I’m in one of those awkward phases of my life where I’m still growing into my situation and I can’t yet decide if I’m happy here or not. My indecisiveness is becoming a problem. Or rather it’s my inability to see the future that’s the problem. I need to decide which family I’m going to work for this year. I need to decide where I’m going to law school next year. The overwhelming part is that no one’s opinion besides my own really matters. Actually, there are many overwhelming parts.

Graduation was May 14^th and 15^th. My mom’s family was there the entire weekend. Not all of them but enough of them to get the full effect. They were generous with their graduation gifts so that I’ll hold my commentary. My dad’s family came up Saturday night and left before the graduation on Sunday which sucked because I love spending time with them and hardly ever get to, but was just as well because it torrentially down poured the whole ceremony. One of my roommates was smart enough to skip it and the three of us who went just sat there huddled under an umbrella, shivering and waiting for it to be over. We booed our president. He didn’t ask the French majors to stand or even the language majors, just “the rest of the degree candidates” after business and biology and a few others. I look awful in my pictures. It was an appropriate if not enjoyable ending to my time in Albany.

In Berlin I stayed in my first truly bad hostel. I get worked up every time I think about it, but you can read my scathing review here: http://www.travelpost.com/users/1803969540/reviews, and that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.

On Friday I flew to Brussels. It was a six am flight on easy jet. I had to spend the night at the airport (always fun). To my disappointment my French cell phone was still out of range and the pay phones were not being cooperative, so after two hours of waiting for my boyfriend, Ader, I had dissolved into sleep deprived tears. Two minutes later he came and we had our dramatic airport scene, just a little bit late. His train was delayed, really nothing to cry about. We got tomato mozzarella pasta from a café I went to the first time I went to Brussels, before my twenty first birthday, before I even met Ader. It was like a dream that mixed people, places, and weather I never expected to experience together. But it was a nice combination. Saturday we slept in and took the 13h33 train to Namur. It took an hour and a half rather than fifty minutes like the guy who said us the tickets told us. The Belgians seem to have some train issues.

Namur is one of those cities where you feel like you’re walking through a post card. It’s not big enough to have a metro but big enough to have an H&M, which is how I know I’m in a legit city. There’s really nothing very chic about the Belgians, which I love. I’m always the first to defend the French when they’re accused of being rude snobs, but the Belgians are nicer than the French. Sorry but it’s true. Generally.

I’m a bénévole in the city’s only hostel, which means that in exchange for washing some dishes and restocking the bar, I get to stay here and eat for free. I have to share my room with a bubbly, fast-talking Québeçoise who is probably very nice (I can’t understand her well enough to be sure) and I eat some variation of a tomato and cheese sandwich for every meal, but I’m not complaining, since I have so much free time to think and write. Which is exactly what I needed.