Ms Deadly Jelly, of Irish origin, hooked up with Mr Deadly Jelly, a New Zealander and recently she put together an amusing post titled Guide to the Kiwi Male: Lesson 1
Manic, friend and Flemish bloke, challenged me in the comments section to write something similar regarding the Belgian male. Much laughter ensued at our place, as I tried to put together a first lesson.
To work within the frame provided by an extract from the post of the Great Deadly Jelly, changing the nationality of the man in question, the following list came together, the italics indicating the places where I made use of Deadly Jelly's words.
There are certain things you do not do with a Belgian man, never never, no seriously not even ever. These include describing football as a game for girls; telling him you don't particularly like Belgian chocolate, explaining that Cadburys chocolate is much better (I was new in the country - what can I say.); mispronouncing almost every word attempted in Nederlands (those who know me will know how much I adore every word I speak being immediately corrected); and I'm not sure about the wisdom of the impromptu lecture on my theory regarding the unnaturally large interior of the Dutch-speaking mouth. My theory being that the size allows the twisting turning trickiness that is Dutch to emerge in its most perfect form. (This was an accidental discovery - having watched both Diede and Gert quite naturally fit a good 1/3 of a baguette in their mouths on separate occasions, I began investigating, discretely watching when Belgians were eating and also questioning dentists here. Impeccably scientific.)
I would probably end with the possibly little known fact that the average Belgian male is never going to understand the kiwi desire for tomato sauce on most things, most especially Stoofvlees and sausages ... never never ever.
So, how did I do ... Manic, Peter?
Unfortunately Gert doesn't have his own blog and can't do a New Zealand female guide reply ... actually, there have been many times where I've been profoundly grateful that he doesn't blog ;)
And no, no guest blogging here, just before you suggest it, Meneer Manic.
10 comments:
You forgot about the fact that their mother's cooking is always the best-no matter what anyone else might think (or maybe that's all men...)
I must say, I do have some sympathy for Gert. Seems he's outnumbered in your household. :) xo
P.S. In my opinion, no chocolate anywhere beats Belgian chocolate - and even the French usually will admit this. :)
So I asked, Jessica ... 'Is your mother's cooking than mine?
He replied, 'It's just different.'
I think I won him over with the New Zealand roasts. And he knows, that if he ever said that, then I would quite happily stop cooking for him ;)
Oh, he's having the time of his life, Tara. He laughs more than he cries and that's my official measure of coping with kiwis in the house. It helps that he's a sucker for pavlova ;) And he won me over with Belgian chocolates eventually, I was just never sure about living here in Europe and I missed peppermint chocolate immensely while being hounded by officialdom here. xo
Too funny! Delighted my post was so thought-provoking :-D
Highly educational thank you; and if I ever meet Gert, I will be sure to bring him a kilo bar of Cadbury's milk chocolate mmmm
Love the "It's just different" comment - Gert is evidently a subtle man. Am impressed
He would love that so much, Deadly Jelly. It would be up there with being asked to eat mud ... ;)
He is diplomatic, isn't he but truly, once you've tasted a NZ roast with all the trimmings, pavlova and even a good hearty pot of pumpkin soup, or maybe a South Island cheese roll ... who needs anything else.
If you can convince him of Vegimite, you deserve a statue!
And boo on the no guest-blogging :P
If Gert needs an outlet, he can always contact me, and I'll blog it!
Vegemite is never going to happen for Gert. He finds it outrageously horrendous and I don't even get kisses if I've eaten it for breakfast :(
I don't believe I'll pass that message on, dear Manic. So kind though ;)
Censorship :O Di, that's not very democratic of you :P
It's enough to come from a democratic country, Manic ... I don't actually need to be democratic, in fact it's refreshing to do the dictator thing here ;) I have colonial blood in my veins, eh wot.
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