From where I live, Belgium is a very small country. Avoiding the morning and evening traffic I can drive in any direction that I want and it will never take me more than two hours to reach one of the borders. It takes me a 75 mile drive to reach the beach, it takes me a bit longer to have a walk through the heart of the Ardennes. And in between there a some quite lovely places to visit. An 87 mile drive leads me to my family in the neighborhood of Liege where half of my family lives.
I am one of these Belgians whose family at mothers side is partly French, partly Flemish speaking. And I am grateful for that. If it were not for my grandfather having had to move to Visé, a lovely little town along the Meuse and close to the Dutch border, I would never have learned to speak French as I have done now. Grandfather unknowingly kept the whole family in balance. He had two sons and two daughters. One son and one daughter made their living in the French part of our country, the other son and other daughter moved back to Flanders. He had ten grandchildren, again five boys and five girls. Half of them are French speaking, the other half is Dutch speaking. When he was still alive we would spend a lot of time together. The French connection, in spite of having Flemish speaking parents, never learned the language and so the other part had to learn French.
Each year, at the end of august the ten grandchildren meet. Parents are not allowed. On these happenings we do not care what language we have to speak in order to make ourselves understood. We are just happy to be together and to have some good laughs and more importantly good food. And on the rare occasions that we talk about politics none of us wants our country to be split in two. The French part of the family however agrees that there should be a separation of some financial issues because they find that their part of the country should stop asking money and start working instead but for the rest we are quite happy to remain the Belgians who we are now.
And that is the reason why I am not very happy with what is happening in this country. It makes Belgian less beautiful as it should be, it turns our country into a joke that no one seems to understand anymore. We might very well house the United Nations, the center of the European Union and so many more things but the only thing people in other countries lately seem to remember and talk about, is how ridiculous it is that after more than two hundred days, we still do not have a government. To me, politicians turned into a kind of aliens who do not seem to be in real touch anymore with what we citizens want. Upon the last note of Van de Lanotte, one part says ‘yes but’ and the other part says ‘no because’. They say the same but they seem to refuse to see it. And so this country seems to be ready for yet another battle of a bunch of egos who are less and less willing to mix their burgundy with some sparkling water. And that is why I am less and less interested in what is happening in this country. I do like a good joke but I do not like this kind of jokes. You do not understand one bit about this country? Just watch this Belgium for dummies
And while our politics are a complete chaos, the media are making a fuss about this while they conveniently forget about one of their own politicians. I know which one I would prefer.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Thursday, January 06, 2011
vacant bodies or a chronicle about my village
First of all, may I wish you all the best for 2011 where even action 11-11-11 finally will be true to its name. But I am not going to talk about this coming year. I am even not going to tell you about all the plans I might have apart from the fact that I promised myself to keep cherishing the people who have found their way into my heart. No, today, after having glimpsed at the local newspaper, I decided to talk about my village.
I live in a mainly red village. And this not only because of the bricks the houses are built of but rather because there used to be quite some factories around here and factories, in the good old times, produced red people. And those who became a bit tired of being red, slowly but surely found their way to this other strangely colored party which is not very keen on colors other than white.
Our mayor is not only red but also as gay as a whistle and he drives a fancy car. Years ago, at a to do in a red school I had the honor to be seated at the same table as our mayor. He threw one look at me, saw that apart from my hair there was not much red about nor around me and kept his distance. But then, upon hearing from a passerby who my belated grandmother was, I turned into an almost local celebrity and he started talking to me with a rather too keen interest. However, my celebrity status faded quickly when he heard that my own son was attending a catholic school instead of a red one.
I do not like my village. Even ‘the beautification’ of our main streets never could change my mind. The few times I had to show people around, I rather turned the visit into a joke than that I could be serious about it. The old classified railway station and the main church are to me the only points of slight interest and thus, upon these rare visits, I always found the quickest way to neighboring parks and villages where beauty could be found. O yes. And we do have a bridge or should I call it a nightmare. There were days that the bridge opened itself so many times that a singer songwriter even took the effort to write a song about that thing. A song of which we always will be reminded upon telling people where we live.
