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October 01, 2002 : tuesdays tending the ill
Happy October. Goodbye September. Greetings to the month that screams fall and makes you take the winter clothes out of the boxes in the hall. Feverish then feverless then feverish. Oh the perils of my dearest Eva. Just when she thought she would be able to take advantage of being ill by running errends with me and riding on the back of the scooter, she took a turn for the worse. Of course it's not terminal or cancerous. It's just a common cold. A common cold that ususally knocks a person out for a couple of days which is knocking Eva out for 5. I have to admit that the Euro-way of time-off healthcare seems pretty good. Eva's not at work making other people sick or having to be at work doing a poor job because she is sick. No bubble-gum tasting penicillin, just a cough medicine that is unflavored and probably mostly placebo and throat-coating...no capsules with little beads in them just a asprin-looking chalky pill. Eva passed out on the couch curled up in a little ball, her head in the band of sunshine and the rest of her body in shadow. It's pretty unfortunate that sick during such a pretty spell of weather, as I know the lack of rain makes her wish even MORE that she could pretend-sick and go to the park with me or thrift-store shopping or even to the supermarket. We managed to make it to the Aldi, but since she's no fan of packed places anyway, seeing so much generic, low-cost food made her week...and we quickly sped home to let her rest. Soup and more soup. That's all I can say. The raggedy-Ann blanket when she gets cold, blood-orange juice, every kind of soup we have left in the house, and lemon and sugar English tea. I didn't actually think of chicken soup, but she's pretty happy with our Knorr Pumpkin & Tomato Soup and Ramen. I wish I could say that Eva's being home and sleeping meant that I was even more productive, but I'm afraid her afternoon naps find me napping along with her. How often is it that she's home during the week afterall? If we can't go on a scooter ride, why not settle for sleep instead? Sounds like a good plan to me. One thing about it, though, having her not stress about the around-the-corner having to get up business makes for great evenings. Tonight had us swatting mosquitos in the early morning hours. We have successfully killed so many that it is hard to tell which ones are alive and which little mosquitoes are just body parts stuck to the ceiling with a mixture of insect goo and blood. How's THAT for a description. We seriously spent 20 minutes chasing them all over. Eva was on the floor making sure none of them landed somewhere I couldn't reach from the loft. I think I killed them with a book on the extinction of small business by large corporations...but that would be not only wrong, but too perfect. IN THE NEWS:
October 02, 2002 : new teacher
Well I went to school today on my new day, same time, with the new teacher. I was slightly late, as I waited till the last possible moment to decide to go since it was Eva's last day home. It seemed sort of strange to be the one leaving again. It used to always be me back in my Tellme days hopping in my car with Eva the half-awake one in the loft. What a strange role-reversal. I suppose I had it better even then because I didn't have to be at work until 10ish. This made the traffic doable though it still seemed horrific. But then again I never did fully understand why there was traffic even if I was coming home at 3 in the morning. There were always people doing something or going somewhere. If I ever lived in a city full of energy, THAT was it. I must be full of contradictions today because when I think about it, all you have to do is stay up late a couple of nights and then you realize how busy a city is while the world is sleeping. Here in Belgium it's pretty dead. The cafes are lively like they are the only bit of life in entire housing blocks but the streets are dead. Even the Nacht Winkelen close. What would be the 24-hour neighborhood gas-stations here become pay-by-bank-card after 6. It's spooky and wonderful at the same time. But I remember back in Joplin, small city of 40,000, being alive in the twilight hours. I know this from my all-nighter-days in the Art Department. People getting off of their night shifts, or people preparing for the next day's bagels and donuts, or even the shop-owners having a hard night of closing because of high-sales. I've allowed myself to run wild... Back to the fact that I hopped the tram and arrived to school 5 minutes late. I walked in to the lesson i had expected. We interviewed each other. We asked if we had children and how long we had lived in Belgium. The kicker finale question was our "dream." My dream was a new president (I like to play off of the bad-Bush scenerio) and my interviewe's dream was a beautiful car. He actually was pretty stumped so I helped him out on it. The kicker is that I am the person who has lived in Belgium for the shortest amount of time. The bulk of my class is made up of people who have been living in Belgium for over 6 years! The may from Turkey (from the cushion/kisses fame of a previous entry) has lived here for over 10 years and the lady from India has as well! No wonder these people know quite a bit more words compared to me. No wonder they seem more natural in their bits of conversation. Anyway, that made me feel better. Since it was Eva's last day home I told the teacher I had to go home after the pauze. (break) I hightailed it home to spend the remaining out-of-the-normal hours of the day with Eva. Of course she wants to take the whole week off, seeing as how she is finally feeling better. I believe she might be prone to bouts of laziness, or rather bouts of I-don't-want-to-work...which we all suffer from. Everyone except my dad. :) The most interesting thing that happen today is my face. Eva's getting better and then I come down with something. It's obviously a reaction to something...and since there are 4 bite bumps on my face we'll blame them. They aren't noticable really if you look at me, but when I washed my face tonight it felt like I was washing sand-paper. We've tried to figure out if we've eaten anything strange recently or changed some part of our habits. Nothing. It has to be the bites and it must not be our normal mosquito bites. I am the opposite of reaction with them, whereas Eva get's a nice red whelp that itches, I get a bump that doesn't. I just hope it goes away. IN THE NEWS:
October 03, 2002 : gray like a tornado.
Today the sky looked like the orangy/greenish cloud-cover that precedes a tornado. I don’t know how accurate that really is, seeing as I have only been in a handful of tornadoes and actually only heard the "train" once. When we still lived in Springfield, back when I was around six, my father came home from chaperoning the high school prom to find my mother and I sound asleep in the bathtub beneath dozens of pillows, the clock radio still on the news channel, and the tap dripping on the cuff of my mother’s jeans so that she had a wet spot half up her shin. But I do remember hearing the sound that the tornado made...just like a train going over head. And so today the daylight came and went, just like a dimmer light switch that can’t seem to power completely on...and orangey/greenish sky. So I worked. I managed to work on a couple of things I’ve been wanting to wrap up...they aren’t completely wrapped, though closer than they were only hours before now. Last night Eva surprised me by telling me she won 2 free tickets to a performance of the symphony. where they are doing a special where they play only scores that have been in films. Eva got home a little late, as it was her first day back on the job since being sick. It was also later because it was raining and I can’t bare to "scoot" in the rain and, although I had planned in earnest to walk to the station with my umbrella, a phone call kept me lounged on the couch until I heard her feet coming up the last few stairs. Had I had an outfit that was "my Sunday best" I would have worn it. Instead I wore the next best thing, which I must say would probably be "my Sunday best" if Sunday were a day that still associated itself with dressing up. I put on gray Gap slacks, a black t-shirt, and a black turtleneck sweater. Eva put on killer gray woolen businessman-pants, a gray button-up, and a tight black pullover. We looked good in our Thursday-night-on-the-town duds. We made our way via tram and, after a quick snack at McDonalds (we noticed they now serve ‘American Style Pancakes’ for breakfast) we headed through the central station and on to the theater. Little did I know that stuck next to the Zoo in a very unassuming building was a huge theater. We collected our tickets, were ushered to the door, ushered back to coat check, and then shown to our seat. I kid you not, 3rd row. We could hear the conductor get excited and accent his breaths. We could see the glances between cello players, we could check out the throat swallow pre-sing techniques of the Opera singer. It was marvelous. And of course they played themes that were familiar...the orchestrated Titanic "My heart Will Go On" and I tried to persuade Eva that these were beautiful in and of themselves...but I think she couldn't get over the overplay or that we actually heard music from Forrest Gump, Gladiator, and Star Trek. She thought dinosaurs during Jurassic Park and I was trying not to think of dinosaurs. It was amazing. We had the most wonderful time. I wasn’t meaning that Eva didn’t have a good time, she simply appreciated the unfamiliar more than the familiar. I actually enjoyed the familiar as real music played by real performers instead of background music to moving pictures. And so, as we were walking out, Eva says, "We’ve got to enter more contests." And at basically the same time I said, "We’ve got to go to more concerts." I don’t want our horizons to be broadened by culture due to the fact that our names were drawn out of hats...I think it’s something we should actively pursue though her way sounds a lot easier. :) So back from a night rubbing elbows with people who could afford to see what we saw for free, we settled in for the night. Eva tried to convince a friend that she wasn’t going crazy and I made guacamole. All in a day’s work. IN THE NEWS: ALSO IN THE NEWS:
October 04, 2002 : another american
Had I had my camera, I would have snapped him. My flag series (soon to be live on the internet) would have been complete. What are the chances that I should follow yet another American in Belgium? This one was in his pristine bumper-stickered Volvo and I was on Gerty the Green Machine. Taking my assumption from his plethora of bumper-stickers, I imagine that he landed here from marrying a Belgian wife. He looked to be bomber-jacketed and aviation sunglassed. Straight out of Top Gun, only he was a paratrooper. He no doubt was troubled by 9-11 since his car sported a 91101 Terrorist Hunting license. (I kid you not!) As well as a bumper-sticker declaring his right to "adjust your attitude" if you are caught burning "his flag." Ahh…for the love of my country. Me too, buddy. Only I think it's your right to burn my flag if you are trying to shed some light on an issue. I remember I used to think differently, but I have since changed my mind. It's funny how we evolve as people. I've got to write a book/paper on my change of sorts. And so today I made that great leap. I am sitting in the large Opera House café. The place I think is interesting because of it's wide-array of clientele, and Eva abhors because of it's ample amount of space and it's non-cozy atmosphere. But this is beside the point. I'm here! I've done it! Tally a point for Andrea becoming the Andrea she once loved and cherished! Yay! People the world over will be proud of my feat of "leaving the house." I am one step closer to becoming Belgian. ;) I pepped myself up for the event. I would have left a half hour earlier if I had not had a bout of stomach gurgles…stomach gurgles I could not determine if they would lead to a bout of mild diarrhea. They soon subsided, no doubt brought on by my lack of sustenance in my effort to become lean and lank. Ha! I think I have started adding more interjections since finishing that darn book "the Diaries of Adrian Mole." He seemed to be a fan of exclamations like 'Imagine that!' and 'What Luck!' It proved to be not nearly as interesting a read as it had promised to be with it's first section…it sort of became what most diaries become. It became not as important to Adrian, and he started leaving entries a few times a year instead of on a regular basis. And he turned out to be such a strange lost soul. Back to my story of flying the coup. I originally planned to go to Het Roze Huis. (which we endearingly call the Pink House in English) I hopped the scooter and made my way only to find it opened an hour later than the time I arrived. I went out to the scooter and stood pondering the moment. I actually stood for 5 minutes at least. Where to go!? Where to go?! I tried to call Eva for her advice only to get the message that I didn't have enough credits to make the call. I was on my own. Making my way back home I decided to get to a crucial corner, check the gas gauge, and figure out my next step. At this crucial corner, the gas being at an 'ok' level, I said, "I'll be damned…" several times in my head and decided to come here. I took the table with an electrical outlet (in case I decide to be overly tech-weird and plug myself in.) I inquired if I could sit at such a large table since I was only one, the lady said, "no, it's fine", and here I sit with my coffee getting slightly more cold the more I type. So there. We're off to see Minority Report tonight, a movie I have wanted to see since seeing it's previews back when I was in the States this summer…It actually received 5 stars in the local Entertainment Magazine (Zone 03). I will try to add my review later. My review: Not 5 stars, but no stupid love/sex interests, not a lot of dirty language, and it brings up some intersting points about privacy, humanity, and advertising...but of course we never delve deeper than a short speech by a fringe character. They overestimated 50 years in the future I think, but then again, we went from no planes to passenger planes in just a few short years. I didn't leave cursing the money we spent or the two hours of our lives lost...so I guess it's a good thing. IN THE NEWS: In response to Falwell's remarks, Ibrahim Hooper, spokesman for the Council on American-Islamic Relation in Washington, said: "Anybody is free to be a bigot if they want to. What really concerns us is the lack of reaction by mainstream religious and political leaders, who say nothing when these bigots voice these attacks." Falwell was widely criticized last year after he said on Robertson's TV show that pagans, abortionists, feminists, homosexuals and civil liberties groups had secularized the nation and helped the Sept. 11 attacks happen. Falwell later apologized.
