Wellington

Arrived in Wellington last night about 6 and was harassed into a shuttle by a guy in a suit with a mullet down to his waist. It, along with his massive mustache, were flaxen blond. His shuttle, a monstrosity in gold that almost matched his hair, would have been passably sane had it been driven by anyone else. Inside was decorated with cheap plastic x-mas decorations of flying reindeer in the windows and the ceiling was lined with a string of LED light balls, shifting color every few seconds. Not to be out done though at the front of the van was a similarly shifting color cube shaped alarm clock rubber banded to the rear view mirror and an 18 inch tall, glass, illuminated figurine of the Eiffel Tower sitting on the floor. Now I remember a time when I thought of Le Tour Eiffel as a singularly unique symbol of the chicest city in the world. Of course having been there and climbed it myself, I remember it fondly now as the eyesore of an otherwise classy and thoroughly understated city. Appropriate symbolism in this particular shuttle. Last night I walked down past Cuba st and down a bit further in search of dinner. I found little was open except 2 Subway sandwich joints, 3 McDonald's and 2 Burger King's. There were a few asian restaurants open, but was not in the mood to sit in a dimly lit dining room as the only patron alone with my meal and the full attention of the wait staff. Been there, done that, found it wholly unpleasant. So I ended up in the mall of all places. Easy to blend in and look inconspicuous while I shamefacedly devour my McChicken meal replete with a coke and fries. I thought to maybe see the new Sherlock Holmes flick with Robert Downey Jr. but when it was my turn at the front of the queue, the high school student behind the register informed me that the only seats remaining were in the front row. (In case you’ve never seen this, some movie theaters assign seats, a practice I first encountered in Belgium. I think it is nice, unless, of course that is, I’m the last in line buying a ticket.) So I scraped the plan and hoofed it back to the hostel. I could have inquired about the next showing an hour later, but as it was I was already having trepidations about walking around in a strange city on my own at the hour when an 8:30 showing ends, let alone an hour later.

This hostel, by the way, is worth telling about. I arrived about 7:30 pm and checked in where I was promptly informed by the British woman behind the desk, only a few years older than myself, that I was NOT to use her kitchen after 10pm when she would be cleaning. She turns the gas off to the cooker promptly at 10 so I had better be out of her way. After she finishes cleaning I am welcome to use the microwave and hot water geyser for any late night needs I might have. Also, free internet access is available 30 minutes a day if I sign up in the morning for a time slot. Or I can purchase wireless access for $20 a day or $10 for 6 hours, but the internet is shut off at 9pm anyway. It is a clean hostel, but one that doesn’t encourage it’s visitors to hang out during the day. I woke up early, ate a quick breakfast showered and left. I didn’t realize it was only 9am until I was half of the way down the hill. I think that is earliest I have ever left a hostel of my own volition while on holiday. So I suppose the relative unfriendliness of the place is for the better.
So now I am sitting at the top of the botanical gardens inside the herb garden having finally found the time and inclination to write for the first time in months. Thank you, brusque British lady.

I am staying in the Rosemere hostel tonight again and then I’m moving down the hill to the Trinity Hotel for New Year’s Eve and Day. It will be a welcome holiday from my holiday to not share my room with 5 strangers and to not shower in my shoes. I say the end of this year will bring with it a lot of thoughts about what I’ve done in the past year. Not that any one thing was singularly spectacular, but all of it together makes for quite an exciting year. I think it would take me a full week to recount only the most interesting points.

Now the afternoon is is getting old. I think I will make my way down from the botanical gardens soon in search of lunch.

Pocus, my friend and cat of 23 years, was euthanized this evening. He's been having seizures since late last week as a result of renal failure. The kidney failure was bound to be terminal and the seizures were causing brain damage and stress for him. So my mum took him to the vet and they put him down before he was in too bad of shape from him rapidly declining health.

I wish I could have been there, but there wasn't anything to be done about it. I'm a wreck today, I miss him terribly and feel bad that my mum had to do this on her own. He and I grew up together, I don't even remember a time when he wasn't around. I knew he was getting old when I left home for college, so I said my goodbyes each time I went home for a weekend visit, just in case. Of course, after 6 years of bracing for his death, I think part of me started to feel like he'd always be around. I haven't seen him since I left the US over a year ago.

Day 1 on the farm

I arrived last night about half past eight. I was quite glad, as we were driving over the countryside, that I hadn’t had to ride a bike. The main roads looked almost wide enough to ride on the side of but the smaller roads would have been impossible and the terrain was never flat for more than 10 meters at a time. It was insane. I would have had a hell of a time getting up here. IF I even managed at all.
The farm is a small space, called a lifestyle block, meaning that it is mainly used for maintenance of the owner’s lifestyle, not for profit. They do sell the bulk of their produce and eggs, but also stock the fridge with them too. I just basically shadowed Jeni today as she showed me around from chicken pen to chicken pen, veggie patch to veggie patch. I listened as best I could but my head was reeling with information. I believe we’re going to do some planting tomorrow, so I probably will get dirtier than I did today.

I have never seen cobweb as a decorating scheme before. There are spiders in every corner of this house, hanging from lamps and lining window panes.

Today, we made the rounds and watered a few areas that were drying out, fed the animals and headed over to Jeni’s sister’s farm for the afternoon. Jeni was working out one lovely gray mare there with the friendliest personality while I took a brief nap on the living room sofa. I had, after all ,only gotten a few hours sleep last night, what with the wild horrors of sleeping with spiders in my room and the rooster crowing from 4am onward. Then we cut a dozen lengths of bamboo from a high field in Virginia’s farm to be used as support frame to hang netting from to give the new planting area shade before we put the young tomato plants in the ground.

Walkin' in Auckland

Well folks, I'm happy to the point of giddy today. I arrived in Auckland yesterday too tired to see straight. I had an 11hour flight from London to Hong Kong and stayed at the airport for about 8 hours before boarding another 11 hour flight to Auckland. I had my hand luggage pretty loaded down because of an unusually small weight limit imposed on my checked bags. I was glad to see that HK airport had little baggage carts available for carry-ons so while I was killing time there I didn't have to hang 10 kilos from my shoulders.
I got a shuttle from the airport that dropped me right in front of the backpackers lodge. I climbed into bed almost immediately and slept easily for about 16 hours. This morning I woke up worrying if I'd made the right decision coming here. I'm missing home and all the people there. But here I am, so I must go about getting things done. So since the buses are on strike right now, I walked to the grocery store which is north on Ponsonby rd and east down College Hill. It was a long walk and I hadn't eaten in really more than 24 hours since breakfast on the airplane yesterday. So I stopped at ThirtyNine Cafe on the way. Had two double espressos and a huge sandwich which was a BLT with honey pesto and avocados on it. Very nearly heaven. With renewed vigor I walked on, listening to my ipod on the way. I couldn't help but grin most of the way. Doubt about my choices disappearing with every step. I can't explain how much at home I feel here already. Friendly faces passing me on the street and big lovely trees lining the streets. The city, so far, reminds me a lot of Seattle not only from the skyline but also from the style of shops and restaurants and cafes here. Not to mention the hills and greenery around.
I'm at Verandahs backpackers lodge on Hopetourn Rd, just arounnd the corner from Ponsonby Rd. The backside of the hostel overlooks Western Park here.

