I was initially hesitant to fit my small number of belongings to the cracks and crevices of an already occupied and overflowing Belgian home. Nine months ago, I would have never imagined myself moving in with a host family for my Fulbright year. Growing up as an only child and enjoying the comforts of my own space throughout college, sharing everything except a bedroom with a family of five—or six if we count Yalta, the 15-year-old Schnauzer and Bouvier des Flandres mix—was uncharted territory. But reflecting back on my experiences in Belgium now, I would not change a single thing.
Living with a Belgian family throughout the grant period allowed me to immerse deeply into my host country’s culture. The Liénarts and I often shared intimate dinners where my host mother would gossip about the women in her bridge club and I would inquire about the meanings of Belgicisms she placed so effortlessly into her sentences. I once accompanied them to one of Pierre Kroll’s comedy shows where I caught the famous caricaturist’s balled up drawing midair from the third row of the audience. I was privileged to attend a lecture held by the Association de la Noblesse du Royaume de Belgique where the oldest daughter of the Liénart family introduced the keynote speaker, a Holocaust survivor who had been held at a detention center in Belgium. Through tickets given to me by the Liénart family, I was also able to admire Belgian art created, collected, and showcased at Antica Brussels where the wealthiest bracket of attendees bid to purchase pieces for their homes.
Although all of these experiences allowed me to learn immensely about Belgian life and history, I particularly enjoyed getting to know the customs and conventions of the Liénart family. One memorable experience I had with them was Easter weekend at their country house outside of Namur, where the term “house” was much too humble to describe their Mosan style grand estate. I stayed in a four-story chateau where I was told to “pick a bedroom” on the top floor, and “come to the smaller sitting room” before supper each day.
I spent the weekend walking through nearby fields, forests, and villages in Wallonia’s countryside where the rolling hills and plump farm animals made me feel as if I was back home in rural Arkansas. I saw old, stone homes with piping chimneys and listened to the seemingly never-ceasing church bells. I also spent a lot of time in the kitchen helping my host mother cook traditional dishes like “stoemp,” a mash of various vegetables, bacon, and cream, as well as “boulettes à la sauce blanche,” meatballs in a bechamel gravy.
On the eve of Easter, we placed chocolate eggs, bunnies, and chicks around the dining hall for the children to hunt in the morning. The next day, the kids woke up antsy to search for the hidden treasure. We helped each of them comb through the furniture in the great hall to find every last piece. When the hunt was over, it was time for breakfast. We started the Easter feast by playing “cocogne,” a game where one has to crack their egg against that of their neighbor to see whose is stronger and access the perfectly soft-boiled goodness inside the dyed shells. To accompany the eggs, we had fresh “pistolets” or bread rolls and “crevettes” or Belgian grey shrimp. Though I ate the shrimp unwillingly, I thoroughly enjoyed the next course: pistolets carved out and stuffed with a thin layer of butter and sugary pieces from the children’s morning catch.
That night, we played a game of Catan where bottles of wine helped the secrets of the family slip more easily. I found out that one of the great grandfathers in the Liénart ancestry invented a machine that purified silver and accumulated a wealth so great that no one in the family, until my host father, had to work a day in their lives. This, of course, explained why I was spending Easter in a castle. That night, I felt warm and welcomed. Wine-instigated arguments over whether alliances were allowed in Catan turned into the narration of funny family anecdotes, and I realized how fortunate I was to connect with a family across the world in this manner.
In the spring of 2022, when I told friends and family that I would be moving to Belgium after college graduation, one of the most common questions I got asked was “What’s in Belgium?” Like many Americans, I didn’t quite know the answer back then either. Now, I can comfortably answer that question; there is a wealth of history, culture, hospitality, and love. Among all, there is the Liénart family whom I hope to revisit for years to come.
Duru Erkan is a 2022-2023 Fulbright English Teaching Assistant to Belgium. She graduated from the University of Arkansas in May 2022 with a Bachelor of Science in Biology and a minor in Psychology as well as a Bachelor of Arts in French. In addition to teaching English, Duru brought her English language learning experience as an immigrant and her perspective on the American South to Belgian classrooms.
Articles are written by Fulbright grantees and do not reflect the opinions of the Fulbright Commission, the grantees’ host institutions, or the U.S. Department of State.