When I was growing up in Toronto, the only time I heard French spoken was in a classroom.  Most French-speaking Canadians live in another province – Québec.

And did I ever hear Dutch spoken?  Maybe on a downtown street as people passed by.  I probably would have said “What’s that?!”  The sharp sounds are worlds away from the flow of French.

And here I am sixty years later, living in Belgium, where the official languages are Dutch, French and German.

Today was my Music Theory class.  It’s naturally taught in Dutch, since Gent sits within Flanders, a predominantly Dutch region.  I passed levels one and two of language training but it’s still largely a mystery to me.  I recognize words but making sense of sentences spoken quickly is beyond me.

After class today, four of us guys lingered.  Jérome was having a problem.  I later found out that his accountant was charging him a lot of money.  Jan and Ben were chiming in with words of wisdom.  I sat there silently.

What unfolded was lovely to behold.  The guys flowed in conversation, mixing in French and English sentences with the Dutch.  It looked effortless for them.  I was in awe.

What a different world it is in Europe, in many ways.  I embrace the new moments.  I embrace my new home.  I am one fortunate human being.