I saw London, I saw France, I saw Belgium's Petit Prince!

So I was at Brussels Central train station this afternoon, returning from Zaventem because Kelly and Gudrun had a plumber coming this morning and they asked if I could be there to let him in. Anyway, when I got to Brussels I saw a gaggle of police loitering by the exit I was planning to use. I figured it wasn't anything serious as they were standing there looking like they were trading recipies for banana rhubarb crumble, so I smiled and continued on my way. No sooner had I walked through the door but I hear a police whistle coming from the street around the corner. I sat down for a minute to enjoy the fine fall weather we've been having when two cars with black windows and a motorcycle police escort pull up to the door. The police nonchalantly swarm as a few guys step out and shake hands and all with every bit the air of diplomacy. Rather a curious but uneventful show.
About a minute after that some guy comes weaving out of the train station; leans down in front of me grinning and says "I just saw Belgium's Prince, did you?" Well, I suppose I did!
Of course he quickly continued his path round the tree I was sitting in front of and proceeded to void his bladder to the tune of his mixture of humming and whistling. I decided the show was over and it was probably time for me to move, before the urine had a chance to roll downhill 'round the tree.

First Tattoo

So this seagull tattoo was a combination of inspirations. It started a couple of years ago when I read "Siddhartha" by Herman Hesse. In it the title character goes on a quest from his parents house and the life he'd known as the son of a Brahman to find meaning in his life, he goes through a series of lives from studying religion in a large following to living as a kept man with his wealthy lover to living as a ferryman by the river and as I remember, he made reference many times to the bird in his breast, the voice of joy and his sense of life. Sometimes he thought it was dead and other times it felt alive and gave him hope. I really liked that symbol, it jumped out to me and stuck with me ever since. I knew someday I would get a bird tattooed on my chest somewhere in honor of the bit of myself I see in Siddhartha.

Then a few months ago I read "Johnathan Livingston Seagull" by Richard Bach. This was about a seagull who wanted to learn to fly, to really fly, not just for the sake of getting to food fastest like the rest of his flock but for the thrill and the challenge of flying with excellence. So he was shunned by the great flock because he refused to be one of the hundreds squabbling over scraps of food and because he insisted on flying better each day than he did before. He got hurt over and over pushing his limits and still continued. Eventually he reached a higher state of consciousness and found a sort of seagull heaven where other seagulls have gone, only the ones who fought for perfection in flight, and so he learned from his teacher and from the other seagulls and was eventually able to get back to his own flock, the one that cast him out, to encourage other like-minded seagulls to keep fighting for what they want to learn. Then I decided that the bird on my chest would be a seagull.
Clearly it is a seagull in flight and if you notice the the silhouette of this bird is a bird changing course. One wing up and one wing down with eyes always on the ground (the blacked in silhouette though makes it impossible to tell which direction it is going). It is also facing left, towards my heart. So it is that the tattoo is the Johnathan Seagull in my breast, drawn to be forever changing direction and forever following my heart.



Myriam Fallon is the wonderful photographer to document my tattoo session. Happy? :-)


Update 4/13/2017: I lost my job just 2 months ago. The day after my crushing defeat of being fired, I realized this bird has been silent for many years. Here's hoping I can make him sing again.

The Girls are back in town

Myriam returned from her month long stay in France on Monday night with a million and one tales of idyllic life on L'Ile de Brehat and last night Amber took the train from London. It's like old times to have the trio back together again. Though with a bittersweet taint, Myriam is leaving for the states on Sunday and Amber returns to the UK on Friday, so our moments together are numbered. So while I'm so happy we all have lives to continue on living in our separate directions, it would be nice to not part ways again.

Well my month long holiday is over, sooner than I expected. Courtney's visit was great fun,, we saw soooo much stuff while she was here which was really cool. I think she'll be limping for a few weeks yet from all the walking we did, but I think she'll get over it. haha
The return of the family though means that my year here is almost over! I'm starting to get my ducks in a row for New Zealand. I've had my ticket booked for months now. I have a 7 hour layover in Hong Kong International, so I should be fine even if my first flight is delayed a bit. I booked a hostel in Auckland, a quiet family owned place this time instead of the bustling Hosteling International joints I usually haunt. I figured I might have a better chance to catch up on my jet lag and meet a few nice folks at a less mainstream hostel. Though all the reviews and photos seem like it is a really nice homey feeling place. The currency exchange rate really works in my favor too, I'm only paying about 12 euros a night. I started sending out farm requests this week also. I have two replies so far. One to the north and one to the south of Auckland (both within 2 comfortable days cycling range) The one to the North sounds more my style, so I think I might take them up on the offer. But I need to talk to the owners about a few more details before we decide on anything.
I talked to a bike shop in Auckland who said they could outfit me with a bike and luggage racks inside of 24 hours after my arrival in NZ, provided I give them a bit of advanced notice when I'm arriving and send them my height measurements, it sounded like they'd set aside a few second hand bikes in my size for me to try out.

Longest 24 hours

So...Courtney was supposed to be here yesterday morning, but her first flight was delayed from DC to Philly and she missed her connection. As it happens there aren't so many flights from Brussels to Philly. One, in fact. So while I've had a really long day I'm sure her day has been infinitely longer in terminal F of the Philly international airport. I just checked her flight status and she is supposed to be early, however she has to find her luggage which apparently was sent on to Brussels without her via London. Why they didn't just put her on those flights also, I'll never understand. Oh well, c'est la vie.
I'm really looking forward to seeing her now. I will be dragging her around today just trying to keep her from falling asleep too early.