October 05, 2002 : the saturday is ours.
Last night we spent being purposfully spontaneous. In my efforts to "find myself" here in Belgium, I am attempting to be prone to bouts of the unordinary. If not altogether wildly different, then simply not expected. It was nothing overly exciting except that it was something we hadn't done before. We stayed at Leila's and Susan's until 4 in the morning playing games and drinking a bit. Two Duvels into it I quit drinking...and if THAT isn't out of the ordinary, I don't know what is. The bubbly Duvel has to be my favorite beer...and I am deciding this after I have already stated that the raspberry beers are my favorite...hmm... Today saw us getting up in time for the afternoon. I fixed pancakes and Eva planned our day. When we awoke it was almost a nice day, but by this time it wasn't. We hopped on the scooter, got some gas, and sped into town. Eva had the worst kip curry broodje we've ever tasted (this particular Panos has switched to a mircro-wave instead of an oven...so you can guess what a warmed pastry is like) and we went to the Chinese Supermarket. Ramen Ramen Ramen. Eva made fun of me because I wanted wild-rice in a boil-in-bag. She thinks that defeats the purpose of calling it "wild rice." And though she is intending to be both funny and intelligent at the same time...I still got the rice. The wilder rice that was available I deemed too wild. :) With our backpack full of Asian food, we sped on home to take showers before we went out to dinner. During this time I checked my email only to find out that my university/college has an opening for a graphic design/webdesign teacher opening next fall. I wont' go into how amazing it would be to get this, I will only say that I'm going to apply. Eva will apply at Pitt State and we will have the proverbial Gorilla/Lion rivalry right there in our household. I am already going to attempt to apply for a position in Wyoming because I can only say, "Wyoming...Why not?" It's beautiful...though Eva said it would be sort of strange coming from one of the most densely-packed people countries in the world to desolate mountains and nature and the most widely known gay hate-crime scenes in the country. Moving right along, we cleaned ourselves up, panicked/got excited about the prospect of me being a teacher and headed (sans scooter because of drizzel) to a restaurant I've been wanting to eat at since we first stumbled upon it. Lucy Chang's or Lucy Chow's or something. It looks pricy, but the price it doable. It was so doable in fact that since we rarely go all-out, we had an appetizer and a bottle of wine. And since I rarely EVER eat with chop-sticks (I remember being amazed that everyone at Tellme could eat with chop-sticks) I decided to give it a go...and the go was amazing! I ate the entire meal with chop-sticks. I was so adept at it that I could pick up miniscule pieces of rice with them! Even when I used my left hand! It was delicious. We have added it to our moderately priced restaurant list in Antwerp. Actually moderately isn't the appropriate word. 'Moderate' to a single-income household is also referred to as 'cheap' to a dual-income household. The evening took us on to Attis where we chatted it up with the staff and I practiced my Vlaams. (By the way, we switched to speaking only Dutch mid-meal) After Attis we headed to what we assumed would be a heaving Zaal Jakob. It wasn't. It was closed. Then, determined not to let the evening be over, and determined to not let the fact that went to Attis to waste some time before ZJ which led to us missing the last tram...we went to Poppi which wasn't heaving. We settled on one beer and then slowly walked home. Not so slowly really, it's just slow because it's a long walk...at least 30 minutes if not more...but it was a wonderful night. As my father would say, "A good time was had by all..." And the weekend isn't even over. IN THE NEWS: The victims were all gunned down in public places: two at gas stations, one outside a grocery, another outside a post office, another as he mowed the grass at an auto dealership, the sixth, a 72-year-old man, killed on a Washington street corner. Each victim was shot once from a distance. There were no known witnesses.
October 08, 2002 : just...as soon as...my...
fingers thaw. Last night I worked on Project Professor (a slight overstatement with the professor part) until 5 in the morning. I don't remember Eva leaving the bed to get ready for work this morning at all, but I do vaguely remember her popping up the ladder fully dressed in the wondrous clothes of her profession. Think studious. Think button-up long sleeve shirt. Think straight-leg pants with sturdy shoes. And now you're thinking of Eva. Not secretarial sexy, but someone that means business. Someone who could give you a dissertation on the historical implications of whatever you asked. All of this packaged into a technical writer/project manager. That's all that I remembered. Of course I had only been asleep for a little of 2.5 hours. I had to wake up at 11 in order to shower and prepare myself for Dutch classes. I have to admit that the bed was comfortable and Project Professor loomed over my head. Dutch classes or pick-up-where-we-left-off-at-5AM...I waited until the last possible minute then chose the class. Eva's right, I always come home in such a good mood after attending that I should go regardless. Well it looked like a nice day. And I'm a self-conscious dimwit. Sometimes I think my leather coat looks cool on me and then sometimes I think it's just plain orange and a bit too long. Well today it was orange, too long, and unflattering. I bundled myself up with hooded sweatshirt and track jacket. And gloves? Well the gloves go with my leather jacket and I thought it was a pretty day outside anyway. I did the required open-window-feel-temperature, and had guessed it to be hooded sweatshirt and track-jacket suitable. Boy was I wrong. By the time I actually was en-route I was freezing. Teeth-chattering freezing. By the time I got to school my nose was running and my hands blotchy. So much for looking cool on Gertha. I just looked freezing. It took me 15 minutes to warm myself. Before I could even write. I'm exaggerating the slightest bit (because it's fun) but my fellow classmates knew I was a bit on the cold side. Heb jij handschoenen? Ja, maar mijn handschoenen zijn in mijn huis. (do you have gloves? Yes, but they are in my house.) I haven't made up my mind about our new teacher yet. She's stern. I suppose stern is ok for regular classes, but not for a group of people who are all levels of learning. At least that is my feeling. I imagine she teaches the same way my mother taught. No mucking around. No nonsense. But we're question prone. We need sensitivity. We are not sixth graders learning fractions or high school freshmen reading a play. We're learning when to use the English equivalent to sits, lies, stands, hangs...you know, important stuff. ;) The most exciting portion of the day came midclass, a beefy Russian comes to the door wanting to go through our class and on to the beginners class located through a door in our room. Apparently he's become a pain in the class. (now if you read that correctly it's quite funny...) He's been giving the teacher problems and so my teacher gave him hell about being late. He's in the first section, so a guy in our class that speaks Russian began telling him what she was saying. The Russian (a former boxer, we were told) shot the guy in my class a look of utter contempt. So much so that he quickly shut up and began getting defensive. It was high tension. 15 minutes later he came back out again. It appears the beginners have no room for bastardly Russians. We'll see what happens next week. One thing I did manage to learn today was to remove the scooter lock and place it in my backpack when driving. Usually our scooter makes loud crashing noises when we go over bumps. Little did we know it's simply due in part to the lock we suspend off of the back! I roamed all over between here and Hoboken in utter silence. I took bumps like a little boy on his bmx. Nothing but the sound of the motor doing it's thing. I can't wait to pick up Eva and have her exclaim..."what is different about the scooter?!?!" Because yes, it is that noticeable. IN THE NEWS: Lagerfeld has been obsessed with size ever since he went on a diet and lost 93 pounds. The designer, who recently published a slimming book, suggested that women worried about next spring's trend for ultra-short skirts should lose weight. "I am walking proof that it can be done," Lagerfeld said. "I did it because I wanted to dress differently and women can too. But there are lots of other options. This is not something fascist that we are imposing."