And I do not really like the people living in my village. Having lived abroad for too many years made that I never found my way back into the lives of the many friends I used to have when I had left so many years before. While the world became my roof, they had settled their bricks in their own village and never left. They got a wife, children, a house, a garden, the dog and a status. The wives became ladies and lost their youth. They could not understand that I never got rid of the child deep inside me. And I came back divorced which made me even less welcome into their homes. I did not mind. The rare times I ended up in their company they talked about places I did not know. They talked about people about whom I completely forgot. They talked about lives I could not understand. And they, however sweet they might be, did not understand the life I got used to live. A life where money had lost its importance, a life where I did not care whether people were rich or poor. A life where I learned to see the shortcomings of my own country and of the people who lived in it. Where I learned to deal with my own shortcomings in the hope to become a better person. And while over the years, the friends I used to have became more and more embedded in their own little village, I kept broadening my horizon and thus I did not only estrange even more from this red place but also from the people living in it.
Today however, while glimpsing at the local news, I saw a picture of our mayor. With a piece of art in his hands. A present for every couple marrying at the town hall. A nice gesture, I agree. But it was the name of the litho which made me decide to write another entry on my blog because it all sums it up : vacant bodies. Bodies who will turn into yet another family with children, a house, a garden, the dog and a status.
I do not like my village. Even ‘the beautification’ of our main streets never could change my mind. The few times I had to show people around, I rather turned the visit into a joke than that I could be serious about it. The old classified railway station and the main church are to me the only points of slight interest and thus, upon these rare visits, I always found the quickest way to neighboring parks and villages where beauty could be found. O yes. And we do have a bridge or should I call it a nightmare. There were days that the bridge opened itself so many times that a singer songwriter even took the effort to write a song about that thing. A song of which we always will be reminded upon telling people where we live.
foto : eric verstraeten
And I do not really like the people living in my village. Having lived abroad for too many years made that I never found my way back into the lives of the many friends I used to have when I had left so many years before. While the world became my roof, they had settled their bricks in their own village and never left. They got a wife, children, a house, a garden, the dog and a status. The wives became ladies and lost their youth. They could not understand that I never got rid of the child deep inside me. And I came back divorced which made me even less welcome into their homes. I did not mind. The rare times I ended up in their company they talked about places I did not know. They talked about people about whom I completely forgot. They talked about lives I could not understand. And they, however sweet they might be, did not understand the life I got used to live. A life where money had lost its importance, a life where I did not care whether people were rich or poor. A life where I learned to see the shortcomings of my own country and of the people who lived in it. Where I learned to deal with my own shortcomings in the hope to become a better person. And while over the years, the friends I used to have became more and more embedded in their own little village, I kept broadening my horizon and thus I did not only estrange even more from this red place but also from the people living in it.
Today however, while glimpsing at the local news, I saw a picture of our mayor. With a piece of art in his hands. A present for every couple marrying at the town hall. A nice gesture, I agree. But it was the name of the litho which made me decide to write another entry on my blog because it all sums it up : vacant bodies. Bodies who will turn into yet another family with children, a house, a garden, the dog and a status.
foto : Kristof Lauwers
Friday, December 24, 2010
Turkey business
Last night at six o’clock it started snowing. At three it was still snowing. At nine it just stopped snowing. I wish you a “whiter” Christmas and a “stu eff’d turkey”.
Quite frankly? I am not really into Christmas. I think that somewhere along the road I forgot how to like it. And so I tried to avoid the rat race towards the biggest tree and the biggest present and yet another stuffed turkey. I think it really must have been the turkey who is at fault. While living in California as of Thanksgiving up till Christmas, life around us seemed to be reduced to turkey business only. We were invited by friends at Thanksgiving. Turkey. We were invited by other friends at Christmas. Turkey. And those who did not invite us on these days either offered us their leftovers or invited us later on to polish off the last bits. Each time I was grateful to God that every single cook used a different stuffing. On my turn I became quite resourceful inventing dish after dish until I had no imagination whatsoever left and secretly dumped the last bits in the waste bin. Before I left to the States, I never knew that turkey was a huge tradition elsewhere. After coming back to Europe however, I had to discover that the bird too had found its way across the ocean. No wonder that I just went cold turkey.
But it is not only because of the turkey that I am not keen on Christmas anymore. I just miss the way Christmas used to be when my grandfather was still alive. How we would gather at his house with all the children and grandchildren. How we would sometimes sleep with a whole bunch of children in one bed. In a room with no heating and believe me, it was cold in that room. Ice flowers greeted us every morning and even the old fashioned ewers that were left behind in order to refresh oneself in the morning would be covered with a thin layer of ice. Grandfather had a real Christmas tree. With real candles. O yes, sometimes the tree would catch fire but there was always a bucket of water close by and a vigilant eye to prevent more damage than a few burned branches. An there was snow in those years. Tons and tons of snow. Even more snow than what was left behind this year. I still long for these days when I was child and innocent enough to be enchanted with all the glitter around me.