Safety Last

On one of my days off in Barcelona, I decided to try and catch up with some Couch Surfers. I looked through the list of events planned for the day and saw that there were a group of folks going to see a movie in the park in a part of town I hadn't seen yet. It was up on a hill called Montjuïc. So I decided to go up before the movie started and have a look around. Now there are lots to see up there, including the National Palace and a small village, but I was near the old castell which is a fortress and the Montjuïc gardens. I didn't know what to expect as I'm a terrible tourist and never do my homework, plus my guide book was in French, so I knew it was a fortress and some other basic information but the more complicated language of the descriptions was beyond my holiday motivations to translate. Figured I'd just see it for myself. So i packed up my day pack and headed for the subway. Took the subway to the funicular and then took a gondola called the teleferic up the rest of the way.
When I reached the top I had to wander around a bit to find where I was going but eventually found the castell. It was late in the afternoon when I made it up there, so the crowds were sparse. these are the gardens that lined the outside of the fort walls.
The movie wasn't starting until after dark around 10pm, but the teleferic stopped running around 6 or 7 so I had some time to walk through the casteel and around the gardens outside. I circled the top of the castell enjoying the views of the city and the harbor. The city is far more massive than I'd pictured from down on the ground and from where I was sitting I could see the huge cargo boxes being moved around the shipping yard by cranes. I stood and watched that for the better part of an hour, the odd ballet of machines, boxes and ships. There was one ship coming into port while I was up there, a massive thing which in the entire time I was up there probably only moved 100 feet as it maneuvered diagonally into the dock.
Since the movie wasn't starting for a while yet, I walked long the trail circling the fort after it had closed to tourists for the day and sat down to read for a bit. It was extremely quiet and peaceful up there after the tourists left and before the movie goers arrived. I watched the most amazing sunset over the city as the sun dipped below one of the mountains in the distance.
The couch surfers were planning to meet in the city and take a special service bus up the hill, but since I was already up there, I thought I could just keep an eye out for CS looking folks and go introduce myself. Of course what I didn't count on was the crowd this event would draw. There were thousands of people who showed up all on a series of these special service buses, so I never did find the couch surfers. I bought my ticket and rented a lawn chair, found a space in the field and settled in for the movie. Most everyone brought pick nick supplies and more than a few bottles of wine, so I felt a bit out of place sitting alone without any food, but enjoyed watching friends finding one another in the crowd. I could tel that many of these people came on a regular basis to this event (so would I if I lived there) You can see the folks gathering here. There was a local Spanish band to play musci on the stage while people were settling in. I got there early so I got a perfect spot on the lawn (they lowered the big light between me and the screen after the band was finished, before the movie started. The movie was an old silent American film called "Safety Last" so language wasn't a problem. The hand written conversation cards in the film were still written in English. The part that really surprised me is that the film society had hired a pianist to play the score to the movie, so the soundtrack was live. Every once in a while 'd forget that it was live and then look down to see the pianist on the stage there, still playing away. It was a 90 minute score that lasted from opening credits to the end. Quite astounding. He got a huge round of applause after the movie was over and a bouquet of yellow roses bigger than his arm after the film. He got another standing ovation as he left the through the crowd. The only was to get down from the hill after the movie was again on the special service buses unless you drove up there, so as the mopeds drove away we waited on the street for the buses to arrive. Finally 3 buses came and everyone piled in. I'd gone for another stroll after the movie, so I was near the end of the line. Each of the 3 buses were packed from back to front standing room only. Luckily since I was near the end of the line about 4 people got on the bus behind me, so I was near the front next to the driver. There was space to fit one more person aboard, so I had a bit of breathing space there at the front. Unlike in the other buses where people had to shift and squeeze just to shut the door. haha! All in all it was quite a spectacular night. It would have been different had I found the couch surfers, but I rather enjoyed my time alone to think and watch people.

Strangers in the park

It was a nice sunny day out today, so Myriam and I got a picnic lunch and hiked over to one of the parks in her neighborhood. We took a sheet to sit on and a kite to fly, just in case the wind picked up and brought along with it a frivolous sense of silliness. We spread the sheet under the edge of a shade tree. I sat on the sunny side of the sheet while she sat in the shade. We were sharing potato chips and some humus and torn off pieces of pita when a friendly guy came over and started to chat with us. He didn't have more than 5 words of English to string together so he kept on going in French in spite of Myriam's and my bewildered looks of concentration.

You see, if you've never tried to carry on a conversation in a foreign language, you may not realize the amount of concentration it takes to keep up. There's the initial translation which is a choppy mix of verbs and nouns and then there is an undercurrent of conversation going on in your head where you take the rough translation and polish it into terms and phrases that would be more common in your own native tongue. For example: J'ai faim. Je veux faire une recherche pour un sandwich. Means literally: I have hunger. I want in the near future to make a search for a sandwich. Which sounds ugly and cumbersome in my head, so giving the benefit of the doubt that this person is not in fact speaking like a moron, in my own tongue he would say something like : I'm hungry, so I'm gonna go grab a sandwich.

It is really energy consuming. Luckily, or unfortunately, for me my French is not fast enough to really contribute much to a conversations aside from lively facial expressions and general mutterings of assent or dissent.

Well this guy lit up a cigarette and asked if he might sit with us. We agreed to that and so he kindly sat down on the grass next to our sheet. There was plenty of space on the sheet for company, but I think he gave us a wide berth in deference to our status as strangers. He kept going with a steady stream of French, doubling back to repeat himself when he sensed he'd lost us and tossing in some helpful pantomime when he could. Myriam and I had quick conferences aside when he was paused to change subject to make sure we both were understanding roughly the same points. He spoke about the city and the weather. Then he started getting a bit poetic, explaining to us that he liked to spend time in this park talking with people. He explained that often times folks will share their troubles with him when he talks to them and he is always surprised at how similar all of our problems seem to be. He observed that we all suffer together, yet we tend to suffer separately the hardships of life.
Then he shifted into his own troubles. It seems that he'd recently been released from the Belgian penitentiary system only about 2 weeks prior (hence the spending lots of time in parks) and that he was really grateful for the small things a park can offer like grass to stretch out on in the sun, company for conversation even the occasional dog to play with. It was startling at first, to think we'd invited and ex-convict to lounge with us. But really in the grander scheme of things he was looking for the exact same thing in that park that day as Myriam and I were. A place to relax and enjoy the weather and the company. To appreciate the finer things in life.

By the time Myriam and I had to leave, this stranger had been speaking to us for nearly two hours. My head was swirling and heaving from translations. Though I was quite proud of myself for being able to keep up with just about everything he said and even when I didn't understand word for word the context was still clear to me. We left giggling about lunching with inmates but carrying a general air of pride about our progress, both of us having stepped off the airplane in Brussels 8 months ago with not a word of French. We declined to give our friendly stranger our phone numbers but parted with hugs and kissed cheeks and best wishes.

Farmers throw a fit and I miss Spain

So I was supposed to go to Spain today to see Kelly. She's in Valladolid for work and has been shut in a lab all week. I was looking forward to going to Spain for the first time and she was really looking forward to a visit from someone who speaks English (though I'm sure that wasn't her only motivation)
I left Leuven with Gudrun several hours in advance of our flight. We should have made it there with hours to waste, but we got to the E40 and had no where to go. Traffic was parked in front of us as far as the eye could see, the overpasses were stuck just the same. There was no where to go and there didn't seem to be any news of the traffic hold up on the radio, so there we sat in the car watching the minutes tick away before our flight. No news, no progress. Finally, after our check-in gate had already closed and our flight was boarding did we make our way to en exit not the airport, just the first exit from the highway). I called the airline to see if there was any hope that our flight had been delayed, but nothing so we packed it in as a bad job and went home. When we got home, it turns out that all over the news was the story about dairy farmers protesting the low price of milk. They were purposely stopping the E40 in both directions for demonstration. Even more irritating than that is that I got stuck in the demonstration AT Schuman circle yesterday. They'd setup police barricades and barbed wire fences and I never even considered that the protest would still be going on today, let along affect traffic patterns 20k outside the city.
Kelly was really bummed we missed the weekend, but she sent out 3 invitations to go with her to Salamanca on Couch Surfing to local travelers and got a reply from a couple of students from France studying in Spain for the semester. So they ended up having a fun time, that is Kelly's story though. If we all ask nicely, I hope she will post it here in a comment, the story about big coincidences in a small world. C'mon Kel. Please?

...Like West Virginia, but without the possums.

