Today, I woke up early to go to Leuven to register and enroll in classes and get my student id and maybe register my alien ass at the City Hall. Well, that was the plan. It started off well enough - got to the international office, got my document stamped, and headed over to the registrar's office to get registered. Did a whole mess of pre-registration, and I shoulda known something was up when I couldn't find my program in English in the list that they offered. But a student worker was kind enough to translate my program into Dutch, so I chose that one and thought nothing of it.

Then I wait in line for like an hour because there are tons of other students registering and waiting for a personnel to do their magic (slowly). It's finally my turn, and the lady at the desk spends some time clicking away at her computer. 5 minutes later (it felt like longer), she turns to me and says, "I can't seem to find your program in our list. I have to call the faculty of medicine." Uh, ok. Didn't really think much of it because I mean, I have the acceptance letter right in front of me, what could go wrong, right?

Many things, apparently, many things you never even consider. She can't reach the program director, so she tells me to go find him and figure out what's going on with my program. A hassle, but do-able. So we head over to the Medical side of campus and wander around for a bit trying to find the prof's office (it was like a maze! the hospital is huge, different sections, different floors). He's not in, so we head out for lunch at a Chinese restaurant. Decent food, a tad bit too salty, but I think people here like their foods salty. Dwaddle around for about an hour and head back.

This time we meet the prof, and the most ludicrous thing I've ever experienced follows. Long story short, the Masters in Human Sexuality program started last year with the professors teaching on a voluntary basis. There were two students who enrolled, and they spent half the time in class with volunteer profs (who teach in their free time, of which there isn't much) and the other half self-studying, basically (reading the literature and meeting with profs, irregularly, to discuss). So, you could probably figure that they had quite a long list of complaints, which they tried to tell the vice-dean, the dean, etc. in hopes that this program could get some sort of funding.

Nope. Basically it didn't happen, so they canceled the program. Recently.

Right. Um, bye-bye program? The ridiculous part is that we weren't informed! I mean, fine, cancel the program, but at least let the ones who got in know that the program's not happening before they get on the plane and fly half way around the world, and before they sign a lease for a damn apartment for the next year. But apparently, the international office (who would've been the one to inform us of such a thing) didn't get any notice of this cancellation. They didn't even know the program wasn't happening until I went to them and complained. The lady I spoke to was like, "What?! That can't be!"

Well, it be. So, now I have to wait till tomorrow when we have an appointment with the head of the int'l office to see what my options are. Get on the plane and go back to Taiwan? Get reimbursed for all this money I spent to come here and the apartment I will have to back out of the contract? Get transferred to another program? Guess I'll find out tomorrow.

Bad things come in threes, and I guess this is the third thing. First is the transferring of my parents. Second is my grandfather's passing right when we're on our way here. And now third is the program being canceled.

I feel like 我跟Belgium沒緣 (not meant to be).

It's ironic, isn't it? I fly all the way here just to find out that there's no more program. It's kinda funny, too, in a sick, sick way. But hey, what can I do except to focus on the funny-side of things and wait till tomorrow to see what'll happen?


*Sigh* Funny story, no? EPIC fail.