Oh man, here we go…

From CNN:

(CNN) — Belgium’s Prime Minister Yves Leterme has offered his government’s resignation amid a row over the break-up of the stricken Fortis bank, according to national media reports.

Belgian newspapers and state television reported that Leterme was tendering the government’s resignation to the king.

Gotta love it! So much of my cash goes to the damn government, you’d think they would at least get their act together and make better decisions. The basics of democracy forbid the exact sort of meddling that Yves was involved in. I hope the King (*gulp*) accepts his resignation and makes this guy work in some cave in Wallonia so I don’t have to pay unemployment benefits. Does this make me a fascist?

Anyway, I propose a 2-state solution. Ethnic Kurds can have the nor… oh wait. Wrong country!

I’m happy to report that I no longer suffer from milk acid.

Perhaps I should explain. Last week at my osteopath appointment — and everyone should visit an osteopath immediately — the miracle lady asked me what types of ailments I’ve been having above and beyond the trouble that I was having with my back from my bike accident. I told her, half jokingly that I thought I was coming down with a case of carpal tunnel because my forearms ached after long hours in front of the computer. She wasn’t convinced, and unable to tell me what she thought the problem could be in English, she could only literally translate the Dutch expression, which I believe was “Melkzuur”, she said I had “milk acid” in my muscles.

Of course! Milk Acid. I should have known. But my friend Wikipedia states that “Contrary to popular belief, … increased concentration of lactate does not directly cause … muscle soreness.”

But you know what? It has been a full week since my appointment and I have not had any discomfort in my forearms. For something that I generally feel every day, I’m convinced that her magic worked. Before I send flowers though, I’m going to wait it out and see how I feel in another week or two.

And the best part? There is no temporary license. I will not be legally able to drive the whole time they fumble around with their procedures. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

After taking months to get the car inspected and registered, I thought that I was in the clear (I will most certainly post more details on this in a future posting). I already expressed some of the challenges opening a business as a non-Dutch speaking, non-Citizen. In that case, I can simply put my ambitions on hold and start a business in about 5 years. In the case with my license — no matter how inconvenient it will be over the next 6 weeks — I have no choice.

And get this — the town told us I need to come with my US license. That’s it. We asked them directly what we needed to bring. Of course, knowing how Belgians operate, my wife did a bit more digging. It turns out that we also need to bring some passport photos, my resident card, and 16 Euro. Thanks Mrs. Town Hall Worker! I may have just been dumb enough to come with my license and a smile, only to be turned away — and likely to have to take yet another day out of work.

I should say that when the government says it takes 6 weeks, it will likely take 3 months. Here’s how they do their math: The “6 weeks” will likely start when the right person assigned to the task actually starts working on the task. As I have seen, this could take a few weeks for someone to even look at it. Then, there are vacations and holidays. These periods do not count, so figure in at least 2 or 3 weeks for that. Then, inevitably, there will be some commotion that will need some official response or document. Who knows — they’re likely to give me problems about a speeding ticket from 5 years ago. Ugh.

The painful part about this system is that it promotes breaking the law. Do you honestly believe I can go without driving for 6 weeks (i.e. 3 months)? I have 2 kids; I work in Brussels. The train workers strike all the time (another annoyance here in Belgium). So when there is a strike, am I to just take a holiday?

If they can manage to get this done within 6 weeks, not only will I be amazed, but I would also call it a Christmas Miracle and post back here just how wrong I was.

When I first moved to Belgium, I knew that starting a new business would be more difficult than in the US. Boy was I wrong! It can be damn-near impossible! I’ve been reading a short introduction to starting a business in Belgium. The book is aptly titled “local knowledge guide to setting up and running your business in belgium”. A bit of a long title, but it matches the process.

For most businesses, the government boasts that you can start up in about 3 days. This assumes, of course, that you have all your paperwork in order, you know exactly where to go and who to talk to, and you know exactly what questions to ask. For a foreigner, all three of these conditions can be tricky.

Then there are more issues to overcome. For an SPRL(U) — the popular private limited company — you need 18,550 Euro in capital to start (an SA, a public limited company, needs 61,500). Depending on where you plan to run your business, you’ll also need to have all your documents in either French, Dutch, or German. As I am only learning Dutch, I would need a lot of help establishing the paperwork for the business. Not to mention that the details of all the social laws are only available in Dutch or French. This would require me to not only rely upon, but to trust, another party with ensuring that I meet all the requirements, file all the right reports, and pay the right fees and taxes.

There is also a potential issue — which should be a minor formality and nothing more — about proving your competence in basic management skills. I would think that my BA in Business Management would be an easy score. But after reading about some of the horror stories online about other non-EU folk trying to start a business, I’m not so sure. Non-citizens also seem to face additional difficulties, although I’m not sure what they are (likely some procedural red tape).

In the end, I’m looking at about a 5 year wait. By then, I should a good understanding of the Dutch language, my citizenship, 5 years of managerial experience, and money in the bank. And in the meantime, I can simply freelance, provided my income is low enough.

So I’m standing in a long line at the ING cafeteria for lunch today. The line next to me (equally as long) had to close due to a malfunction in the cash register. Ugh. All those poor buggers — close to 30 people I think — left standing dazed and confused, unsure if they should get out of their dead line and head to the back of mine, or if they should hang tight for the register to get fixed.

But then something magical happened. A guy ahead of me in my line let the first guy in the dead line cut him. Then the guy behind him did the same. And so on.

There is something poetic about two long lines of hungry people merging together before you; a giant, human zipper. It didn’t bother me one bit that I went from 10th to about 20th in line.


But some people just don’t get it.

Four women in the dead line were gabbing away (in French, so I have no idea if they were discussing national security or nail polish) next to me. It was my turn to perform the zipper move, so I let the first of the gabbers cut me.

And what do you think happened? Gabby #2 proceeded to follow her friend close behind not letting me in!

So what do you think I did? I dug my shoulder between the birds, looked at Gabby #2 square in the face, and in my best Rhode Island accent asked: “Evah hear of a zippa?”.

She looked confused. Either she didn’t understand me, or she didn’t know what a zipper was. Clearly, her and her friends were not paying attention. Or maybe they were being arrogant, or playing the “I’m a woman, so you need to be chivalrous and let me through” card.

What is this, high school? Must I be courteous in the face of such blatant disregard for the zipper?

I felt proud of my actions and I also take comfort in the fact that I would not have hesitated to do the same if four burley maintenance workers tried pulling the same. Burley #2 would have gotten an earful!

Literally.

I was at a friend’s house working on the computer. My son was in the other room crying a bit. So I leaned over to see him… a bit more… a bit more…

POW! BAM!

Holy cow. I fell off the chair. (My wife would be keen to remind me at this point that cows aren’t holy!)

For the love of all things Holy. Gas prices here in Belgium would make any SUV owner in the US jump off a bridge. Or at least buy a bike.

I just filled my tank last night for the first time since moving to Belgium. 70 Euro.  S-e-v-e-n-t-y! In USD, we’re talking $110.00. Imagine the riots in LA. The extreme-commuters would disappear. People would be forced to take the bus! *gasp*

You might be wondering why last night was the first fill-up here in Belgium (I’ve been living here now since December 22, and my car has been here since February). The fact is, with the company car, I haven’t used the Rabbit so much. Just to get me to the train station (just a few km away) on rainy and super-cold days. So, after a few months of that, I finally needed to re-fuel.

As a matter of fact, the last time I filled my tank, it cost me about $30.00. And I did it back in December!

The moral is to keep using the company car and park the Rabbit. A lot.