October 09, 2002 : not the only one
Last night Eva humored me and hopped on the scooter for a late-night ride. She didn't know that I had packed her Royal Air Mail stationary (the transparent lightweight kind) as a surprise. She has been meaning to write her grandfather in England for quite some time...so I decided to basically make her do it. I knew it was one of those things that would be painful at the time but then she'd thank me later. We headed out on the trip because we fell asleep after eating the BEST meal I've ever fixed. It was only steamed vegetables with wild rice, pork and peanut sauce, but it was delicious! We managed to eat with chopsticks (the new kick I'm on) before ditching them mid-meal for the fork and knife. (the European scoop against knife format.) Eva is in to turning on the heat when she gets home (because it's gotten quite chilly here) and after a good meal and warm air ensnaring us, we quickly fell asleep. It didn't help that we had crawled into bed because it seemed to call our name. We woke up in fits of "Oh my god...it's 11" or thereabouts. To make up for the night we did what we had previously not done. We scooted on in to town and hunted for an appropriate late-night cafe. I was craving steak-n-shake. Don't get me wrong, I love the concept of staying out all night at a pub with friends, but what we needed was a diner. A Village Inn. A George's Steak House where I found a hair-ball (yes, an entire ball) in my biscuits and gravy...and I found it too late when it was already mid-throat. YUCK! (it was a fluke I'm sure.) Or like I said, Steak-n-Shake...a milkshake sounded delicious. Or fries with blue-cheese dressing. Oh man... So we scooted around town to several locations that Eva thought would be dead...but they were either heaving or closed. We ended up at a quaint little bar with a jovial bartender who sort of sang our order when he served it. "A hot chocolate...a little placemat...a bag of chips...a tiny bowl of peanuts...and an orange juice..." And so Eva squirmed as I thought she would. There was a daily paper sitting on the table next to us. Wouldn't she rather read? Come on Eva, just write the letter... And I was right. She thanked me later. I worked on Dutch homework (I consequently didn't go today) and wrote a couple of postcards. Two of which I wrote the wrong addresses on (which Eva returned to me this evening) and one that is now on it's way to Battleground Washington. No doubt it is obvious who it is headed to... So today I slept until noon which scrapped my chances of school. I scrapped them further by wanting to eat a relaxing lunch instead of hurrying about. Then I plopped myself down on the couch and began writing my Teaching Philosophy, which I began with the following joke...well, it's sort of a joke... "I was instant messaging a friend today when she asked me what I was doing. I wrote, "Teaching Philosophy" to which she promptly asked when had I become interested in philosophy and when did I become qualified to teach it." Bad joke. But good point. Technology is strange sometimes. It has put us in en era much like the a telegram...sometimes. Other times it's purely space-age. I order a book and it arrives at my house 4 days later. I hit a button and my credit card is paid and the money subtracted from my checking account. I struggled with the Teaching Philosophy the whole rest of the afternoon. I was so frazzled by it I switched to writing a mock-syllabus. "Plagiarism is strictly prohibited...Attendance is mandatory...Bring a pen to class...Back up your own files...No food or drink in the computer lab." How's THAT for your basic syllabus. Thankfully getting away from the philosophy helped me when I returned to it. Now they both sit completed. Both waiting to be proofread and plopped in a nice pdf format to be linked to and printed. Whew. So now Eva's in bed and I'm finishing up a little work left for me. It's nights like these that I want to look for special flights to Istanbul or Moscow just to surprise her. But of course that is out of the question. I haven't been so poor since I was a college student...funny that I should revert to that status after living a pretty well-off life in San Francisco. As my mother and I chatted tonight via IM, she jokingly asked me how I was living without Wal-Mart. She said my dad would go through withdrawals. (We're both the fan of kicking-tires...browsing...not shopping.) And I said, "Well mom, let me tell you, it builds character." And I suppose, in all honesty, it does. Not the Wal-Mart really, but this living abroad business...and the being poor. People should be poor several times as to make the fact that you can rub two coins together in your pocket a sacred thing. :) Someday we'll go to Istanbul and someday to Moscow. As my mother says, "You simply have to pick and choose." And a mother is always right. IN THE NEWS: Talk about American abroad!
October 15, 2002 : lul days and recommendations
I have been putting some things off for quite some time. A) Laundry. This is a given. I wanted to surprise Eva today with it being finished when she got home, but I only got home from my Dutch classes with an hour to spare. With European washing machines as energy-saving and thorough as they are, 1 load takes almost an hour. So instead of it finished, I had to call her and say, "You HAVE to walk home" to which a co-worker sitting beside her on the train said, "Whatever she does, tell her no to leave the clothes...I remember what happened the last time..." Smart girl. B) Going to Dutch classes. Ok, so I've 'not gone' once. And that one time will now come up every time I'm getting ready for school the night before. Actually I didn't prepare much last night, I simply got up for the second time today and readied my book bag. I bought myself a blue 2-ringed binder for class yesterday at the Vergo. I was supposed to get one weeks ago but kept putting it off. Funny thing is, Eva bought one for me yesterday too but forgot it at work. Same color blue. Her's is canvas-bound cardboard and mine is more of a standard cardboard. Her's has a handy pocket inside and mine is regular. I'm going to use her's for something else. If I wasn't so addicted to these ATOMA (Atoma Copy-book...the original since 1948) notebooks I could make the switch to ringed binders. I'll figure something out. C) Getting recommendations for Project Teaching. It's not that I think that I'm not qualified to teach design, it's that I'm always nervous to ask people to write what they think of me down on paper. How many times do we actually do this as people? Next to none. Actually, what makes it worse is that the people I ask are usually people I should be emailing on a regular basis anyway. So I feel doubly bad. "Hey, how are you doing? Sorry I haven't written...say, can you be a reference in case someone needs to contact you about my abilities as a designer?" I don't know...it's just strange. D) Make the Chef-Boyardee pizza. I've been a sucker for the make-your-own-pizza-in-a-box since I was a little kid. It's left over from my trip in June. We've been saving it for just the right moment. Just the right night when the prep time needs to be small and the dish-use next to none. Tonight was perfect. Eva did the dishes and there was no way I could possibly destroy her clean counter-top. A quick check over my shoulder sees me eyeing a couple of things on the counter...an open packet of grated Parmesan that Chef Boyardee includes, a can opener for their all-inclusive sauce and pepperoni, and an open can of Green Giant Nibblets (to put on the pizza...hey, come on, I've been to Italy...do not limit your toppings! The best pizza I've ever had was a mozzarella, cream, fresh Parmesan and corn pizza!) Delicious. I made two small pizza pies. In an effort to make Eva laugh I even flowered them enough that I could throw them in the air a bit...to take me back to my days at the Breadeaux Pisa in Bolivar. Now THAT was a skill that got me nowhere...I take that back, it did pay for extra expenses encountered that first year of school (mainly gasoline and convenience-store-driving-all-night snacks.) So now Eva's on the couch. Asleep. She's been this way since after her pizza. I covered her with the raggedy Anne blanket and she's turned only 3 times and asked me once; "what or who are you typing?" I was emailing prospective recommendation-writing people. :) And now back to stress. Since I've lowered my stress level by writing the emails, let me now address the number of things I have sitting on my plate between now and next Wednesday. (the exhibition night: http://www.squarevzw.be) I need to send out 3 application packets (some with references and some without) call SMSU (they are hiring too) place my teaching philosophy, sample syllabus, vita and CV in a template and have Eva print them at work, finish portfolio, take an un-dykey picture of myself (no comments please), finish the flag project, do short movie in Dutch about living in Belgium and not being myself, upload my new portfolios, change my journal layout (HUGE project) and finish the Flash project started with David Karem. Is there no end! And of course this has to be a weekend with such an event as: Lesbiennedag in Gent. I suppose we'll see how much work I get finished. The problem is, even if I start the day with good intentions (as I did this morning fixing eva breakfast) I then crawl back into bed...tomorrow will be different. IN THE NEWS:
October 17, 2002 : being cool and not doing enough
I don't know why this has to happen all in one day. Today I felt good; my clothes fit, my hair fell perfectly and stuck out nicely, I didn't mind that my pants were second-hand and the butt seam had been sewn together by a previous owner and then let-out to reveal a slightly obvious "let out" area making me look like I had expanded the seams of my pants, and I went to Brussels. I had to go to Brussels to have coffee with one of my teachers from school and some people from the exhibition next Wednesday. It felt great to be out of the house and working on something current instead of overly future-tense and foggy such as Project Teaching. As I've mentioned before the concept of leaving this place for a job with 19 year olds sounds scary but interesting...but then again, I'm bound to "find myself" in this year and then get sort of attached to Belgium. After all, Gent was so nice. I found my own way to the place online and mapped out (quite easy, just one of the most widely-known streets in Brussels) and figured out which train to take at which time. I woke up a little late because the alarm didn't go off. (I swear it didn't, it was still set to the right time when I woke up!) but I managed to get a bit accomplished today. If I could have at least 3 days a week like yesterday and today I could accomplish quite a lot. I left the house in my yellow Baudenboro Basketball t-shirt, blue pants, Eva's old Doc Martin boots, my favorite slimming old-navy blue sweatshirt (I'm over the fact that my blues clash) and Eva's black leather coat. Can you believe I'm actually borrowing something of hers to wear besides shoes? I can barely button the thing, but it's not extremely cold outside and so it looks ok wearing it open. (I sound obsessed about fashion, don't I!) Anyway, I looked the closest thing to European as I'll probably ever get. It will be interesting to see if I will ever be able to pull it out. I've still got 9 months. :) I headed to the train station and realized that I had to jog a bit because I was running just about 3 minutes behind. I wasn't actually, but I convinced myself that I was because I had given myself just enough leeway to have time to get from station to cafe in 15 minutes once in Brussels. Once on the train I sat down and listened to music. It's been such a long time since I've just sat down and listened to music without concentrating on something else. I was a bit overwhelmed. It's wonderful. They were old songs I could sing to out loud in my head, but still. It's a wonderful concept. Memo to self: must listen to music on way to school every day this year. It's good for soul. I used to do it all the time when I drove around in my car and while working at Tellme. I know that's not the same as concentrating on it...but it's