I just got home from a long weekend in Normandy with Myriam, Kelly, and 6 of Kelly's friends and colleagues.
I went to Leuven on Wednesday night and we left bright and early on Thursday morning for Normandy, in France. Which I find amusing because before this trip, the only time Normandy had ever flitted through my consciousness was during history class in the chapter about 'Operation Overlord' or whatever during World War II. So to holiday there was a bit out of context to me.

Needless to say it was amusing all of three of us to find that the new David Sedaris book just happened to contain several stories about his life in Normandy. Complete coincidence. Kelly brought the book along to read during her spare time, but Myriam ended up reading the book, in its entirety, aloud while Kelly drove. I'm quite amazed that she had the patience to do that.

Sedaris, in one of his stories, said that he never wears shorts in France, except when he is in Normandy. He described Normandy as being the West Virginia of France...but without possums. As we were driving around the region we were amazed at how accurate that was.

The drive was gorgeous and we made a few stops along the way. The first was at a beach with white cliffs around, the ground was covered in baseball sized rocks instead of sand which made the footing a bit reminiscent of of a massive ball pit. I think most, if not all, of the rocks were geodes to Kelly's delight. These are a type of rock which is hollow with the inside covered in crystals. Quite gorgeous, some of them are. We climbed the path up the side of one of the cliffs for a breathtaking postcard view of the beaches below. It was quite cool to be at eye level with the soaring gulls and look down over the adorable town below.

Next we went to a distillery (now turned museum) that was built to look an awful lot like an abbey. They made apple brandy there so I tried some at their bar, but we all decided to pass on the admission cost into the rest of the museum. Apparently apple brandy is a staple in Normandy.

The campground we stayed at was a quaint trailer park/camp ground. We rented 2 trailers for the weekend for the 9 of us. The trailers had bed space for 8. There were 2 couples and 5 single folks in the group. Wassim so kindly volunteered to sleep with anyone since we were short one bed. Haha, nice try. Myriam and I ended up splitting the task of babysitting the couch, she took the first 2 nights and I took the third.

We were supplied with 2 complimentary bottles of local hard apple cider (one per trailer) so we popped the cork on the first bottle soon after arriving and settling in. I regret that to this day. The cider had a peculiar pork-like quality to it that refused to leave my taste buds for the rest of the evening. It wasn't just in my head either, other folks confirmed my accusations that the cider carried a distinct bacon flavor on the after. In spite of that though, the second bottle was still consumed (not by me!) before the weekend was out.

The next day we slept in and slowly gathered around noon-ish to leave for Mont-St-Michel which is a small island city (exclusively operating for tourists these days) there is a dyke wall built now because it is quite possible to get stranded by the tides. I read they come in at about 1 meter per second which sounds faster than I would have guessed, but they say that some visitors still occasionally get lost in the tides from time to time, so the tidal flats are pretty closely monitored by the police. Kelly and Myriam were asked to move by one of them just before the tide started rolling in, as they were playing in the mud unaware how soon the tide was due. About 5 minutes later the spot where they were mucking around was completely cut off from the shore by tidal water. Ugh! Tourists! haha
In spite of that bit of excitement, I didn't really enjoy this day trip much. The place was packed wall to wall with ambling tourists and hot with midday sun. It had a Busch Gardens feel to it with the main street lined with nothing but cafes slowly serving 6 euro beers (something like UD$8) and tacky gift shops. Myriam set out with her camera to capture the touristic atrocity while Kelly and I found a sunny spot in a slightly quieter garden in which to lay down and read. We were supposed to regroup at the main gate at 5pm. About half of our party was on time, the other half rolled in about half past 6 which put those of us that were ready to leave on edge. The late comers decided to go eat dinner on the island, an expensive proposition Myriam Kelly and I (and 2 others) didn't want to mess with. So slightly annoyed at being asked to wait on them, the 5 of us hiked back to the cars to pass the time. Luckily there was some white beer in the trunk that would easily pass as drinkable even warm, so we had ourselves a real tailgate party drinking Belgian beer beside the abbey island in the West Virginia of France. Oh, the irony! The others finally joined us again around 9 sated and cheerful. The tailgaters, although still a little bitter but laughing nonetheless at the hilarity of the idea of a French tailgate party, had a few drinks back at the campground bar and called it a night early.

The next day went scarcely better in terms of communication and cooperation. It seems like we were always waiting on someone who thought they were waiting on us, so little got accomplished aside from pissing everyone off over the lack of organization. We got stuck in traffic because of an unexpected festival and what was supposed to be a 10 minute drive from town to shore took almost an hour. We were told tat we would be rewarded for our grid-locked patience by a bluff overlooking the sea that would make everything worth it. In the end we climbed a couple of hills and never found the way to the bluff around the private property and no trespassing signs. Gave up that tack and got BACK into the cars to drive to shore. Long story short...never try to split 1 tour book between 9 tourists!

We did finally make it to the beach, and I'm not clear where we were and if this was one of the beaches responsible for the generation of oh-so-many-bad-war-sagas but it was sandy and interesting and we could all take a stroll at our leisure. We did encounter some French folks on the beach digging for stuff. One entire family were raking the shores for some sort of sea life, it looked vaguely shrimp-like though I'm not the one to consult on the matter. Another man managed to communicate to us, through our rudimentary French skills and no small degree of pantomime, that he was digging up these 6 inch long tube shaped shells because they contained a critter that was great for fishing bait. If you asked me, it looked like a string of booger when he pulled one out to show us. Still, always exciting to meet new folks and see new things (even if those things turn you off food for a day and a half)

After all of that though, on Saturday night, we played the best game of Monopoly I've ever been in. It lasted until after 2am with wild scheming and crazy deal-making. I have to give Kelly credit for the best deal of the night. I had a property that one of the other players wanted and she had a property that Kelly wanted and I was pretty low on cash but holding out because my property was the cornerstone in this girl's monopoly of the boardwalk area. So Kelly came up with this hair-brained concept that If I gave my property to the other girl, the other girl gave her property to Kelly Kelly would give me a different property she owned that I had my eye on along with all of the cash in her hand with the caveat that I should pay all of her expenses for 2 turns around around the board (meaning pass go twice and make it back to current spot). Well that's a lot of liquidity and I figured it wouldn't be a big problem. Turns out Kelly cost me many times more than I was expecting and it was painful because as I was making loads of money from aforementioned dealings I was hemorrhaging cash like mad every time she rolled the dice.

It was strange, each of our outings were stressful and frustrating, but the people we were with were really nice folks and I must admit I miss spending hours in a car. Such an American...
I really enjoyed the trip on the whole, so I can't figure out where the frustration left me feeling like I had fun.

Twilight

Man, so I just finished Stephanie Meyer's book Twilight . I bought the electronic version a few weeks ago. I just happened upon it in the eBook store and remembered Chris mentioning he was reading it a while ago, also Rachel had sheepishly admitted that she loved the series and recommended it probably a ear ago, now.
It's been sitting in my book for a few weeks now, I'd read the first 20 pages or so here and there at bus stops and in between other books but finally sat down to read it yesterday. I couldn't put it down after that. In the last 48 hours I've had that book with me at all times, taking every chance I got to read a few more pages on the train, before the bus came, on the bus, waiting for the boys to come out of class, etc. I've happily lost a bit of sleep over it too. It's now half past 1 in the morning and I'm shopping for the next book in the series.
Not particularly exciting news, not really anything to do with me living in Europe except that I've really been enjoying my time to read for fun, at my own pace, and read whatever the heck I want to. I luxury I often missed in the past. Am I ever going to adjust to a life after this when I don't get to read all day? Sounds criminal.

