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December 01, 2002 : first december small panic
At first I was thinking about my friend Annis from Sweden. Her birthday is in January and she's going to her brother's house in England and wants to know if we can hop the channel to come visit. (we'll of course try...if we can figure out that Eurostar special that is going on...99 Euro round-trip two people. Funny how when I try to find that special all I see is in the price-tag of 500 Euro) So I wrote her an email telling her precisely this. I think it's quite unfortunate that we're on the same continent and I haven't seen her since I got here. A car would change that maybe, I mean the distance is the same as driving from Springfield, Missouri to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Or let me make that less random-state-based...like leaving Washington, DC and making it to Cincinnati, Ohio. Basically, it's not far. It's not close, but it's not far. Back to the point. I had just written that email and was standing in the kitchen/dining-room/living-room/office making dinner which consisted of vegetarian schnitzel (or maybe it was chicken breast a la vegetables) that we got half-price at Del Haize. I was skeptical that some chunk of soy and veggie curds would be tasty. The schnitzel that we usually eat is delicious, but that's because they cover the "it's such a vegetable and so non-meat" with the curry flavoring. (at least that was my thought) Back to the point. There I was slaving away chopping carrots, peeling potatoes, working on garlic additions and slicing peppers when my mind goes through the following chain of thoughts: I swear I was mashing potatoes when it hit me. I probably mashed and stood still for a second (had anyone been watching me) Of course this whole though process lasted only a few minutes, if not seconds, and yes, I am serious when I say that I was literally planning out my next go at life when I realized there was no second go! I did have a momentary pang of oh-my-goodness-this-is-all-we-have and then I remembered that oh-my-goodness-I-have-it-made as I have a wonderful family, friends, and a wonderful back pocket of experiences that I need to continue filling. So I suppose I'll never be a foreign exchange student or get to get my bachelors in computer science and/or biology and/or political science because I have a feeling I'm already to old. But that's ok because I'm living in Belgium and I'm a graphic designer. I suppose that's not too bad! Oh, and the face chicken breast was delicious! IN THE NEWS:
December 02, 2002 : yahoo (former sense of word)
I'm not talking about the online portal Yahoo Incorporated, I'm talking about the good ol' phrase "yahoo!" I suppose I'm also not talking about the drink "Yoohoo" either. I mean the yelping sound of achievement. Yahoo! Ah...the gurus of marketing have destroyed an icon of yesteryear, but that is not the statement at hand. For those of you that are pretty every-day readers of my journal you know what a strange last few weeks it's been. First my parents came into town, and then I had website troubles which included switching the journal over to my other domain: plainegg.com. Well it's back in it's original home in all of it's glory. (or not.) This is, of course, cause for celebration. It also means that I can get back to work on other various problems/issues/projects I have (that will always be) waiting for me in the wings. There are many. I should list them just for the sake of listing them. Perhaps someone should recall these to mind in about a month just so I can be kept in check. So I shall name them. And please note, they are in no particular order: to be continued...we are going for a scooter ride at nearly midnight. Why? Because our "new people" would. :) Ah, see? Herein lies the problem. We voted to not do it! (it sort of makes me laugh. See how much we'll have to sort through in order for us to become our dream-people?) Off to the big blue children's book, Ivo's Eerste Woordjes. IN THE NEWS: Not because the EU is good for Turkey or vice versa, it's because we want to use their Incirlik airbase for the approaching, inevitable war.
December 03, 2002 : knitting
The wife's knitting. At least she seems to have a hobby. I am struggling to find one that doesn't use electricity and isn't book-reading. I know one thing for sure, when Eva counts, she counts in Dutch. She doesn't count stitches in one, two threes but in een, twee, dries. I heard her count to twintig. I think she's making socks. She's grown tired of knitting the scarf and it's just so ever so slightly unfinished that she's moved on to something else. Of course I'm getting a little anxious for the scarf to be completed as it's suddenly become even colder outside than it was last week. It's far prettier than anything I currently own/wear. The others include a striped GAP scarf, a black one that we brought home from the Poppie Club because we initially thought was our black scarf but it turned out to be someone elses, and a weekly gray one which is currently my favorite. I might as well string a shoestring around my neck, but somehow it fits. But fit or not, I'm pretty excited about the new one. Stripes of off-white, dark green, dark blue, and gray. So far she's tried this certain sock-making stitch three or four times. And each time she unravels what she's started. It looked so fun (the unravelling bit) that I requested that I get to unravel one. In fact I've now unraveled two. Each seemingly a good 10 minutes of work of overs and unders (I dont' know the proper terms) all coming undone. Something sort of fitting about that, eh? The electronic equivilent being my toiling on the computer with cgi scrpts and such and I suppose when things don't work out that's my unraveling. I just wish I could wear my websites or this journal (eelf she says) or something. At least Eva's making socks. (negentien) Today I toiled a bit on projects and such and then headed to Brussels for a visiting artist session with Tom Zummer who just happens to be the current person teaching Transmedia. Just do a search on his name and you'll find out the caliber of people they've brought in this year. Amazing. I knew from previous meetings with him (vierentwintig) that his brain was a sponge, there is no way you can recal names, figures, and such if you don't have some sort of photographic genious-like mind in your head. Well I certainly don't. I can make numbers work out (or used to be able to) and I could play that memmory card game fairly well, but names and dates are lost on me. Recalling authors or lines of poetry. Nothing. I believe if I were a singer I'd have to have post-it note reminders of the words of my own songs. Then again, songs are a completely different subject. At least you repeat them over and over again. (diertig) Now Eva declares she'll never make socks. IN THE NEWS:
December 04, 2002 : something I forgot to say
Yesterday while I was walking to school from the North Station in Brussels (the wonders I have already spoke of read: piss) I was minding my own business when I see a Sint-Lukas kid (an obvious thing to pick out in that particular part of town with his drawing scroll (the bin you roll your drawings up and put into...I dont' know the technical word as I have never had to carry drawings on foot except from car to classroom) sticking out of his backpack...and I see this neighborhood kid (they were probably about the same age) steal his wallet. We both realize it at the same time (the stolen-from boy and myself) and he takes off after the other guy but soon realizes it's completely pointless (as the stolen-from boy is a bit less athletic looking and the other guy is dudded out in a track-suit and tennis shoes and doesn't have a scroll full of drawings or a backpack to weigh him down.) The theif actually had the nerve to get to the end of the street and taunt the guy, turning around and staring at him, like "ha." And the one stolen from cursed in Flemish (yes, I recognize a few words) and continued on home. Now I was thinking "Damn" for him...and also thinking along the lines of: stolen identity card, phone numbers, cash, student card, library card, bank-cards, etc...everything that has to go through the process of replacing in Belgium must be a nightmare. A total nightmare. All for the 15 Euros the kid might have in cash and the wee bit of change he might have on his Proton card (a smart-card built in to every bank-card here). And now he's going to have to go get it all sorted out, and it's not sorted out quickly here, not that it's really much faster at home. Poor guy. Now on to today. I woke, saw Eva off to work, and got down to business. I had hopes of doing a load of laundry, but that takes not only effort in sorting, washing, etc, but it also takes a bit of effort in figuring out what I'm going to do while I'm AT the laundrette. Not a simple task. Books? Notebook and pen? CD player? Music? And then there is always the question of time...it's a waste of time. Sometime it's not...but sometimes it is. Today it would have been a waste of time because today I redifined productivity. I started off yesterday by revamping my homepage on andreawilkinson.com, and today I carried it a bit further, randomizing images with scripts, and adding a Flash portion for the header. All of this I can continue to update on a regular basis or not so regular basis. Depending on what I decided to do. The next thing on my list (which I have already noted) is updating the layout of this journal. Trust me, it won't be anything too daunting, just an update for the header, and maybe some images and such at the side...other than that, just normal text. If people come here, it's not for the rollover in the nav, it's for the verbage. :) I went to the Vergo in the afternoon to buy our evening meal ingrediants. Varkensvleese (pig meat/pork...pork sounds so less-animal like) and some vegetables. As I was standing there grueling over what sort of rice to buy (wild or brown) I heard a shuff-shuff-shuffling. The obvious sound of well-worn shoes becoming even more well-worn on the linoleum floor of the shop. And it was so slow in it's approaching. So slow that it was hard to discerne if it was approaching at all and not just some background noise--the ever-present radio (not muzak) slightly out of tune. And then I saw the man walking...shuffling. Ever so slowly he crept past me, I passed him several times over, once on my way to get my soup almonds (I can't give them up just yet) again on my way to the meat-counter, past him again when I decided to put away my rice (it's cheaper elsewhere...and eva gives me crap if it's in boil-in baggies) and then again when I went back to get vegetables...he was almost at the meat-counter by that time. And wheezing. It wasn't the wheezing you like to hear. Not like a kid with a sligh-case of asthma or someone just out of breath, more like a person who has held his breath too long under water...gasping when they finally make it to the surface...but his didn't seem to be getting better. No one was at the meat-counter. I was now by the cheese (no, I didn't buy any, I always just sort of look at it when I'm there) In my head I practiced (as I always do) what I would say to the man if I dared speak, "Hallo maneer, kan ik u helpen?" "U bent ok maneer?" And always with a smile. He had started holding his heart, the way we all would hold our hearts if we were struggling in such a way. I was then on the snack isle (no, I didn't buy any, I always pass by the salt and pepper chips to make sure they are still stocking them...and I stare at the packages of bacon and swiss Tiger-Nuts...they are much cheaper at Carfour or Del Haize...buying in bulk matters.) And that's when I though I should either voice my now well-practiced-in-my-head sentences or just try to let it go. Then I started practicing my phrases for asking one of the workers to check on him..."Hallo Mevrouw...daar is een ouder man naast de vleese (next to the meat! what a sentence!) aan ik dink he heeft een probleem...meschin met zijn haartje of zo?" I always add "of zo" it means "or so..." like a "you know..." sort of addition. And while I was thinking just that, I walk back past the man towards the checkout on Isabellalei. The lady that works in the bakery portion and who also slices the sandwhich meat and cheeses, she was offering him a chair. I heard her say, sit down...no problem...have you been walking up stairs?" So he was in good hands then...a chair, very arbatrarilly placed by the meat counter (why?) had a great purpose--allowing the man to rest. He was still holding his heart when I passed. On at the checkout I muttered a few phrases about the weather and how cold it was--these same women I see several times a week, who still offer me more plastic bags but always seem to get a kick out of the fact that I have started bringing my own. I even told her that I had heard it might snow on Saturday. She didn't believe me for even a second...she sort of looked at me like, "ahh...you haven't lived here as long as I have...it's not going to snow just yet." (I added "if at all" in my head.) Back at the ranch (the appartment) I received an email from my mother talking about her experience with snow. They woke up to it. So much that none of the schools are having classes...boy, now those were the days! Lucky them. I love cold weather if it's accompanied with the white stuff. On about being productive...I have started a new project where I create poetry from random subjects derived from looking at my website statistics. In my statistics there is a portion that gives you the search strings that people were using when they stumbled upon me. Today I wrote a poem based on the string: empty our pockets and disapper. The disappear didn't come into play, but I started it off with that first line. It's availabe for viewing (with one minor mistake I realized later...) in my poetry section. It's nothing very exciting, but it's good to have a subject that is completely irrelevant. It's like brainstorming without the work. That's what I need(ed)! So on to the rest of my afternoon where I continued to work on things I had wanted to do for months. If you visit my homepage now you'll see a little journal blurb that automatically fills that space when I update my journal. That way my site is ever-new each and every day instead of sitting there like an idle bit of internet left-overs. Needless to say, I'm pleased. When it was time to get Eva I headed out on the scooter glove-less (I thought I was running a bit late) and I swear it's the coldest it's been this year. (not including january-march) Come on snieuw (snow) get here already. Back in the house Eva took up here knitting again and started working on her sock. She bought some new yarn (she calls it wool, but I would call it yarn) and it's this strange combination of grays and whites which even she has now decided is not the best combination when working on a new stitch. I daresay she made something that looked like a sock (we've decided it's a house-shoe now because it's rather large) and she even made a heel (though got a few extra stiches in there...) But all in all, totally impressive. I've got myself a regular knitter. She may not get anything she wants to get done in a night, like projects and emails, because she's busy counting and unstitching and flailing her elbows about with metal knitting needles in her hands...but she's sure making some nice house-socks. Trust me, there's nothing more pleasing than sitting around with technology all around us and watching someone work on something so archaic. I'm not kidding when I say it, it's a beautiful thing. I'm still wanting the scarf though, after all, it might snow in a couple of days! IN THE NEWS:
December 05, 2002 : Sinterklaas
I was sitting at the kitchen table in the livingroom/diningroom/kitchen/office listening to KQED (San francisco's Public Radio station) and something I heard made me think about Sear's Catalogs. Sear's and Roebuck. God, I haven't heard that in awhile. Catalogs were great, as soon as we'd get a new one we'd scour it for Christmas wants--even my father. I think there was even a special, seperate catalog for Christmas. One regular winter catalog and one special jam-packed-with-toys version...of which I just got a whiff of. (whiff meaning a sort of memory-smell) It smelled like untouched printed pages...and made a sound when you first bent back the spine all of these pages of bras, shoes, pant-suits, board-games, trampolines, drum-sets, bean-bags, work-boots, curtains, bed ruffles, stereos, and on and on...all of these pages letting go of their neighboring page and offering up a whole world of Christmas options to dogear and underline. I remember the yearly measuring of sizes...not so associated with Christmas, but with catalog clothes ordering. A measuring tape around the hips, around the chest and from crotch to floor. "A size 4 in Juniors this year..." All this Christmas talk brings me to something special. Today is the eve of the Flemish/Dutch tradition of Sinter Klaas. (actually, the Dutch celebrated it today and the Flemish celebrate it tomorrow.) Tonight children all over Flanders and last night in the Dutch speaking part of the world (the combination of which isn't all that large and only covers a span of space the size of Virginia or so...) Children place a shoe by their chimney (or by their door) and a sugar-cube/carrot for his white horse, and in Belgium maybe even a beer for Sinterklaas. Apparently he waits on the roof in his very catholic-like outfit with a staff and lets his helpers do the dirty work. His helpers (the Zwarte Petes that I've already mentioned in previous entries, the people painted completely black in jester-like robes) drop down the chimney to collect the note children have written to Sinterklaas thanking him for his presents, making their requests and such. In the morning children wake up, find the snacks gone, and replaced with a pile of presents. So I can see how I could get attached to this sort of holiday. It's kid-friendly, not so hyped and so wonderfully old. Apparently, even as short-timed ago as when Eva was younger, it used to be bigger than Christmas. Now it's just one of those holidays people try to hold on to, to instill in children. Eva even taught me Sinterklaas songs. If there was ever a bonding moment between Eva and I, this was truly one. She was surfing for lyrics to Sinterklaas songs and finding music with which to sing along. (bad keyboard music...with synthesized drums and such) So there we were, singing these songs at the top of our voices--my Flemish struggling to keep up with hers. Yes of course we'll teach our children all about Sinterklaas...the letters of their first name made out of chocolate left for them in their shoe in the morning. Of course we'll stir up great controversy and ask a friend to show their black hand through a slightly-open door and throw them candy--the children chasing zwarte pete all through the neighborhood. I'll sing these songs every year for the next many years. So there you go. The story of Sinter Klaas. Last year Eva got a drinking glass (this was back during our sparcely furnished apartment days) and I didin't get anything that we can remember. She seems to remember me getting oranges and chocolates...but the chocolate sounds like something a bit more up her alley. :) We've decided to put it off until Saturday because apparently Sinterklaas doens't know what size of coat I wear...so he needs a little help. Well he also doesn't know what Eva breast size is, or what she wants or needs. She always could use some new knitting yarn (wool), a strap from her watch from Paraquay, a new sturdy bra, and cd holders. (the last one is a joke...she buys them for 1 Euro all the time just because she likes to have a new color...it's her silent addiction, but they are so cheap it doesn't really matter.) So in the end Eva couldn't stand it anymore and she offered me one of my Sinterklaas gifts prematurely. A chocolate 'A.' I gave her one as well, a battery charger to take to work. Not exactly your typical gift eh? Though I coudn't find the other one I wanted to give her...the battery charger so practical. She'll never run out of batteries for her walkman on the train. This also means she'll never hear her phone. :) I'm letting you all in on a little secret since Eva won't read this before she knows her surprise. While she was in the shower I cut off one of the legs of my 'A' and carved it into an 'E.' It's currently waiting for her outside on our landing. She's always such a grouch in the morning, that it will be intersting to see the busy-Eva burst with kid-like joy and thankfulness. :) I'm so excited i can hardly wait until 8:40 when she opens the door. Talk about NO IDEA! IN THE NEWS:
December 06, 2002 : the missing shoe
The case of the missing shoe this morning caused quite a stir. I had thought she would simply search for her other shoe and then find another pair, but oh no, Eva had that pair on her mind. I was laying in bed with great anticipation for her leaving the house and finding her gift from Sinterklaas, when all of a sudden panic struck her. "Where is my other shoe?!?!" she shouted as she banged around beneath the bed overturning things laying about on the floor. "Why not wear another pair?" I questioned as I climbed out of bed to help her "look" and also to offer her other pairs. "How about your dock Martins?" "Because I'm wearing brightly striped socks. So I need that pair in order to cover my socks when I am sitting down." "Oh, silly me" I thought to myself...and I offered her another pair of hi-top black dress shoes, perfectly adequate in the concealing-socks category. "No, those are uncomfortable." "How about this pair" I said, offering her yet another pair of perfectly sock-hiding shoes. "No, I don't want to wear those, I want the other shoe of this pair," she went on, already outfooted with one shoe, still hunting for that other one. And so that's how it started, she's not the most wonderful of morning people. We're in dire need of doing laundry (which is always my fault) and the underwear pile has been reduced to nothing. (go ahead an think whatever you like...are we wearing dirty underwear or no underwear?) **insert chuckle here** And so, at a most pivotal moment I went to the door (sighing deeply inside, but secretly knowing her reaction already and loving it...) "Oh...Sinterklaas must have visited you..." And she ran to the door, bent over and studied her gifts. A Clementine and the chocolate hand-carved 'E'. Words can't describe what came over her then. Silly embarrassment and thankfulness and all the things that come with nice surprises--even under such circumstances. I told her all about how last night I had done it while she had been taking a shower and that I had written about it in my journal, knowing full well that she'd not read it before she found it. Ahhhh glory! So that's the story of the case of the missing shoe. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, except that I've now secured a time for next week in which I will do a phone interview for the graphic design position available at the University of Wyoming in Laramie. Many people I've told (all state-side lesbians) seem to think it strange that I would even be interested in a position where the gruesome Matthew Shepard murder took place, but that has no bearing on the idea of teaching there at all. Horrible things happen everywhere and good people need to be where bad things happen in order for bad things to become less-likely. But then again, bad things can happen even in the midst of a group of good people. There's just no winning. On the way to the grocery store tonight it was snowing. Not real snow really, just a few single flakes viewable only in the light of automobiles and street-lamps. I didn't care if it was snowing only a few flakes a minute, I shrieked with joy! "WEEEEEEEEEE" I said...and I attempted to catch a few in my hand but come up empty. It's the thought of the snow that counts. Thank you snow. Back at the house I made a supper of vegetarian chunks (fake meat again) on skewers and a big fat rookworst (smoked sausage) with mashed potatoes, carrots, and beans. (the latter two the definitive ingredients to every meal). I was skeptical about the rookworst, but found it to be delicious. Eva said it made a nice hearty winter meal and for the second night in a row we forgot to break out our Sinterklaas white wine. (which we opened later just because.) While fixing dinner I mumbled about the importance of country and living and family and friends. What good is it for me to live in the US if I'm not near my family and friends? If my friends are divided across the US and I see them nearly as often as I do if I live here, then what is the reason to go back? There are so many positive things about here (Europe in general) that I must do a definitive heart-searching when considering my options. I see my family just as much as Eva sees hers. Mine aren't as accessible, and my friends aren't just a long-drive away, but I still manage to have a nice relationship with the people dear to me. What's the solution? What makes a person say, "This is where I belong." or "This is my home?" I have found "home" to be such an arbitrary place, among such locations as a Christian-owned youth hostel in the outskirts of London, UK; Cincinnati, Ohio; San Francisco, California; Portland, Oregon; Antwerp, Belgium; Mullsjo, Sweden; Joplin, Missouri; Kansas City, Missouri; New York, New York; Dublin, Ireland; and the list gets bigger and bigger. One can make friends anywhere if you want. Without language barriers (which are mostly barriers I only create myself) what makes a place more or less welcoming. If you were a restless person, or even only restless in your head, what made you choose? Comments are welcome. When does someone say, "ok, self, this is it. Let's get on with living...everywhere else we will go will be a vacation, because now we've found our landing place." I'm currently without my/our landing place. Life took such a strange turn. I woo-ed a girl and got a country. IN THE NEWS:
December 07, 2002 : nu ik ben een belg
It means, "now, I am a belgian." If I weren't completely exhausted at 4 in the morning having worked (slaved) away on this quarter's edition of De Magneet I would write more. Let me just say that today Eva and I had one of the best days running around Antwerp. It's teeth-chattering/cracking cold outside. I was blessed again with a few flakes of snow again, but of course not enough to even collect in a few places or even show itself really. Basically it made water-dots on our helmets and on the hoods of cars. The reason for my declaration deals mostly (if not solely) on outerwear. I've been hunting for the perfect black leather jacket and today I not only found the perfect black leather coat, but a non-double-breasted black wool version as well. Since they were second hand, and we're so terribly into excesses (coats are not just something to wear here, they are an identity obviously) we got them both. I won't go into price details, as we got quite the deal/steal. Not only are they of the slimming variety, but they look DAMN GOOD ON ME. Eva swears she'll never let me out of her sight now, for fear I might be trounced upon by onlookers curious as to who this new European is who suddenly appeared in Antwerp out of the blue. Well, it's little ol' me, that's who. We had the most successful shopping day. I even found a pair of pants that were too BIG. Now that doesn't happen every day. In fact that was a first. (not in my life, of course, but since I've been in Belgium) I also encountered several pairs that didn't fit, in fact none fit me at all. But the coats? Perfect. I also managed to score a big-collared dress-shirt and a pair of leather driving gloves. Don't let anyone fool you, leather gloves are NOT warm on a scooter. They probably aren't that warm anywhere. The Wal-Mart 99 cent stretch-variety are just as warm, but for walking around, leather gloves (at a mere 4 Euros at our tweedenhaanden winkle I'm butchering the vlaams were quite the buy!) I will post pictures of the new me shortly. Talk about a personality change! It's like putting on a new coat (pun) of confidence. No longer will I be that girl approaching in the bright orange leather coat (though I have grown to love it over the course of the year...next to my blue pullovers, it's my second skin) I am now the normal girl living in the normal town who doesn't look out of place. That is, until someone rambles on and on in this language I'm learning and I have to say, "Wablief? Ik versta je neit!" ("Huh? I don't understand you!") So now with my new coat(s) of confidence, Antwerp is my oyster. We also bought a scanner as to not burden our friends with scan-this-please requests. It was for De Magneet, as we need high-res images, you know? And I suppose I'll scan less exciting things as well such as drawings. I actually drew one of my 1999-esque drawings last night, and I just might go all-out and watercolor, pen-and-ink, and colored pencil it. It definitely hit the nail on the head for what I was wanting to draw, and that's always a good feeling. My charcoal drawing of Eva wasn't my best, but one has to restart from somewhere, right? Two more days until the phone interview and still no sign of sweaty palms, though I have caught myself answering fake interview questions, like "Since you have no teaching experience, why should we be willing to offer you a job? What makes you think you'll be a good teacher?" I won't go into the details of why I think I'm cut out for it, it's just something I'm pretty sure I can do. Right now all I think you have to do is show a kid the world and then have their minds explode. That always helps, it certainly helped/is helping me. IN THE NEWS: "We apologize to God for any action that may anger the Almighty, if such an action took place in the past, unbeknownst to us but considered to be our responsibility, and to you (Kuwaitis) we apologize on this basis as well," Saddam said in a speech read on national television by his information minister. "O, you brothers, what we wish for is what we are working to achieve for your brothers in Iraq: to live free, without foreign control of your destiny, will, decisions, wealth, present and future."