close enough. By the time I'm in Brussels I feel confident. I'm walking differently. My heads up. I'm looking people straight in the eye. I've got a spring in my step. I'm encountering all of the people leaving Brussels to head back to their Flemish or Wallonian homes from corporate/businessy/capital-of-Europe-Brussels. And I'm on my way for coffee. I'm walking down the sidewalk listening to a great song (I don't remember exactly which one) when sudden I open my mouth and out flies my gum. Spontaneously. As if it had been waiting to break free for some time. Like it had been timing my chews and was taking the big chance before getting bitten for the thousandth time. Out it flies. I'm a dork. As it's flying out of my mouth a huge double-decker tourist bus passes and you know how people basically face the window at all times. I've probably been immortalized in some Japanese tourist's action shot. European girl in slightly small leather coat with expanded blue workman's pants loses gum while walking on sidewalk. Ha ha ha. Something like that. :) So this makes me laugh out loud. It didn't destroy my mood one bit. I thought it hysterical. It's better than dropping my spoon on my plate from a great height which ended with an enormous reverberating CLANG in a packed restaurant. There's no hiding it. It's not that I'm not graceful. It's that I'm prone to do silly things. I think movie stars and rock stars, literary gods, and terrorists don't do this. I don't really know why I added terrorists, but if you are able to look calm enough to board a plane/bus/restaurant with the intention to die...without sweating...without being too obvious. I think you're not a dork. (that might have been a bit extreme. But I'm not going to edit today.) So I made it to the cafe at exactly 4:30. All the way from Antwerp by public transport and I made it there right on time. It took me one hour from my door to the door of the cafe. AMAZING feat! I won't go into the details of the meeting, but I must say that the posters are cool and it does really feel great to see my name written in print. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. And as Tom, Eva and I tried to figure out last night...if I'm going to do many of these...I need a cooler name. Or just one. ;) I'm listed directly after people who have "["s in their name and "~"s and are only in lowercase. This is, of course, sort of a joke...I'll just stick with my birth name. But I am relieved a bit. It will all be over in a week anyway. It's exciting and nerve-wracking. Mingling with fellow "artists" and being spied on by people willing to pay 12.50 Euros a person to meander around a theater to look at websites and small films and digital multimedia/art/sound...you name it. Now if THAT isn't an odd mix of folk...I don't know what is. So the reason I was running a tad late this morning was because I didn't want to be in Brussels without my mobile. I did manage to find my mobile but it was nearly completely dead...to the point it was saying Low Battery. I plugged it in before I left and gave it just 5 minutes to charge. Surely, I thought, it would give me enough time to say..."Hey, it's me. Meet you at 6:08." But no. It was dead. I even did the remove-batteries-and-rub-on-pant-legs trick. But it wasn't really a trick because it didn't work. I get on the packed train and find an open seat. I wrote a poem about the woman sitting next to me: She didn't look nervous or calm. But I wanted to tell her
I timed it so I would arrive at Eva's station and was giving myself the option of staying on the train if I didn't see her...getting off the train if I didn't see her...and riding with her if I saw her. As we pulled out of Mechelen-Central, I kept my eyes on the platform...people as ants in the distance. No Eva. As we slowed I still saw no Eva. I bolted from the seat and ran to the door and looked up the platform. There she was. I ran. I made it to her just in time, as I passed the last few people boarding the train. Reunited. The rest of the night was filled with dinner at Grill House 77 with Leila and Susan. We are ever so pleased that our relationship with them has become more of a ritual than an occurrence. I don't know how else to say it. It was great. I even sampled Witloof with cheese sauce. Eva tried to convince me to try cauliflower and cheese sauce...but I just stuck to my Grill House 77 Special sauce and pork-steak. Gotta love a country that loves sauce. The end of the title for today "not doing enough" is for my own purpose of remembering. It has to do with writing emails in disguise, being selfish, and such. Nothing overly traumatizing. I'm just writing it down to record it. After all, I promised to hit record...and that is what I am doing. IN THE NEWS:
October 18, 2002 : vriendelijkhet, bloomen, brommer, and liesbet
I stayed up today attending to Project Teaching. Actually, I was attending to Project got-to-finish-by-next-Wednesday, which was going fairly well except for compressing movies. It's not overly technical, but since I want to have this movie be slightly larger than the ones I've posted before...it's been giving me problems. Basically I spent all day working on the PC laptop and compressing the same movie over and over again. For 2 and a half minutes worth of footage it sure takes eons to deal with. Hopefully I'll have some spare time to mess with it before wednesday...but then again, I'll be running the show off of my hard drive, so it shouldn't be a problem. (blah blah blah) I was still in the process of converting it yet again when I realized I had to go pick up Eva. The word had seems a little harsh, as it is my both my honor and priveledge to arrive at the station and offer her a helmet and a ride...so I left the mac to it's compressing and the PC in its current state and headed to the station. I got there and waited and waited. I waited for an hour. I kept going to every platform stairs that had people pouring out of it ready for the weekend. No Eva. A British businessman came up to me and said, "Do you speak English?" (see! I AM looking a bit Euro-ish!) to which I replied "Sure!" To which he said, "Oh, are you English?" (so I must not have that hick accent shmearing my vocabulary) To which I said, "No, I'm an American." He basically wanted to know where a street was and since I barely know the name of the street I live on (a trait do to my being an introvert and a non-driver) and how to use the pay-phones. (I think they use cards for the most part...I'm sure some are still coin-operated.) Anyway, I asked a guy next to me in Dutch about the name of the street. He didn't know. When the British guy jumped in with the English question the man looked a bit miffed that someone would assume that he didn't. Whatever. It ended up with me letting the guy make his phonecall on my mobile. The Belgian man looked at me as if I was completely crazy to let a stranger use my phone, but I figured it's a great jesture...and I didn't want to leave a poor Englishman in the hands of rush-hour Belgians. Besides, I was still waiting for Eva to appear...thinking she would at seemingly any moment...knowing she would be thrilled to find me helping her fellow countrymen. He made the phonecall and was on his way. I was still waiting. I had tried calling her mobile 4 times...and had tried calling the house in the event that we had somehow missed each other. How we missed each other is a mystery to us both. I had made my way to the station scantly clad (I thought since it had been sunny all day it would be warm. Hell no.) and so I was freezing there in the open-due-to-remodeling section of Berchem station in just a longsleeve t-shirt and Eva's too-small black leather coat. (Open, of course) My phone then rings and it's someone calling from our house. It's Eva. She's home. I'm slightly pissed and freezing by this point and I go home determined to be all aggrivated when I open the door and there she is standing with flowers. She hadn't seen me at the station and had walked a different route home to stop and buy flowers. What an ass I am! I almost decided to go back outside and climb up the stairs all over again so I could have the proper look of surprise on my face instead of the awakening I-was-going-to-be-so-mad-at-you face. Eva's the best. End of story. So I realize that I said "end of story" but by this time it's only 6. Eva's meeting her ex for a concert sans me (we're working towards us all being friends) and so she leaves me promptly at 7:30. I didn't really mind because the computers still needed to be tending to and the project sat there just on the verge of being finished without actually being finished. Two hours later...success: Check out "messages from middle america" and "the rules." I've extremely proud of them both, as the ended up relatively close to what I had invisioned. I'm still a little frustrated with the size of that damn movie (in 'the rules') but I hope to compress it even further soon. Just be patient. At 10 I called Eva to find out where Liesbet and Eva were headed so I could meet up with them. It was Eva's idea. It's not like I asked myself over to join in their old-times talk or their how-are-you-doing conversations. I was invited. :) So let me paint the picture of the outdoors at this time of night. It's cold. Damn cold. It's see-your-own-breath cold and it's been misting/raining off and on for most of the night. This is not perfect scooter (brommer) weather but Eva specifically said, "Bring the scooter so we dont' have to walk home." This story does not end tragically with my typing with only my good hand and with only one finger that is not broken. I'm fine. I suited up in everything that fit me (practically) and headed into town. I was quite the sight. I had on my Old Navy slimming hooded sweatshirt (I love to throw in the slimming part, and always will) one of Eva's slightly too small (can only button one button) jean jackets, and my leather coat. I was cozy. I wore a hat under my helmet which made it stick up twice as far. You understand? I looked warm but rediculous. I made my way to the Poppi (name of cafe) very delicately, as I envisioned dumping myself sideways onto cobblestones or sliding into umbrella-ed ladies and I even managed to get splashed by a tram. How one gets splashed by a tram which runs on TRACKS is news to me. But let me tell you...my left sock was definitely wet. Finally I made it to the cafe and parked the bike next to a wall under a bright light. Next to the wall so it would be as shielded from rain as I could possibly make it and under a bright light so no one would steal it. It's a goofy looking contraption, but we love it with all of our mobile-loving-hearts. I enter laden with jackets, coats, gloves, scarves, and winter hats. It was packed with the sort of women young lesbians both know and dream exist only in Europe. (slight exaggeration) Feeling like a fish out of water or simply heavy (not in size but clothing) I began to make that "where are you?" sort of look when Eva suddenly appeared in a halo of light and accompanied by organ music...saving me. So the night was wonderful. We had a great time. There wasn't any tension (as there had been times before) and we simply sat around for the next 4 hours hanging out. Somewhere along the evening I asked her over for dinner, she promised to loan me some comic books, I asked her along on a great American road-trip (someday), she said she'd give me some great Thai recipies, and we all made plans to do breakfast next Sunday. Sunday at 11. It was originally 10 which became 10:30 and almost became noon. As they went on and on in Dutch I managed to come up with a lengthly bit of writing. One poem about growing up and short hair, two projects concerning hard drives, and one project with film. The ride home was excellent. I was actually going at snails space (compared to dry-street standards) but it seemed that we sped home and arrived in just a matter of minutes. Wow. Yes. We are awed by the little things. You should be too. IN THE NEWS: No joke. It's from the calendar creator. Why can't someone just say, Love is the Answer. or Be friendly tomorrow. or Take a vacation, you deserve one. or Tell your loved ones that you love them. or Get up from your computer and stretch. But no.