Gay Pride parade

I managed to catch the Brussels Gay Pride parade after I got back from dropping Ben off In Brugge (it's in Belgium).

There was a huge gathering down by central station and I met up with Myriam, who was photographing bits of the fanfare as it passed, and Christoff, a fellow couch surfer. It was quite amusing to me; I never made it to the DC parade while I was in Virginia and it was just too depressing to even consider going to the Richmond parade (I had this horrible fear that it would be this tragic gathering of 20-some-odd folks and a flag down by the 17th street market and could never bring myself to attend for fear I might be right).

The festivities had a good chunk of downtown tied up in knots. People in the parade looked like they were still having fun though I think they'd been parading for better than an hour by the time they got to the place in the route where I was sitting. There were a few floats that were on the tragic side, namely the AIDS awareness float which consisted of a large container truck with roof and no sides with 6 banners hung from the top edges. The truck was empty except for 3 guys on folding metal chairs who were there, i guess, just to keep an eye on things. A bit stark in the midst of float after float that looked like a cross-section of a dance club. The other that kinda made me chuckle morosely was one truck with two old queens smiling and waving their hearts out under a deck umbrella. It's hard to describe and I don't have a photo, but suffice it to say it was all I could to to keep from chasing them down and hugging each of them. Keep the faith, fellas! On the other hand we did see a spot-on Mary Poppins and Burt 'steppin' in time' only a few dozen meters in line behind "float" (read- large green hum-vee) sponsored by the apparently military and muscles themed private men's club....hmmm

For the most part though, good fun and some of the most amusing crowd watching I've ever done.

It takes all kinds.

Ben's visit

Kelly and I did have some difficulties meeting Ben yesterday. His first flight was delayed, so he missed his connection, had to be rerouted to Madrid and then take a smaller flight in the evening to Brussels. Which meant he had about an extra 12 hours of airports than he was bargaining for, and then on top of that didn't find our meeting place for over an hour.
Of course, trooper that he is, Ben was still game for going out in the city with Kelly and I. We took him on the peeing tour of Brussels which includes a drink at the pub catty-cornered from Mannaquin Pis (the little peeing boy fountain...how did that get to be famous?!?) a drink at Delrium which is a great touristy bar with 2004 different beers in their fridge, it is across from Jenneka Pis (Mannequin Pis' female counterpart) and then a trip over to one of my favorite Bruxelloise bars- MONK, next to St. Catherine's square (if you've been reading my blog, you probably recall why this was on the tour)
One of the most amusing parts of MONK is that it is absolutely sans frills, they have beer and liquor. If you want to mix the liquor they have a few bottles of sparkling water and juices, you can mix it yourself. Don't forget to ask for ice if this is important to you. The only food in the place is a long string of sausages that hangs from a nail on the wall behind the bar. They'll cut one off for you (with what I believe is something like a box cutter) and hand it to you wrapped in a napkin with a little container of mustard. Only choice is mustard or not.
Well Ben decided he wanted to try the sausage (which I have only grimaced at all year) but dared me to take a bite too. I said it was a deal on one condition- I'll take a bite after he has two. I wanted to make sure he would take one bite and still have the stomach to come back for another one before I was going anywhere near it. Well he did, so I did...it was gross. There was a snap, then a squish and then I had little bits of gristle stuck in my teeth for the next half hour. An adventure, to be sure, but not one I'll be coming back for more of.
Gudrun came and picked us up in the city, she was supposed to join us but she got lost in the city (no big wonder) so it was late by the time she found her way back. We went back to Leuven and had one more beer in the living room before calling it a night.
Ben met his friends in Brugge today at 2. We took the train up from Leuven which arrived around noon, so we had 2 hours to wander around the city and grab a tasty take away sandwich from a little restaurant near the center before I left him back at the hotel with the other folks who were on the trip with him.
Nice visit with my cousin. Though I was looking forward to showing him around Bruxelles all day, we still managed to get in the really key parts- revelry and beer!

Midi Market and Yoga

I went to the Sunday market at Gare du Midi this morning. It's huge and packed to the gills with suspiciously cheap clothes and endless amount of produce. We met Hannah (fellow au pair and couch surfer) there and had Moroccan pancakes for lunch, sort of Morocco's answer to Belgian Crepes, with cheese and a few kinds of different olives, onions, grape leaves, red pepper etc. DELICIOUS!

Then we got out of there because the crowd was overwhelming. Went to a little cafe near Saint Gilles and had beer and coffee. Liz met us there after a little while. Someone mentioned yoga in the park, so around 3:30 we left and went home to change clothes and we met again in the royal park at 6. Cecelia was directing us and she's not an instructor, but was still really nice. We were there for about an hour and a half or so.

The weather was perfect today, sunny but cool in the shade. All in all a pretty terrific day.

I see trees of green, red roses too.

Spring is here! The cloudy skies cleared up, the trees turned green, the flowers started blooming and the pigeons got randy. It is pretty amazing to me every season, but especially this year. I've seen two seasons change and the daylight hours shift in discrete detail. I have literally stopped to smell the flowers on several occasions.

The reason I am so amazed is because in years past I've gotten in my car to drive to my parents house from Richmond and about 45 minutes into the drive I suddenly realize that all of the trees have already lost most of their leaves and I marvel at the fact that I missed it all. Where was my attention since summer??? Seriously, how distracted can one person be?

I'm not just getting to travel and see Europe, I'm also learning a new speed of life. I know it sounds cliche and it is tough to explain but I'll give it a shot. When I came to Belgium, I was expecting my mere attendance to change my life. I was sorely disappointed when I realized that folks here rushed off to work and ran errands in spare time and worked too much overtime just like us Americans. (Admittedly this may be an anomaly of the capitol of Belgium and the EU...big shit happens here) I was watching all of this rush around me and I was sat there thinking "Well just great, now who is gonna fix me?!?" But my life here moves slower than anyone else around me. Sure I go to French class 6 hours a week and I watch the boys for 20 hours, but other than that the rest of the 142 hours a week are mine to do with whatever I want!
I don't have errands to run or grocery shopping to get done. I take care of my own laundry, but beyond that I'm a free woman. It's not as glamorous as it may seem at first. Let me tell you right now that I have time and again had to fight back the near crushing waves of guilt for not being "employed." That's just a symptom of my upper middle class american upbringing. At the same time though, I've had oodles of time for conversations with myself (no, not the crazy kind...call off the men in white coats) but real honest to god chats with me about just what the hell I'm doing here on this planet. You all know that I'm normally introspective, so to improve on that you can imagine the work I'm doing. Some days I curse myself for coming here, not making the 'wise career moves.' Nowadays though I'm coming to accept that I'm not a career kind of person. Never will be. I'm not a strategic person, I'm just a curious person. So for all of this talking to myself and flower sniffing, I've come to the conclusion that I need to keep following my curiosities whatever they may be and forget how each piece will fit into a master plan.
My master plan is this...fuck it, I'm having fun.

