Being vegetarian in Brussels

I hope this will be part 1 in a series of posts on vegetarianism in Brussels and the rest of the series will be slightly more positive... So far, I've been struggling a bit with my conviction of not eating meat or fish - not mentally but in pragmatic terms. The Belgians are a meat-loving people. It's like France, where the cuisine is heavily based on animal-products, but at least Paris is modern and diverse enough so that you'd find plenty of vegetarian, vegan or macrobiotic restaurants there - however, not Brussels. In one restaurant, they could actually only propose a green salad to me (really!!). Ok, but asking 16 Euros for it was kind of ridiculous. 

It should be said however that the EU cantines do provide a daily vegetarian option which is as poor as any of the non-vegetarian options. Obviously, I feel that all public administration and international organisations should do what they preach on reducing carbon footprint: provide only vegetarian food, or at least adhere to the Meatless Monday movement.

Sorry for getting radical once again... But the point is (never mind saving the planet) that I don't know how I will succeed in visiting all the restaurants on my "Brussels 500 secrets" list. Many of the restaurants on the list are a bit old school and probably they find the very idea of vegetarianism against their beliefs. There are a couple of vegetarian places mentioned in the book, in the "Healthy food" section. I'm glad to eat healthy but labeling vegetarian food rather healthy than just good food that is able to compete with any carnivore meal is saddening and old-fashioned. At least in Helsinki, all the fine-dining restaurants are already offering great value for vegetarian money (vegetarians are no poor hippies any longer...).

                    

Until a few days ago, I believed that at least one traditional Belgian food is not only vegetarian but even vegan: the French fries, les frites. Well well, in a rush before a concert I had my fries and smelled like fried oil for the rest of the evening among the cool hipsters in Beursschouwburg. My friend educated me afterwards that the Belgian fries are fried in animal fat, most often beef fat - no wonder the smell sticked on a vegetarian skin so well. So that's it, even this safe option for vegetarian food is now gone. Although, I have to say that I'm not very sorry for losing the opportunity of eating fries, especially because luckily already years ago I have visited no. 76, Frit'Flagey, and no. 79, Maison Antoine, on the list of "The Best Places for Proper Belgian Frites" (later on I was told by a proper Belgian that actually you can find proper fries only outside of Brussels...).

This (and having gained a few extra kilos here) brings me to the issue of healthy eating in Brussels. Belgium is the biggest consumer of fat internationally with a consumption of 95 grams per day per capita. Germany (86,5 g) and Finland (80,8 g) follow a bit behind. When it comes to sugar, Belgium is number 6 with 95,0 grams after for example the USA (126,4 g) and Germany (102,9 g). Finland takes the eight positions with 91,5 grams of sugar per day per capita (see the article on Washington Post). However, at the same time, the share of obese people in Belgium is below the OECD average. I guess they do better in resisting the pains au chocolat etc. than I do. In any case, I have hard time avoiding sugary and greasy products, so missing out on fries is quite welcome... 

Image from the Washington Post article.

Arrivederci Firenze

The Economist wrote about PhD programmes a week ago and concluded that doing a PhD is waste of time. It was slightly discouraging to read such an article only a few days before I was finishing my thesis but, at the same time, I could only think that the last 3 and half years have been an excellent period in my life and living in Florence was an amazing experience. If I don't manage to translate my extended studies into economic benefits, at least I have had the opportunity to learn about Italian culture, admire painters from Giotto to Michelangelo, and visit dozens of beautiful Tuscan churches. So, I always have the plan B of becoming a tourist guide in Florence...

Of course, the whole autumn (my last one in Florence) was a huge nostalgic period when I was constantly thinking that I will have to give up my life in Florence that I had just now learnt to fully appreciate. Even those two months when I was the first one at the library at 8h30 when it opened (after a cappuccino and cornetto in San Domenico) and left around nine o'clock in the evening and hardly had the time to explore Florence, I was enjoying my stay.

During my last weekend, I strolled around the city to go through all my favourite spots of the city and walked up to San Miniato. It has the best view of Florence. The church itself is also amazing; so amazing that during one of the Florentine wars, Michelangelo protected the church with mattresses against the enemy's weapons. I sat inside for a while and in the comfortable isolation shed a few tears, out of happiness of having had such great last few months in Italy, beauty of the place and melancholy.

The last weeks in Florence were so busy that suddenly, via Cologne's Christmas market and Brussels, I was back in cold and snowy Finland, complaining about Senegalese tomatoes found in the supermarket and bad coffee found everywhere and drunk excessively. Later it was also snowing in Florence, something I've never seen. People who had stayed there posted images and Facebook comments on the chaos in the city. This video as well:

Via Karjalanpiirakka to Pecorino (Back to the Roots 2.)

Writing about a visit to a neighbourhood where I stayed during my first days in Boston, I unnecessarily titled my last entry as “Back to the Roots”. As a consequence, with my limited imagination, I am now troubling to describe with a different title my return back to Finland and eventually to Italy. Though I increasingly enjoyed Boston at the end of my stay, I was extremely happy to be onboard in the British Airways flight just the day before their strike begun and despite all the potential ash clouds hindering the air traffic over Europe. Returning back to the real roots...

While the weather forecasts for Florence were full of dark clouds, in mid-May I arrived to Finland that happened to be the warmest place in Europe at the moment. I had a Tampere-euphoria for three days that I spent in my beautiful hometown. The riverbanks offered picnic places for people enjoying the sun and I felt cosy when seeing drunken people in the early afternoon. Ah, Finland, so unpretentious, and the people, oh, so weird hair colours.

I stayed in Finland only for one week, just a perfect time for leaving in a state of premature homesickness and still having strong faith in our Eurovision song (I still think it’s great even though we didn’t make it to the final. However, I am a bit worried: what is happening to the world if you can’t make it to the Eurovision final even with a song by two beautiful blonds!).

My luggage full of summery silk dresses that had been useless in Berlin, I arrived to Florence airport where the casual conversation with an Italian co-passenger already led to an invitation for drinks (Italians, pfff...). How nice to return to a city where you know your way around, while the tourists around you are wondering how “grazie” should be pronounced or stay seated in the bus after arriving to the last stop. Just out of excitement and wonder if my rusty Italian was completely lost, I started short discussions with Italians who mostly responded in English (obviously quite lost that rusty Italian). I finished the academic year with 2/3 of my thesis but most importantly I took my time contemplating the Duomo with never-ending amaze, doing a passegiata around the city verifying that David was still in Piazza della Signoria, suffering a disappointment when a nice alternative café had been transformed into a boring place with no character and a shock when discovering a Ben & Jerry’s shop in the centre of Florence (ironically I noticed the place when eating ice cream in a gelato festival), and finally, feeling pure happiness in San Ambrogio market. How difficult to talk about Harvard and Boston without comparing the life there with our Florentine life that fills all the senses and gives satisfaction in so many levels. I found it hard to describe my life in Harvard not sounding completely unhappy with my stay there. Because that isn’t the case, I'm just so very happy with my life in Florence.