July is the sales month in Brussels (and from what I understand elsewhere in Europe as well). The stores are trying to get rid of all their stuff before to make way for the new merchandise. The local English-language magazine recommends that you dress comfortably (obvious), wear nice underwear (for fitting rooms that "go communal"), go to stores where you know your size fits you like it's supposed to (so you can grab stuff to buy without trying it on), and get in good with smaller boutiques throughout the year (so they will include you in the invitation-only pre-sale). With this information in mind, I went looking for a corner to huddle in somewhere out of the fray. But, thinking it wouldn't be so bad at opening time on the first day, we set out to get some shades to replace the curtains that were held up by packing tape in the bedroom. We had already seen some that were tolerable and cheap at a Pier One Imports equivalent, so we headed there. Once inside the store we realized it wasn't so bad, with just a normal amount of customers. Unfortunately not many of the sale items appealed to us, although Jack did come away wiith a 5-euro bedroom lamp. I got a big non-sale pillow for the couch.

We managed to be proactive about getting our shopping done by skipping breakfast, so we proceeded to a tea-room down the street to get a bite to eat and to celebrate our successful morning thus far. We perched in a 2nd storey window to view the foot traffic at the stores across the street. We were across from an H&M that was doing brisk business by this time. Their security guard, looking ex-military and taking his job very seriously, watched us watching him and made a mental note of our appearances in case we were casing the joint. By the time we left we were refreshed and ready to take on the shopping madness once again, so we stopped in to the H&M to see if there were any shirts for Jack (the security guy had left his post, thankfully). There were enormous lines snaking everywhere: every register was open and manned, and yet there were lines 20 people deep blocking access to many areas. The lines to the fitting rooms were not as bad, probably because people had taken the advice of the aforementioned article and were just buying stuff off the rack. After going upstairs and realizing it was just as packed as the floor below, we left. I think I lost about two years of my life going in there, realizing it was a horrible mistake, and then trying to make our way back out. You really have to enter a certain state of mind to shop like that--keep focusing on the fact that you're getting a good deal and not worrying about how miserable you are in the present. Some music would help, no doubt. Music and alcohol, perhaps.

We continued shopping at our own speed at the neighborhood thrift store, Spullenhulp (also known as Les Petits Riens, but Spullenhulp is more fun to say). Building on Jack's earlier find of the yarn lampshade, this time we came away with a stylish plastic wall clock and and a vintage European version of Stratego. Usually the prices are pretty decent, but the cashier, having sized us up as non-Bruxellois (earlier his colleagues were forced to explain to us in English that he had taken a 5-minute break to use the toilet), he charged us 3.00 for the ancient, tatty game after inspecting the box closely and apparently noting that all the pieces were there. I think I could have talked him down, and in fact he almost seemed like he wanted us to, but I hadn't geared myself up for haggling that day so we let it pass.

Back home we worked on various projects. Jack finally succeeded in getting the retractable clothesline to stay attached to the wall thanks a high powered drill he borrowed from one of his coworkers, so we can stop liberally distributing socks and underpants throughout the house to dry them. We'll see if it lasts--after the curtains fell, I lost faith in the walls of the house being able to hold anything heavy for long.

Saturday night we went to see Apocalyptica and the accompanying light show at the Grand Place. The band, comprised of 4 cellos, has made a career of covering Metallica songs, and they were in town to celebrate the Finnish ascension to the EU presidency. It seems that they rotate presidents every 6 months, so I look forward to a series of culturally-oriented concerts from the ones who are up next: Germany, Portugal and Slovenia. Since Finnish cultural music seems to be of the metal/hard rock genre, if this concert and Eurovision can be said to represent an adequate sample, I hope to god Germany's is not bad pop music that constantly name-checks the likes of David Hasselhoff.

The crowd was large and well-mixed: tourists who had wandered down not knowing what was going on, the goths taking up one large area after being magnetically drawn to one another, regular people, bureaucrats and invitees on a balcony overlooking the peons, and so on. In front of us there was a group of middle aged women who looked straight out of Wisconsin, wearing their tiny backpacks and trying to cop a European vibe, shaking their thangs to songs (albeit without the lyrics) that they confiscated from their teenage sons after coming home early from their bridge club that one time and hearing it playing. The band members were sitting in high-backed chairs with skulls carved in them, reminding me of the chairs they had in the conference room on the Death Star. The light show mostly consisted of strobes, smoke and flashing spotlights, disappointing when I was expecting something involving lasers or explosions. Due to having had a long day already, we left after about 3 songs and headed up the hill towards home, the roar of the crowd occasionally rising over the rooftops behind us.

Sunday, after delicious french toast, we got the shades up. It was quite an ordeal, with lots of eyeballing, measuring, marking, etc. The paper shades don't cover the 210 cm windows completely, so we came up with the genius idea of installing the hooks in the ceiling and then dangling the shades by short lengths of raffia. This was all well and good until it came time to operate them, as the lack of a fixed position allowed the shades to swing away when you pulled on the cord, distributing the weight unevenly between the hooks. Not being terribly high-quality in the first place, it came as no surprise when one of the cords got stuck in the wheel it passes over, leading to yanking and then falling. So now we only handle them gingerly and with the greatest reverence, as if they were 15th century scrolls that had been entrusted to us for safe keeping.

Later we played Stratego, notable primarily for the strongly defensive maneuvers of both teams, resulting in an extremely drawn-out game. Afterwards we went out for Mexican food which we ate in their back garden area, and, thus fortified with fajitas and Walloonian Courage (in this case margaritas), we went to see what we find out about the video store. It was all very straightforward, and the employee spoke good English, telling us that 90% of the films they carried were in our native tongue. The best part, though, was that they had not only the normal movie-watching treats (including marshmallow-flavored popcorn), but also more substantial stuff like real food and wine. I envision Jack stopping by there on his way home from work and picking up dinner and a movie. So convenient! We got "Grand Magasin" by the Marx Brothers.