In attending several conferences organized by European Union institutions, I have been surprised by the extent to which official communication occurs in English. A back-of-envelope history follows.
After World War II, there was little prospect of German being the European language. The Romance languages got off to a strong start with France, Belgium and Italy as founding members of the European Economic Community. Spain and Portugal provided some reinforcement in 1986.
English got in the game in 1973, with Britain and Ireland joining the Community. The Nordics have been another pro-English force, with Denmark also joining in 1973, followed by Sweden and Finland in 1995.
But what really put English over the top was the European Union’s enlargement since 2004 to include Eastern Europe, which is overwhelmingly more interested in learning English than French. And founding members like Germany and the Netherlands are presumably happy enough to watch the tide turn in favour of another Germanic language.
The upshot is that a guy from Saskatchewan can get off a plane and start engaging European political institutions with greater ease than the vast majority of European citizens. Of course, it also helps to speak French, which is still a secondary language at European Union events.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Beer at the Grocery Store
For fear of this blog being re-titled “Swimming with Weir,” which does not rhyme, I am posting about beer. I went to the supermarket today and, among other groceries, picked up some individual beer bottles to try out different types.
Stella Artois is a good example because it is widely available in other countries. A Stella cost me all of 0.4 Euros (about 56 Canadian cents). I also had to pay a bottle deposit of 0.1 Euros, but as with all Belgian merchandise, the sales tax was included in the sticker price.
Stella Artois is a good example because it is widely available in other countries. A Stella cost me all of 0.4 Euros (about 56 Canadian cents). I also had to pay a bottle deposit of 0.1 Euros, but as with all Belgian merchandise, the sales tax was included in the sticker price.
Cheap Suburban Swimming
The Flemish university pool has worked out well for weekday evenings. But since it closes on weekends, I set out today to procure the bathing cap needed to swim in Francophone pools.
I took the subway almost to end of the line to Decathlon, a French sporting-goods store. Sure enough, it was selling fairly comfortable bathing caps for 3 Euros, one-third the price charged by L’Espadon pool.
I then went swimming at CERIA, a vocational college near Decathlon. The admission fee was only 2 Euros, versus the 3+ Euros at other public pools. Whereas L’Espadon and the Flemish pool have both been busy, I had a whole lane to myself at CERIA.
After swimming, I had a pizza at a restaurant near CERIA. I find that ordering one of the options with more toppings leads to something as substantial as North American pizza with the arguably better quality of European pizza. (For western Canadian readers, it is still not as substantial as Vern’s Pizza.)
When the waiter found out that I am Canadian, he mentioned that a Canadian is on “Secret Story” (France’s answer to “Big Brother”) but that her French is pretty strange. I explained that her French sounds strange (to European ears) because she is from Quebec. My French is strange for entirely different reasons.
I took the subway almost to end of the line to Decathlon, a French sporting-goods store. Sure enough, it was selling fairly comfortable bathing caps for 3 Euros, one-third the price charged by L’Espadon pool.
I then went swimming at CERIA, a vocational college near Decathlon. The admission fee was only 2 Euros, versus the 3+ Euros at other public pools. Whereas L’Espadon and the Flemish pool have both been busy, I had a whole lane to myself at CERIA.
After swimming, I had a pizza at a restaurant near CERIA. I find that ordering one of the options with more toppings leads to something as substantial as North American pizza with the arguably better quality of European pizza. (For western Canadian readers, it is still not as substantial as Vern’s Pizza.)
When the waiter found out that I am Canadian, he mentioned that a Canadian is on “Secret Story” (France’s answer to “Big Brother”) but that her French is pretty strange. I explained that her French sounds strange (to European ears) because she is from Quebec. My French is strange for entirely different reasons.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Swimming with the Flemish
This evening, I checked out the Flemish university pool. As promised, there was no funny dress code and I was allowed to wear my trunks. I am also pleased to report that, like every other pool in the world that does not mandate bathing caps, this one has not turned into a giant hairball.
I have no strong feelings about Flemish secession from Belgium. But I could get behind a campaign for equal public funding of Flemish and Francophone pools in Brussels.
I have no strong feelings about Flemish secession from Belgium. But I could get behind a campaign for equal public funding of Flemish and Francophone pools in Brussels.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Strange Belgian Swimwear
I went to a public pool this afternoon and was quickly reprimanded for wearing swimming trunks. Apparently, the francophone pools require speedos.
