Stardate : 2 days after holiday
I had an incredibly hard time getting out of bed this morning. I hit the snooze button twice before Bunny Dog jumped up and shnuffled me in the ear. (A shnuffle in the ear could wake a sleeping dinosaur - so I got the message).
It's quite chilly in Brussels today which doesn't help my mood. The overwhelming feeling that what I do for a living provides me a comfortable and secure life, but does nothing to feed my soul.
Do we all go through these questions after holidays? Do we ask ourselves if we are making a difference in the world? Is it common end-of-holiday-itis or is it something bigger?
I am sure it's a little of both. There's got to be some chemical change that occurs in a body that is allowed to sleep until it naturally wakes for 10 days in a row after months of early starts, hard work, travel weariness and late nights. And when forced to return to the spinning wheel, the body resists, repels and refuses to work properly. - End-of-holiday-itis.
The something bigger is that there's still people suffering all over the world and I am sitting here in my Brussels office doing work someone invented and I will in turn make more work for someone else and so on. Yeah, I have to pay my bills.
But what can I do to make a difference?
In fact there's a lot I can do.
1. Pray.
Recently, Bunny Dog had gone over to investigate an escalator and had clipped his paw. My vet was on holiday so his back-up vet had to see my dog. He lived out of town - in the countryside - so he made a house call. (Yes, a house call) When I asked him what I should do for my dog's on-going treatment he said. 'Pray'. Of course, I was quite alarmed. Was my dog in such bad shape that I had to pray? He then proceeded to tell me that he had been in hospital for 6 months a few years ago suffering from a brain tumour. He told of these friends who stood by him and made every day a normal, cheerful day during the worst of his illness. When he later asked them how they could be so positive and supportive, they said it was because they knew he would be fine. They had prayed for him to be fine. And he was. To him, it was their praying that helped him through. He told me right then and there. 'Never underestimate the power of prayer,- and your dog is fine - it's only a little cut and he'll be back to normal tomorrow'. No matter where we are, no matter what time of day or night, it can't hurt to send a prayer someone's way. I am very conscious of prayer right now because Dad is ill, but let's not forget to pray for the not-so serious stuff also. Pray for the good stuff that's been sent our way.
2. Follow-through
I have two large plastic sacks of clothing in my closet up in the loft at home. So totally ridiculous... I am embarrassed. These are clothes I sorted out of all my closets to send to the victims of the Pakistani earthquake. People who would go hungry cold and alone through the harshest of winters. I managed to get the clothes sorted, made sure they were clean and useful and sorted by colour and fabric and ready to go. Then I did nothing. Just sort of let it go.. I missed the boat (or plane actually). I had even contacted local organisations who were gathering clothing and doing the tough part - getting the donations in to the hands of those who need them. And I screwed up. Next time, I won't let that happen. I will follow-through and make the effort. For crying out loud, that's the easy part. And I'll bet my bottom dollar (euro) that I won't feel so useless after the next holiday. Because you know what? I won't be.
3. Make Contact
I will make sure to send people a quick note or an e-mail reminding them that I am thinking about them. Just a sign from me that I haven't dropped off the face of the earth and that I haven't forgotten those I love and care about. It's seems so silly, but we don't do this nearly enough. Smile at people you pass in the street, wave at people in shops that you see everyday, but never speak to. Say 'hello' to the old biddy who always cuts in front of you at the bakery. Call friends who are going through a tough divorce and listen to them vent.
4. Make the most of everything
When you have a chance to - sit and contemplate, relax and breathe deeply, listen to the sound of your child's breathing (or dog's :-)), watch the trees blow around in the wind, feel the humidity rise in to thunderclouds, smell your skin after sitting in the sun, watch a caterpillar cross the garden, hug your best friend, buy yourself or someone you love flowers for no reason at all, take long walks with no destination in mind, lie in a field and look at the stars, get up early to spend time with yourself over a cup of coffee or to really watch your kids wake with sleepy grins, you know...live.
There's so much more. But as I do have to make a living somehow, I had better concentrate on work. It does make me feel better though to remind myself that I can make a difference in some small way. It helps to realise that even though I am back on the hamster wheel, I can feel part of the global world, meaningful and worthwhile.
