HAPPY COLOMBUS DAY!!... oh no.. we´re not in Barcelona...
Like clockwork I wake up at 7, shower (in the lovely shower), had breakfast (and what a breakfast... my stomach was gonna pop.. ghal la Maltija i guess), changed into business suit, and went to our first day of training and meeting of our international colleagues. I guess we each wondered in our own way what awaited us...
I won´t go into detail on the training... after all I could be infringing some ethical, privacy, confidentiality law. All i can say is that it was brilliant. Besides having learnt a lot and grown through the experience, it provided the opportunity to meet and bond with another 19 or so, really great people - making friends... and it´s also incredible to a certain extent when you think about how people who never knew each other, lived miles away, have a different background and culture, and speak different languages achieved the communication and interaction needed for such a relationship - in such a short time! Ma nafx, forsi nistageb mix-xejn...
Anyway, at night we went out for dinner - the first of a series of organised (by our very hospitable and lovely Belgian friends) dinners. It was a ten minute walk from the hotel to the restaurant. If inclined to appreciate the walk - well... you could appreciate the .. what I think are the typical village Belgian houses.. kind of cute... till you get to the village centre comprised of the local hairdresser, the local bar, the local "Harry Potter" church as P. described it.. well the local everything... and there´s where our culinary destination lay.. "Break-out" a dark, atmospheric, modern and minimalistic really cool restaurant.
No pictures for this event - I think we were much more focused on getting to know each other and the beers in particular. Conversations were fun and interesting... but most all they were varied. They ranged from serious topics of a business nature to a serious topics on the importance of hair removal... can´t go into further detail.. you understand.. many confidentiality issues...
Just a small side node - you can say that, that infamous survey question was what actually got everyone feeling comfortable to say anything, including cheering to "l!&a"!
A delicious Mexican Kip (chicken) wrap, Frambosa (rasberry beer) and Duvel (Devil-ish beer which as Bart kindly informed contains 9% alcohol) away we returned back to the hotel to get a good night´s sleep to wake up early the next day, once again.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Arrival in Brussels
My tailbone was sore – 4 hours of being seated can have that effect – but I was relieved, I was finally out of the plane. Said an adios to my new friend, Carlos (whom I’d probably never see again), met P and C.C., got my luggage and caught a taxi to our hotel.
After we checked in, we dumped our luggage in our awesome rooms… that deserves a pause… they were great… king sized.. very comfy double bed, lovely bathroom (just had to have a shower just for the sake of it)… well I won’t go on.. lets just say it was really nice..
End of pause… and we were off to Brussels centre. Possibly nothing exciting – I mean my impression is that of a rather dull place judging by the dull, cloudy overcast sky!
Talk about being wrong! As we walk out of the train station in “Bruxelles – Central” I started noting and absorbing the newness (well, new to me) of this city’s atmosphere; alive with people, and yet so villagy in it’s own way. We couldn’t help but think about our stomachs and also to get to Gran Place which we´d later in the week define as one of the most beautiful piazzas at least in Europe.
Walking to, in, around and away from Gran Place is a feast for the eyes, but also your nasal senses – you are instantly welcomed by the scent of Belgian Fries (the original French Fries as one of my soon to be friends, Tom, explained to me), Hot waffles (plain, with hot chocolate syrup, with panna, with sugar, with berries, with ice cream… if I haven’t got you drooling I’d start wondering from which android planet you came from), expensive fragrances, delicious Belgian chocolates, and Belgian chocolate fountains…
Snap out of it.. back to the Gran Place… it’s beautiful.. wonderful.. surround on each of the 4 sides by monumental buildings with decor so detailed it seemed as fragile as a sugar made version of them. The pictures don’t do it any justice but have a look, below:
Having recovered from the awe we felt, we took heed once again of our grumbling stomachs. We went round Brussels centre streets, took a few pictures but still couldn’t decide where to eat. We went back to Gran Place and found a warm, cottagy restaurant, which however charged like we were eating at a high-end restaurant. It was a rib-eye steak for C.C. and duck in Krik (a cherry based beer) sauce for me and P, followed by a delicious crème brulée for me and a Belgian waffle for P. C.C. took his Belgian waffle off the street…they tend to be better.