Bad Influence

I painted the boy's fingernails black yesterday.

I was having a tough time this week with the boys. It seemed like they were more restless than usual, kicking one another and tugging on backpack straps and so on. I couldn't get them to calm down no matter what I tried and running around the playground on Tuesday after school only wound them up some more. Thursday was shaping up to be just as rotten after only about 30 seconds out of the school doors. I was really getting tired of dealing with their crap, feeling like I didn't want to be here. So, I decided, if I could keep them as busy as possible maybe they'd fall in line a bit.

After we left the bus, I challenged the boys to a race home. First one to the door gets to unlock it (keys being a rare treat). Then after they put their shoes and coats away I made up a scavenger hunt. Most of the things were easy to find but I added 1 blue marble to the list that I knew would take them a long time to find. It did, finally after about 10 minutes of searching they asked for a substitution, so I asked them to bring me the puzzle piece that is between J and L on their alphabet puzzle. Woo! So far, so good. (that's not a pop quiz. stop singing the alphabet song in your head.)

They were getting hungry so I made them dinner. They got a bit of chicken first then had to eat a carrot and their yogurt before they were allowed to have more chicken. Then I proceeded to draw every car of a toy train of theirs, by request, in the order that Matt chose. They just watched, but Tom handed me the markers when I called out a color and Matt held the train pieces for my artistic inspiration.

After I finished that, the boys noticed my fingernails which I had repainted red the night before (they were black when I came back from London and they noticed that on Monday). The boys begged so I finally I conceded and painted all 20 anxious little fingernails black. I was really not sure how Valerie would react to this, but whatever, it is removable.

Then came the challenging part, not getting wet fingernails on the furniture, floors, walls etc. So we spend the next 20 minutes doing every dance I could think of. We did the macarena, the hokey-pokey, the funky chicken and a few Matt made up which looked suspiciously like the afore mentioned dances only faster and gigglier.

Today I'm a little sore from all of the running around and wrestling and dancing yesterday, but it worked. For the most part they were too frantically busy to be a pain in the ass.

Turns out Valerie loved the nail polish. She was quite amused (*phew*) and FX made jokes when he got home about how scary they were while growling and making monster claws with his own hands, so I still have a job. haha Lets just see if I can keep the job for another 7 months AND my sanity too.

To London Town

I'm back from London after a week in the rainy city. Luckily the weather was amazing! We had a few slightly drizzly hours in the middle of the week, but that didn't even warrant an umbrella and on Friday we were happily without coats during the day. Sun was shining and the temperature was in the mid 50s fahrenheit. Myriam and I were couch surfing again, so the cost of the trip was minimal. We stayed with 2 different hosts this time since our holiday was longer than usual (2-3 nights is customary length for surfing, though I've met some folks who stay in one place for months)
Our first host, Dave, is an elementary school science teacher for 10 and 11 year old kids. He was really fun, and tall, Aussie born he moved to London about a year ago. On our first night there we arrived about in London St. Pancras train station about 5 and made our way to Putney. The neighborhood was adorable as all get out. When we found Dave's place it was about dinner time. Dave said he just got home from a snowboarding holiday so the cupboards were bare. With that we put our bags down and went to the grocery store. Dave gave us the option to walk or take the bus. We decided to walk since the weather was so nice. We made a pesto pasta dinner with a sun dried tomato pesto sauce and lots of veg. I've never heard of any but the usual basil pesto so it was a nice surprise. After dinner Dave brought out Jenga (or rather Tension Tower, a jenga knock-off, but identical in every way). Jenga is a funny game there aren't any winners, just losers and everyone else. Must say though, I didn't lose like a pro in both rounds!

Tuesday Myriam and I went to the Tate Modern which was quite cool. I'm not much of a fan of modern art for the most part, but there was plenty of Picasso and Pollock to make me happy and half a dozen pieces I was quite impressed by. I'm liking Pollock more and more with each piece I see and we all know Picasso has had my heart forever. There was one piece that Myriam wanted to see again regardless of what we did with the rest of the day. I don't remember the name of the painting or artist. It was a large blue canvas with a small section of red at the bottom and yellow and black at the top. It was infuriating to me which is difficult to describe because as much as I hated it, I must admire it for evoking such strong emotion. Ok, here's the best I can do to describe my take on it...
The blue of the piece was gorgeous, so I was pissed off that the ugly yellow and red were there, but without the yellow and red, I don't think the blue would be remarkable at all. I'll have to see if I can find a photo of the painting I'm talking about. Hm, da-da-da....moving on.

That evening after Amber got off work we picked her up at the mall and all 4 of us went to a blues club downtown that Dave really liked. They have live music every night of the week, so it was really good fun and packed (in a nice way, not the over crowded way the pub in Paris was) Dave was nice enough to offer couch space to Amber, so we all four went home after the blues bar. In the morning after everyone else had gone to work, Amber Myriam and I set out for a bit of shopping. The girls bought some new tights and leg warmers (man, the early 90s are back in a big bad way here, is it the same in the states?) and I bought a new pair of shoes: cute little black mary janes with a scallop cut on the edge. Amber gave Myriam and I fresh haircuts and Amber and Myriam bought glue on nails for a goof. I think they're having fun with them, they were all the same length or shorter than my nails, so I had a glass of wine while they glued. haha We called it an early night around 9 because it was gonna take us a bit of time to get back across town to Dave's and we didn't want to keep him up too late waiting for us on a school night. When we got home, Dave was just chilling in the living room so we all hung out for a bit. Watched a couple comedy acts on YouTube. I schooled Dave on George Carlin and Myriam on Tim Minchin who is my newest discovery. He's a hilarious songwriter/comedian. Minchin, coincidentally, is from Perth the same hometown as Dave! Small world.

We were supposed to change couches on Thursday, but our second host mixed up his schedule and already had visitors staying on Thursday night. So Dave, angel that he is, ran it by his roommates and let us stay an extra night. On Thursday we went to the National Gallery just off of Trafalger Square. Some really stunning pieces in there, my favorite was "The Execution of Lady Jane Grey." In it the Lady is wearing a white silk dress which managed to look more real than actual silk. I was quite awestruck. I read a bit more about the painting in the museum's computer lab, or whatever you'd call it. It was an online library of all of the pieces in the museum. If you're ever in London, make this a must-stop, photos of the painting don't nearly do it justice. Towards the end of the day we got a text from Dave asking if we were interested in going to a pub quiz. Hells-yeah! So we went home and made some dinner and met some of Dave's teacher friends for the quiz. I kicked a bit of ass at that, f.y.i., though not enough to get us the win. I about jumped out of my chair when one of the questions turned out to be "Which of England's monarchs was only in power for 9 days?" Wouldn't you know it was Lady Jane Grey!!!! Well I was so excited by this coincidence I nearly shouted the answer. So I think everyone else in the pub got that answer right. haha Just goes to show the real power of museum field-trips; Gives you the edge in a pub-quiz!