December 08, 2002 : why belgium will not be a superpower
We had a wonderful meal on Saturday. I'm posting this on Sunday because I forgot to mention it yesterday. (the coats being too awe-inspiring, all-encompassing bit of information that it made me forget all else.) Last night we went to eat at the Grill House 77. One of our favorite (my parent's too cooincidentally) places to eat in Antwerp. I was dead set on ordering stoofvleese which is basically hearty beef stew with carrot bits. Yum. Drippy and not vegetarian. (I haven't managed to make the leap just yet) We walked to the restaurant and passed an ending holiday street party fuif just bringing itself to a close. They were packing up crock pots and such and the only remaining out-of-the-ordinary (besides the tree they have converted to a christmasy looking tree via rope lights) was an open-air hot-coals holder. One of those metal free-standing things full of orange and black...spewing just a few sparks here and there. One woman (most probably another person on her way from point A to point B who stopped to warm herself) was standing there with her arms out over the heat and we too stopped to warm ourselves. We weren't really needing the heat, as we were only a few minutes from the Grill House. But one can never turn down such an obvious instance of good-will. Besides, we like to promote community spirit...especially on that specific corner, just next to the recycle-your-glass containers and next to the benches where, during the summers, drunken russians (there are quite a lot of them, not drunkards, but russians in that neighborhood) hang out. One even has a rotweiler which I swear will bite someone someday. It never looks well-maintained or restrained. Had we moved into that dream apartment of old, that would be more of our neighborhood, as it is just a stones-throw from our would-have-been 4th floor window. But since it's Eva's old stomping ground, and an area we pass through on our way to the city, it is as much our neighborhood as anyone elses. So we stopped for a few moments and carried on. At the restaurant, Eva went on in while I went to investigate a screaming guy up the street. He was in one of those inlets knocking up against something/someone, and I wanted to make sure there wasn't some hopeless woman trapped beneath him. He was obviously drunk (why don't people legalize pot in the states when pot makes people so less volitile?!? That just suddenly came to mind when typing and has no relavence to this story) and causing quite a commotion. I simply went down the street, stood opposite from him and realized he, along with another man hidden in the inlet, was yelling at a woman through her front door window. I don't know what I would have done really, probably just gone and gotten Eva or yelled something. I have been known to do such things, as I am trying to become a proactive member of society instead of someone that just passes without getting involved. I don't think it will be the death of me (knocking on wood) as I doubt I would get physically involved unless REALLY necessary...but usually if you call attention the the problem people at least snap out of it a bit. Back at the Grill House 77, I prepared my statement of substitution for beef stew instead of steak in the cheap-huge-meal section. Here was my process of thought... Cheap-Huge-Meal Section: Inexpensive-Huge-Meal Section: Other part of menu down the same page: Ok, so if A=B and B=C then I came to the conclusion that A=C. Is there anything wrong in this sort of statement? Is it not a mathmatical equation that is easily figured out? So I said, "Ja, ik hem een vraag...kan ik heb jouw (Cheap-Huge-Meal Section) maar neit steak, stoofvlees?" No. NO! He told me it was not possible. So I ordered the pork. I was pretty miffed about it. I'm sure I sunk into one of my immediately fuming red faced moods. I went on and on about it with Eva, and my A=B and B=C and so A=C theory with her and she simply said; "That is why Belgium will never be a superpower." Apparently she's read that Belgium will never be as "great" as Belgium could be because people are completely inflexible. It applies to work situations (you want to set your schedule so that you get to the office at 7 and leave at 3 because you want to pick up your kid at school and the boss has no idea how to handle it because it's "not been done before" so "the answer is no.") and stores (you can't return items because no one ever returns items), when you're dealing with government papers, and even at the train station. (you want to take a train to Paris that isn't the high-speed high-cost version and obviously there are trains to the edge of France and trains from Paris to the edge of Belgium. Trust me, no one knows how to do that. And I'm going to figure out how over the next few months.) So that's my dinner story. I neglected to mention that the man-in-the-inlet left the inlet with his buddy and headed back down the street and then preceeded to kick a trash bag someone had set out. It wasn't one of those Stad Antwerpen trash bags, it was one of those I-can't-afford-the-Stad-Antwerpen-bags-so-I-leave-bags-of-trash-anywhere-I-can or one of those sorting-sucks-I'm-a-Lazy-Bastard instances. Regardless, why would you go and kick a bag of trash causing it to go everywhere?!?! When we were leaving Eva said, "Well, you're not supposed to leave your trash out...if there is an address in that trash, that person could get a fine." Just when I think she's becoming less and less Belgian, she hits me with something like this. It's no doubt her statement was accurate, but yet, besides the point. I was more concerned with the action of kicking trash. :) All in all, a nice evening out. Grill House 77 is still one of the best places to eat, and next time, I'm getting hearty-beef-stew regardless. (with an additional side of Grill House 77 Sauce) IN THE NEWS:
December 09, 2002 : the cold
To merely say that it's cold would be an understatement. It is bitter. It's the sort of cold that burns the skin as soon as it becomes exposed. I think it's the time of year when homeless people freeze rigid in their sleep if a person could sleep at all when it's this cold. It's -6 (with windchill of -13) For those of you (myself included) that have no concept of Celsius, that means 22 degrees (with windchill of 8 degrees) (still no snow, though it might snow shower on Thursday) I bundled up today in my new coat and headed to the market on the corner and by the time I was there (a mere 3 minute walk) I was already frozen through. It's the time of year when children are bundled up in layers with only their face showing, all rosy cheeked from walking and wind-burn and they seem to waddle around shifting their weight from foot to foot. Us adults don't waddle we shrink into our clothes and layers, face down with only our destination in mind. (though Eva and I did the equivelent of 'waddling' when we were on the scooter later on in the evening.) Today I worked on a website for most of the day, minus an hour or so in the morning when I was cramming Dutch in my head with repetitive reading from my small phrase book. Maybe it's not the best way to practice, but at least it's a good start/continuation. I just wish they had never kicked out our first teacher. I certainly wouldn't have dropped out if she had remained. Eva got some more information about Project Houston today, regarding the pre-employment interview she's going to go to in Eindhoven. It's an apptitude test, and I must say that I've never heard of such a strange set of requirements. It's got math word problems, IQ-testish questions with letters and figuring out patterns, and other random sections. She's a little nervous, as apparently math was not her strong suit. As it was formerly one of my stronger suits, I will help her with the word problems. I do believe I was a member of the winning word-problem teams at various math contents. Namely Warsaw High School's annual Math contest and Kickapoo's as well. (Kickapoo High School's claim to fame being that of Brad Pitt's alma mater) On the way to pick up Eva, with only a small span of time to make it to the station, the scooter seemed to fight against the cold as well. Glug glug, sputter sputter. I had to let it warm up a bit. There isn't any ice currently, because we've had nothing wet around to turn to ice. Surly we would have snow if we were having the ample amounts of rain we are usually blessed with. When I was just about to speed away, one of Eva's brothers appeared. Apparently we were scheduled to have the boys that remain (since Sebastian is in Brazil) over for dinner. "Oh yeah?" I asked, "Does Eva know?" I gave him the keys so he could go on up and warm himself and begin his ever-present music downloads and went to collect the now frigid Eva. (as I was late by this time, for sure) Sure enough, she had already started walking home. I explained the situation upon picking her up and as I had guessed, she had no idea of the arrangement with the brothers. Now that I think of it, that would be a great way to get free meals. Just show up at your friend's house telling the significant other that their significant other had already arranged a meal. :) Slight panic on both of our parts. I had only bought enough food for the both of us. When we got home and surveyed my purchases (weiners and pork--the same sausages of several days ago having been such a success with my palette) and decided on pizza when I said, "how about the best deal in Belgium." The 20 Euro Chinese meal delivered to our door by a frozen delivery person. Sure enough, we ordered and left the warm brother to his downloading while we went to get petrol and 20 Euros. We attempted to better-prepare ourselves for the cold. Two scarves and more clothing. I think if we are going to do scooter adventures is such weather we are going to have to look into purchasing long underwear. Or at least socks that go further than the quarter-calf. I need striped sport socks that go up to my knee. Now that sounds like a good, neccessary thing to buy. Surely the Wibra will have a sale on sport-socks soon. (In a moment of recollection, I recall re-setting the high-sock coolness look in high school basketball, just before it became cool again. I, of course, did not start the trend again, I was just a precursor to it. White socks with purple stripes at the top pulled up to my knees...better to wipe my sneakers on since the floors where always less-than pro-basketball court clean. Oh...those were the days.) On the scooter Eva and I amused ourselves by vocalizing our state of cold. Mine was more of a whimper and yell than chattering, and Eva's was definitely a yell. It was fun. Two girls stacked on a scooter, freezing their asses off making a bunch of noise. I failed to mention that the foam in my scooter seat was solid rock. Until slightly warmed by my behind, it was like sitting on a log. Only two days ago it was spongy! The Chinese was a huge success, as her brother's are a great set of guys. Typical, mind you, as boys will be boys. But atypical, as Joris retold his current college course about the history of anit-semitism for our over-dinner conversation. Interesting. Apparently, if Hitler had defeated Russia (taken Moscow) the jews would have been sent to the Ukrain. His first attempt was to buy Madagascar from France and give them their own island. I little known fact! (Little known meaning none of us had ever heard it in our lives!) Jasper went home after his music had been qued, and Joris is still here, sitting with Eva sorting through our collection of MP3s into various collections of his own; music in other languages, old music, dance music, R&B, and music by women. We've been playing clips from Melissa Etheridge to Moloko and everything inbetween. The kicker is, only one song for every artist...and this presents a problem when an artist such as Ani Difranco comes up. (she's always a good example) Speaking of music, I'm adding a song to my list of songs-to-download. It's a song by Jamiroquai entitled My Corner Of The Earth. It sort of replicates my current feelings on Belgium. I sort of miss music here lately. When I worked at Tellme, I was constantly listening to a steady stream of music that I was always downloading in the background. We also had a server that was dedicated to the music of anyone and everyone that worked there and was into mp3s. Gigs and Gigs of music at my disposal. If you wanted to listen to something completely different, I think there was even a random music generator that would make a playlist out of all of the music available. Nice. So we're listening to music in the comfort of our very warm house. We have tucked all the curtains as to not let the cold come in or the warm go out, and had we had cocoa and marshmellows, we'd be having hot chocolate. Had we had a fireplace, we'd have a fire roaring by now. Instead Eva and Joris are in the office which is also the kitchen which is also the walkway which is also the diningroom which is also the livingroom. That's where I am, plunked down on the couch wearing a green sweater I, just a year ago, couldn't wear for fear I'd look pregnant. (slight joke.) :) IN THE NEWS:
December 10, 2002 : the interview