But one gets older and the older one gets, the more one realizes that all this glitter is not always that nice looking as could be thought at first sight. Christmas forces people to be nice at moments where one does not want to be nice at all. Politeness expects us to whish the best to all, even to those from who one knows that they never earned their best wishes at all. And so, this morning my thoughts were not at all with those who are close to me, with those I love, with those I cherish. They have a good life even if at some moments they might think that they do not.
This morning I realized that one of my dreams came through. I wished for a white Christmas and I got my white Christmas. But at the same time my thoughts went out to all these people who have no homes, who will have to spent this ‘joyful’ day on the streets, hoping for a warm blanket, something to eat. And for once I wished I were rich because if I were I would have bought some huge but really huge fat stuffed turkeys and brought them a feast.
Yes, I wish you a “whiter” Christmas and a “stu eff’d turkey”.
Quite frankly? I am not really into Christmas. I think that somewhere along the road I forgot how to like it. And so I tried to avoid the rat race towards the biggest tree and the biggest present and yet another stuffed turkey. I think it really must have been the turkey who is at fault. While living in California as of Thanksgiving up till Christmas, life around us seemed to be reduced to turkey business only. We were invited by friends at Thanksgiving. Turkey. We were invited by other friends at Christmas. Turkey. And those who did not invite us on these days either offered us their leftovers or invited us later on to polish off the last bits. Each time I was grateful to God that every single cook used a different stuffing. On my turn I became quite resourceful inventing dish after dish until I had no imagination whatsoever left and secretly dumped the last bits in the waste bin. Before I left to the States, I never knew that turkey was a huge tradition elsewhere. After coming back to Europe however, I had to discover that the bird too had found its way across the ocean. No wonder that I just went cold turkey.
But it is not only because of the turkey that I am not keen on Christmas anymore. I just miss the way Christmas used to be when my grandfather was still alive. How we would gather at his house with all the children and grandchildren. How we would sometimes sleep with a whole bunch of children in one bed. In a room with no heating and believe me, it was cold in that room. Ice flowers greeted us every morning and even the old fashioned ewers that were left behind in order to refresh oneself in the morning would be covered with a thin layer of ice. Grandfather had a real Christmas tree. With real candles. O yes, sometimes the tree would catch fire but there was always a bucket of water close by and a vigilant eye to prevent more damage than a few burned branches. An there was snow in those years. Tons and tons of snow. Even more snow than what was left behind this year. I still long for these days when I was child and innocent enough to be enchanted with all the glitter around me.
But one gets older and the older one gets, the more one realizes that all this glitter is not always that nice looking as could be thought at first sight. Christmas forces people to be nice at moments where one does not want to be nice at all. Politeness expects us to whish the best to all, even to those from who one knows that they never earned their best wishes at all. And so, this morning my thoughts were not at all with those who are close to me, with those I love, with those I cherish. They have a good life even if at some moments they might think that they do not.
This morning I realized that one of my dreams came through. I wished for a white Christmas and I got my white Christmas. But at the same time my thoughts went out to all these people who have no homes, who will have to spent this ‘joyful’ day on the streets, hoping for a warm blanket, something to eat. And for once I wished I were rich because if I were I would have bought some huge but really huge fat stuffed turkeys and brought them a feast.
Yes, I wish you a “whiter” Christmas and a “stu eff’d turkey”.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Give your mouse a rest
It is nine o’ clock in the morning. Your freshly brewed coffee has just been served. You dealt with your incoming mails and you are ready to work on the excel output which has been downloaded overnight and which contains all the sales figures for the past five years. Now that you migrated to Office 2010 and that Excel can handle 1.048.576 lines instead of 65.536 (and 16.483 columns instead of 256), your boss wants to generate a pivot table, showing the years and months in order to assess the sales evolution over this past half decade. However, some of the data in the file has been wrongly defined and as there is some other data on top of the ones to be redefined, you cannot click on the column heading to select them all at one click of the mouse.
And so you click in the first cell and start dragging the mouse downwards, 652.533 lines long. But barely 50.000 lines down, the phone rings. You hesitate because you still have so many more lines to go but the phone keeps ringing and as you can see on the display that it is your boss, you cannot ignore it. You pick up the phone with your left hand and answer, still using your right one to keep dragging the mouse down. But your boss needs some information from a drawer at the other side of the office and you cannot do otherwise but to abort your action. Five minutes later you start all over again. This time you make it up till line 455.000 when an colleague opens your door a bit too enthusiastic. You jump up, you click where you should not click and you can start all over again. Each time you almost reach the end of your selection, you get interrupted. At the end of the day, just before it is time to leave, you finally manage to select all 652.533 lines but forgot why you were selecting them.
