Rooster Alarm Clock

You know you're not in Paris when you hear the roosters crowing. At one point, I felt like Carrie Bradshaw when she heard the "chickens" on the roof, but clearly, this is no New York City. We woke up to the smell of fresh brewed coffee and yet another basket of bread, but this time with the European treat, Nutella. And, for the first time, Rosemarie and I ate eggs fresh out of the chicken. Scrambled, bright yellow, moist and laden with fresh spices from their garden and topped with cheese, it was a breakfast feast to fuel us on another day of sightseeing - this time in Bruge.

I first went to the picturesque Belgian city in 1999, and I know my mom is going to love it. As if we have not eaten enough, we are going to have more fries today, which I was corrected by Serge are, of course, Belgian fries and far superior to their French counterparts.

The work Serge has put into their farm house is just amazing. New roofing, rooms, staircases, the dressing room. This is rustic European living from the fresh eggs in the hen house to the creaky staircase leading up to our bedroom to the cacophony of sounds from the roosters.

Winston, the eldest dog, doesn't remember me from my last visit, but like me - he's gotten older, walks a little slower but is still as cute as ever. His companions run past him to find the food quicker. He may trail behind but seems perfectly content to bring up the rear and get all the attention.

My friends' English is stellar, but every once in a while, Phillipe searches for the word to use and it's the cutest thing to see him when he discover the term. They love The Golden Girls, so we've been quoting lines all night and day. It's funny, Phillipe never speaks the language, only listens to it on tapes or on the television. I'm forcing him to use his skill, I joked and can't help but think what a shame it is that Americans don't feel the need to instill in their children the benefits of a second or in my friend's case, fourth language.

My grandparents were always speaking Italian, but the second my brother and I were in the room, they switched to English. Years later, Alfred Sr. was not the most helpful when it came to assisting with my Italian homework, and I abandoned the language. I tried French in college, but only managed to pass it enough to fulfill the language requirement. I figure as long as I make friends all around the world and visit them regularly, I won't have to feel so guilty.

Phillipe informed me that they have five roosters and that the chickens are continually exhausted. Roosters it seems are good for only one thing and the hens are not thrilled with their ratio. When it's time for the male to bite the dust, he's made into coq au vin. I like the sound of that - finally a real use for a man.