Brussels makes for a fascinating mix of old and new world. Photo: Brian Jarvis

Entering Europe for the first time not as a tourist but as a resident, I was hit by the thought that must strike many an American abroad: Why didn’t I come here years ago?

I landed in Brussels, Belgium to finish grad school via the Missouri School of Journalism (and a sizable student loan). I also have the honor of traveling/living with nearly two dozen 21- or 20-turning-21-year-olds, but I’ll save that savory subject for another day.

On with the initial impressions — like beer, waffles, chocolate & fries (which originated in Belgium, not France, unbeknownst to lost American soldiers in WW1 who mistakenly dubbed them French fries). The flavorful beers are brewed by monks (who knew?) and come packing upward of 12 percent alcohol. Somewhere there’s a connection between punch-packing pints and Manneken Pis, the famous monument of, yes, a boy pissing.

The author at the headquarters of the European Union. In addition to its diverse culture and cuisine, Brussels is a political hub comparable to Washington, D.C.

Even in the space of two weeks, it’s plain to see that Europeans live in the manner that eco-minded Americans feel they should but rarely achieve. That is, using public transit instead of cars; buying only what they can carry; clocking in fewer hours at work but longer hours with their loved ones; recycling everything in sight, as required by law; and climbing lots and lots of stairs.

Not that all is rosy. Class divisions are sharp, social mobility is trickier, customer service is slow, it’s rained chilly drops most days since my arrival, and don’t let the seemingly innocent exchange rate fool you. One Euro may equal 1.4 U.S. dollars as of this writing, but it’s impossible to come here without blowing through currency, and that’s before the ATM fees kick in.

But it’s also impossible to come here without having a blast, so I’ll leave it there. Coming next: Est-ce que vous aimez tweet? (that’s French for “Do you like to tweet?”)