We went around a little bit more, I bought my Belgian Frits (kemm jien hanzir!) – quite expensive but well worth it, and then we also sat down in the centre just to absorb a bit of the calmness and Belgian evening feel… till we decided to retire back to our hotel rooms as it got late, and we had to wake up early the next morning.
After we checked in, we dumped our luggage in our awesome rooms… that deserves a pause… they were great… king sized.. very comfy double bed, lovely bathroom (just had to have a shower just for the sake of it)… well I won’t go on.. lets just say it was really nice..
       |
End of pause… and we were off to Brussels centre. Possibly nothing exciting – I mean my impression is that of a rather dull place judging by the dull, cloudy overcast sky!
Talk about being wrong! As we walk out of the train station in “Bruxelles – Central” I started noting and absorbing the newness (well, new to me) of this city’s atmosphere; alive with people, and yet so villagy in it’s own way. We couldn’t help but think about our stomachs and also to get to Gran Place which we´d later in the week define as one of the most beautiful piazzas at least in Europe.
Walking to, in, around and away from Gran Place is a feast for the eyes, but also your nasal senses – you are instantly welcomed by the scent of Belgian Fries (the original French Fries as one of my soon to be friends, Tom, explained to me), Hot waffles (plain, with hot chocolate syrup, with panna, with sugar, with berries, with ice cream… if I haven’t got you drooling I’d start wondering from which android planet you came from), expensive fragrances, delicious Belgian chocolates, and Belgian chocolate fountains…
Snap out of it.. back to the Gran Place… it’s beautiful.. wonderful.. surround on each of the 4 sides by monumental buildings with decor so detailed it seemed as fragile as a sugar made version of them. The pictures don’t do it any justice but have a look, below:
Having recovered from the awe we felt, we took heed once again of our grumbling stomachs. We went round Brussels centre streets, took a few pictures but still couldn’t decide where to eat. We went back to Gran Place and found a warm, cottagy restaurant, which however charged like we were eating at a high-end restaurant. It was a rib-eye steak for C.C. and duck in Krik (a cherry based beer) sauce for me and P, followed by a delicious crème brulée for me and a Belgian waffle for P. C.C. took his Belgian waffle off the street…they tend to be better.
We went around a little bit more, I bought my Belgian Frits (kemm jien hanzir!) – quite expensive but well worth it, and then we also sat down in the centre just to absorb a bit of the calmness and Belgian evening feel… till we decided to retire back to our hotel rooms as it got late, and we had to wake up early the next morning.
Off to Brussels
We’re finally off to Brussels. I have never been to Brussels, so I’ve been looking forward to add it to my “places I have been”. It’s a pity that it’s for work, and that I’ve already been warned there isn’t much to do or see in Brussels. But, “come on”, I said to myself, “think positive”…
So the 3 Maltese, Spanish/Catalonian representatives wake up at 5a.m… oh damn. I’m sooo tired! I hate it when I’m tired – things always go or seem to go wrong when I am tired.
We arrive at Terminal A of Barcelona airport – a few rain droplets hit the taxi’s windscreen just as it they our hopes of a smooth journey to Brussels – and I realise that I am supposed to be in Terminal B. Bdejna tajjeb… “Hasta la vista hombres” and a quick jog from one terminal to another I finally checked in.