October 19, 2002 : finally a period '.' and pumkins
I have been thinking that my period would arrive for weeks now. Not a lot of weeks but 2. Two whole weeks of thinking I could be more of a woman at any given point in time. It doesn't bother me/worry me, as I am certain that I am not pregnant and I am, for the most part, quite regular. I can just understand that my period fluxuates with my being. Oooooooh. Now THAT is an interesting statement. I have become so pleased with everything lately (quite in contrast to my more depressed state/moodswing-filled moments of the last year). So today we woke up a bit later than we had planned. It was Lesbiennedag in Gent. Promising to be a late night with filled with women and even some dancing. Enter period and horrific pains. The sort of pains pregnant women associate with childbirth. I must remind my mother to bring PMS-associated medicine. Midol. Tylenol PMS. Whatever she can find. Actually 2 Advil usually do the trick. As I mentioned the last time this happened, I must do some research about what to do pre-period to ensure I am less crampish. But then again, if I had already done research and had found out that eating certain things and/or excersize does the trick...I would have been eating certain things and exercizing for the past 2 weeks. Ha ha ha. Now that made me laugh. :) So Eva tended to me. She called the people in Gent and told them we would not be helping to load up tables and chairs (so we could have free tickets to the days events) because her friend was ill. I was nearly ill and no one knows how long they will last. Usually a matter of hours. And today was no exception. It's just that Gent is far away and since we'd certainly miss the last train due to dancing, it would mean we'd have to dance until the first train at 5 in the morning. Not what aging 26 year olds are really into. At least not right now. Next year with a Fiat Panda 750 (my dream car) but not now. When I finally made it out of my bed clothes and we headed out into the world, Eva was a bit concerned that she wouldn't make it to the store she wanted to go to. I thought all we were heading out to buy were pads. I'm a tampon girl (is this too much information?) but today I was yearning for good ol' pads. Not to wear in public but for around the house. A girl just needs to bleed sometimes, you know? Smell that earthy I-could-create-a-child womanly smell. Let it all go. :) We made it up the street to the shop where Eva picked out a pumkin (she also asked me if today was Halloween which I don't quite understand the relavence since she was buying the pumpkin for surprise pumpkin soup). Well wouldn't you know that the shop lady said, "we're closed." This put Eva into a state. A mood. A requiring-10-minutes-of-self-time mood. I asked if I could go back and ask the lady for a pumkin. "Hey, my friend REALLY wants a pumpkin, ok? Here's 2 Euros." But Eva would hear nothing of it. We tried the Proust (another supermarket as the Vergo is closed in the afternoon on Saturdays) but they didnt' have any pumpkins and Eva and I were quite incompatible as shopping mates there. So we headed to Del Haize. Eva was still distance (even after 10 mintues) and we get into the store and head to the vegetable/fruit section to look for pumpkins. All they had were propper carving pumpkins. (Halloween is a fledgling newish sort of holiday here...but we have suspicion that it is gaining momentum. If we had money to invest we'd invest in companies that make holiday goodies.) I was in a panic by this point in time. "Let me just ask someone," I said, but again Eva wouldn't hear it. So I went up to a guy that worked there and said, "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have a small pumpkin somewhere, would you?" What I neglected to mention is that our first stop had been a health food store with excellent biologically grown pumpkins. He answers me, "Yeah, but they're bio." "Great!" And he walks over to a box and pulls out the very last bio pumpkin of the most perfect size much like the one Eva was eyeing at the first shop. I was beaming. I was so happy to hand it to Eva. It wasn't a gloating handover, it was an honest to god, "here darling, a pumpkin." She almost cried. Right there in the store her burden lifted and she put the pumpkin in our red basket and we proceeded to have the most wonderful Del Haize shopping experience which included buying a pads and pantiliner combo pack, vegetarian fake meat, and dinner supplies. When we got home we split up the house duties and started cleaning up. She puttered and placed things and I did dishes. After dishes, round one, she started in on the no-longer-a-surprise-soup and then decided that it would take years for the pumpkin to cook so I took over cooking dinner. Wow. What a dinner. Sugar-snap steamed beans, boiled potatos, and vegetarian curry schnitzels. Not a single piece of meat in sight. It was actually one of the best meals we've had. No joke. The schnitzel was the most amazingly good fake piece of food. I'm sure it was much better than it's meat counterpart. We've decided that I should become a vegetarian just because it's the most hilarious concept. Me, a vegetarian. I even said that I didn't even know if we had vegetarian fake-meat areas of Wal-Mart supercenters because I had so avoided that section in my previous life. (that's what it's beginning to feel like!) I should inquire to my mother...have her scout the bio/vegan/healthy section of the refridgerated goods back home. We ended the meal with raspberry and vanilla mouse. Prepackaged, but delicious. We're not used to such rich deserts or even deserts at all, so the evening meal tonight is in a category all it's own. We topped it all off with a pot of free-trade coffee that we just bought tonight. As I mentioned last week sometime, we're trying to become world/environment conscious consumers. Now all we have to do is re-use more of our damn plastic bags. After dinner, as we mulled over our non-plans for the evening, we figured we should start planning on my parent's trip to Belgium. They've rented a car and the whole bloody (English verbage, but highly appropriate in my current state of womanhood) continent is an open road. Jeez. I did some reasearch and most every city an American would want to see in Europe is possible. Everything is closer than San Francisco or New York was from where I grew up. Since everything seems possible I'm going to have to inqure if my parents want to do whirlwind driving trips which basically just give them the bragging rights of "being" in a country or "seeing" a country. Eva and I have decided that regardless of what happens after I graduate from school that we are buying the Panda 750 (or whatever car is 500 Euros) and driving the wheels off of it next July. We'll camp, eat over open flames, and see the whole ***king continant. And for those of you back home, we'll take a lot of pictures. :) (Please forgive my speech, as I have tried to refrian from foul language over the course of this journal in an attempt to make it suitable for anyone happening to land on it.) So now Eva's doing work, and I'm writing in my journal. Is this fair? I'm not certain, but it feels so great to write it all down sometime. Just think, this time next year I will be remembering that today was spent recovering from cramps, searching for a pumpkin and eating curry schnizels. IN THE NEWS: Then again I was reading The Irish Times online and one lady said, "Well I guess all of those countries and people deserve a chance at prosperity as well, and if it means a better economy, then I'm for it." That's a nice concept isn't it? Funny that the initiative is called Nice. (for Nice, France, not being pleasant to strangers.) We'll find out the results tomorrow. If someone could just explain how it all works, I'd appreciate it. ps-eva would like me to add that she is quite the seamstress, as she mended/sewed up a blow-out portion of her brown Doc Martens of which I have grown quite attached.
