Why A Blog Now???!!!

There was a sound of revelry by night,
      And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
      The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men;

                              George Gordon Byron,  Lord Byron  (1788-1824)


BELGIUM!

...So, I enjoy most things Belgian:  The chocolates, the beer, the food, the people, the countryside, etc.  When I decided to take a big chance and study Medicine in a foreign country and in a foreign language,  I must have been either foolishly hopeful or mentally deluded.  We hear so much today of the credo, "failure is impossible".  Little did I know that I would live there for eight years.  Why so long, you ask?  Well, failure was possible and probable.  It took me a couple of years to adjust to a totally alien environment and culture, but once I did, it was smooth sailing.  Why, in 1966, I had never been out of the country before, not even Canada!
     I remember that day well, when my parents saw me off at Kennedy Airport, recently renamed from Idlewild Airport for our late President.  We went to the far reaches of the terminal where we found Icelandic Airlines otherwise known as Loftleidir.   Don Heise was there waiting for me, as we would be traveling together via Keflavik in Iceland to Luxembourg Findel as it was the European hub of the airline.  I had a window seat and as I looked out into the Autumn night, I saw the US coastline disappear while harboring mixed thoughts, mostly fear and hope.   It was an old Canadair CL-44, a turboprop that would be retired  five years later.  Bumpy and noisy, I was relieved by the free Cognac that they kept passing out, now my go-to after-dinner beverage of choice.  A long flight, first into Iceland (more cognac), and then on to Europe, arriving at night.

CL-44

 
 Fortunately, Don knew the ropes about the train system and we rode through the night in a drafty railroad car,  arriving early in a sun-lit morning.  Between each country, at that time, there was a border control where you had to show your passport to the officials who came on board.  It reminded me of every spy movie I had ever seen.  On arrival, I knew only one person in Brussels, a "Mr. Mortimer" who owned a rare bookstore in the Avenue Louise, recommended to me by a friend of my parent's, Fred Altman, also a rare book collector.  My first task was to go to the main campus of the university in Ixelles on the Avenue Franklin Roosevelt and get a list of available housing, preferably close to the Faculty of Medicine which was near the Porte de Hal, not the greatest of neighborhoods but I was willing to go for convenience. Most of my American colleagues ended up in more spacious apartments.  I eventually rented a room in St. Gilles, part of the larger apartment of a widow, Mme. DeBecker, a woman who had spent much of her married life in the Belgian Congo.  She was a pleasant but somewhat nosy landlord, spending most days taking care of her little grandson, Serge, who would spend a good part of the day eating Nutella!

My room...above a grocery shop!

Madame LaFarge...I mean DeBecker!

Little Serge...he spoke French at my level. Hard to believe he's probably  54 years old today!

     I walked over to the Faculty to register and get my student card.  On the way, I had to pass through an open air market where there was a Belgian gauffre (waffle) stand, selling delicious hot delicacies right off the griddle.  This was to become a regular stop for me on the way to class.

     Arriving at the medical complex which was an assortment of buildings (St. Pierre Hospital, the Bordet Institute, labs, teaching units etc.) but the first thing I noticed on entering the main hall was a large plaque commemorating the medical school's construction by the Rockefeller Foundation of New York, a little bit of home far away.  The university, The Free University of Brussels, was founded back in the 1830's based on free thought and the liberty to express it.  During the Nazi occupation in 1941, it actually closed down rather than collaborate with the Nazis.

The Free University of Brussels's main campus in 1966

Main entrance to Faculty of Medicine (1966).  You only get to walk through this portal the day you graduate.

     Having settled into my neat little room, it was time to wander and discover the sights and new colleagues.  There was a fairly large American contingent in my class, as well as Vietnamese, Congolese, Rwandan , German. Greek, Arab, Iranian, Israeli students.  Back then, they would start off with a large class and, by the final year, end up with a relatively small graduating class.  Today, they have rather severe entrance exams.  Today, the University, made up of numerous faculties, has 24,000 students, 32% of whom come from abroad.
     That afternoon, I walked up to the fashionable Avenue Louise quarter and, waiting to cross the street, met my first friend/classmate, a Swede from Malmo by the name of Bjorn Forsell.  He invited me back to his apartment where I was greeted by his fiancé, Birgitta, a very beautiful Swedish woman.  We remained friends and Suzanne and I attended their wedding several years later, being the only non-Scandinavians present.  I remember the Norwegians drinking us all under the table.  Many years later, I was at a meeting in Chicago and discovered Bjorn had emigrated to the US and was a family physician in Aurora, Illinois.  I called him up and he and Birgitta, still beautiful, met me at my hotel where we had a lovely dinner together.  Not only was he a physician but a Porsche racer.  They had driven in to Chicago in his Porsche with racing stripes and all.  Sadly, he passed away at an untimely 64 years of age in 2008.
     I did reach out to Mr. Mortimer and he and his wife and daughter invited me out to dinner several times but, unfortunately, as I got busy, we lost touch.  The rest of the year was a mixture of adjustment, missing home and, especially, Suzanne.  The American contingent was a close group but supportive of each other, many hoping to transfer back to a med school in the states.  Some became very assimilated into the culture, hanging out with and dating Belgians, while others kept to themselves.

Me in front of the Porte de Hal, the remains of the original wall that surrounded central Brussels

     I didn't really do much cooking as Mme. DeBecker was always there, so I either ate at the main campus (steak de cheval!) or at a couple of local restaurants, La Fringale, which had the best omelettes, or La Cou Cou at the Toison d'Or, which served a contraption called "La Grand Cou Cou" which was a hamburger on a plate covered with grilled onions, cheese, and a fried egg with frites (french fries), sort of what we in Rochester would refer to as a "garbage plate".  There was also a student place near the main campus which had the best "steak-spaghetti".  My favorite, however, was right down at the Porte de Hal, the Breughel,  which served wonderful steak covered with a cognac sauce.  It's still there today, more than 50 years later serving the same thing!   Fortunately, the dollar back then was quite strong and my cost of living in Belgium was very affordable, most of all being my tuition which was $40 for the year (only to increase to $120 the following year).  The Free University was "free" in more ways than one!

Brasserie Breughel at the Port de Hal

NEXT: "SCHOOL DAYS...SCHOOL DAYS..."