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.

        

The Shock of Civilzation

I made it to Brussels ready to start a new academic year.  I had a bit of an adjustment phase when I started studying full time in Europe two years ago. But even then it was the Central-East. I'd been,  studied and worked there before.  I'd never been to the West as much more than a tourist. When there, I enjoyed the attractions and then usually left deciding that I'd rather live in the 'unfashionable' East.
Living in the EU's eastern region made cultural impressions on me. I didn't begin to realize their extent until Belgium. In the western world eastern Europe is stereotypically regarded as backward, behind the times, or at best 'catching up' to civilization. This January, during a weekend with Slovak family friends, one of them told me that the East is the new West. I took his meaning. Countries in the eastern regions of the EU tend to have less socialist governmental policies, less de facto complicated regulations and more rules about things like drinking or smoking (say what you will about their enforcement).
After coming to Brussels I  understand that Vienna, what I thought of as being the West at the time of that visit to Slovakia, was really the bridge between two worlds. Sure, it looked a lot more manicured. But, its bureaucratic processes were more familiar to me from time spent in Poland, Hungary and Romania. Now I've formally ventured into the former Western bloc. It's a whole different animal.
One of my Polish friends once told me, that in his country: "There are the rules...and then there are the rules for getting around the rules". They have an abundance of the former in Belgium. But, the latter appears nonexistent. I am an EU citizen. I've never before had to go through a complicated registration system or get a residence permit as a European. In Belgium it's required. Opening a bank account has taken over 3 weeks so far, thanks to all of the forms and approvals necessary. This would not be more than an inconvenience if I were not required to set up standing orders and take out insurances from the bank just to rent an apartment.
Speaking of my building: at first, reminded me of a dystopic sci-fi novel. There's always a person manning the lobby like the minder at the main entrance to the apartment my family rented in Moscow. People enter your apartment while you're gone and open the window like the time I accidentally rented from the mob in Bucharest. And here, there are also the surveillance cameras in the hall. It's like Big Brother really is watching you!
The subject of housing came up during a walking tour of Brussels. I was talking with a Montenegrin and a Dane. I voiced said concerns regarding my accommodations. The Montenegrin agreed with my assessment; saying  "I could never live in a place where my privacy was not respected". The Dane defended the apartment complex. When I told my parents of the hallway cameras  they said they are common in large US cities as they prevent crime.
I've been to many places. But, I've only ever lived 'as an adult' in Central Eastern Europe. Maybe its culture shock. It seems to me that some of the things I grew up hearing about as the ills of the communist world - the impenetrable bureaucracy,  the rigid codes of conduct and the surveillance- are more present in my impressions of the West than they are in the eastern EU. Westerners have a more positive interpretation.
At the end of the walking tour I took the bus home with a Ukrainian who'd also taken part. She remarked on how comfortable she felt around what she called  "East European" culture. At least for the time being, I cannot disagree.

A Search for The Best of Both Worlds

Today was one of those days.  I woke up to an email I’d both been anticipating and dreading.  It was the response to a query I'd sent to the European Investment Bank, regarding the status of my internship application.

I didn’t want to open it. It might contain yet another rejection. I waited for my water heater's serviceman to show up  for the better part of a day in mental agony. This was either an end or a beginning.

When I applied to my graduate program, it was due to its connection with Poland. I thought it would launch my career here.  Many international firms operate in Poland.  I applied to most of them. The only response was silence.

Polish water heater regulations are crazy. The gas company has to inspect it. Then the company that sold you it has to service the damn thing. Then the commissar’s office has to take a look.

I headed for the store afterwards.  I picked up five liters of water, bread, a couple bottles of wine for the equivalent of 8 Euros.

By the time I returned to my apartment, I was choking on dust. Psie Pole is one giant construction site these days.  You have to pick your way through torn up side-walks , foul smelling water , and piles of dirt. The experience reminds me more of Albania than Poland. I finally clicked on the EIB’s file. I’d been accepted to intern in Luxembourg for three weeks.

But in Poland, the construction is a symbol of modernization. The economy continues growing. The country moves toward the future. I’m happy with my one-bedroom apartment in a newly constructed blok.  Wroclaw’s restored old town is indicative of a synergy between Slavic and western culture.  

In addition to my accommodations, I don’t skimp on the wine,  the cheese or opera tickets. The pay for this month long internship is more than Poland’s median urban salary. It would last me for two months on Europe’s historical chess board. Of course I’m going to accept it.

My parents have told me repeatedly that I’m ‘living the dream’ during my most recent stint in Poland.  This dream’s brought me closer to reality than I ever anticipated. I’ve had to deal with everything from bank accounts to senseless government regulation.  It drives me up the walls.   And now it’s coming to a close.

Yet, don’t want to leave Poland behind.  These problems would be facts of life in any country. I never had to deal with them in the US.  Where I’m headed next may be even be worse. According to the EIB’s website my comfortable Polish life is mere ‘spending money’ in Luxembourg.

This isn’t the end. I may have to venture west to go east. I came to Poland expecting to find an arbitrage of living standards. It exists. But not necessarily on a global scale for those who start here.

My road to Poland will be longer than I expected.  It may lead to the rest of Europe and back again. But, one day I hope to find myself standing on the smoothly paved roads of Psie Pole -- on a western salary. Living the dream in the best of both worlds.           

Passports and European Integration

Many Eastern European nations, however, have flown in the face of EU integration and maintained their own border security. This was also the case when I flew between Poland and the Czech Republic, two other member nations, a few years ago. This further supports my theory that many such nation are actually in the EU mainly for trade perks and access to EU funding, but are uncomfortable to entrusting their own nation to a organization founded by western European powers which have a history of conquering them. They seem to feel that by integrating too much they will loose some of their identity and control over their country. Personally, I can totally see this as a reasonable danger of integration, with the union dominated by economic powers such as Germany and Britain. While some Eastern European nation have continued to grow, unaffected by the economic crises, they have a few years to go still before they stand on equal footing with the west. Until then they will have continue to protect their own interests first. On the way back, the Romanian customs officer came for my passport, I smiled at him and handed it over. May they continue to stamp them at the border for years to come.