My adventure thus far has been unfolding incredibly smoothly. The shared accommodations I booked online prior to my departure turned out to truly exist and include awesome roomies to boot, my flight neighbor was Tesla’s service manager which made for a fascinating conversation, and the weather has exceptionally bested SF’s for my welcome, I’m given to understand. And while I am still jetlagged, adapting otherwise has not been an issue.

Being in Europe again triggers many of the memories I’d forgotten from my last stay here a decade ago. I had assumed that either Europe would have changed or I would have changed, and while that’s true, there are more fundamental shifts shared by  both sides of the Atlantic than politicians would have you believe. I have failed to experience culture shock, much as I failed to experience it during an entire year abroad the last time around. I remember that I had a much harder time with reverse culture shock upon my return to the US, so I’m wondering if that will happen again.

A few initial anecdotal observations:

1. Government officials have a great sense of humor in Europe. I suppose it’s necessary in gracefully dealing with bureaucratic obstacles and impossible policy challenges.
2. People get out and about in Brussels. Coming from Cali, where the lightest of our rare rains is an excuse to stay indoors, and still traumatized by the six weeks of constant rain we endured in 2006, I give props to Belgians for continuing to move around on motorcycles and bicycles and opting to run in the park rather than on a treadmill.
3. When in Brussels, never assume someone won’t understand you because you speak some obscure language. Speaking four languages is average here, and it’s not just the officials languages of 27 European member-states that you’ll hear, given Europe’s colonial history and all of Europe’s expats living abroad that can exercise their dual citizenship.
4. It’s a pleasant sensation to no longer be exceptional because I’m a dual citizen that’s trilingual. Many of my fellow colleagues have similarly colorful life stories. There’s a bit of negotiation that occurs when meeting another complicated cosmopolitan. For example, the language of choice for communicating with a French native turned out to be Polish even though we both speak French, English, and Polish.
5. Finally, I am amused to have come half way across the world only to land smack dab in the middle of a heavily Polish neighborhood of Brussels completely by chance. The community is larger here than it is in San Francisco, as there are easily four Polish stores and restaurants within a fifteen minute walk. In SF, we only have two.