Today was the day of my interview with some of the artists in the Art department at the Univerisity of Wyoming-Laramie. As I had mentioned before, I've been going over possible questions in my head. It's not that I was scared, just nervous. Afterall, it's been over 2 years since my last interview, though it seems I have a pretty decent track record with "meeting people" on the phone. All of my we-want-you-to-come-here have been based on emails and phone calls. I imagine most people have an online picture of me as their reference point--something pulled off of bracketland somewhere, or the only picture of me in my graduate portfolio in which you can remove clothing from my quite frumpy body. I should do something about this a regular ol' this is me sort of picture. I'll add it to my list. So today as I watched the clock in anticipation, I surfed around looking for answers to the questions I had thought might come up: It's not that I needed to look up a list of artists, I simply wanted to do some research. It's good to take the internet as an information-provider sometimes instead of an electronic mailbox or pixalated newspaper. I know these are the two things I use it most for...outside of the use of my own websites. But what are they anyway save a common-person's personal journal dump, a photoalbum, and a place to show my art whithin a box the size of an old encyclopedia on its side. Not much of a space. Perfect for the journal dump and photo-album...not so perfect for the art-space. Or is it?!? (now that's a thesis in and of itself!) So artists. I landed on everything from illustrators to top-notch webdesign firms. Typography, I looked at everything from basic web-templates, to entire pages devoted to leading and kerning and ledgibility on computer screens. And regarding graphic design? I think I've got that under control. To me, there will always be a graphic movement going forward. There will always be people going against the grain of cleanliness with clutter and legibility with chaos and seeing text in a new way. I did manage to find some really great quotes on design along the way which will hopefully make it to my revolving set of blurbs on my homepage. I suppose this isn't the most intersting of journal entries. My day actually became more interesting once the interview actually started happening...the ball that got it all going was the email which read, "Hello Andrea, can you please send us your phone number so we can actually call you?" So no joke, I called Nichole in Neosho, Missouri to ask her to tell me my phone number because she has to dial it with all of the number codes and country codes, etc. She's also the single person on the planet that knows the number by heart. Why? :) Of course her work number is also one of the only numbers I know by heart, but that's only because it's one of those static numbers that doesn't change. The same goes for my parent's number and Will Manning's parent's number. **memo to self...must write postcards soon.** So then the phonecall happened. The familiar ringing and the echo of a speaker phone in a room with two faculty memebers. Of course I started off at my usuall nervous-speed-speech, but I soon calmed down and by the end of the hour and a half it was like I was talking to my two friends, Mark and Ben. I daresay it was a successful interview. Not meaning that I'm going to get a letter in the mail or an unexpected phonecall in the next few weeks, but successful as in I'm happy with how it turned out. I said everything I wanted to say and I even found out that it snows in Wyoming from October through April and that some people actually cross-country-ski to work. Now if that doesn't sound like a landscape worth exploring, I don't know what does. Eva came in during the last few minutes and was giving me that, "God, I wish I was conversational during interviews" sort of look and after it was finished, and a bit of jumping around the room (only because I was pleased, mind you) we headed up the street to have dinner with Eva's dad, and her two brothers. We're seeing an awful lot of these boys. We even have something planned for Friday night. A french movie with dutch subtitles. Looks like I'll be waiting at a pub around the corner. I once heard a lady say, "listen to your body" which I have stretched to mean, "if you are tired, go to bed. if you are up, stay up." Well after such an exhausting day (I daresay that's the most verbage in a two-hour span than I've uttered since I've been in Belgium) and emotionally and brainfully draining, "How would you deal with students coming from a rural environment? Would you change your teaching strategy?" I'm headed to bed. It's only 10, which back when I was 11-13 ten at night was my bedtime. Unless it was a night where snow was falling outside and so we'd all watch the news for school closings. See, this really was before the internet. We relied on the news, and the phone-tree that told teachers if it had been cancelled early in the morning. So that's my tuesday. My life today summed up by a three words, research, phonecall, and dinner. If I hear anything from Wyoming, I'll be sure to post it. IN THE NEWS: "Now it seems legitimate to have anti-Muslim and anti-Semitic views on some issues because people have mixed up the whole issue," said Bob Purkiss, chairman of the EUMC. "The danger is ... how it has now embedded itself."
December 11, 2002 : a find
Today I showed up at a business for an appointment on the wrong day, entered an about-to-close postoffice to receive a christmas package, inquired "think where I will buy a christmas tree?" (that was a literal translation of what I asked in Dutch to one of the Vergo ladies) and then later on in the evening, I found one of those lost bist of information available out on the internet. I found it while I was doing some random searches for a poet I had seen on the BBC's website...minding my time, steeping Eva's tea a bit too long becuase she wouldn't get out of bed. This following very-short-story/poem/scene sums up a lot of things so many americans living abroad feel. Is is fear? Is it embarrasment? I'm not sure. Just read it, there's something there: ------------------------------------------------- Souvenirs As Jessica put her sandals back on outside the mosque she noticed the white robed stallholder watching her. When she reached his stand she hesitated and let her gaze wander over the heaps of souvenirs. ‘Here’. He handed her a jade necklace. ‘This goes with your eyes. Where are you from? Australia?’ ‘Oh, America’, he said. And pulling a cigarette from a fold in his robe he placed it between his lips. ------------------------------------------------- IN THE NEWS:
December 12, 2002 : high fidelity and my issue with yogurt
Eva's got it in her head that I'm a bit unhappy here. It's not that I'm unhappy, it's that my mind is filled with visions of America floating in my head, of not being able to recycle on Tuesdays, of driving my mother's red sporty car because she offers it instead of a beater geo metro or a second-hand (we'd just say used) VW Jetta (the old kind) or Golf (any model), of my fear of wearing only Old Navy clothes again and my fear of a repeat carrot experience at Wal-Mart. There's more than just those few things on my mind. I have ideas of art projects and of nuclear bombs being dropped on Baghdad. I have the feeling I've been a poor excuse of a friend for nearly all my life and I have the troubling suspicion that I'm self-centered. I'm not really a lazy person and am truly an extrovert living in the guise of a lazy introvert. I can blame almost anything on something of which I am lacking. Everything. Just ask,and it's because something is keeping me from achieving it. That was a minor rant. I'm days away from my mother-nature-woman-reminder and I can feel the energy from my womb causing parts of my brain to misfire. Just last weekend I had become a new person with a new set of Euro-coats and now this? And I'm running out of time. Only a few more months to find the old me in the new place... So about yogurt. My one issue. I'm loving the stuff. I'm currently stuck on fruit of the forest, raspberry, and blackberry versions. The 0% fat version tastes just as great as the + fat version so I'm sticking to the null fat. Though I have noticed that the Vitalina brand is much creamier than the Yopliat brand. I don't mind. The Yoplait comes in a 2 raspberry and 2 blackberry pack and the Vitalina only comes in one flavor. (Unless you are more adventurous and want to try kiwi, strawberry, peach, etc. No thanks.) So I'm loving this stuff. 2 packs of yogurt a day. One for breakfast/lunch and one after dinner desert. Not such a bad snack. Well the problem is this. If I buy the 200 gram containers of the fruit of the forest, it comes in a recyclable container. If I buy my 4-pack 100 gram versions (which I would rather buy) I can't recycle them. I had originally planned to throw them in the blue-bag just for good measure. Sort of like, hey, I'm putting it in the blue back and it'll get recycled regardless. Then I read specifically, "geen yogurtpotjes." I think it might tell you why, but that's out of my vocabulary. In this season's edition of "all about your recycling, where it goes, how we do it, etc" they even offer suggestions for what to do with your yogurtpotjes. "Oh yoghurtboom, oh yoghurtboom..." That's right, make christmas ornaments out of them. Nice idea except for the fact that I already have too many for any sized tree we'll manage and I've only been eating yoghurt for a month. I need yoghurt that comes in glass. I need the 200g version to come in 100g. I'm troubled. It might be my period or it might not, but regardless, I'm troubled that my new addiction comes in completely wasteful packaging. The Yoplait version does come with a paper peel-off top and the Vitalina version is plasticly/silver. I have a feeling this eco-sensitivity could go on to drive me completely bonkers. Shouldn't I just lay it to rest now before it's too late? Perhaps I should just go all out and buy everything throw-away. No more rechargeable batteries, no more reusing my olive boxes, no more sorting into bio, paper, glass, plastics/aluminum, and just afval (trash). Oh my. I don't even think we should wrap our christmas presents this year. We should wrap them in the numerous plastic bags we own. After all, it's still layers. And a christmas tree? Hmmm...yes, it's true that a special truck comes around and picks up all of the trees and they take it and convert it to clippings. That's good. So sure we'll get a bigger tree this evening, but none of that silvery tinsel (a childhood favorite) how bout popcorn on strings or how about plastic bags knotted together with painted yoghurtpotjes! ha ha ha. (that was mostly all a joke...) Enough about recycling, let me tell you more about my evening. As I mentioned before, Eva's got it in her head that I"m a bit unhappy here. She's thinking that I'm constantly in a state of disappointment that we don't "do" things, but to be honest, whenever we have the chance to "do" something, I'm glued to my computer chair or computer in general and I don't want to leave. That's it. I'm going to choose a week to be anti computer sometime in the new year. I'll handwrite my journals for one week and only paint and/or draw. Good plan. So tonight she had planned to take me to see a play. I wasn't mad about seeing a play only in Flemish, as it would, of course, be completely over my head. I picked her up, returned to the house to finish up some work, and we headed to the other-side of Antwerp to the playhouse. It's in a building that was formerly where people came to bathe. Cool, eh? It looked like an 19th century version of the YMCA. Tile and brick. The Oud Badhuis. I was rigid with cold by the time we got there. I hadn't known (before I had found out at the train station) that one of Eva's coworkers played guitar in the play. This sort of pissed me off a bit (don't forget about my approaching period), as I had thought Eva had stumbled upon (not stumbled, but actively looked for) something to take me to. You know, like a surprise. It was one of those plays put on by a small theater troupe in a small space, with little money, but lots of time spent. It was the book/movie High Fidelity translated to Flemish, only apparently it was mostly in Antwerpse (the dialect of Antwerp.) Just s I had guessed, it was completely over my head. I didn't get any of it except for the words fuck, Laura, Rob, and the names of rock-bands. I'm exaggerating a bit, but it helped that I had already seen the film. The main actor was a bit over the top acting like John Cousack, but I actually had a good time. And I think Eva did as well. She knew I was troubled during the whole thing...and I couldn't help but mirror myself with the poor Rob character, agonizing over himself, wanting people to make over him, etc. God Andrea, get a grip! Shake it off! Back at the house I made a dinner of rookworst (that wiener thing we had last week) mashed potatoes and corn. Corn is a vegetable I've sort of forgotten about here lately...I think it's because it comes in a can and it's not on a cob. There is something so cool about peeling carrots and fondling the beans before I cut off their ends. (now that's a strange sentence!) ha! For those of you that cook with reasonably fresh veggies, you'll understand what I mean. But the corn? Delicious. Ho ho ho, Green Giant. The asparagus-leafed green man is available here. Niblets of all things. If not niblets, then it's Bonduelle. No giant there. Just a picture of crunchy corn. IN THE NEWS: Is this being prepared or living in fear?
