Moving to Brussels for EU Affairs: A Summer of Forms, Friends, and Finding My Voice

When I stepped off the train at Bruxelles-Luxembourg with two suitcases, a blazer crumpled in the heat, and a contract with an EU affairs consultancy, I thought I was ready. I speak French, I know the institutions, and Brussels is just three hours from Paris. How hard could it be? Six weeks later, I was still waiting for a police officer to verify my address, discovering that “urgent” means something different here, and learning to love a city that surprises you precisely when it rains in the middle of your picnic.

Getting In: The “Simple” Move That Isn’t

As a French citizen, I didn’t need a visa—just the usual EU right of free movement. Still, the first real step was registering at my commune (Etterbeek) because I intended to stay longer than three months. I booked the appointment online and arrived with a folder fit for a courtroom: passport, lease, employment contract, proof of health insurance, and some passport photos. The clerk looked at me over her glasses, stamped three things with the gravity of a judge, and told me a police officer would come “within a few weeks” to check I actually live there.

Cue three weeks of keeping my name taped to the mailbox, the bell working, and the hallway tidy. Naturally, he arrived when I had shampoo in my hair. He laughed, checked my ID and lease, and wished me a good day. A few days later, I had my residency registration and that magical Belgian national number—my key to everything from healthcare to a phone plan.

It’s the kind of bureaucracy that’s more ritual than obstacle, but it tests your patience. My advice: bring originals and copies, be polite, and expect to return at least once with “just one more document.”

EU Blue Card: Not for Me, Very Real for Colleagues

Though I didn’t need a work permit, many of my colleagues from outside the EU did—and the EU Blue Card is often the route. In Brussels, it functions as a “single permit,” combining the work and residence authorizations into one card. Typically, the employer initiates the application with the region; there’s a salary threshold (revised annually), proof of higher education or equivalent professional experience, and a job contract of sufficient duration. Processing times vary—eight to twelve weeks isn’t unusual—and there’s usually a police address check at the end.

A colleague from Argentina swore by keeping a physical folder with every certificate neatly translated and ready to hand over. If you’re reading this from outside the EU: plan extra time, stick to official sources for the latest thresholds and requirements, and let your employer guide the process. Once here, the Blue Card can also make moves within the EU easier later on, which is worth considering if you’re building a Europe-wide career.

Finding a Home: The Apartment Hunt and the Nine-Year Myth

I underestimated the housing search. Ixelles, Etterbeek, Saint-Gilles, and Schaerbeek each felt like different cities. I started with viewings on Immoweb, got lost in “charges communes” versus individual meters, and learned that Belgian leases default to nine years (with options to break earlier) unless you sign a shorter-term contract. Most landlords asked for a two- or three-month deposit in a blocked account; a couple tried to nudge me toward a casual cash arrangement “because it’s summer.” I resisted.

In the end I chose a one-bedroom near Merode—no elevator, a view of the treetops of Parc du Cinquantenaire, and enough space for my bicycle and an overly ambitious potted basil. Rent is more reasonable than Paris but not exactly cheap; the “EU quarter premium” is real. If you can, visit in person, test the water pressure, and ask about heating (older buildings can be drafty). In summer, check the evening noise—Brussels has a lively terrace culture, which is wonderful unless you’re a light sleeper above a bar.

Healthcare: Mutualités and the First GP

Setting up healthcare felt puzzling until it clicked: you join a mutualité (mutualité/mutualiteit), register your bank details, choose a GP (médecin généraliste/huisarts), and then healthcare costs are partially reimbursed. Some employers add hospital insurance and meal vouchers to the package, which is a small joy when you realize your lunch is practically pre-paid.

My first doctor’s visit ran on time, and I paid upfront with the reimbursement processed automatically because the GP’s system was linked to my mutualité. Keep receipts, especially at the beginning. Also, bring your European Health Insurance Card if you’re moving from another EU country—it helps bridge the first weeks.

Work and the Bubble: What Networking Really Looks Like

My office is a short tram ride from the Parliament. Around here, conversations switch between English, French, and Dutch mid-sentence, and acronyms are every third word. The summer rhythm is softer—half the city is at the coast on Fridays, and you can feel it. But Brussels never fully sleeps; it just has more outdoor agendas.

Real networking here often happens after 18:00. On Thursdays, Place Lux fills with staffers, consultants, and policy wonks. It’s noisy but strangely accessible—people introduce you to other people without ceremony. I’ve found more leads over a softening cone of pistachio gelato from a stand on Rue du Luxembourg than in half my formal meetings.

If you’re new, look for think tank breakfasts, Committee hearings that are open, and low-key evening panels. Say yes to the first ten invitations; after that, be selective. Also, remember to follow up the next morning. Brussels runs on WhatsApp groups and polite emails sent before 10:00.