On Friday we got a bit of a late start as our second host, Sam, was in the hospital from the night before. Seems he twisted his ankle pretty bad dismounting a bus. We talked with him for 15 minutes or so after we got there, but that was all we saw of him. We headed out again to pick up Amber after work. We got a late lunch at the mall and hung around for a couple hours while she finished up work. We were all going to go out to her house for a bit, to freshen up and get ready for a night on the town. I was meeting Amane, a friend of Gudrun's I met over our New Year holiday, at 8 in the center of the city. By the time we made it through the Friday rush-hour crowd in the tube, it was time for me to head back for my meeting with Amane. Unfortunately I had decided to wear my new shoes this day and they were giving me killer blisters! So, well and truly surpassing Amber in her hobo style, I borrowed the socks from Myriam's feet! She was wearing tights too, so could manage without but I was dying. Not one of my classier moments, but it must have looked hilarious/disgusting watching two girls swap socks on the sidewalk outside the tube station. I had a coffee with Amane and a friend of hers in Neil's Yard and a beer at First Out Bar before meeting up with Myriam and Amber again. Amane went home because her stomach was upset. The three of us, Amber Myriam and I, went to a bar which vaguely resembled a freshman year basement party but with slightly better music. It wasn't the best night ever, last call was about 1am and then we wandered around looking for another place that was open. London closes early even compared to the states. Especially early contrasted with Brussels. That's all, we got a bit lost on the night buses and ended up taking a taxi across Acton to save some hassle. Got about an hour and a half of sleep before we left to catch our train back to Belgium. Sam was still asleep, so we left a note and Amber didn't show up at the train station in the morning to say good bye, so we had a quiet departure. We almost missed our train because we accidently read the arrivals board instead of the departures and there was a train FROM Brussels that was running 20 minutes late so we were putzing around in the station. Luckily I decided we should head to the platform early, which turned out to be only about 2 minutes before our train pulled out of the station. Close call.

The Magic of Ginger

I have come to believe that ginger can heal just about anything. It lifts my mood, calms my stomach and now it cures a sore throat.
I woke up yesterday with a sore throat but didn't do much about it. Today I woke up barely able to swallow, and certainly not without cringing. I've been drinking tea and honey all day which helped a little but out of curiosity I diced up some ginger and plopped it in some boiling water and sipped on that, it felt better. After the tea was finished, again just out of curiosity, I chewed on a couple of those bits of ginger and let the juice settle on the back of my throat where the pain is coming from. Wouldn't you know it in about 20 seconds my throat feels better than it has all day. Even better than the aspirin I had this morning. I am just floored and wanted to share.

Though I'll caution anyone who is also curious, I've been eating ginger for years and have a taste for it, it is way to spicy for some people so don't just go gnawing away on a ginger root.

To Paris and back in 24 hours

So I got back from Paris around 7 pm today. I know, how cheesy is that, to be in Paris for Valentine's Day?! I assure you all it was a complete accident.
Myriam wanted to go to Paris on Friday night to see a concert. Saul Williams was playing at what turned out to be a reasonably small venue in one of the suburbs of Paris. Tickets were affordable enough, so I decided to go with her. Quell sera, sera! As you guys have read, this is now my third trip to Paris.

We took the bus for a change which worked out nicely. It took significantly longer, but it was half the price of even the cheapest train tickets on Thalys (the high speed train), so no one was complaining. But the ride was fun enough with Myriam's company. We talked mostly about a book of hers I'm reading right now on the way to Paris (it is called Cunt by Inga Muscio, I'd recommend it to just about anyone. In fact, I would even buy you a copy and mail it to you. It's a quick read, light on theory but heavy on emotion and opinion). On the way back Myriam handed me my ass well and thoroughly kicked in a game of Rummy.

So we got to Paris in the afternoon on Friday, just about the time kitchens were closing to prep for dinner. We walked around for a while but never found a suitable place for lunch. We had some odds and ends from a refrigerator case at one deli and called it a meal. Then we promptly walked across the street to and English pub called The Cricketer. Sat down and had a couple of pints before booking it for the concert.

The first band was Anthony Joseph and the Spasm Band. They played for the better part of an hour and got the audience tapping their feet some even danced in the aisle. They had a afro-carribo-jazz sound full of energy.



If you look closely- the woman in the crowd wearing a white sleeved shirt under a black tank top dancing like no body is watching is Myriam. Wee!
Followed by Saul Williams, I wish I had a clip for you but alas you'll have to look him up on youtube or saulwilliams.com I personally preferred his spoken word over his songs, but they were really good nonetheless.
The show let out around midnight and we headed back into the city to meet our Couch Surfing host. Pierre met us in the tiny little bar packed shoulder to shoulder with more quirk in one corner than I've seen in entire pubs before. It was nice to get off the Parisian beaten path for once. We stayed there until we were quite abruptly kicked out. I had to giggle at the experience, one minute we were chatting away in this dark noisy little place the next minute the proprietor flicked the lights on full bright and told us to get out in no uncertain terms. Not mean, just curt. No last call, no warning, just...get out. We wandered around a bit deciding if we were going to stay out or go home. In the end we decided to go home and have a few beers there. Pierre's apartment was tiny with an even smaller bed loft. We found out that we were in fact to be 6 sleeping there. Haha! He had 3 mattresses laid out in the loft and the couch downstairs. I ended up taking the couch around 5:30 am. Got about 4 hours of sleep and laid awake for a while until it was time to get up and pack to leave. Our return bus left at 1:30 which meant we needed to check in before 1.
We skipped breakfast and coffee to be on our way because I suspected the metro ride to the bus station was going to take about an hour. We made a pit stop at a convenience store and picked up some cookies and chips for the road. After we checked in at the bus station, we had a bit of time to kill so we ventured around the corner for a cappuccino and a croissant. That's pretty much all of my tale.
We did end up grabbing some rolls and cheese in the rest stop the bus stopped at en route for a bit of proper food. Topped the sandwiches off with tabbouleh and carrot salad, for lack of other condiments, that was a pretty descent sam'ich. Just in case you were wondering.

Fountain Pen tradition

So in Europe, when kids are learning to write, they get to graduate writing instruments. From pencil to pen and then to fountain pen they move as their writing becomes tidier.
Today Matthieu got a note from his teacher that said he was allowed to start using a fountain pen! I was super excited when I read this because, as all of you probably know, I'm a fan of the stylo-plume (french name for a fountain pen).
I ran upstairs and grabbed my old blue Parker, which is one of my favorites for everyday kind of stuff. It is an inexpensive one but writes clearly with a really smooth nib in all directions. I had cleaned it out earlier today for storage because I'm not using it so much anymore now that I have newer better pens. I was so pleased I happened to have a cartridge of ink lying around too. Normally I use a converter to draw ink from a large pot. It's cheaper and makes far less waste, but the potential for mess is too much for a 6 year old.
Anyway, I brought it down and asked Valerie if it was alright if I gave him one of mine. She said that would be fine as long as it was one that I don't use anymore. So I gave it to Matthieu and showed him how to insert the cartridge and put it back together.
I was super excited because it just so happens that a blue Parker was the first fountain pen I ever owned. Mr. V, my fourth grade English teacher gave it to me. Of course I mangled the nib back then and it never wrote again, but I hung on to the non-functional thing for ages until I could figure out what brand it was so I could replace it. That was hard work because I'd never tried tracking down a pen model before...I didn't even know there were models.
So the pen was ready to go and Mathtieu got some paper out to try it. He scribbled a bit, and I was holding my breath, he set it down and I looked to see what he thought of the fancy new pen. All he says is...
"I don't want that one."