December 13, 2002 : the problems with trees
We had originally planned for the night to be short and sweet. Eva was going to go to a French movie with her brother. I asked her about how she watches French films. Does she read the subtitles or listen to the French and understand or both. We always have great discussions about her knowledge of French. I'd say it's damn near fluent, but she'd be quick to disagree and say she only has a common knowledge of French. I'd say I have a common knowledge of Dutch (by American standards) which means I understand enough to be able to point people in the right direction if they are lost, able to make my way with a menu without asking questions, and could conversate with a dim 4 year old. I'd certainly never be able to watch a film in Dutch and understand it. Of course I'd get the drift of it...but one can manage with body language and stuff. Listening to the radio, however, would be nearly lost on me. She says she'd first read the subtitles in Dutch and then make the switch over to French. Now I'd say that's pretty damn impressive. Eva understands French, wouldn't you say? Moreso than the average American college student who has graduated with their required foreign language courses. :) (afterall, I took a year and a half of Spanish and retained/learned nothing at all except for me gusta...and me llamo and adios amigos.) The movie fell through. There was no midnight showing this evening. So we opted to continue on our planned course of action. A kerstboom shopping adventure on the tram. If you've ever ridden public transportation and had the priveldge of carrying an awkward object on your journey, you can imagine the prospect of carrying a christmas tree on a tram. We've had the experience of carrying large poles all the way from IKEA before, and that garnered quite a bit of stares and muffled words of humor. As if anyone caught staring at us didn't understand completely our actions. If you don't have a car and your "car" is the bus, well you're going to ship your usual car items on the bus. Ours was a pole. It's just as strange when you see someone toting odd-sized objects on their bikes. Or when people happen to see Eva and I barreling down the street with a year's supply of laundery stacked precariously on the scooter with my legs ballancing on the bags that are hanging off each side. Of course it's funny. But think of it. It's real life. It's our mode of transport. It's our car...it just happens to be a two-wheeled, open-aired, slightly-too-small-for-two-people. Back to the kerstboom adventure. We rode the tram out to Merksem to their open-slightly-later mega-store Carrfour and Brico. After two of the best damn Belgian waffles we've ever had, we headed into Brico to their christmas section. Nothing but fake trees, lights, dancing santas, and surge protectors. We even considered buying a disco-light set for this year. Why not? We could put it in our window. it's just the same as mulitcolored string lights, only more interesting. Needless to say, we didn't buy it. Finally we found the live-tree version. We hunted around and saw people struggling with the shrink-wrap-your-own-boom (tree) netting mechanism. Funny, eh? I like it when people react to your chuckles with chuckles. It's the best way to make light of the situation. We decided on a pre-netted tree. A 5 Euro tree that is about 5 feet tall. We paid for it and stuck it in the cart while we trekked around Carrfours. We knew, shortly thereafter, the tree was going to be an issue...I had to dodge it, the shop-stockers had to dodge it, and finally I told Eva she was going to have to man the tree. I couldn't handle poking my head into the bristly end of a christmas tree at ever turn. I know sometimes I'm a jerk. I'm a jerk quite often it seems. It's not that I try to be a jerk, it just happens. Well tonight it happened. The wonderful Eva managed to find it her heart to forgive me, but not quickly, and rightfully so. I didn't mean to make her feel like she was chained to the cart. This came up later. I didn't know she was bored out of her skull by my agonizing over which yogurt to buy. I looked at the bottom of every single yogurt brand for the recycle-this triangle of arrows. As noted before, only the larger versions (200g) have the recycle sign...unless I decide on the Bio jar of fruit-of-the-forest kind. I don't know, I'm not much with jars and portions. I can see Eva coming home some day and finding me sitting listlessly on the couch foaming yogurt froth and an empty jar, of yogurt (just opened) laying next to me...the plastic Haagen Daaz spoons stuck in my still-clenched fist. (I made everyone save their spoons this summer when we all got a cup of icecream...because the spoons were too nice to throw away and who can't always use a few extra spoons?!) So like I mentioned. I didn't know Eva wasn't THAT much of a non-food-store-shopper. I love going to stores. I love running around looking at nothing at all. I've gone to Wal-Mart back home dozens of times and exiting without a plastic bag of things I didn't need but bought anyway. I poured over the meat section and their vegetarian goods. (Del Haize has a much better fake-meat section) I contemplated a good deal on shaved ham and baby baguettes with or without nuts. (I decided on the more healthy wheat and nut variety) And furthermore I couldn't decide if it was better to go with the generic brand coffee filters or the standard brand and which size! (I consequently went with generic and simply placed them into the old box I had of the standard brand. Perfect!) I also thought Eva was having a good time in the vegetable section watching me pick out veggies. She was standing by the cart reading the weekly sale paper looking at me like, "Awww...Andrea's so cute." And she admits (sortof) that she was actually thinking that very thing at that given point in time... but over the spagetti sauce, things took a nasty turn. Eva was ready to go. She was impatient. How could I possibly want to stay in the store a second longer. I, in return, freaked out as well. Why? Because she always does this in supermarkets. I think in the future, if it's possible, she'll nix supermarkets altogether. I, on the otherhand, with be cook and sole buyer. Sometimes I think it's stores in general. Sometimes she blames it on crowds. Today she confessed it was the burden of the christmas tree and her fear that it would poke someone. I just thought she'd leave it and go off on her own...I didn't know. Neither of us meant for it to get out of hand. Which it did. Sometimes it's sort of fun to have an argument in English at a store in Flanders. I know most people can understand, but they sure as hell can't understand it as well as an American could in an American store. Sort of like how my ears perk up when I hear English. Oh yeah buddy, I understand every word you say. I don't care if you are trying to whisper. It's as plain as day and like on a loudspeaker. So we pay. I'm trying to be in apology mood. I also said something I shouldn't have said about the tv antenae and the price we couldn't find. Out by the tram stop, it got even worse. There we were about to board a tram with a christmas tree and 2 bags of groceries having a heated discussion. Once again, I said something I shouldn't have...and even worse, once the tram got there, I said something not worse, but just downright bastardly. "Ok...so I'll get the bags, and you can be stuck with the tree...again!" Ooooohhhhh! The tram-ride home was awful. We were sitting in the back of the tram (only one comment about our christmas tree and no stares to speak of!) and when it was our stop we couldn't get to the door fast enough because I was trying to maneuver 2 bulging bags and Eva was managing the boom that we were to the door, hopelessly punching on the button (it had since turned un-green, meaning no longer openable) and off we were to the next stop. It's not so far, but not so close either. The walk home was awful too. Eva on one side of the street with a tree and me with the groceries. Once we got home, here we were with festivities planned, a festive thai dinner waiting to be fixed, and two grumpy hurt girlfriends. Eva went up to bed and I started cutting carrots. That's when I started crying. Unstable me and my failed Belgian adventure (this does not include Eva) and my bitchiness which we've both half-heartedly blamed on my approaching period. Oh my! Stability! I yearn for it! Eva, my rock! (is it uncouth --is that spelled right or even the word I am wanting to use?-- to recall my own poem? I'm going to do it anyway!) She is my rock. Soft like processed American cheese She is a stone I hold at night God verdomme! Ik ben ech slecht! Wat is mijn probleem?! So there over my carrots Eva offered her shoulder. I admitted all sorts of failures and depressions (once again) and all of that future stuff I am always so preoccupied with. Forgiveness? I didn't deserve it...and I suppose Eva will go into crowd-management training but I need to get a degree in patience/awareness/selflessness. How can I have patience in bumper-to-bumper traffic or late trains or long lines at Hema, but not at home?!? Once we recovered (eva recovers from crying with no blotches, whereas I am blotchy for hours) we settled down to a delicious meal and our decorating. Eva did most of the tree, and I did most of the window-lighting. We plugged everything in and then realized what we had realized last year...that one of our sets is the blinking variety...always a pleasure to realize accidentally. (and its the sporatic kind) Over our after-dinner tea/coffee, sitting there in silence in the light of our tree and window the tape from the window-lights slowly removed itself from the window one piece by one piece...once again, sporatically. It was progressively more funny tape bit by tape bit. A dark house, a well-lit corner...and the faint sound of stickiness losing it's grip. Funny how the yultide seemed to bring us closer together. Cheesy? Yes. Real? Absolutely. Go on out and hang a string of lights with someone you love. Blinking or non-blinking, white-lights or rainbow, live-tree or no tree, presents or no presents. Angel at the top or just a bow. Even if you're not into christmas at all. At least get some lights. IN THE NEWS:
December 15, 2002 : sunday clarity
So I don't know why we'd never figured this out yet, but it took Eva's brother coming over for her to spit it out. I am ever struggling with the future from July of next year on. It's probably quite a sight to even see my expressions when I'm thinking about it. It starts out with a slight breathy snarl, then a biting of the lower lip, a distant hazy look in my eyes followed by furrowed brow and a squint (as if I'm searching for mental clarity as people who almost need glasses suffer through street signs)...then a sigh (perhaps two)...a shaking of the head and more vacant stares down at the corner of where the wall meets the floor. And then she said it. "Well the way I see it, if we want to be able to live either there or here regardless of where we want to live now or then, we should plan to be able to have both options open at all times. The only way we're going to do that is if I get into the states, via work or school. The answer is simple. You've got to get a job and I've got to go to school. Hopefully this time next year we'll be living in the states. If not next year, then the next year." I sat there dumbfounded. Was it really that simple? Would this relieve all of the burdens of doubt I shoulder? (like carrying a bag all day with too-small of a strap...numbing. like the way I used to feel after a particularly long parade march when I played the sousaphone.) Aches. I dont' know why it took her so long to say it. And I don't know if it will change the turmoil in my innards of there and here. And there are so many other "there"s. Then again, there's so many other "there"s in that one bless-ed country! (I hope someone is following me.) It just made so much brilliant sense! And then again it resituates that bag/tuba on my shoulder again...insomuch as it makes me physically sick to think about. How do you say goodbye to a country you've grown so fond of and re-meet the one you used to absolutely adore? IN THE NEWS: I don't care if it's a gimmick. It's a gesture. The world needs more gestures.