October 20, 2002 : no-laundry sundays and movies
We awoke at 10. We got out of bed at 10:30, spurned by a desire to visit the library, a bustling center of education, as the Flemish seem to be a group of people that love to read. Amazing concept. I suppose the same goes for libraries everywhere, it's just that I arbitrarily quit going to them back in the states the moment I graduated from school. Eva headed to the music section to check out CDs and I headed to the book section to find an art book. I chose a book on Feminism and art since some of my projects lean in that direction...and trust me, it opened my eyes a bit. I have only browsed through it's many pages but was startled at some of the projects listed within its pages. Wow. I mean, I do allow people to remove my clothing in one of my projects, but nudity and pulling things from my vagina...well let's just say that I don't see that becoming an option right now. (read: ever!) After the library we scooter around town for coffee and lunch. We then headed to the photography museum (where we nearly missed having a gruesome accident on the scooter several weeks ago, incidentally it was rather humorous) only to find that it's closed until the fall of next year. Damn. We decided on basketball, but when we came home I plunked myself on the couch with my ibook and started in on the last stage of my new and updated portfolio. I still had a mild case of cramps (as I did again in the middle of the night this morning) and we opted for a movie instead. Since we are VCR/DVD player-less and without a TV to handle such a device anyway, we headed into town to see The Pianist. I originally thought she wanted us to go see The Piano which I didn't really want to see, but The Pianist is a wholly different story, one we thought looked fairly interesting, though a very familiar storyline: WWII, Jewish family, Nazis, the basic struggle story. Boy were we wrong. I still am not sure if I'm so affected these days because of the fact that I'm here in Europe now instead of being so isolated and far away, or what. But this movie moved me. It moved Eva as well. It wasn't a typical story of a Jewish family and the devastation of war. It was just plain devastation. It was gruesome. It was based on the Jewish ghettos of Warsaw, Poland. It was from the perspective of a Jewish pianist trying to survive. Simply live through till another day. It was horrific. I don't know how to describe it. People were shot arbitrarily. Children were dead in the street. Shit lay on the pavement behind people waiting to be deported. A mother went crazy for having suffocated her baby while they were in hiding because it had been crying. The audience was there too. We momentarily lost our hearing when a bomb shell exploded, we heard nothing but dull noise and a ringing. We were disoriented and sick when we saw the ghettos void of people...void because they had all been shipped to camps. And we too were thirst and hungry. We turned gaunt, shaky, and nervous. Had the theater been filled with just the two of us, I believe I would have sobbed aloud, shoulders heaving. We left with tears just behind our eyeballs, as it seemed we were ready to cry at anything. We were ready to let go of our new burden. And so the movie left us heavy. We hopped on the scooter and headed home. We had intended on getting fries, but our stomachs were empty but not hungry. It just seemed so real. And real is such a strange word because it was real, it did happen. These very things happening less 60 years ago just a 10 hour drive from our house. Disturbing. We came back home and resumed our normal lives. We kicked off our shoes in our cozy apartment, checked emails, stirred pumpkin soup, filled water glasses, and visited with friends. I got back to finishing the portfolio, and Eva soon started proofing it. So there...a subtle line between being affected and the routine. Just like that, as quickly as it happened it is gone. There were only 15 or so mistakes in my portfolio, some spelling, some linkage issues, some needing to be pop-up windows instead of filling the current window. I checked my email and I had a comment from a reader of this journal. She commented on two things; the pop up biblical reference and my wanting an answer to the reasonings behind the EU expansion. In reference to the second, I can only say thanks, and I suppose in retrospect, when it comes down to it, I am for the good of the people. I suppose we all could do with less padded wallets if it meant that others had need for wallets at all. I suppose we all would eat a helping less if it meant that someone, somewhere would be eating our second helping. I suppose we all would do a bit more if we felt that it was going to benefit someone in actuality. This is taking it to extremes, as I must look at the expansion as the current EU wanting to share the wealth with the oncoming new EU members. (is this journal-worthy?) In regards to the first, the verse popping up on my screen... Forgive me for seeming, in yesterday's journal, as if I was angry. I was simply shocked. Did the message hit me in the wrong way? Slightly. Every knee shall bow, every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. I know this already. (know being a very strange way to put it...) I know it through the eyes of a person I once was...still am, only different. Somewhere a Macintosh programmer decided to put a line of code in his/her program which shared a message of faith. I applaud that effort. I applaud in it's even being thought of. I am not intolerant of it, nor am I overly appreciative. I simply accept it's being there...that effort. It only goes to remind me of my own purpose in sharing my own version of the old gospel I once knew. Just as I was reminded through the friend who is also a reader of this journal. IN THE NEWS:
October 21, 2002 : a witness and wrapping up
A funny thing happened today in light of the pop-up Bible verse window of yesterday. I was sitting on the couch working on the final touches of the portfolio when the doorbell rang. At 10:30 in the morning it's either the postman or Susan. I guessed Susan, so I ran to the window, leaned out, and stared onto the head of a stranger who proceeded to tell me that she wanted to talk with me. Our conversation lasted for a bit at this distance before she asked if I would simply come downstairs. Sure. Hold on, I have put on my pants. (I was still in sleep-clothes.) She was a Jehovah's Witness. And she inquired if I ever thought about the nature of the world. (now THAT's a nice starter question...) I didn't tell her that seemingly every time I get together with friends for late-night gatherings the subject floats around that very thing. "Yeah" I told her. She went on and on in HER best English. She was a lively woman, obviously very dedicated. The day was already a dismal one destined to dump rain on our heads if we lingered for very long. Was I a believer? "I used to be." I said, and that's it. I was smiley and took her magazine which she gave to me in English. Eva gets a kick out of reading them anyway, I just know from my upbringing that our protestant version considered them a cult. Everyone was in one category or another. The main categories were; Saved or unsaved. (read: going to heaven or going to hell.) And within the unsaved variety, you had a handful of subcategories; atheist, agnostic, catholic, satanic or a member of a cult--two cults frequently discussed were Jehovah's Witnesses and the Mormons. So sure, she can come back if she wants. I won't invite her to coffee and I won't freak her out. She's out for her "great cause" and I respect that. They are decent people just trying to make it into one of the 140,000 that will make it. (Am I wrong here? Aren't they the ones that believe in only a few that will enter His kingdom?) If I'm right, there is no doubt that they all must working pretty hard at it. If there were only a few seats left, (considering the span of history) I think I'd have as good a chance as I would trying to get a World Series ticket...one of those countless people who tried to log on to a website and grab the last few. Apparently it slowed the world down for a moment. Funny to think that I actually know someone who got one. (Bobbie) But she's selling her ticket to the highest bidder and I'm trying to convincer her to use that money to come see us. :) The portfolio is finished and to celebrate I headed to pick up Eva (I actually met her at the end of out street, oops!) with news that I was going to buy our dinner with my own money to celebrate. I gave her several options, one of which included the restaurant I knew she would want to eat in...A quaint little Italian place owned and operated by a couple who are Indian, barely speak Dutch, and who have lived seemingly everywhere. (we've eaten there before...with Jessica.) We parked the scooter, and were just taking off our jackets when a knock at the window nearly scared me to death. Sure enough, Leila and Susan were outside, having passed us on the scooter going in the opposite direction. We asked them to join us and they did. We ordered kaas croquettes (I have no idea how to spell this!) for appetizers and Eva and I decided on the delicacy she ordered the last time we were there. Broccoli, oil, cream, garlic, spaghetti. (all together with nothing taking priority.) It's the most heavenly meal which we have tried to duplicate on our own with little success. It wasn't that my meal wasn't tasty, when prepared, but it wasn't as delicious as the one he makes...and the appetizer, homemade, were the best kaas croquettes I've ever eaten. I'm not so sure if Leila and Susan were as impressed with the place as Eva and I are/were. The couple is ever so friendly and the atmosphere strange. It's a converted living-room with an espresso machine you could buy around the corner at Megapool. The last time we were there the man told us how he was planning on redecorating, and sure enough they've added a small bar structure, over the table lamps, and another couple of tables. It's quaint. A bit on the seedy side, but someone's dream. Eva and I are always supportive of helping out with someones dream. That sounds a bit over the top, but I mean it. It's great to see someone going all out and giving it a go. We wish them all the best of luck. After the meal, when we were headed out, the man called Eva and I to the back of the place. It seemed he hadn't understood that Eva had wanted to take her broccoli remnants home with her and Leila had told the guy of his mistake. He mentioned his mistake in his best Dutch and told us that the next time we came in, he'd give us even more broccoli. We just have to remind him. It went straight to the heart. Yes of course! I doubt we will remind him, but it certainly makes us want to return. IN THE NEWS:
October 22, 2002 : late night pressures…
The day was a success. I got up with Eva and prepared for my day. First I wrote a note in dutch for my teacher explaining why I couldn't come to my Dutch class today because I had to gather things together for my design thing tomorrow night, but that I was sorry, and would like to know when I could pick up any new materials for school because I didn't want to get behind in my classes. All of this I wrote in Dutch. Actually I wrote it in the equivalent of Spanglish (spanish and English) only it was Engutch or Nederlish (English and Dutch). I hopped on my scooter and headed to Hoboken to hand in my letter. I met my teacher and she seemed thrilled that I would take the time to contact her and get my next set of lessons. On the way home I marveled at the amount of leaves around, and the fact that street sweepers were clogging the streets with piles of leaves. They were literally going between parked cars and raking them out into the bike paths. A large lorry (English word) was parked and waiting for the piles. Imagine that! I suppose it is the country girl in me in awe of city folk and their strangeness. Then again, on second thought, Eva mentioned to me that leaves are dangerous on bike paths because they become slick when they are wet and decaying, and I believe it's best to not let leaves clog the drainage sewers. I had a list of things to gather for Project Teaching. I figured I would head to a paper store (an equivalent of Hobby Lobby and/or Michael's) and then on to Fnac to buy whatever I couldn't find at the paper store. I routed the brommer around the city to parts I had rarely been (only once). I suppose I didn't really tour around the city, I just knew where the store was (vicinity) and headed in the right direction. I had a very small list with very special items: Everything was fairly easy to find except the baggies. I went down every single isle before finding a baggie (it had feathers in it) and inquiring if the store had some of these very bags. The youth (no better word to use) behind the counter set me in the right direction and I was so overjoyed I waited in line again just to tell him, "Thank you. I've been looking for bags like this for months now." (slight exaggeration, I know.) When I was checking out, the checkout girl insisted that I take a bag. She seemed unfamiliar with my ability to pack things away nicely. First of all I'm trying to not collect any more plastic bags. Secondly, since I've moved my own personal junk around so many times since I first left home, I'm a pro at arranging things in a space-saving manner. Sure enough, I fit it all into the backpack, and left the plastic bag in the cart. Once home I barely had enough time to get unpacked before it was time to pick up Eva. Once she was home and well-fed, it seemed we had time for a nice evening together. Nothing really pressing until I decided to start preparing for tomorrow. Susan is going to call me tomorrow and we're going to be headed out by 7. Eek. Not only does the time of morning sound ridiculous, but it's the day of the night. Make sense? I worked around on and on until 4 in the morning. No joke. Leave it to me to take something already finished and make it even less finished so I can finish it all over again. I quietly packed my "bedroom/office" into two boxes and putted around on the computer making a few final tweaks…including little alert pop-ups that provide the user with blurbs that offer what I might be thinking. I also subtracted anything that required being online from the portfolio so now it's basically just sound and movie bits. (my attempt to keep with the "program.") I suppose we'll just have to wait and see. I don't know why I'm so nervous, perhaps it's because I always seem to feel outclasses. Boy I wish I was really good at something. An expert. Someone so knowledgeable in a field of study that people would want my input. More tomorrow.