The next episode deserves its little section – ´The Delay…an understatement´:
I’m on the plane – “quiero una ventana” I demanded at check-in – so I got what I wanted; a window-seat next to the most hyper boy, talkative, annoying little boy. This should give you an idea:
his name is Carlos, he learnt a little bit of English at school, he didn’t know to fasten the seatbelt, he like my mobile Tetris game (and he was better than me at it), he doesn’t understand the concept of NO from his parents, he know whom I work for, he gave me a paper with all the Spanish rude words he knew written on it, his father worked in Orlando as a bar man, he is from Tarragona, Spain…
This is just what I remember of all he told me. Non-stop talking, non-stop kicking (poor woman seated in front of him… well serves her right for constantly getting off with her boyfriend in front of me). Well you know what? It wasn’t that bad after all. He bothered the vacuum cleaners in front of us, he made me laugh, I had someone to talk to, he said “Andrew, ahora, tu eres mi amigo, si?” And that’s how I mad my first friend, since I left BCN airport…
Back to the delay.. this friendship was very important for my sanity. As I buckle my seat belt and the one of Carlos, it is announced that due to very poor visibility in Brussels, we would be leaving in an hour. Three quarters of an hour later, it is announced that we got clearance to take off in 20 mins. Then ten minutes later it was announced that we could only depart in 45 mins. Those 45 mins went by, and it was announced that we would be leaving in 10 mins. As these 10 mins pass, we started to move towards the runway. On the way there, the plane comes to a halt, and the stewardess announces we won’t be able to leave since due to the thick mist Brussels airport had to close, and they would be “trying to find a solution”. Some 20 mins later it is announced that we where given the go ahead to depart. We drive on to the runway and stop again. The plane starts to move, and stops again. It’s starts to move again, and stops again. It’s like the pilot and co-pilot were not the best of friends and just couldn’t agree on who was going to push the throttle leaver so as to depart… Finally the pulling feeling.. I’m sinking in my seat… take off… a outward breath of relief!
The beauty of over-land flights – it’s not just a blue seascape dotted with distant snapshots of the white foam which waves create – it’s different landscapes – greenery, mountains (snow capped and not)… 2 hours later we had obviously arrived to Brussels.. unless their landscape was made out of cloud shaped cotton. We start descending as Carlos signals with his hand swooping downwards for the Nth time. Into the clouds we go; all you can see is a thick mist… well actually soon enough I found out that it was mist. When it cleared I realised we were only 2 seconds away from landing!
So the 3 Maltese, Spanish/Catalonian representatives wake up at 5a.m… oh damn. I’m sooo tired! I hate it when I’m tired – things always go or seem to go wrong when I am tired.
We arrive at Terminal A of Barcelona airport – a few rain droplets hit the taxi’s windscreen just as it they our hopes of a smooth journey to Brussels – and I realise that I am supposed to be in Terminal B. Bdejna tajjeb… “Hasta la vista hombres” and a quick jog from one terminal to another I finally checked in.
The next episode deserves its little section – ´The Delay…an understatement´:
I’m on the plane – “quiero una ventana” I demanded at check-in – so I got what I wanted; a window-seat next to the most hyper boy, talkative, annoying little boy. This should give you an idea:
his name is Carlos, he learnt a little bit of English at school, he didn’t know to fasten the seatbelt, he like my mobile Tetris game (and he was better than me at it), he doesn’t understand the concept of NO from his parents, he know whom I work for, he gave me a paper with all the Spanish rude words he knew written on it, his father worked in Orlando as a bar man, he is from Tarragona, Spain…
This is just what I remember of all he told me. Non-stop talking, non-stop kicking (poor woman seated in front of him… well serves her right for constantly getting off with her boyfriend in front of me). Well you know what? It wasn’t that bad after all. He bothered the vacuum cleaners in front of us, he made me laugh, I had someone to talk to, he said “Andrew, ahora, tu eres mi amigo, si?” And that’s how I mad my first friend, since I left BCN airport…
Back to the delay.. this friendship was very important for my sanity. As I buckle my seat belt and the one of Carlos, it is announced that due to very poor visibility in Brussels, we would be leaving in an hour. Three quarters of an hour later, it is announced that we got clearance to take off in 20 mins. Then ten minutes later it was announced that we could only depart in 45 mins. Those 45 mins went by, and it was announced that we would be leaving in 10 mins. As these 10 mins pass, we started to move towards the runway. On the way there, the plane comes to a halt, and the stewardess announces we won’t be able to leave since due to the thick mist Brussels airport had to close, and they would be “trying to find a solution”. Some 20 mins later it is announced that we where given the go ahead to depart. We drive on to the runway and stop again. The plane starts to move, and stops again. It’s starts to move again, and stops again. It’s like the pilot and co-pilot were not the best of friends and just couldn’t agree on who was going to push the throttle leaver so as to depart… Finally the pulling feeling.. I’m sinking in my seat… take off… a outward breath of relief!