December 16, 2002 : discussions and clouseau
Today I headed into Brussels to have a meeting with Malcome Le Grice. He's one of Transmedia's teachers, and I had a meeting to discuss this year's projects with him. On the way there I wrote down several issues to discuss with him: the future, me as a "Sean Penn" using my realm of influence/space (which is very small) as a place to share my own thoughts, and the fairness (that is not the best word to use) of speaking on subjects outside of myself. We had a really great talk and came up with several other things for me to think about in reference to this journal, my own artwork, moving from the personal to the researched-outside sphere, as well as brinking other people into my creative process, as the things I work with are able to be changed/grow in light of comments people provide me. I spent last night working on my first transmedia project of this year. It's nothing high-tech, just created after I stumbled on some great arial photos available online. It just got me thinking. With all this talk of war and such, how isolated from the experience we, as Americans, are. In light of the fact that I was pretty tired from spending last night working on that project until the wee hours of the morning (I started late to begin with), I came home after school and went straight to bed. The night actually couldn't have been more inappropriate for this specific evening. Both Eva and I had several things to busy ourselves, things we'd rather be doing or things we needed to do, or simply nothing at all...which is probably what we wanted most of all...just time together, as weekends seem to be getting shorter and shorter. Eva is, as she had done with last week's adventure with the book/movie in English switched over to a play in Flemish, trying to drum up different things to do, different things to see, more than these four walls. We are also saving a new bar in town as something to do at a drop of a hat--some night when we're feeling a little spontaneous. We have already put off going to check it out 4 times. We've even driven by it in the daylight (it wasn't open at noon on Sunday as one could guess) and we must be a little curious about it. It's been quite a long time since Antwerp had a vrouw een vrouw club. And since that fits our description, we might as well check out the place. (Atthis doesn't quite count, as it is for the more aging sector.) Back to Eva's trying. She's doing a really good job with it. I must admit that we're never really set on going when it rolls around, but we're always glad that we went in the end. I don't know what makes us not want to go...but it always sounds so inappropriate time wise. We never have enough time to eat before we go, Eva's always exhausted from working all day...and now that it's winter who really wants to leave the comfort/snugness of her own home? :) So tonight was no exception. If you are learning a language, which I am, music is one of the best things to get you jump started. I'm attempting to support this theory with Radio 1. Their subtle blend of talk and radio and their random doses of songs in Dutch are a nice boost to my vocabulary. At least I can tell that they are speaking words instead of a long range of syllables between breaths. I remember when even that was a struggle. So back to tonight. Clouseau. If you don't live here or in the country north of us or in the few former-Dutch colonies of the world, you haven't heard of them. If you live here, however, you probably know at least a couple of their songs by heart. I've heard several of their songs on the radio...a nice enough voice that I can understand the words and a nice enough sound that I can tolerate not knowing the words. (I hope that makes sense) So Clouseau. Eva got us tickets. We didn't want to go tonight, as I had work to do and she had even brought home some stuff to work on from her job. Having already paid a substantial (concert-like) price for the tickets...having already been on the waiting list for tickets to this sold-out show and then getting word that we were lucky enough...we decided we'd go. It was at the Antwerp Sportpalais. Your typical arena turned concert hall. (though the sound was the best in an arena I've heard yet) There was a Quick next to it so we ate dinner and decided we'd not rush. After all, we're adults, right? We can even leave if we don't like it. We don't have to mill around afterwords trying to get a glimpse of anyone trying to hop on a bus. We were in the general admission area, which meant that we stood against the railing on the uppermost section. But let me tell you, it was the best seat in the house. Let me also state that I was probably the only native-English speaker non-dutch speaking person there. It was cult-like awesome. The crowd was amazing. Everyone from dock-worker husbands accompanying their wives to 16 year old girls and their boyfriends were singing and jumping around. It wasn't just some songs, it was every song. We were surrounded on each side by people younger than us, and the people to our left did the yell-sing. The sort of singing where you're completely off-tune, don't realize it, but are having the time of their life. This rubbed off. We too were having a blast. For the choruses that were easy enough and more redundant, I was able to join, take part. Some of the songs I was able to hum along with, as I had heard them on the radio and knew their tune. Eva made up for my lack of words by singing the songs she knew and there was even a song where the guy broke the song apart and did what I call the praise-and-worship-leader word-teaching...where they say the words right before you're suppose to say them. Well that helped me a lot, though I already knew the "Ik, je, hij of zij, eiderin hebt eimand nodig." He also showed us the actions which were nothing more than pointing to yourself, pointing in front of you and then to the left and right. Poor Eva and her sense of left and right...13,000 people pointing to the left and then the right...and Eva doing the right twice through chuckles. :) She blames this inability on her being left-handed. I would have to admit that her being left-handed has left her unable to tie her shoes properly, as I imagine no one really went over it with her, so they always come undone and the bows come out at the top and the bottom instead of the left and right...we dont' get it. :) I think it's cute. So Clouseau. It was great. I've decided I should do a comedy video on, "learning Dutch with Clouseau..." It would be quite similar to the dutch book I have that came with CDs. You listen, repeat, listen again, say it out-loud again...and then try to find a situation where you can use it in real life. I can see me doing the same with the Clouseau music...especially the words, "Verdomd, verdomd, verdomd..." I have neglected to mention the screen behind the stage. We were far enough that the singer was the size of our pinkie fingers held at arms length. The screen more than over-compensated. I don't know what sort of technology it was, or if it was simply a larger version of those instant-reply screens we have at baseball stadiums back home...but it was amazing. One of the girls next to us even had binoculars. Why she needed them, I'll never know. His face was so big behind him I think I only looked at him when he was walking through the audience...other than that, I was glued to the screen. :) After intermission (the Belgian, grab your beer space of time) and after several rounds of what Eva called "the Mexican wave" the concert started up again. I think we just call it the "wave" do we not? Or maybe the "stadium wave" but I didn't know the Mexicans had anything to do with it. Since Eva and I came by public transport, we deemed it necessary that we should leave a bit early as to save us from the masses who would be trying to squeeze on the trams. We had already heard all of the songs I could imagine that I knew, and we'd already had so much fun already, so at a slower interval, after they had started into their acoustic set at our end of the stadium via this stage that dropped out of the ceiling and this bridge that grew out of the stage, transported the band, and then retracted back to the stage...well, we left. There were only three people on the tram, one guy who was on it when we got on, and us. We hummed and sang all the way home. Without Eva to remind me of all of the bits of songs that I remember, I can't recall them...but it was just like any other great concert, regardless of the language. Of course I wasn't spell-bound by being able to hear so and so hear such and such song...but the crowd was amazing. Hysterical almost and having a great time. I don't know what band I would compare it to in the states, as their first album came out when I was 12/13 and they are still putting out records and getting radio play with new music as well. I suppose this concert was much like the Garth Brooks concert I saw in Wichita, Kansas. Smallish arena packed with crazy fans who knew each and every song. Yeah, for a similar concert-like, fun-crowded atmosphere, consider this Garth without the hat and tight wranglers. All in all a great time. Apparently I might get a little ribbing from the natives here by going on and on about it. Like there are closet-clouseau fans in Belgium embarrassed to admit to their friends that they have every single album--though I think they might see that my language skills have improved when I belt out a lyric at an appropriate moment. "Damn, Damn, Damn..." IN THE NEWS: I suppose this is a lot like the old wild-west wanted dead or alive posters...back when we were a bit more uncivilized in the US. Are they bad people? Sure. But should we just give people the ability to kill people just like that? I'm sure it happens every day...just don't tell me about it, ok? In this case, ignorance is truly bliss. ALSO IN THE NEWS:
December 18, 2002 : always second guess ink
So after Mondays concert I was dead set on learning Dutch in a new and modern way via all of their songs. Go ahead, you flemish loved ones, laugh if you will, but I'll learn it yet. Today I downloaded lyrics and more K3 songs. If/when I get an inexpensive mp3 player (a christmas want of mine) you can guess that if you find me roaming the streets of Antwerp (something I am planning on someday actually doing) I'm listening to klein kunst flemish and Dutch music, K3, and Clouseau. (And maybe even the band that sings "Zoe eet pita" that I'm also wanting for Christmas. It's a commercial for kids music that airs inbetween the american kids show where the girl was doused in radioactive material and has strange powers and our favorite, Zorro. For those of you that know the lyrics to the Zorro themesong...then reverberate Zorro, Zorro, Zorro...) So stresses. Eva and I got home last night and looked at emails from Het Roze Huis and realized that we were supposed to give all of the files to the printer today. Well we hadn't. We didn't. We get oodles of Magneet oriented emails and they come in amidst spam emails from people in Africa addressed, "Dir Sir..." and lead one to believe they need your help and as a result you can become rich, as well as emails from clients of mine and emails between Eva and I while she's at work. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that they are overlooked or I scan them for any words I can understand/read and then it sits there in our inbox and Eva never looks at it. Well, after a little spat about email reading (I always tell Eva to check out the Magneet emails, which she flatly denies) Eva managed to get up early this morning and set up the drop-off details with the new printer. They happen to be near our house, and so after the last round of changes this evening, we hopped on the scooter and sped over to Berchem in the biting cold (numberless, though knowing the street name) and dropped the stuff off. During printing of the pages to add to the packet of printing material, we realized just how rip-off minded computer comanies are. Our printer eats ink. We are/were fully aware of this to begin with, but tonight when it said, "please get a new black ink cartridge" and we were out of spare-black-ink-cartgridges, I figured I would give it a good shot to convince the printer that the ink was full. Of course it's not, and of course it really doesn't know when it's full or not, but we managed to print the 32 pages of the magazine in black ink and it still seems full. Always second guess is what we learned today. Thank you Epson, for teaching us such a valuable lesson! I will apply it to many situations: Then again, I will not apply it to the following situations: So yeah, that was a very random bit of text. My apologies. I sense that this week might be filled with such randomness if anything at all. Many a project is sitting on my plate at the moment, let alone this one. Questions to ponder: IN THE NEWS: ALSO IN THE NEWS: They neglect to mention that most of them are astonishingly ugly. I'm leaning towards the one that is basically comprised of a skeleton/frame of the previous buildings. But is that an airplane stuck in the framework? I can't tell from any of the pictures. But what New Yorker is going to want to work in it? You might as well build the biggest building with a target mark on the side. Not such a joke...