October 23, 2002 : the day
It was the day I'd been waiting for for several months. It seems silly to admit that, like it's a grad student's christmas or something. Let's just say I was excited. To be honest, I still am. I slept for 2 hours. That's it. I got a call from Susan asking me if I was ready to go. I actually was so ready that I waited for Susan and Leila to come out of their house. I'm sure i looked interesting holding a box of stereo speakers in the drizzel in front of someone's house. It just happened to be my speakers (eva's) and my house (our house.) i wish I could convince myself that I'm a morning person on less stressful days. i really am. I like nothing more than to get out in the morning air just knowing tha it's going to turn light soon. Mornings are the same as evenings, only the end of darkness is closer. Mornings are the furthest thing from scary, as nights always seem to lean a little more towards spooky. I can't get out of bed for anything, in the morning, unless I have to go. If I have to get out of bed, I can. If I don't, I won't. It's as simple as that. I love mornings and the cleanliness of a clean-slated day and it's so much more apparent during the wee hours of the mornings compared to mid-morning when people are already thinking lunch. Susan dropped Leila off in Mechelen (we would have dropped of Eva as well if it hadn't been so early) and we headed into Brussels. Two american's with a mapquest print-out of our destination-Kaaitheater Studios. There were a couple of moments where we could have gone wrong, but we made it there in record time. So record, in fact, that we were 2 hours early. The people there had no idea what to do with us or where we should go so they offered us an endless supply of coffee. Hey, I love coffee as much as the next girl and Susan likes it twice as much as me. But two hours later I was a nervous wreck...so jittery from lack of sleep and caffine that I could barely sticky-tack my pictures to the wall. Thank god it's a was a task that required little precision! When we were finally finished and my table had been transformed into my working space at home, we headed back the way we came. I was endebted to Susan for her driving skills, time, and car. We headed to the mall and ran a couple of errands. We returned to the scene of the crime of a month ago...the Sam's Wholesale-like Macro store with its endless supply of bulk goods. I bought nothing. I had already found everything I could possibly need for the next two weeks at Ava yesterday. By the time we got back to our humble street I was wasted. Exhausted. I slept as a rock sleeps in a rock garden. Hard. I picked up Eva at the train station and we headed on into Brussels. We had hoped for enough time to eat before the thing started (I had to be there at 8:00 because it started at 8:30) Bless my poor fellow transmedian's and friend's hearts, as I recieved several good luck SMSs. I think I would have had quite a turnout of friends had the show not cost 12.50. I, being one of the people that spends the least amount of money on entertainment that I know, would most likely NEVER spend that sort of money on a night like tonight. But now, in retrospect, perhaps I should get out more. We were sitting in a cafe having bree cheese and ciabatta sandwhiches, crepes and coffee when one of the Project Tournhout girls came strolling in. She paid me for the website and told me she'd see us later. I wont' go into detail about the size of the currency or the color of it or the amount, but let me say that it was sort of fun to know that I had a nice amount of cash in my bra for the rest of the evening. (dont' start thinking it was thousands of euros or anything!) It was like a drug deal, all wadded up and passed from palm to palm. Had the evening not been a success, I would definately say that that experience alone would have made it all worthwhile. I forgot to mention the fact that Eva made every single hapless fool that we encountered in the whole of Brussels speak Dutch. It was amazing. She wouldn't give in to it at all. Even I was taken aback a bit. Jeez, Eva, just speak French...why make them struggle!?!? I think she thought it was fun. I just thought it was cruel. We had nametags, Eva and I, and once inside we began drinking beer and mingling. Every fifteen minutes someone would do a electronic sound-show, and inbetween I would get to guide a couple of people through my work. I had a really great time. It's funny how wonderful it is to show people your own work in such a personal manner as sitting next to them and explaining it. "click here...this is what I meant by that...well see, I went on a trip...this was the first time I had ever done this..." etc. A Flash God sat next to me and went over my stuff like it was interesting. I know that sounds like I am belittling my own work, but it was a great thing, this experience. It made me want to make art. We knew that we were going to be cutting it short as far as the last train went. We opted to leave the stereo behind and hightail it (huge bag in hand) to the station and try to catch it. My dear transmedian Agnes offered us a place to stay in case we missed it...and yes, had I not had to go to the bathroom right before we left, we wouldn't have had to take her up on the offer. Eva and I crossed Brussels, which we don't know very well at all, with a heavy duffle bag bouncing around between us. We did the "you carry one strap and I'll carry the other strap." I suppose it had taken me at least 5 minutes to go upstairs and pee, return to Eva and get the bag. Well we missed the train by 3 minutes. After standing there getting over our aggravation at each other; I was aggravated at her because I had thought we were headed to the North station only to realize that we were headed to the Central station which Eva was saying that our train left at such and such a time which was really the time for the North station...etc AND Eva was aggravated at me for peeing. We let this go for about 5 minutes and then we were over it. We were in shock. We called Agnes and took a cab. It was our first cab experience together. The way we both see it (which I'm thankful for) cabs are to be used in only EXTREME situations...and this was one. Of course she made the taxi driver speak flemish (!) and when we got to Agnes's house we rang the bell only to find that her bell didn't work. (she didn't know this) and by this time I had run out of credits. You see the sort of night this had become. Finally, we got in touch with Agnes who led us upstairs to a cozy little room with a cozy little bed she had prepared for us. We said our thanks and were off to sleep in no time. No time at all.
October 29, 2002 : leaps and bounds
What a strange way to put it. Leaps and bounds. They are three nice words. (though 'and' hardly counts) Today I headed to the city hall to drop off some information. I thought I stood a fairly good chance of getting in at a late hour. Wrong. So then I opted to switch my California drivers license for a Belgian one. Too expensive--16 Euros. (I'll do it some other time.) I had 10. Regardless, I was stuck in town on a somewhat dreary day, and decided to make the most of it. I wondered around the shopping street poked my head in some stores looking for some more specific items for christmas (I can't tell you or it will ruin the surprise) and then I started on home. I wasn't trying to avoid coming back home, because I had things to work on. (namely organizing and looking up some information for a meeting tomorrow night with for a new and exciting freelance prospect) I decided, since I'm in dire need of exercize, to walk home. It wasn't really all that cold or pretty. But it wasn't rainy, so that's a plus. I was headed home when I realized I was close to a cafe that Eva's been wanting me to try out. So, and no I'm not kidding about this, I started practicing my best flemish version of "I want a coffee" in my head and started pumping myself up for taking coffee alone. So I passed it once and then repremanded myself in my head. "Sheesh, Andrea...come on. Go get a coffee!" Perhaps I was sort of tempted not to because I am fully aware that we have something like 20 Euros to last us through this holiday weekend and I have an ample supply of coffee at home. But I knew Eva would rather eat rice and beans if it meant I was taking one giant leap for my sanity, so I headed inside. I had two coffees. I wrote a letter I've been meaning to write but might not send, and I left 3 hours later. I would have left sooner, but the owner, a fellow American, and I got to talking. I sat on a barstool and listed to her rant and rave about Belgium and such. It was wonderful! She misses Arm & Hammer baking soda and beingn able to shop for groceries at 2 in the morning. She's lived here for 5 years and is married to a Belgian she met while on a year-long tour-the-world trip while she was in Asia somewhere. She met him briefly and then he came back, worked a bit, and then got in touch with her and they motorcycled the himalyas. (I know that's probably not spelled right.) Forget the spelling, but imagine! I can't. Lord have mercy. Just when I start thinking it might be nice to "settle down" for a bit and get my shit together with a regular job and such...I have to meet someone who road a motorcycle through the Himalayas. (once again, FORGET the spelling mistake!) Anyway, that was a pleasant surprise. I'll have to go back. I joked that now I have one more reason to leave my saltine-cracker-sized house. And it's a good reason! So the rest of the day was pretty uneventful, except for the fact that I managed to pick Eva up ON TIME at the station. No missing each other or anything traumatic. I didn't write in my journal yesterday, but will soon make an addition to the bit of trauma I let take hold of me yesterday which led to us missing each other. I suppose if I add it and someone reads it chronilogically it's not really fair, but then again, how many people read this? And isnt' this for my own records? Isn't this a project for Transmedia? Shouldn't I write more about some things and less about others? Originally I wanted to write about vastly important things, but I'm beginning to think the everyday bits and pieces are just as important. They might not be now, but it will be wonderful to look back on this and see the evolution from introvert to something else. If not back to always thinking extrovert, then at least into something/someone I would want to befriend. i suppose that's a good thing to live by, sort of like the rule to "treat others as you would want them to treat you." I'm changing that now to read, "Be a person you too would want to befriend." IN THE NEWS:
October 30, 2002 : legal blunders and meetings
