It’s Independence day in Belgium today.

And with Belgium I don’t mean the township in Wisconsin or the town in West Virginia (which come to think of it is rather weird – have you ever heard of a town having the same name as a country?). I mean the European country in between France and the Netherlands. My home country.

I guess this would be the time to wax poetically about the social security system, the wonderful people and the kinda insane political system. I guess all of these are part of life here but for me I just love living here.  I love how I drive for a little over an hour and I’m in France. I can fly to nearly anywhere in the world from Brussels airport. I can visit my Swedish ‘family’ in less than three hours traveling.

I’m really excited about moving to Cardiff and the UK and I know that career-wise it’s a good move. At the end of the day though, this country will always be my home.

December 6th is Sinterklaas in Belgium which means: loads of chocolate, klaaskoeken (typical for my home region of West Flanders) and speculoos.

Originally the feast celebrated the name day of Saint Nicholas, patron saint of children, but has become more of a cultural tradition and for me a good chunk of childhood nostalgia.

Every year on the evening of December 5th we would put out our shoe with inside a carrot for the Sint’s horse and our letter to the Holy man and in the morning we would find chocolate, speculoos and presents.

However, the children who had been naughty didn’t get any presents, just some coal. It could get even worse: if you saw Sinterklaas and you’d been naughty then one of the Zwarte Pieten could put you in the burlap bags they always carried around with them.

During the weeks leading up to December 5th I would be in front of the tv every evening watching Dag Sinterklaas, a tv show with Bart Peeters. I absolutely loved that show.

Growing up in Belgium Remembrance day has always been a fixed national holiday. In Belgium it’s a day to remember not only the people who have lost their lives during World War I but also those who died during World War II and the following wars.

It is still such a big thing in my part of the country (West Flanders) and especially where I was working last year: Ypres. The Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing is covered in poppy wreaths and the Last Post is even more moving than any other day of the year.