Return to the Death Star
The Mothership is back in the Deathstar loading dock. After my 10 days off and a week on the beach in Normandy, I am facing hundreds of e-mails from crazed colleagues, customers and a few friends. It's funny what passes for urgent in this world when there's war, famine, drought, earthquakes and volcanoes. Even more humorous is how those urgent matters seem to dissipate if you never respond to the calls.
Get things in to perspective people! I only say this because I spent the last 10 days trying to get my life in perspective - that's what holidays are for right? The week before my holiday, I was like a hamster on a spinning wheel and everything was urgent to me too. But I thought about the bigger picture on holiday - what's important?
I thought about my Dad who at age 84 is battling esophageal cancer with the help of his Commander in Chief - Mom. They have the routine down pat. Get something nourishing down Dad's sore and swollen esophagus in the morning to try to counteract the effects of the chemo, drive to Sibley for radiation and then hit a great bakery they just discovered in the neighbourhood of the hospital. Make it a fun afternoon, lunch out, explore the woods seldom roamed. Make it worthwhile and rewarding.
Dad's starting treatment week 3 of 5. Past the halfway point. It will get better. But it gets worse before it gets better. I wonder why I am an ocean away. Mom and Dad are so strong and amazing and they want to put this sickness in to perspective - a project to get through. Absolutely NOT a 'come home' situation to them.
On our Sunday call yesterday, Dad remarked again how lovely Mom is and how women years younger look haggard and tired. He went on about how Mom looks vibrant and healthy at 79. You know, my parents are in love. I love that.
I thought about what's really urgent in life. I finally got through to my friend Ed Wray. The power of prayer. He's a Photographer for AP and is based in Jakarta. When the earthquake hit Central Java, he was in East Timor watching people unravel through revenge, mistrust and hatred. Documenting fear and loathing through his camera lens. Then he returned to Yogyakarta to capture more images of a people with broken hearts. How much can people take? Quite a lot it turns out. Glad he's safe and able to help tell the story of what's happening there.
As I contemplate the many projects thrown my way, the hard work and travel coming up, I think of Bunny Dog. I can't get the image out of my head. I giggle each time I picture it. Bunny Dog - who is not a blood-thirsty animal - graduated from simple above ground rabbit chasing over the last holiday. He started to enter the rabbit holes! Many times I would look over and just see his haunches and wagging tail protruding from a grassy mound in the dunes. Rabbits flying all around him above ground - he never had a clue! Those rabbits are so used to silly dogs.
Snap out of it! What's wrong with me - back to work 'urgent' (stat)
Darth Vader - my boss - is on the line. Gotta go.
The Fantasy
Someone once asked me where the fantasy came from about wanting a man in the kitchen wearing an apron and bearing gifts of chicken and champagne. I said 'Where most fantasies come from... real life'.
Long ago, Aussie girl came to town and as usual, we went out with Lara to do some damage to Brussels. Around that time, I happened to have been e-mailing with a man on the xpats web site and since I had never met him, I thought it safe to ask him to meet me in public armed with my best line of defence - the girls.
Of course, when he walked in the door - we all knew instantly he was the e-mail guy. One of those losers wearing an over-the-top, mustard couloured, tweedy European sport coat. He had three strands of hair neatly pulled across his bald pate. He had - I am serious here- teeth like a meat grinder - and a nose like the wicked witch of the East in the Wizard of Oz. Don't get me wrong - I am really not THAT shallow. But, he was snotty and pompous so he had to go - if you want my opinion - well of course you do :-))
Anyway, as he sat there and patronised us to death, I got rolled eyes and sighs from my girls - all the not-so-secret signals - to give this guy the heave-ho, boot, Heisman, shove - - basically - anything to get rid of him. I tried various tactics to send him along his way. Nothing worked, he wasn't moving. OK - I'm guessing he's been in the company of 3 attractive ladies about 1 time in his life counting this one so he's not going to let this situation pass him by.
I had an idea. I left the table to powder my nose. When I came back 3 minutes later, something happened. What happened put me down in the Girls Out at Night Record Book under the section titled
Expert and creative ways to ditch a looser.