Languages: The Code-Switch and the “Bonjour/Goeiedag” Dilemma

As a Frenchwoman in Brussels, I thought language would be the easy part. But the bilingual reality is its own dance. In some communes, the clerk greets you in Dutch first; in the EU bubble, English is the default; at the corner bakery, it’s French or bust. My trick is to say “Bonjour, goeiedag” with a smile and continue in whatever comes back. I started Dutch lessons this summer—not because I must, but because it changes how the city opens up. The first time I ordered coffee in Dutch, the barista nodded and said, “Goed bezig.” It was small, but it mattered.

Transport and Day-to-Day: The Mobility Mix

I bought a MOBIB card and stopped thinking about tickets. The network is dense: STIB trams and metros, SNCB trains, plus Villo! bikes and shared e-scooters on every corner. I commute by bike when the weather behaves, which in Brussels means “until the sky has another idea.” On rainy days, I take Tram 81 and listen to three languages drift by like radio stations.

Grocery shopping surprised me—there are plenty of organic markets and neighborhood shops, but opening hours can be quirky, and Sundays are quiet. I’ve learned to love simple dinners: tomatoes from the Flagey market, a wedge of Comté from a cheesemonger who now calls me “La conseillère,” and Belgian strawberries that taste like July itself.

Summer in Brussels: Sweat, Storms, and Serendipity

Summer here has its rituals. My first July 21—Belgian National Day—gave me the famous drache nationale: rain that arrives with theatrical timing. We huddled under a café awning near Parc de Bruxelles, bet on whether the parade would stop, and ordered more frites. Days stretch long in August; after-work picnics in Parc du Cinquantenaire are civilized affairs, complete with policy gossip and pétanque. The Brussels Summer Festival lit up the city center; I went to one concert alone and left with three new contacts and a recommendation for the best cherry lambic.

On weekends, I hop on the train: Ghent for canals and art, Antwerp for fashion and coffee, the North Sea for air that tastes like salt and childhood.

Money, Contracts, and the Quiet Shock of Taxes

Payroll in Belgium is structured but dense. On my first payslip, I saw social contributions, the “13th month,” and meal and eco-vouchers noted. Taxes feel high compared to my mental calculator, but you also see the return in public services. If you’re a consultant on a local contract, ask HR to walk you through the payslip line by line—it’s a good hour invested. If you’re going independent, start with a guichet d’entreprise and a social secretariat; many of my freelancer friends say the first quarter is paperwork, then it stabilizes.

Costs follow the usual city logic: housing is the big one, transport is affordable, and eating out can be as cheap or expensive as your curiosity allows. Learn the lunch menus—many places serve a solid plat du jour for less than you’d expect in a capital.

Community: Finding People and Feeling Home

My community emerged slowly, then suddenly. A co-worker invited me to a women-in-policy breakfast; someone there added me to a jogging group that meets along the canal at 7:30. I joined a French-speaking book club in Saint-Gilles and a beginner’s Dutch conversation circle on Tuesdays. Brussels rewards showing up.

I’m learning to ask questions that open doors: “What brought you here?” “Which commune do you recommend and why?” “What was your last paperwork surprise?” People share generously, perhaps because everyone is a newcomer at some point.

What I Wish I’d Known

• Register at your commune early and keep your name clearly on the bell and mailbox for the address check.
• Keep a digital folder of documents: passport, lease, contract, insurance, and scans of passport photos. You’ll reuse them.
• For Blue Card applicants: rely on employer guidance, verify salary thresholds on official sites, and plan for a realistic processing timeline.
• Choose your mutualité and GP early. Ask colleagues where they go; word of mouth is gold.
• View apartments at different times of day. Summer terraces are lovely unless they live under your bedroom window.
• Pick one networking thread (a weekly event, a think tank series) and follow it consistently. Relationships deepen over repetition.
• Learn a bit of Dutch, even if you work in English or French. It changes interactions in small but meaningful ways.

Looking Back, Moving Forward

This summer taught me to enjoy the in-between: the hopeful wait for a letter from the commune, the rainstorm that ruins your picnic but births a conversation, the awkward first hello that becomes a steady friendship. Brussels doesn’t seduce with a single view; it wins you over with small, repeated kindnesses and the hum of a city that thinks in drafts and footnotes and lives on terraces.

If you’re coming for EU affairs—Blue Card or not—bring patience, curiosity, and a pair of shoes you can stand in for hours at a reception. You’ll find your people. You’ll learn to read a payslip and a tram map. And on some late August evening, you’ll watch the sky turn lavender over a park framed by triumphal arches and think: I can do real work here, and I can build a life.

Best wishes from Brussels,