I know the Susan across the street will enjoy this one. I got up nice and early and headed to the appropriate government building in town today. I was one of the seemingly millions of foreigners. I waited in line. I got my ticket number and 5 hours later my number blinked on the screen. Dare I mention that I actually took two numbers, one of which saw me giving up my California driving license for a legal Belgian one (this is cool, though the picture is still my frumpy boyish picture from last year, taken in the wee hours of the morning in Oakland, California). I made the girl take a copy of my California license in case I never see it again, so I have proof that I did live in California and it's the last known picture of me wearing my favorite "cool shirt" left over from my days of college. I still have the shirt, but I'll be damned if I can't figure out the right pair of pants to go along with it these days. While talking to the licensing lady, I inquired about buying a sandwich and she directed me to a shop around the corner where I bought the best Belgian broodje I've ever eaten. From a small little random shop, in which I did my best version of, "Heb je broodjes?" To which the lady admitted to selling and I ordered a hesp een kass version. Delicious. Two days in a row of new places all by myself! I will be the old version, only the new Belgian variety, in no time. :) So back to the waiting. I sat around and watched babies and music videos without the sound. (they show breasts here in their videos) My how Leanne Rhymes has grown up. She's thin and scantly clad. Another bit of time had the TV showing the inside of a radio station (Radio Donna) and so I quickly found the radio on my mobile phone (we've got radio capabilities with our wonderfully inexpensive phones) and was able to watch and listen. Pretty cool. But the waiting. Grueling. By the time my number was called I was stressed out and anxious. I went to the lady I had last time (the one who had given me new "support" pages to fill out) and set out my small package of various papers and such. She looked through them, clicking off mental notes of what I had, and then told me I didn't have a piece of paper that stated I was enrolled in school this fall. Had there been people who often left the building in tears, I too would have started crying. My legal status ends today. On Halloween. The first November I'm in no-man's land. I sort of went berserk on her for a bit. Why didn't you tell me this last time I was here? This is the only paper you said that I needed. To which she said that it hadn't been her. To which I replied something along the lines of, Yes it was you, you were training that man who is now sitting over there. To which she said, "let me go get your folder." I was livid and hurt all at the same time. I new Eva would say something like, "I told you so." when she found out. Having already gone through the Belgian bureaucracy for so long, she's used to the paper this and paper that and new things heaped upon her for no apparent reason. She returns with a folder and precedes to tell me that there's nothing she can do. Rules are rules, blah blah blah. To which I say, well what am I supposed to do? I proved the information you told me I needed and now there's something new that I can't possibly get before tomorrow. To which she stated, "That's YOUR problem, not mine. We have thousands of foreigners we deal with every day." Finally I sat there in silence. I was fighting off every bit of wanting to burst out into tears. Silence. Could I have the school fax it? No, they had quit doing that. Could I go to Brussels tomorrow and get it and then bring it in? No, because you have to be there at 8 in the morning to get in line with all of the other foreigners. They have so many they quit giving numbers at around 9:30. She's sitting there looking at me and I at my papers. I apologized and told her that I was just worried and she told me it that she'd write a note in my folder that said I had tried to get my new stamps but had been missing another paper and would have it ASAP. Fine. We left on sort-of decent terms. Inside, however, I was stunned! I called Eva and she seemed very unsympathetic to my current state of mind. She had thought there was a chance of something else going wrong and blamed me, to an extent, for not going sooner. Ok fine. She's now set on the fact that these 4 days of my being without the proper papers will come back to haunt us, but then again, there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. Nothing. It's out of my hands! So as I'm talking to Eva on the phone she's going on and on, and this isn't helping the cry factor. I'm like, "Please just let me go...please..." and she's insistent on going on and on so I basically hung up. It was either walk the streets weeping or hang up. At least she didn't seem to mind, though when we did finally talk again she told me not to call her at work...it seems no one else has significant others who call them at work. (we don't' call that often! We have it down to 1 call for "how's your day?" One call at lunch for "how's your day" and one more call for "when are you leaving work so I can pick you up?" It takes up all of 5 minutes total. I just wanted to clarify so no one things we're a sappy couple who coos to each other on work-time. We're not like that. Once home I start preparing for our meeting tonight for yet another Plainegg project. I sorted through the documents, printed them out, and head to Mechelen to pick up Eva. All in all it was a great meeting. It made me miss those days of agency/start-up work where I got to know the guts of a company, companies I would never interact with for any other reason except to do creative work. The meeting lasted 3 hours, and I daresay we know all about his company now, and are excited to get to work on it. I had been assuming that we had already been chosen as the designers, but before I went too far in my description of what the "next steps" would be, he let me in on the fact that he was getting information from one other firm. Hmmm. A quandary. I suppose there is the chance that he, or his partner, could read this, but I'll go ahead and go out on a limb and describe my feelings on this. First of all, great. I welcome it. Secondly, this changes it from a freelance and goodness of my heart project into a more specific one. Maybe this won't make sense to anyone else, but if you're a designer, I think it will. If I price a project at a price that is entirely too low (which is what I do anyway, just because I enjoy working) and the competition quotes it at a much higher price (but supplies the reasoning behind the numbers) then Plainegg looks like a fish out of water, sort of like A) we dont' think our work commands a decent price B) we dont' consider ourselves professionals. Does this make sense? As we left the building Eva and I went on and on about how great of a project it is. Then we talked about the factors I just mentioned and we decided to do it in a semi-legit manner. After a dinner of Quick on the train, we did numbers, hours, days, etc. We figured it up based on working for 3 weeks. Not working every day for 8 hours, but giving that the span of the project. We calculated it at agency hourly wage and then laughed ourselves silly. I would NEVER charge that much. Ever. I remember being a lowly webdesigner and watching people get charged 90-120 bucks an hour. (I calculated my actually earnings at around 7.50 of that 90-120.) Anyway, we knocked the price down to a number I'm not going to mention here, but something that seemed honorable to our craftsmanship, but still a great deal. It was great to actually see what a website would cost these days, and I still say that Plainegg has a great future, and still is a place where po' folks (based on country slang of being poor) can get nice work done. I suppose I will never say "cheap" work, as I mean low-cost and/or free. So the day was up and down and saw us crawling into bed completely exhausted. Monday should be another interesting day as we find out if we are the chosen ones, and I will attempt to become legal again. As I told my teacher from school, I suppose I won't being doing anything risky over the weekend. No spray painting or guerrilla art up my sleeve. No army-base bomb sit-ins or demonstrations for me. IN THE NEWS: The announcement appeared to be an attempt to counter criticism that Russian officials were being too secretive and that the lack of information about the gas used in the special forces raid on Saturday may have increased the number of fatalities. At least 117 of the hostage-takers' victims were felled by the gas. But Shevchenko said the deaths were caused by the use of the chemical compound on people who had been starved of oxygen, were dehydrated, hungry, unable to move adequately and under severe psychological stress.
October 31, 2002 : nuts and ladybugs
I've had my new bike for some time and have just gotten around to putting on my new handlebars. Basically it will end up looking like a mis-matched bike. The handlebars are like the ones on skinny-tired city bikes that allow you to sit up instead of lean forward (I am getting too old for lean-forward, unless I'm on some dirt trails back behind Ozark Christian College in Missouri) and my seat is a wide-body gelled version which is comfortable to sit on, much unlike the mountain bike variety which serve only to be a triangles peg between your cheeks that keep you from falling off either side. Regardless, my bike is almost complete. It's a comfortable, yet rugged, bike. :) So back to the handlebars, I lugged the bike up the stairs the other-day in an effort to switch out the handlebars in the comfort and privacy of my own living-room/kitchen/dining-room. I got most of it loosened when I realized I was one allen wrench size off and didn't have the appropriate free-tool-to-put-together-everything-bought-at-Ikea and so the project moved to the bedroom/library/hallway-to-bathroom until I could secure the correct size. Then Tom called. "Hey, you wanna go to the sculpture park?" "Yeah!" On the conditions he'd bring an allen wrench and that we could also play basketball there, as I knew there were 6 halves of courts (3 courts) waiting for us at Middelheim. He showed up with all of his L shaped wrenches and the only one that was missing out of his set was the one we needed. We opted to put the bike back together and ride out to the park anyway. A trip that usually has Eva and I accidentally arriving at the park, had us arriving in no time at all, on purpose. I'm used to basketball being a relaxing game of horse. Then of course I can't really recall the last time I played basketball with a boy. I suppose it has nothing to do with the boy in tom, as I have played against many a woman during my stint at playing college ball. (practiced, mind you, not really playing against anyone for my 5 whole minutes of fame. No point, only 2 assists.) Anyway, I was expecting shooting around, not all-out one-on-one. Well it was. Not only had I not eaten, but I had exerted a lot more energy in the wee little bike ride over. I could have collapsed toward the end of our one-on-one game in which he trounced me. After a water break that consisted of me drinking half of the water he brought we switched to "around the world" and "horse." I had to explain "horse" to him, and since I trounced him in the initial game we switched to a more Flemish-friendly game of "paard" though it didn't seem to help Tom's game. Then I ate half of his apple. A very special sour apple he had been looking forward to. He had offered me a pear, and since I am not really a fan of either fruit (I'm trying to learn) I opted for the apple. I ended up splitting it with him. I don't know how to explain Tom except to say he is a jack of all trades. He can talk, with confidence, about nearly anything. He's always a pleasure to be around. We tramped around the park pointing out the things we liked about some sculptures more than others. We noticed a grandmother and her two grandchildren with GB supermarket sacks hung over their wrists and I inquired what they were picking up. Nuts. No I'm no nut guru, but I didn't know that there was a tame variety of the Buckeye. Sure enough. Thank god for the tame-variety-of-the-buckeye because it certainly staved off my hunger. We filled our pockets and munched on them for the rest of the afternoon. When fresh (which ours obviously were) they taste like fresh almonds, with the crunchiness of your tooth going through the meat different than any nutty experience I've had to date. We ran around taking photographs with our cameras and marveled at all of the ladybugs. Every color combination known to occur on ladybugs; brown ones with white spots, red ones with yellow spots, black ones with red spots, on and on. One sculpture literally had dozens on the side facing the sun. It started out when a couple landed on us (a sign of luck) and then we realized it wasn't really a wish of luck from the bugs themselves, but something else. I suppose it was more interesting to think that they were gathering to grant people the fortune of a better day instead of nature. Then made our way back home. He dropped me off at an appropriate corner, and I readied myself to pick up Eva. It's Halloween, but it might as well be any non-holiday-related day. I feel nothing. I didn't carve a pumpkin this year or miss buying double-bubble bubble gum or candy corn from Wal-mart. Nothing. I picked up Eva at the station and we fended off aggravation at the Del Haize from all of the other frenzied shoppers--panicking that tomorrow is a holiday with means no open stores. We gathered enough for a feast which we ate a few hours later. Yet another Thai attempt at green-curried rice dishes. It was delicious. Though Eva says this nearly every meal, it just might have been the best yet. The rest of the evening was spent recovering and reminding ourselves of the meal. Eva was behind the PC and I was on the Mac. Nothing too exciting about a night spent behind computers...though I dare say that if anyone can enjoy a night in the house with technology at our fingertips...it's us. IN THE NEWS: |