Paris: parte deux

We took the Thalys train to Paris and met John at our hotel in north west area of Paris. It was getting late so we dropped our bags in the rooms and set out to find a few drinks. We found a quaint little wine bar a couple of black away and we split a bottle or red and a bottle of rose. I'm not generally a wine drinker, but hey, when in France...

The next day we slept in until 9:30 or so and Kelly, Gudrun and myself ate a late breakfast in the hotel. John was tired so he slept while we ate. We brought him back some coffee though. (Kelly mentioned that we wanted to take a cup of coffee upstairs for our uncle and by the time we finished with out breakfast there was a whole pot of coffee on a tray with every sort of bread and jam/honey/marmalade they had) We took an easy schedule and when everyone was ready to leave we ambled towards the Arc du Triomphe. Specifically, we went to watch the traffic go round and round the round-about there. I've been told that there is no fault in an accident there. Drivers are equally accountable and damages split 50/50 because this particular spot is complete anarchy. There's room for 5 or 6 car widths to circle easily, but there are no lines laid down and no apparent rules for merging or exiting. Every man for himself. They really should install cameras and broadcast it at some sort of extreme sport.

Next stop was the Eiffel tower making a few side tracks along the Champs-Elysee for coffee and shopping. There were something around 668 steps to the second platform of the tower and a lift to the top. Taking a long rest on the first level and a short rest on the stairs (there were few people climbing the stairs that day so it was no trouble to stop) we climbed every one of those. It was cold and windy but the view was worth it and because of it the crowds were pretty thin. The third level, the one that is enclosed by glass, was obviously a bit busier but not bothersome. There were signs all around you labeled with city names accompanied by the distance from that spot to that city. I doubt that I'd ever be inclined to climb it again, but it is definitely worth doing once for sure.

We had dinner at a cute little French restaurant by Saint Michels. Of note there was the french onion soup. It was quite amazing (though I should tell you all that I've never come across a bowl of french onion soup I didn't fall in love with).

On Sunday I slept in while everyone else went to breakfast and we left somewhere around 11ish. John was interested in tracking down an antiques shop and then the plan was to go to the Picasso Museum. While I was looking in the tour book (for lack of better resources) for an antique dealer, I happened upon a listing for the world's largest flea market. Well who could resist that? We immediately scraped the museum plan and decided to spend the whole day at the flea market. We stopped at an Italian restaurant in the area there where I had the best pizza. It was a plain white pizza with fresh rocket leaves piled high. The contrast of the hot chewy pizza with the cool crunchy greens was awesome. The market was on the far north side of the city, quite out of the way. It is tough to describe quickly and in detail so suffice it to say I had a blast.
After we walked around a bit looking for a fancy place to have a cocktail. We found the Hotel du Louvre had a lovely lounge so relaxed there for a bit. I tried my very first Rob Roy there. It is, as far as I know, a bit old fashioned but I quite liked it. Made me feel fancy! Hehe

Well, check the date on this post and you'll see that this Sunday just happened to be Superbowl Sunday so we all went back to the hotel for a nap, had dinner at this great little cous cous restaurant down the street from our hotel around 10 and were back to the hotel before kick-off at 12:30. We opened the Belgian beers I had brought with me and watched the Superbowl in the hotel. John explained beforehand all the rules of American football to Gudrun who was super excited to watch her first American football game. I must admit I went to sleep early in the game but they watched the entire thing drinking (what Kelly dubbed wussy) Belgian beers and listening to the announcers in French.

The Inaugural Anti-Climax

We celebrated all night long back in November, but now this big day and I was babysitting and the cable was out. I managed to watch the inaugural speech in 2 minute shifts while the boys were distracted, but I don't know anything about the rest of what happened. I hear Bush was escorted to a helicopter by our new president and that some folks were excited to see that.
It seems a little unreal, probably because I'm isolated from all of the circumstance. I suppose also because I hardly believed I'd ever see the day when W would actually go away. Seemed like a nightmare that wouldn't end. He's been our president since I was really old enough to even notice politics.

And then there were two....

Amber left us this morning to move back to London. She is in fact stepping off her train in the UK as I type this. She arrived here 2 months ago and has since been quite a bit part of Myriam's and my life since then it seems like we've all been friends forever.
She is another one I met in my french class, a fellow jeune fille au pair in Brussels, but unlike my story she managed to find what was possibly the single worst family in this city. It never ceased to amuse/horrify me to compare our two lives. She worked 12-13 hours a day while I worked 3, she took care of 4 kids while I have 2, she was left alone frequently for entire weekends with some or all of the kids while her host parents went on holiday while Valerie is horrified if I'm left to deal with the boys for more than 3 and a half hours. The list goes on culminating in my 3 christmas dinners while Amber was sent to eat spaghetti with 11 (count 'em 11) kids and manage to get them all in bed while her host parents and extended family ate a 5 course meal without her. Almost so tragic as to be impossible.
So, while I'll miss her, I'm glad she got out sooner rather than later.



Here is the photo of Amber on the train going to Antwerp just before her birthday dinner. She's warming her shoes on the window vent. Poor thing, born in South African weather, was struggling with the cold. Myriam joked that this was her final descent into hobo. All three of us have made an art of looking about as homeless as possible; wearing several layers of clothing under our coats along with mismatched gloves and hats along with an astonishingly large sack each of all the necessities like tissues, cookies, maps, umbrellas, sometimes a change of clothes, you get the gist. It is surprising people never stopped us to to give alms.

Opples and Bononos

Tonight I couldn't help but eavesdrop. I handed the boys over to Valerie tonight as usual and she took them to the bath. But tonight was more amusing than usual. Sound travels up the stairwell pretty clearly in the house. It was a pretty quiet bath, they're usually splashing around and making the bath toys do nose dives off the spigot with a resounding ker-splosh but not tonight. Tonight I heard Matthieu leading all three of them, Thomas, Valerie and himself, in a rather self-amused rendition of "I like to eat, eat, eat apples and bananas" (for those of you who don't know this timeless classic, it follows the structure of the title/first line swapping out the vowels of the main characters- specifically apples and bananas- with a-e-i-o-u in their respective verses)
Anyway, this tickled me not because he was getting it all wrong and simply repeating his favorite line involving 'Os' but because I'd been singing this song for the majority of the bus ride/walk home from school both to amuse the kids and to keep my mind off of the bitter cold weather we've been having lately. This public display of silliness resulting in vague looks of interest from the boys and a mixture of appreciation and apprehension from our fellow bus-riders.
I suppose it's probably not such a big deal to most of you, but it's the first really amusing story worth telling about how I'm beginning to fit in around here as a part of the boys' family.