December 23, 2002 : happy holidays!
Eva and I are headed to England for Christmas. We're getting ready to board a bus for a long haul. We just wanted to wish you a wonderful holiday and will be in touch with everyone soon.
December 25, 2002 : my first time
It's my first time. I'm no soldier away from home or someone devout celebrating the birth of my saviour. I'm not a sleep-eyed 6-year-old waking up at 6 in the morning and dragging my parents out of bed. I'm no parent being awakened or grandmother slaving away in the kitchen over the traditional foods for the afternoon dinner. In fact, this year I'm not even the daughter who lives far away and returns home. This year, I'm in England. Nothing about it was typical. From my sleeping till noon after yesterday's drug-like wondering through London to yesterday evening's staying up to a regular hour instead of turning in earlier for good measure. Nothing about today was typical. From the crank-powered radio tuned to the BBC's classic Christmas songs and carols, to champagne with our late lunch which was complete with parsnips, carrots, turkey, English-bacon, and sprouts. To accent the non-traditional, I sampled everything. For those of you who are fully aware of my dislike of turkey, even I had a bit of turkey breast (among samples of everything else). Oh what a year and a bit can do. Eva's father had bought us a few things and they were under the small plastic tree in the living-room. Eva and I, as un-Christmasy as we could possibly be without dropping the holiday altogether brought nothing but promised to buy him something new to wear for his first day on the job. Was there anything missing? We ate assorted nuts, oranges, chestnuts and poured boiling brandy on top of the Christmas pudding. It was my job to light it on fire, but I daresay it flamed a blue flame for only a second before going out completely and simply being drenched in brandy. Then I spooned off my small taste-test complete with the brandy-butter. Eva and her father ooohed and awed over it (the pudding) and I ate my bites appreciatively (out of cultural appreciation) and declined any further attempts/offers. They both agreed it was an acquired taste. One I have not yet acquired. But was anything missing? There wasn't the waking to the smell of biscuits and gravy, bacon and ham, and coffee followed by the retrieval of the stockings hung (now fallen) on the railing along the stairwell. No present opening and wrapping leftovers being stuffed into a bag for the burn-pile. No suffering through the lull between breakfast and the time when we head over to my Aunt and Uncles for my dad-side family Christmas gathering. There wasn't the call from Kelly (my half-sister) and the impatience of my dad honking the horn because we're 10 minutes late for our 2 minute drive to their house. There were no discussions of pecan-pie of peanut-butter fudge, the domino playing or spiral cut ham, no baked beans with the option of saltine crackers and grated cheddar. There wasn't the obvious absence of the grandmother/mother as this year would be the first Christmas since she died, without her wanting to go home already or her sitting quietly on the couch dressed in festive red, "Yes mom, this is your coat" someone would insist as they dressed her for the ride home, "It's not mine,"she'd insist right back, "where's my purse." That's the schedule of every Christmas since I've been out of the kid-section. I suppose if there was missing involved it was more in my head somewhere, as if I cannot go for a year without the pre-described standard. It's more of a gathering than a celebration, but it's quite extraordinary. No booze, no fighting, just siblings and their wives growing older together with the occasional lewd joke shared among them. It used to be more painful when I was a kid, having to set aside my toys (just received) to go and hang out with the family. There was the one year with the squabble of who prioritized a college basketball game over the party, and it's true some chose the game (I think SMSU was really good that year) and now it's just the immediate family who are all good friends, and they are a great family to have, and for this I'm thankful. I suppose there was a bit of missing involved when I called my parents at their 7:30 in the morning to wish them a Happy Christmas. They've a foot of snow on the ground and my mother passed the phone to my dad when she had to go and stir the gravy. I don't know that missing has much to do with this being a holiday or just an accented day. It seemed downright ordinary, you know? Ordinary with a twist of tree, wrapping paper, English traditions and carols. On the radio a lot of talk about Jesus the babe borne in a manger...you know, that's what carols are made of. We even sang along. We played boggle for a bit and timed the game (we were egg-timerless) by choruses or songs. But the day? Downright splendid! Eva's father gave it a try at teaching me to play chess. And the fire? Roaring. I learned a dead-cool newspaper trick that makes the flames instantly appear when all you've got are red coals and a chimney. Melancholy? No. A whole new take? Sort of. They say it's a hard time that first year you're away from home on Christmas, especially if you've got a standard-issued December 25th and it's as warm and inviting as mine. Especially if there's snow on the ground there and not here. But it was painless. A bit of normal holiday (vacation) with a good dose of English tradition. We even heard snippets from the Bishop of Canterbury and the Queen herself. Not a bit of Flemish or President with only a smattering of Peace on Earth and a one-liner from the Pope...the soundtrack of our day/night provided by Classic FM and Radio 4. Merry Christmas everyone...the happy new year comes later. NO NEWS, ITS CHRISTMAS, INSTEAD, A POEM. Christmas At Sea The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand; The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand, The wind was a nore-wester, blowing squally off the sea; And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee. They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day; But twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay. We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout, And we gave her the maintopsel, and stood by to go about. All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North; All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth; All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread, For very life and nature we tacked from head to head. We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide-race roared; But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard; Soes we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high, And the coastguard in his garden with his glass against his eye. The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam; The good red fires were burning bright in every longshore home; The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out; And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about. The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer; For its just that I should tell you how (of all days of the year) This day of our adversity was blessed Christmas morn, And the house above the coastguards was the house where I was born. O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there, My mothers silver spectacles, my fathers silver hair; And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves Go dancing round the china-plates that stand upon the shelves! An well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me, Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea; An O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way, To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christmas Day. They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall. All hands to loose topgallant sails! I heard the captain call. By the Lord, she'll never stand it, our first mate Jackson cried. . . . It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson, he replied. She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good, And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood. As the winters day was ending, in the entry of the night, We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light. And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me, As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea; But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold, Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.
December 26, 2002 : boxing day
Nothing was open. We thought the afternoon might find us watching a movie at one of the sea-side movie theaters in either Ramsgate or Margate. We had hoped at least the supermarkets would be open, but nothing was. Nothing. Two days in a row of everything closed in an economy that is shifting toward 24-hour. We went to Burger King instead and we took my spicy bean-burger meal deal and their whopper meal down to the docks in Ramsgate. One of Eva's father's friends has a boat docked there, so we scampered around on the floating walk-ways and climbed into the hull. I'm no sailor yet. We lolled about on the water cramped in this little space around a space-saver heater. I think if I had time to acclimate myself, perhaps having to pull on ropes that guaranteed our survival out there on the vast ocean or something...but eating a spicy-bean burger in the hull of an itty bitty boat in Ramsgate harbor...no thanks. :) The three of us spent the next span of time reading in the living-room. Eva stuck into Clan of the Cavebear, me reading war and peace, and her father reading another Tolstoy. I managed to kill the fire several times and I must admit that I didn't mind killing it, because I like reviving it. Fires are always fun to poke around in if it's logs and kindling. When we turned in for the night Eva stayed around to watch the fire and continue reading and went upstairs by the fake-coal fire under blankets. I had been slightly bored during the daytime--pent up, but settled down with my book. Eva came up and asked me to join her, but at this point I was pretty involved with the pending war between the Russians and the French and wrapped up in the aristocracy of St. Petersburg. I don't know what set me off when she came back to bed. I suppose when one is stuck inside a house bigger than your own, with time on ones hands, one sits and thinks. In other words, this is what I had done. "Ah England..." "Ah Life..." The sort of talking that makes me so unstable these days. And finally it has nothing to do with Belgium. Maybe Eva's words of "I'd like to live in England for a bit" stuck with me. Maybe I toyed with it in my brain to long trying to calculate the chances that we'd ever live here/move here. Switching countries is hard. It's not as easy as moving to Ohio. Maybe I'm going through a breaking down of my own. My very own version of inspiration, depression, nervousness, and agitation...all so selfishly centered on me me me. I cried my eyes out in Eva's arms for so many reasons un-nameable. Yes of course it would be nice to live in England. And then she said something that made it worse, though I understand what she meant in theory. "Maybe it would have been easier if we hadn't gotten together." Easier? Ok, I'm using the I-understand-what-she-means-in-theory theory. She's right. Not better but certainly easier. I'd had a nice life planned out back then. And that's not saying I don't have a much better (obviously!) version of that life planned out now! Oh my...I don't know if any of this makes sense when I read it over again! So that sort of heavy shoulders and snot-filled nose took me from Boxing Day into the 3rd day after Christmas. Eva's the best pillow, ear, and tissue in the world. IN THE NEWS:
December 27, 2002 : meeting the family
I've already mentioned that I'm not a huge fan of driving around in the back of a Berlingo which has continental left-side steering in England where people drive on the other side of the road. I always catch myself right before I mention the fact that "no one is driving that car!" as I imagine many people do when they see Eva's father. I'm sure kids, at least, marvel and shout, "Mom! No one is driving that car!" And when they take their car to France on summer vacations they find themselves a bit nauseous (as I always do in England) until they get used to it. I'm almost used to it. Mid-journey I realized that Eva was missing the head-rest on her seat and the head-rest was sitting in the back of the car. As I am already paranoid riding in the afore-mentioned car on the afore-mentioned side of the road, I was terribly concerned that she didn't have her head-rest. I remember drivers ed in high school and how they warned us that even if a head-rest is not in the appropriate position as to protect your head from flopping back in an accident, it can be deadly. I kept thinking about Eva breaking her neck and at the first moment we could, I handed her the head-rest and we slid it into place. "I was worried the whole time" I told her. And she just sort of grinned that sort of smile that says, "Oh you're quite silly...but I'm glad you're so concerned about it." I suppose I could tell her most anything I want, as she is a non-driver and have never seen the gruesome 1950s drivers ed movies Death on the Highway as I have done. :) Besides the fact that I actually know a kid from my church that didn't have his head-rest in the appropriate position, or his lap-belt on (just the automatic shoulder strap) and he came up out of his seat and broke his neck on the back of the seat. Today we headed to Eva's grandfather's place. A place Eva has mentioned time and time again and to be honest, I was just as excited as she was. We stopped off at her great-aunt's Christmas shindig where they were having the regular ol' Christmas party complete with carols and games and a play done by the children. They play was AWESOME! I will try to get a copy of it. Cinderella done with 7 actors (two dads had to play the evil step-sisters because of lack of children) and completed in 5 minutes. It was an extremely modern take much like my version of the story if I tried to say it all in Dutch. One-liners. Brilliant. It left us all laughing out loud. The carol singing was a great because the children (all who have had piano lessons, as seemingly every kid of a certain class and higher have gone through, myself included) had to accompany their moms on the piano. We all sang as well as we could, glancing at the words that were printed up in a nice little booklet and provided by some church organization. On the back of the booklet it said, "Don't forget such and such organization in your will." Now if that doesn't tell you who the average carol-book buyer is, nothing does. Carols were followed by the kids acting out animals and we had to write down what animal we thought it was. One of Eva's aunt's mother was there, and complained in the most hysterical (funny) ways that she A.) Didn't know what animal they were possibly acting out B.) Her pencil wasn't writing well C.) The paper she was writing on was too shiny for her pencil to work. Eva's family was as warm to me as my family back in the US was to her last Christmas. Since I am reading War and Peace I'm in to the option that if no schools get in touch with me that perhaps Eva and I should go off to St. Petersburg and teach English for a year or so. Let's just throw another stick on that fire-pile of options, shall we? :) One of her uncles set my mind at ease when we stared discussing the future and how the world should be your oyster until you decide on settling down. Settling down seems so settling down. I suppose it's not so bad once you agree on it and children begin forming in our wombs! Thank you, Eva's cousin of her father. (I'm at a loss for names at the moment, but will figure all that out at a later date) Eva's great-aunt was an incredible woman. I can't help but feel Eva's sentiments about "We should live in England sometime" because it would be great to rub shoulders with such incredible people now and again. She's a boisterous woman borne into a family of 7 brothers (I think...once again I will clarify later) with her being the youngest. And at 80 something, as a former head-mistress at a local school, was the perfect combination of teacher, aunt, socialite, and friendly folk. Thank you, Eva's great-aunt.
