I left my dorm at 8:15 this morning. I stepped outside and looked at the sky. It was a little chilly, but the sun was shining and the sky was blue. "Good deal," I thought as I started my 15-min walk to school. By the time I reached the university, I was soaked by rain and the sky was a dark grey. Now, 2 hours later, the sky is blue. This happened yesterday too. We had the sun shining on us; we got rained on; we got hailed on; the temperature dropped. Welcome to Belgium.

The other Belgian oddity that came to my attention came with the collection of a goodies package my mom sent Andrew and I. Last week I received a notice that Taxipost attempted to deliver my package, but there was no one there so they kidnapped it. They tried to deliver it at 11:40am. Please note the "front desk" of my building is closed for 2 hours at lunch time. They are open 2 1/2 hours in the morning (9am-11:30am) and 2 1/2 hours in the afternoon (1:30pm-4pm). Yea, that's their work day. So if I want a package, it can only be delivered at these times. Anyways, back to the package.

My package, that I had been imapatiently waiting for, was in a town called Courcelles. Not at a post office in Mons, no that would make too much sense. Belgians don't work like that. So I called Jean (one of my colleagues and a fellow American) to ask her how I would get to Courcelles to collect this package. She responded that it was by Charleroi (a half an hour drive from here) and that she would have to give me a ride. There is no way I could get there by anything other than a taxi otherwise.

Monday morning rolls around and Jean picks me up from school. We're off. I plug the address into her GPS (you cannot get around Europe without one of these things, seriously). Half an hour later, we arrive in Courcelles. We find the taxipost office and we go in. I show them the form they left me and my identity card. Then I pay my 10€ ransom fee. That's right folks. Eventhough my mother spent $35 to have this box delivered to me, I had to pay another 10€ for the Belgians to hand it over.

Inside the box was lots of good surprises. My birthday card, the dental floss I asked for and then sweets (M&M's, oreos, Mounds, Nutty bars, etc). At least it was going to be a box I would enjoy. I have since told Mom, sadly, not to send anymore packages. Boo.

These were the latest examples of Belgium life that has shocked me. As I have told Jean, I don't understand this place or these people. Her response was, that's the first step to surviving. Acceptance.