I found this rule especially bizarre given that the lifeguard uniform consists of a T-shirt and shorts. When I pointed out that the lifeguard who got on my case for wearing shorts was himself wearing shorts, he assured me that he would remove them and wear only his speedo if he needed to go in the water.
The stated rationale was that trunks are unhygienic because people might not clean them properly before entering the pool. The lifeguards seemed unconvinced when I suggested that people might also fail to clean their speedos.
The only saving grace was that the swimming pool sold permissible swimsuits for a price that was not totally unreasonable. But as soon as I returned in my new “swimming briefs,” a second lifeguard informed me that I had to wear a bathing cap.
I tore a strip off him about why the first lifeguard had not mentioned this equally eccentric requirement. The first lifeguard then came by and lent me a bathing cap.
Anyway, it turns out that this webpage is spot on. Anything goes at the Flemish-run pool at Vrije Universiteit Brussel.
However, the first francophone lifeguard regaled me with stories about how the Flemish pool is full of hair due to the absence of bathing caps. In any case, it is closed on weekends.
Strange dress requirements aside, the francophone pool was a very nice facility and I had a great swim. I was also pleased that my French was good enough to deliver some compelling criticism and mockery of the dress requirements but get back on friendly terms with the lifeguards after doing so.
I found this rule especially bizarre given that the lifeguard uniform consists of a T-shirt and shorts. When I pointed out that the lifeguard who got on my case for wearing shorts was himself wearing shorts, he assured me that he would remove them and wear only his speedo if he needed to go in the water.
The stated rationale was that trunks are unhygienic because people might not clean them properly before entering the pool. The lifeguards seemed unconvinced when I suggested that people might also fail to clean their speedos.
The only saving grace was that the swimming pool sold permissible swimsuits for a price that was not totally unreasonable. But as soon as I returned in my new “swimming briefs,” a second lifeguard informed me that I had to wear a bathing cap.
I tore a strip off him about why the first lifeguard had not mentioned this equally eccentric requirement. The first lifeguard then came by and lent me a bathing cap.
Anyway, it turns out that this webpage is spot on. Anything goes at the Flemish-run pool at Vrije Universiteit Brussel.
However, the first francophone lifeguard regaled me with stories about how the Flemish pool is full of hair due to the absence of bathing caps. In any case, it is closed on weekends.
Strange dress requirements aside, the francophone pool was a very nice facility and I had a great swim. I was also pleased that my French was good enough to deliver some compelling criticism and mockery of the dress requirements but get back on friendly terms with the lifeguards after doing so.
Drink All You Want, But Don’t Get Dirty
As anticipated, booze is dramatically cheaper and more available in Belgium than in Canada. The liquor prices at the grocery store near my apartment are on par with the duty-free shop in the Toronto airport. I think that I even saw some fake wine for kids on the supermarket shelf.
I have sampled a couple of different beers by picking up individual cans at convenience stores. Prices range from one Euro ($1.40) for Jupiler to two Euros ($2.80) for Leffe or other high-end brands. I am sure that supermarkets offer lower beer prices, but the one near my place apparently closes on Sundays.
Conversely, in doing laundry yesterday, I was stunned to pay 3.5 Euros ($4.90) for a token to use a washing machine. By comparison, it cost $1.75 in Toronto. I appreciate that electricity and water cost more here, but five bucks to wash a load of laundry?
I have since checked the price at every laundromat I walk past. Three others also charge 3.5 Euros for a token. One has the audacity to charge 3.6 Euros.
But I found one that charges “only” 2.5 Euros ($3.50), and has a huge sign out front advertising that fact. So, I am holding out hope for a Belgian laundromat price war.
I have sampled a couple of different beers by picking up individual cans at convenience stores. Prices range from one Euro ($1.40) for Jupiler to two Euros ($2.80) for Leffe or other high-end brands. I am sure that supermarkets offer lower beer prices, but the one near my place apparently closes on Sundays.
Conversely, in doing laundry yesterday, I was stunned to pay 3.5 Euros ($4.90) for a token to use a washing machine. By comparison, it cost $1.75 in Toronto. I appreciate that electricity and water cost more here, but five bucks to wash a load of laundry?
I have since checked the price at every laundromat I walk past. Three others also charge 3.5 Euros for a token. One has the audacity to charge 3.6 Euros.
But I found one that charges “only” 2.5 Euros ($3.50), and has a huge sign out front advertising that fact. So, I am holding out hope for a Belgian laundromat price war.
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