In general my preparations worked well. Lots of walks and garden work in the weeks prior made the physical labor manageable. I take curious pride in being an efficient mover of dirt. The first week home I actually had more aches and pains than during my two weeks of digging.
Belgian beer? As it turns out this was not much of a pub crowd. And the two local establishments were not always open anyway. But there were several evening get togethers for curry, barbecue or whatever. The Uni students brought some watery low cost beer. Those of us with foresight and funds brought better stuff. As usual the company and the beer act in concert and the evenings were delightful. Odd...what with John Denver sing alongs by our guitar playing Austrian explosives expert....but delightful.
The default language on site was as I suspected English. Belgium can't agree on much of anything and with Dutch, French and German all being official English has become the default. In second place was Dutch, or rather the Flemish variant of it. I was able to pick up a bit while digging. The security guy at Brussels airport was impressed. He had also heard of the dig on the news and we had a nice chat.
I must with reluctance dispense some negative points to Brussels airport. The train going to and from the place has a regular team of annoying beggars. They come around and listlessly hand out grubby pieces of paper saying that they are poor, work with children and would like some money. They come back later to collect the scraps and put out a hand. They seem used to being ignored and just move on to their next location, leaving the lingering smell of a three pack a day smoker in their wake. The airport also has some very suspicious "helpful" individuals who will for instance be right there if the ATM is being difficult, offering to direct you to one that they know works........
But in general the inhabitants of the rural area I stayed in were much the same as country folks the world over. Polite if primarily absorbed in their own lives. One of the Belgian archaeologists I worked with told me that Belgians are Europe's most passionate home bodies. They are said to be "born with a brick in their stomachs". The contrast of immaculate homes and gardens and very sleepy public spaces would seem to back this up.
Having spent a decade excavating a bit earlier in May and a ways further north - up at Hadrian's Wall - I packed more warm clothes and fewer T shirts than needed. We had blazing hot weather and I usually slugged down an entire 2 liter bottle of water.
After the first week I did have my logistics worked out. There were nice showers on site so I got cleaned up prior to returning to the diggers hovel. There was also a comical little washing machine so the bag of laundry detergent I carried along was a good call. The convenience store down the block was pricey but they were open early and made a good lunch time sandwich. I never found coffee beyond the highly potent stuff available in small quantities on site, but it was just sufficient to avoid withdrawal symptoms.
I was able to manage Belgian trains and buses, and timed things such that I left the excavation having consumed the last of my provisions and wearing my last items of clean clothes. About half the garments I brought with went into the trash or into a clothing for charity collection bin that I found.
I had numerous conversations with the eclectic bunch of excavators on site, often on the subject of where they should go to visit the "real" America. So many Europeans confine themselves to New York, LA, Florida and even, God help 'em, Vegas. I suggested they rent a car and hit the small roads in summer time.
So some of my critique of Belgium is unfair by my own standards. Brussels for instance is an unlovely place as seen by the train, and no city is fairly judged by its airport. That being said among my last images of Belgium were this series of ads, all of them showing emaciated, unhappy young people.
Not the real Belgium, just as LA, NYC and Vegas are not the real America.
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