Essayez. Essayez. Essayez. (Try. Try. Try.)

It's been over a month that we've been in Brussels and I can't believe how comfortable I feel in this city. I might not yet be able to communicate as well as I want, but that doesn't stop me from getting up every morning ready to try all over again. Some days are better than others, but I refuse to get discouraged every time someone gives me a perplexed look as to what I mean. As an American living in Brussels, who doesn't speak French or Dutch, I was mostly afraid that I wouldn't belong.

I've come to learn that everyone here belongs. It is a veritable melting pot of cultures, ethnicities and races. About 30% of Brussels residents are foreigners, mostly credited to its station in international politics. Among the European Commission, Council and Parliament, there are plenty of other important organizations, banks, ambassadors, journalists, and legal firms that make Brussels their home. When I first started exploring the city, I was amazed to hear Spanish, English, Arabic, Italian, Polish, German, Portuguese and so many other languages, spoken in addition to French and Dutch. I was ecstatic to know I could have little adventures on my own, that is until I met the first person that didn't know any English.

Until our move I had been trying to learn as much French as I could. Don't get me wrong, Dutch is a lovely language, but I thought perhaps learning French would be easier to begin with. I thought I knew a fair amount of basic words and phrases, enough to feel that if someone spoke slowly enough I could make out and understand what they were saying. During our first week here I decided to go to a second hand shop our landlords had recommended, Le Petit Riens (Little Nothings). I hadn't learned how to ask someone to speak slower yet, but when I had gone out with Mato we had so much luck with English speakers, I didn't anticipate a problem. I asked someone who worked at the shop how much an unlabeled foot poof was, and their answer was much longer than a number. I must have looked like a deer in headlights.

"Je suis désolé. Je ne comprends pas très bien français. Parlez-vous un peu du anglais?", I managed to squeak out. (I'm sorry. I do not understand French very well. Do you speak a little English?)

"Non." he responded plainly. 

"Ahh. Okay", I stated. I had already learned 'd'accord' and 'ça va' but my brain just responded in English. 

So I proceeded to try to mime my way out of it, probably insulting the poor man or just making a fool out of myself. I was frustrated, he was frustrated. Thankfully, there was this couple nearby that spoke some English. They must have seen me struggling. Saving me from what would have been 5 more minutes of miming, the gentleman let me know the shop assistant was saying that the cost of the item was 7 EUR and if I wanted to buy it he could keep it at the front desk for me while I browsed around. In fact, I couldn't take it with me unless I requested it be put aside and once I was ready to pay, I'd have to collect it and go straight to the cashier.

"Oh!", I said to my hero, "Thank you so much!"

I turned to the salesman and said "Oui, sil vous plait! Je le veux." (Yes, please! I want it.)

To be quite honest it wasn't so bad, but I'm sure my cheeks were flushed. I took my poof home that day feeling a little bit embarrassed, but even more determined to learn French so I'd feel like that less often. It's coming along, but when I have a day like that day I just tell myself to shrug it off and keep trying!

The foot poof.