The beauty of over-land flights – it’s not just a blue seascape dotted with distant snapshots of the white foam which waves create – it’s different landscapes – greenery, mountains (snow capped and not)… 2 hours later we had obviously arrived to Brussels.. unless their landscape was made out of cloud shaped cotton. We start descending as Carlos signals with his hand swooping downwards for the Nth time. Into the clouds we go; all you can see is a thick mist… well actually soon enough I found out that it was mist. When it cleared I realised we were only 2 seconds away from landing!
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Football with our work place´s Football Club
You know how we Maltese are... we must have our dose of football... and when watching it on TV, in a sport cafe or streaming 3 different games on 3 laptops is not enough we must play a friendly now and again...
C.A. luckily came across some information about the existence of such a possibility within our work place. After some further pondering on whether we should join and some more time to investigate how to enter.. well we managed. Contacted the organiser and we were in... though left with a word of warning that we´d hear many comments about the infamous 12-1 game of Spain-Malta quite a few years back...
We were determined to go.. So Thurs. 4th October, 7pm, a rather rainy day to say the least, we were there (right next to the Neu Camp Stadium). Our team mate and opponents were very nice, and despite the comments we had a few laughs.
It´s whites against darks in this clubs.. the whites apparently having difficulty getting a win for a few games now. So rightly so, we were assigned to the whites. With some fancy footwork from C.A. and my trying to switch from grip-less turf I´m used to, to the rubber to rubber 110% grip (that´d only come in useful in basketball), we actually won the game! Qed tara l-Maltin!
But anyway, it was fun... learnt (or rather got more accustomed to) a few words too.. tactical like "atras!" meaning ´get back, get back´.. as in defense... and swear words like "puta madre" (your mother the whore) and "ustye" (not sure how it is spelt but it sounds very much like our ostja.. it is used in the same way but it´s closer to meaning f*@k).
After some hand shaking, and a picture of the new Maltese team additions for their blog, we considered leaving...
By the time the game was over, it was poring cats and dogs, and some cows were thrown in for good measure too (i´d say finally - although I love the sun - I needed this once-in-a-while downpour). Luckily, we were given a lift back to the closest metro... which in my case was so close to home I decided to walk it. I know it sounds stupid, but i actually enjoyed the fact that I was walking back home for the first time in the rain and puddles in Barcelona together with the rest of the working population which had by now decided to copy me and walk it home.. ;)
C.A. luckily came across some information about the existence of such a possibility within our work place. After some further pondering on whether we should join and some more time to investigate how to enter.. well we managed. Contacted the organiser and we were in... though left with a word of warning that we´d hear many comments about the infamous 12-1 game of Spain-Malta quite a few years back...
We were determined to go.. So Thurs. 4th October, 7pm, a rather rainy day to say the least, we were there (right next to the Neu Camp Stadium). Our team mate and opponents were very nice, and despite the comments we had a few laughs.
It´s whites against darks in this clubs.. the whites apparently having difficulty getting a win for a few games now. So rightly so, we were assigned to the whites. With some fancy footwork from C.A. and my trying to switch from grip-less turf I´m used to, to the rubber to rubber 110% grip (that´d only come in useful in basketball), we actually won the game! Qed tara l-Maltin!
But anyway, it was fun... learnt (or rather got more accustomed to) a few words too.. tactical like "atras!" meaning ´get back, get back´.. as in defense... and swear words like "puta madre" (your mother the whore) and "ustye" (not sure how it is spelt but it sounds very much like our ostja.. it is used in the same way but it´s closer to meaning f*@k).
After some hand shaking, and a picture of the new Maltese team additions for their blog, we considered leaving...
By the time the game was over, it was poring cats and dogs, and some cows were thrown in for good measure too (i´d say finally - although I love the sun - I needed this once-in-a-while downpour). Luckily, we were given a lift back to the closest metro... which in my case was so close to home I decided to walk it. I know it sounds stupid, but i actually enjoyed the fact that I was walking back home for the first time in the rain and puddles in Barcelona together with the rest of the working population which had by now decided to copy me and walk it home.. ;)
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