Finally we found ourselves waiting for a 3 minute ferry ride which would end up saving us a half hour. (once again, I don't know any of the locations/landmarks of the area but will inquire) Eva's grandfather lives on a nature-preserve/protected area and as soon as we were on the other side we found ourselves in the midst of a heard of deer. (bit exaggeration) So here we have a guy driving too quickly to begin with and Eva and I spotting deer right and left. Needless to say, Eva pleaded with him to slow down, so finally we did. Once out of the deer herd though, he picked up the pace and we almost passed the house but turned at the last moment causing us all to panic. Oh a journey coming to end. Sweet relief. What can I say about her grandfather except that he is charming. He's quite the talker and seems to be an icon of the days when Britain had colonies everywhere. I can see him standing somewhere along a river in Africa wearing starched-white clothes with one of those straw hats that is much like a hard-hat. Are you with me? Pure English gentleman stuck on the African continent. It's true that he and his Norwegian wife (who died a few years back) traveled all over the place, doing all sorts of things for Great Britain. Once again, I will inquire as to what his real role was...) We heard WW2 stories of his adventures in Normandy sleeping with his head next to a pile of explosives and his adventures leading a troupe of motorcycles over a plank bridge created haphazardly by some group of the army. (he and his motorcycle fell in) And all sorts of stories of snakes and airplanes in Africa. His mind is as sharp as a pen. Even more sharp if you realize his head is more full of extreme circumstances than most people's will ever be. So Far-Far (Eva's name for grandfather in Norwegian) talked us up until 11 when he went upstairs to take his new wife her warm milk. Eva and I turned in as well off in a room upstairs outfitted for grandchildren with three beds, two of them bunk. Back to the cavebear for Eva and back to the worries of the Russians for me. We read for an hour and went to bed. IN THE NEWS:
December 31, 2002 : the last day of the year
Theres something special about the phrase "last" of anything. Today there will, of course, be many lasts of which most are relative to "this year" and some I suppose will be last "for real." I hope to not run into many lasts "for real" as that illudes to mostly death and I'm wanting to steer clear of death for quite some time still. Eva and I got into Antwerp this morning about 6:30 and after our last row of 2002 due to sleep deprivation, we were eventually sleeping a sound sleep by 8:00 am. At 2 in the afternoon we woke up and headed to Carrefours to pick up any remaining christmas plants (hopefully onsale) to take to old-folks homes tomorrow afternoon. It all started last Christmas with the poinsettas that line the alter of my childhood church. Each and every year they request help in taking the flowers to shut-ins and Eva and I jumped at the chance to shed a little Christmas joy. It ended up being, in my mind, one of the best things about last Christmas. Care workers couldn't believe that two girls would show up a few days before christmas with flowers for shut-ins. After we finished up our list, we still had a stock of flowers left to give. We then took them into rest-homes and offered them to the people the workers noted hadn't had any christmas visitors. Most we left with a hand-written card, "someone's thinking of you, happy holidays" and some we handed out in the lobbys where old men and women play checkers and drink coffee while sitting in their house-coats and slippers. At our last stop we were surrounded by people wanting a flower to keep in their room. Now that was the holiday spirit if I ever saw it/felt it. So off to Carrefours where we bought the ingrediants for our festive Thai new year's dinner and flowers. We were laden down with two Ikea bags full of little plastic flower pots filled with soil and non-christmas flowers in oranges, pinks, yellows, and reds. Perfect. It's really something I want to continue doing. What a better way to show our children someday that this is the season of giving? (I'm sure there are better ways, but this is a start.) When we got home it was nearly time to start dinner. I was suffering from shoulder pains because I so gingerly carried my friend Marc's new Prince tripple live cd box set through the pouring london drizzel. I say "pouring drizzle" becuase that's what it was. England is a soaked-through sponge. It's a wonder it doesn't melt into the sea. Anyway, I had so protected the damn box-set (a whopping 75 euros) holding it up under my chin as we walked around London. If you've ever held something up for a long time you can realize how my body was berating me today for the act. But, having received second wind due to a new year's call/wish from Nichole back in the US, I started in on dinner. (after appetizers...crackers with shmeer cheese for me, and crackers with caviar for Eva. Ew. Little black fish eggs.) We ended up having enough champagne to take a bath in it. We're saving the 20-glass giganti-bottle (a gift from Eva's work) for our going away party. We're saving the super-expensive normal-sized bottle (a gift from Eva's favorite cousin, Janice) for our anniversary. And so we drank the bottle we had originally purchased to give to Eva's mother. We knew we didn't have enough time to drop it by, and had already settled on the uses/parties/days to drink the other bottles. So we drank the not-so-expensive, but quite nice, bottle of champagne with our delicious Thai. I have decided it is best to create a larger amount of thai sauce and then place it in bowls almost like a soup to which one can add various sized portions of rice. It was the first time I made it in this manner, and I think I've stumbled upon near-perfection. After dinner, feeling quite light-headed and giggly, while listening to BBC Radio1 and waiting for them to read our new year's wish I sent via email (they might have read it and we were to preoccupied with dancing around the room to notice) we also ate crepes. We went all out tonight. We stuffed ourselves senseless (thankfully this stuffing absorbed most of hte alcohol) and with only 10 minutes to spare hopped on the scooter and headed into town for the fireworks. Now, imagine this. First, rightfully so, you should wonder if I should have been driving the scooter in my then-slightly-altered state of mind. Though I admit I would not have put myself in the drivers seat of an automobile, as one does not take even remote chances, I did feel that I could definately manage the 30 km/h scooter with ease. I'm not careless in this respect. Anyone who knows me knows that, so off we went in the chill of the night. The champagne soaked into the crackers, rice, and crepes, and the coffee perking up the already slightly-exhausted me. Now Eva is not a fan of New Years. She actually told me that few had ever risen to the level of real enjoyment. So here I had my chance to make this one a good one. It was just her and I...with the minutes ticking down. It's the first time I've never counted down. No 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...Happy New Year...instead we drove along the streets of Antwerp honking our rediculous-sounding scooter horn waving with the other honkers and wavers. And the fireworks? They had barely started and we managed to park our scooter and into the throng of New Years revelers. The immigrant youths (forgive my proposing that all of the immegrant 13-17 year old boys were up to no good) were going nuts with firecrackers. The light and throw variety with a big kaboom. They were throwing them at cars (and scooters) on the street. We were glad to be in a throng of normal people ooing and awing over the light show. It seemed to go on for a very long time...much longer than I had expected. It went on so long that people seem to be thinking, "god...this is great...am I bored? No...it's fireworks, of course I'm not bored..." And just when they've almost decided they are bored the city of Antwerp turned up the show with some really gigantic fireworks...the end. But since it's gone on so long no one really knows if it truly is the end. At this poing in time Eva and I decide that it really is over and we hop on the scooter as fast as we can (in the process of which Eva bangs her foot) and we head to a nice alley in which to park our scooter. An old street without any bars and not a well-traveled side-street that leads to a street with bars. As we walked back across the center of town to the bar we ran into more people being rowdy. More immigrant youths drinking beer for the first time and stupid white belgian boys with their bored girlfriends standing beside them smoking cigarettes. Then there are always the peace-makers (thank god) who try to calm everyone down. We passed the stable-scene by the cathedral and a fake baby jesus was nested in mary's arms. The tradition goes that Jesus isn't placed into Mary's arm until after Christmas. Apparently people are really keen on not being inaccurate. So before we left Mary had simply had babyless arms holding air (sort of silly looking) amid a range of characters in 18th centry clothing one of which (a little-drummer boy, perhaps) was holding a stuffed monkey. Finally at our destination, our new favorite bar/vrowencafe, we proceed to hang out for the next 5 hours. Along the course of our night we begin visitig with a 20 year old stranger who reminded us that we are moving into that next category of lesbianism. The un-young, un-newly-out, and the un-rainbow-crazed. Oh those were the days, yeah? When everything centered on the fact that I was a lesbian in a big non-gay world. I have since become more well-rounded and don't even mention the words; gay, homosexual, rainbow, melissa etheridge, ellen degeneres, out, and girlfriend on a regular basis. In fact, being gay is so normal to me I'm not in turmoil about it. If I let people know, it's because I just want to get it over with. "Yes, I have a girlfriend..." blah blah blah...and we go on to talk about current events or old ones. Nothing of which center on the fact that I don't have the same rights as they do. I suppose once you get over the fact that you're not doing something wrong...it no longer seems so exotic. :) But I remember the rainbow-clad days of yesteryear and how exciting/traumatizing it seemed to be. So, I managed to fall asleep on the couch in the upstairs part of the cafe while Eva tried to listen intently to the girls stories. I thought her slight squeezes might have meant something, but I didn't know she had wished that I woke up so help with the burden of a 20 year old wanting to talk. When we all decided on leaving we stopped at a frituur for my first viandel and kass croquette of 2003, and we escorted the girl to her tram, and returned to our scooter to scooter home. A truly wonderful way to ring in the new year. I think Eva even managed to think it was one of the best. No real expectations, though I imagine we would expected to dance a bit more. Just a good time in each others company, and for the second night in a row we crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning completely exhausted. I suppose we are sortof looking forward to the weekend when life will return to normal. ;) IN THE NEWS: (since it is the last day of 2002, I figured I should put in several of the headlines) - Americans gathered to ring in 2003 at New Year's Eve celebrations that, in keeping with the times, were cost-conscious and security-aware. - President Bush said today that an attack by Saddam Hussein or a terrorist ally "would cripple our economy," offering new justification for potential war against Iraq. - Consumer confidence unexpectedly fell in December as the outlook for employment worsened, energy prices rose and the stock market slumped during a period of heightened uncertainty around the globe. - Hundreds of Iraqi children led by an actress marched through Baghdad streets on New Year's Eve chanting anti-war slogans and releasing white pigeons into the air. - Wall Street ended its third straight losing year Tuesday — the longest such streak since Franklin D. Roosevelt was in the White House. - Expelled U.N. inspectors left North Korea on Tuesday after the communist state set off alarms by ending independent monitoring of its nuclear program. And on a gay-friendly note, |