A handsome young man in a nice dark blue suit came up to the table and kissed me on the cheek - As any old friends would greet one another. He then asked Lara how she was 'Lara, so nice to see you. How are you?' and to Aussie - 'Oz - when did you get in to town from London?'
I wish I had a camera - both Lara and Aussie girl momentarily froze, mouths wide open. Neither of them knew this guy. I could see Lara sort of thinking back - 'hmm... where did I meet him, have I met him? ...no.' It was only a couple seconds - but then they caught on. He was a plant. And he had friends :-))
He gestured over to a large group of very handsome men in suits and nice sport coats who all waved from across the bar and called out our names, and came over for pleasant 'Hello's'. I was instantly elevated to mistress of the conniving world. And I had chosen a master to carry out the ruse.
This lovely man, Diederik - the handsome, young lawyer- did everything perfectly. He suggestively asked if I had to get up early in the morning, wink wink. He draped his arm around me. He had his friends fawn over the girls. And ever so cleverly, he ignored xpat snaggle-tooth who was sitting there completely incensed. Finally sabre-toothed snarlmouth gave up and left. Whew. I didn't hear from him again. Darn.
Yeah, I know. I could have been an adult about it all and told the guy I didn't fancy him and that I wanted to be alone with the girls - goodbye. I could have been honest and mature and pleasant and considerate. I could have...oh.... that's too hard and no fun....
Besides, what I got were 8 men all over 6'3. Trim, handsome, smart, witty, funny, and best of all fun.
I had gone over to this group of hotties and shouldered my way right in the middle of the bunch. All armed with fresh beers they looked down at me and wondered what I was doing barging in to their huddle. They were quite intrigued and if I may say so - I had 'it' that night so they were willing to play my game.
I spoke softly, but quickly.
'OK guys, I need your help. Operation get the loser to leave our table'.
Instantly Diederik took command of the operation. He's so sly.
Within a minute he got all the information he needed and sent me back to my table to await their performance. It was brilliant.
Ok - enough of all that - we drank a bunch of cocktails with them - one guy who looked like a movie star from the 40's was practically drooling over Aussie girl.
I was fortunate enough to see Diederik several times after that for one-on-one consultations.
One night, after a particularly long travel day, he called to ask me what I wanted to do that night. Honestly, I was so tired of travelling and still had another hour on the train from Den Haag. I told him that I wanted to come home to a man in my kitchen wearing nothing but an apron. I said I wanted the man to be holding a roasted chicken in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. He asked me 'what would you go for first? The man the chicken or the bubbly?'
You know me by now.....
I said 'the chicken' !
That night I got home from the train station weary and worn. The doorbell rang. There was Diederik - and guess what I got that night.
A man in my kitchen wearing nothing but an apron. A roasted chicken in one hand and a cold bottle of very good champagne in the other. I also got a dance, a strip-tease, a smile on my face and a headache the following morning!
So, I will forever find that image extremely sexy and I will always go for the chicken first.
Sunny Brussels
It's a beautiful, warm, sunny Thursday here the European Capitol city of Brussels. This means that the creme de la creme of European Union/Commission/Parliament trash will be oozing from every sidewalk cafe, bistro, pub and bar in the city. Everyone will be well in to their warm weather rituals. When you live in a city that has such long, dark cold winters, you crave the light and warmth and the vitamin D generating rays of sun.
At lunch, every stairway, bench, fountain and spare bit of space showered in sun outside will be covered with bodies. Hippie chicks wearing long summery skirts, crop tops with their ringed navels and plump love handles plopping about. Business people with their suit jackets off, bared arms, fashionista sun glasses, Evian and Vittel waters. Shoppers who stop for a rest with their bags crumpled and crinkly. Mothers with babies in their strollers, tiny little umbrellas shielding bambino's faces and moms stripped down to sleeveless knit tops. Women with head scarves, in tank tops and tight skirts. Even the women in burkas (full coverage a la Iraqi women)wearing summer sandals and letting their toes wiggle a bit.
