own bumps and bruises. These kids were brutal-taking no prisoners. Then, after getting told to “sit on the bench until we rotate in”, we somehow got suckered into giving piggy back rides. For almost an hour. I’m actually sore today from it all. I’d sit down to let one kid off, and suddenly 6 more would swarm around me! Climbing on me and poking me. At one point I started holding up one finger and saying “1 minute, 1 minute, too tired.” and they held up their index finger, pointed at me, then aggressively pointed at their own chests, and crawled onto my back. Even the boys in our group, 21 year old athletes, were sweating through their shirts and begging for a break. But it was truly astounding how little these children seemed to care that their faces were bandaged and they hadn’t been home in 6 months.
When we asked the woman in charge if it was hard for them to go home, she told us that Western society always thinks that children would want to stay here. For some strange reason, we always assume that when a child comes to a place like Germany, where they receive medical care and get clean clothes, that they would want to stay. We don’t understand that home is home. Home is where their parents are and their families and while we assume they would be traumatized by war, war is a constant in their life. It doesn’t bother them anymore. In fact, at lunch when she reads off the list of who is going home, the children pound their fists on the table and chant “Going home! Going home!” because, regardless of whether or not they have a gameboy here, their home with always be in Angola or Gambia or Gaza. And as much as we would say “How can you send them back?!” we have to understand that, how could they not? Who are they to take them away from their parents? They took them, gave them medical help, and returned them to their loving parents. In all the years she has been doing this, never once has a parent not shown up to pick up their child. They’re rarely ever even a few minutes late! In a war-zone, poverty stricken country, the parents still manage to travel miles and miles to pick up their kids. And the kids are still just as happy to be home. For some reason, myself included, lots of people just assume that parents in these countries don’t have the same values as we do. As hard as it is for me to admit this, I naïvely assumed that parents in these countries didn’t love their children the way my mom and dad love me. Wow, can I sound any more prejudiced?
Anyway, the whole visit was amazing. And since we all got to help in one way or another (many of us cleaned up after lunch, folded laundry, disassembled tables, etc.), we all felt like we were actually doing something unlike at the Animal Shelter in Russia. Overall, the 3 hour drive to the Peace Village was a little bit intense, but well worth it.
That night, my roommate and I went out on the town (with other SAS kids and absolutely 0 new foreign friends). No one tried starting any fights, no one tried selling us drugs, no birds took a poop on my shoulder, and at no point did I start crying. So while my hangover this morning was a little rough, the night was a definite success overall!
Today, I woke up bright and early, cursed my poor drinking habits, got breakfast, and boarded the bus for my International Economics field lab. We drove on in to Brussels and went to visit the European Parliament. We talked about trade regulations and international relations between the EU and other countries and got to actually sit in the room where all the members sit! (All 700-some) I’M SORRY BUT THAT IS JUST SO COOL. Then we had lunch (AKA Belgian waffles. Healthy and balanced!) and headed to a meeting with a man named Claes Bengtsson, who works in the cabinet with one of the commissioners and has spent his last two years working on trade relationships between the EU and the US.` We spent about an hour picking his brain, asking him allllll about the sanctions on Russia, the situation with Scotland, the way they handled Greece, etc etc. And when he shook my hand at the end, all I could think was “Holy shit, I can’t believe I just got to talk to this man FOR A CLASS.” The insight we all gained from him was incredible, and I still can’t believe that it was on, basically, a class field trip. How many of my classes at DePaul visit the European Parliament? Zero.
In case anyone was wondering: Yes. School on Semester at Sea really is a thing. I just wrote a six page paper, read two books, and wikipedia-ed more things than I ever have before in this past week. They took away google from us, so Wikipedia is pretty much all we have. I have friends that have been known to spend hours pressing the “random page” button on Wikipedia. Talk about a wealth of useless knowledge- that’s us.
As for homesickness, like I said, it was really rough this past week. But I’ve been getting lots of really, really amazing emails from people back home! I haven’t gotten to sit down and respond to some of the longer ones, since we’ve been in port for a few days-but the responses are coming! It means a ton to get emails, even from people I didn’t talk to much before I left (What is socialization? Too busy working. Ew.)!
Also, shout out to Bryce. I finally got wifi and saw that I had an email from Paypal with the subject “You’ve Got Cash!!” Then I open it and see that Bryce Kille made a donation! WOW BRYCE!!! THANKS SO MUCH!! Your donation of $1.34 (essentially 1 euro) is going toward my laundry funds! If anyone else wants to donate $4.66, I can actually afford to do a load of laundry. No, seriously. A little bag of laundry costs $6 to do. I’m not kidding. I’d like to think they wash my clothes in liquid gold or something.
And now here I am, back to traveling alone (a much needed change of pace after traveling with people for the last 20 some days) headed to Paris! If anyone can recall one of my first blog posts ever, it was all about the Day I Fell In Love With Paris. Needless to say, I’M PRETTY STOKED. Oh, and did I mention that one of my best friends in the whole entire world is studying abroad in Paris right now? T MINUS 42 MINUTES UNTIL I GET TO SEE SAM. I will cry when I see here. I’m accepting that. Mostly because this train ride is giving me anxiety. Some guy was sitting in my seat when I got on (So I awkwardly sat in a seat a row ahead and stared at my ticket for 10 and a half minutes, waiting until I figured out if maybe I was in the wrong place) and the conductor told him to leave (I think…) but then I’m pretty sure he paid him off a little and just bought a new ticket and never moved and the conductor never told me to move so I just didn’t, but now I’m really worried that the rightful owner of Coach 18 seat 86 is going to come strolling down the aisle and kindly request that I move, which would render me seatless unless I muster the courage to confront Seat-stealer in Coach 18 seat 94. I hope you can all sense the anxiety in my voice here.
I really hope Sam has some wine.
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