Brussels, You're Pissing Me Off!

A Costa Rican swimming pool 

My family spent a couple of weeks in Costa Rica last summer at a house overlooking the pacific ocean.  During that time my mother read a book entitled 'Karachi, You're Killing Me!' . Judging by the plot description on the back cover, it sounded like the novel mostly was about a girl whining about her boyfriend problems who just happened to be in Karachi. When my mom initially offered to loan me the book after she'd finished, I declined.

Once she was done, she told me that the book would be enjoyable for anyone who'd been to Pakistan's largest city.  According to her, the more 'personal' sections were easy to skip over. Indeed, the tome turned out to be mostly about journalism and Karachiite life. I have to admit that I enjoyed the author's observations about the city. I even  admired the stream of consciousness through which she conveyed her perspectives on Sindh's capital. I laughed profusely as she described living among the city's fragmented bureaucracy.  Constantly caught among contestant linguistic and ethnic groups, the main character lives a hectic, emboozened  life. Her woes largely revolve around writing stuff which is seldom appreciated and even more rarely gets paid for on time. As the last sentence of the  back cover plot description puts it: "It's a comedy of manners in a city with none".   

Two months later : in Belgium 

That was two months ago. Now I'm in Brussels. The capital of the EU. I've been here for a month and a half on a Doctoral program. I've drafted a 40 page literature review, helped submit a panel proposal and attended a mandatory pedagogy seminar about teaching in English as a foreign language. I still don't have any proof of enrolment, any health insurance, or any payment delivery. This is even after going through hell to get a bank account.

I've had to ask 'mommy' to pay my rent. The funds in my Austrian bank account were depleted a few weeks ago. I'm relegated to paying American travel banking fees just to get cash. These would be minor annoyances if I didn't have to provide proof of enrolment at the university four days from now as part of a complicated registration process in Belgium that I am subject to even as an EU citizen. I received an email today saying that said proof won't arrive for another two weeks.

This is my first time living totally west of the former Iron Curtain. I'm used to countries where the bureaucracy is somewhat particularized . At first, I thought the Belgian delays were due to interpersonal politicking.  They're not. My bank account application documents were misplaced and needed approval by the head office. My enrolment documents were lost twice. The final step of receiving my stipend  has not been completed despite assurances. It's not because those in the administration want me to kiss their behinds.  As one of my coordinators explained: "they're just fulfilling a job description".

Laughing at western culture

Ok. So Brussels isn't exactly a free-for-all of target killings and outright municipal mismanagement.  It's kind of the opposite extreme. Still, like Pakistanis, Belgians are oddly proud of their country's complicated nature.  Belgians will proudly tell you how eleven separate parliaments meet in Brussels alone. Said bodies work out endless complicated compromises between Belgian linguistic groups, civic interests and EU Member State positions.  In this environment, it's easy to get lost in the red tape.  

The hold-ups aren't fun.  I've noticed that since being here I've developed my own mental narrative of western Europe's crazy workings. 'Karachi, You're Killing Me!''s main character often used humor as a means of dealing with adversity that was beyond her control. I'm beginning to think that it may be a common human defense.

 As an example,  I spent most of yesterday's afternoon talking with an Algerian who lived in UK and France.  We both  noted the gently condescending attitudes of Brussels' residents. She laughed in sympathy  when  I told her that that I'd taken to answering airs of superiority from western Europeans in Belgium by lauding the organization of east European administration over their own.  To paraphrase the last sentence of  'Karachi You're Killing me!''s  back cover:  It's a comedy of defunct manners where one can only respond with none.