In the evening - everyone on the prowl. NATO Soldiers off duty will take the tram downtown for a beer in Grande Place, get completely legless by 9 PM and be swaying to and fro to some good 80's pop music at Celtica by 10 pm.
Place Luxembourg will look like an ad for Dippity Do hair gel and Dolce & Gabanna knock-offs. There will be so many people at the bar tables outside that you can't tell which tables belong to which establishment and people will be sitting on the public benches surrounding the bus stop. There will be 1 million cigarette butts on the cobblestones, some scrunched out, some still burning under foot. At least one Commission Secretary level 2 will dance in the fountain raising her skirt and giggling.
Kitty O'Sheas will have all their windows thrown open and a few scraggly chairs and tables outside. Die hards will be inside The Hairy hardly noticing the weather while little old ladies who 'Pub' will be sitting at the small tables outside 'people watching' - lending a respectable air to the place.
My neighbours - who have 3 kids under 3 years old - will be on their balcony which overlooks my garden. They are on their balcony 18 hours a day because they want air and space but can't afford a house right now. They eat every meal out on the balcony. They start the morning sunbathing out there while the twin boys sit in tubs of water and splash each other using plastic cups. The baby girl screaming in her bouncy chair. The father steals 5 minutes here and there for some 'work' when he feels like it. She concentrates on her tan and dead-heading the pots of flowers around her. I am in the office right now - I can picture exactly what she is doing - maximising her time before the sun moves and the porch is shaded - babies screeching.
I know Bunny Dog is waiting for Ghislaine - his French dog walker. He is sitting half on the windowsill and half on the radiator - keeping watch until the big heavy doors to the garden swing open. Ghislaine will take him to Parc Cinquintinaire for a romp in the freshly cut grass. He will play with other nice dogs and come home an hour later exhausted and thirsty - ready for a nap in the sun on my bed.
I have the windows in my office thrown wide open and I am working with the sun on my shoulders and a cool breeze drifting by.
Not long now
I found the little bag of sand I keep just for these occasions. It's full of sand and shells from Normandy. I like to open it and let Bunny dog get a smell of freedom and heaven. Only 13 days to go now and then we will be hiking through the dune grass, Bunny dog flying through the air on the trail of a rabbits as big as he is. Salty sea spray and breezy sunshine. Fresh langoustines, crabs, skate and moules. Ham served with calvadoes cream sauce. Camembert and fresh bread. My feet sinking in to the sun-hot sand. Good books and magazines, evenings spent with wine and laughter. Sunkissed noses.
Cinco de Mayo
I am having a Cinco de Mayo party. Belgians don't normally celebrate Cinco de Mayo because - well, they don't have to. In fact, there's very little Mexican anything here.
There's a Chi Chi's downtown in the touristy area. Wow. Although I am not sure if Chi Chi's is Mexican or not. Apparently it's terrible. There's one other Mexican restaurant in Brussels and I have actually been to it - but it is so wrong it's freaky. Suspiciously crepe-like tortillas, basmati rice, watery salsa, no jalapenos, no mole, no good tequila and even a dry mix for their margaritas - a la whisky sours 1979.
The French were in Mexico to collect debts but instead decided to get aggressive and fight. On a hot dusty morning - May 5 1862, the Mexican Army defeated the French at the battle of the Puebla 100 miles east of Mexico City. My neighbour Sven pointed out that Maximilian - who came with the French Contingent- had Belgian ties through his wife Carlota who's brother was the Count of Flanders (...stay with me). Therefore there were also some Belgian officers and Soldiers in the fray. So 144 years later, in a quiet area of leafy green Brussels - it's only fitting - we will celebrate Cinco de Mayo if in an odd way.
It's a bit hard to find authentic Mexican ingredients so I will rely on fresh food, great sprirts and many Old El Paso Fajita and Burrito kits patchworked together in various different dishes - shouldn't be too bad!
Margaritas
Mexican beer (Although not many - as they are 9€ a six pack)
Regular beer and Wine
Chips, Salsa and homemade guacamole
Spinach quesadillas
Make your own tortillas with all the fixin's
Tequila lime-grilled shrimp
See you on the other side - Viva Mexico!
