New in town

There's a peculiar pleasure in walking around a city you've moved to literally hours ago and getting annoyed at all the tourists. "What are they doing here? Where do they come from? Why are they wandering around aimlessly taking photos?" I fumed as I wandered around aimlessly taking photos.

Our hotel is in the European Quarter, home of the parliament, where the business happens, the real Brussels. But ten minutes walk away is the Brussels of the postcards, of the ancient buildings, of the smelly crowds of visitors. I headed straight to the World Heritage site of the Grand Place to see if there was more to it than a boy having a wee.

I will admit, it's all very picturesque. After thirteen years in the States I consider anything built before the 1980s to be venerable and timeworn (like me) so the 15th Century townhall was nice to look at, as was the 12th Century church of St Nicholas beside it. The tiny, twisting cobbled streets are a welcome change from Houston's downtown freeways, although they are filled with tacky shops and bars catering to the tourist hoards. Ugh.

But after the unwashed masses have left, Brussels is having its own son et lumiere every night, where various artists have filled local landmarks with dazzling displays. We went tonight, and watched artificial fireflies dance while we stood underneath 20ft-high glowing flowers. Or maybe that was just a side effect of all the Belgian beer I've been drinking.

The royal palace. Wait, Belgium has a monarchy? Vive la révolution!

Ah yes, that authentic churro and waffle experience.

A clock, with lots of bells. Probably significant, I don't know.

I have a feeling we're not in Texas anymore.

The townhall. Impressive, if you like that sort of thing.

I like this sort of thing!

One of the interesting details about the city is that these things litter the streets. There seems to be a dozen electric scooter companies offering deathtraps that you unlock via app and then dump wherever you arrive. It's...concerning.

Some bicycle-powered lights outside the EU Parliament.

Pete burning off at least half a pain au chocolat.

Nicely lit building.

Not at all terrifying.

Those flowers I told you about. Maybe they were real!

A field of artificial fireflies. Easier to keep in place than real ones, I imagine.

Illuminati.

In the manner to which I have become accustomed

Things are a lot nicer when someone else is paying, which is why I thoroughly enjoyed our flight to Brussels. And when you're as important as Hannah, they let you fly business class! I didn't even have to pay for drinks!!

Unfortunately the route was a three hour hop to Washington, DC followed by a scant seven-hour overnight flight to Belgium. I contemplated staying up, pressing the call button every ten minutes and asking for another glass of Baileys, but decided I needed to be on best form for immigration, so pulled on my complimentary United Airlines socks and slept.

My once powerful British Passport no longer lets me down the EU fast track lane but thankfully the queues were short and we were soon out and on solid European soil for the first time in...a very long time. Then it was a case of getting a Covid test; no small feat when you lack both a Belgian phone and the all-important European eID, "The Future of cross-border digital public services".

But somehow we managed it, and having been judged officially virus clean we wandered the city, which is a lot easier than Houston given they have pavements here. It's all just so European! Cars stop for you at pedestrian crossings, imposing ancient buildings line cobbled streets, and everyone smokes. In the US you get to kill yourself with a gun, whereas in Europe it's a cigarette. Hannah and I have started smoking just to fit in.

I've also been wheeling out my French, which has been going well. "At least you made the effort," the hotel receptionist told me when I requested a "chariot de baggage" for our suitcases. 

This morning I put Pete on the bus to his new school (I'm not crying) and Hannah jumped on a train to find Chevron's main office in Ghent. And as soon as I finish this Gauloises bleu, I'm off to Lidl.

Don't get used to this, sunshine.

Hannah's favourite part was the divider that she could raise to block me out.

Just the one Baileys then!

We did get to enjoy the swanky new Polaris Lounge in DC, where I tried to spot anyone famous. It's harder with masks on.

"So why did you want to move to Belgium?"

The EU Parliament...

...where Hannah will be spending much of her time talking about green energy policy. Green energy policy set by an oil company! What could go wrong?

Pete already rocking the classic Eastern European look.

Onto the morning school bus! An excellent place to finish homework, as I recall.

And I'm back in my happy place.

On the move

Finally, after sending to the embassy a pile of documents that put War and Peace to shame, we were judged to be of good enough character to move to Belgium. More fool them!

As soon as Hannah's work found out, the slo-mo bureaucratic process gave way to a feverish rush. Why wasn't she there yesterday? Movers were booked within minutes, and then it was time to send Pete to school with some Belgian goodies to hand out on his last day.

The movers arrived and were done in two days! I've found that it's always good to be specific when dealing with professionals: "I don't care about my wife and son," I told them. "Just make sure my piano and coffee machine get there undamaged."

They understood, but also informed me that my wife and son had to accompany me on the aircraft. After that revelation our tickets were booked, and our time left in Texas started to be measured in hours rather than months.

What better way to spend those hours than drinking? As we can't export any booze, we threw a Take-Your-Own-Bottle pizza party on the driveway for all of our wonderful neighbours. They did us proud, and vodka, gin, whisky, etc. disappeared, including one bottle of red wine that smashed, leaving a nice purple stain on the concrete for whoever rents our house to deal with.

How easily do all worldly possessions pack to nothing!

Poor child, eating donut.

All this was once Hannah's clothes.

Pete enjoying a couple of nights in a Houston hotel as our furniture departs.

Farewell to H-town.

Next door's cat Phillio (a regular visitor) being somewhat confused.

Then Hannah's speakeasy opened in the garage, and I don't remember much after that.