And that is why I call clicking and dragging a mouse to select data, occupational therapy!
Let me just share an easier mouse-less way which would have helped you to select the data in your column in less than a second. Press down the shift key (key with arrow up just above the Ctrl at the bottom right of the keyboard) and the Ctrl key at the same time and then, without releasing these buttons, press the down arrow key. The job is done. You can also use the other three arrows to select data upwards, to the left and to the right. But be careful, this only works if there are no blank cells in the column or line that you are selecting. If they are present you will have to repeat this action until you are at the bottom of your table.
Now, if you have to select a whole table (up till the last nonblank column and last nonblank line) you can just click in the table, then press Ctrl a. However, if you want to select the whole sheet, click in a blank cell, then press Ctrl a.
Complete lists of keyboard shortcuts for Excel can be found here : 2003 – 2007 - 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Why so many people hate Office 2007 and 2010
Most of the time, when driving to work, I am caught up in a traffic jam. Whether I leave early or a bit later, they will always be just there where I have to drive. Most of my co-drivers hate them but over the years I started being so used to them that nowadays I welcome them, except when they make me arrive too late at the customer where I have to teach a class that day.
Years ago I used to amuse myself by keeping statistics. I would count how many people where reading while driving, how many of them were poking into their nose and how many of them would eat whatever they caught by doing so. There were some other things I would count while waiting to advance yet another ten meters or so but I suppose that you can imagine them yourselves as nowadays not many people are still able to drive jam-free to work.
But ever since I started teaching again I quit keeping statistics. Instead I use the time to think things over. In the morning I prepare my class, thinking of ways to make the subjects to teach less boring. You do not want your students to fall asleep after lunch and you also want to avoid becoming bored yourself. To my mind it is impossible that a student can learn a lot in a short time if the trainer himself is not showing some enthusiasm for the subject he is teaching. And believe me, some of the topics that we have to teach can be pretty tedious for not having to repeat the word ‘boring’ too often.
In the evenings however, I use my jam-time to evaluate the training I gave that same day and to think about things that keep baffling me. And one of these things was trying to understand why so many people hate Office 2007 and 2010 while, once you know them, they are just a wonderful tool to produce much nicer looking documents than one could ever before. This question had kept me busy for some time and in the end I came up with a, to my peanut-brained mind, plausible answer which I would like to share with you tonight.
People keep telling me that they hate the new Office versions because they cannot find these functions back that they are used to use to format documents, calculate excel tables and so on. That was the onset why I started searching for an answer and one day, while standing still in yet another jam, trying to find the phone number of a customer in order to warn him that I would be late, it dawned on me that all the names were listed vertically.
And all of a sudden I realized that in life we have been conditioned to look and read vertically. Imagine being in a restaurant and reading the menu. If every single plate would be written horizontally you could, as a matter of speaking, have your starter at ‘Comme Chez Soi’ while having your desert at ‘Villa Lorraine’. If all the books were written on one horizontal line, some of them would be so long that we could start in Belgium and read ‘the End’ somewhere in Tuscany. And all these years, when using a computer and clicking on an item in a menu, the functions pertaining to them would appear vertically on the screen.
And then Microsoft decides to change the way to present all the functions, that they have to offer, in Ribbons. As the available tabs in 2007 and 2010 look a bit like the different items on the earlier menu’s, one is more likely to expect some menu popping down and does not know what happens when at first sight nothing has changed on the screen. And that just because we are not used to have things pop up horizontally.
I have tried this philosophy out on a lot of my students who kept telling me that even after a year they still could not find their way around Office 2007. I also talked about this to people who are about to migrate to Office 2010. I just tell them that they should start getting used to look horizontally instead of vertically and that they can even start to do so upon leaving my class. Just getting out on the street and quitting to look at the ground. I tell them that practicing even before the new version is installed has some advantages. Not only will they remember to look things up horizontally when clicking on a tab but they will also re-discover how beautiful life can be as they will see much more than the pavement that they will be walking on. But I also do warn them for the only disadvantage that they might encounter while practicing on the street. Sooner or later one will be bound to oversee an obstacle on his path as he forgot to look down. I would not like to be sued because I did not warn them!
This little philosophical thought of mine might sound very silly but some people have been telling me that my story has helped them to remember that they had to look in another direction while clicking on one of the tabs of Office 2007 or 2010.
Another trick to get used a bit faster to the new Office versions is to take the time to look at every single icon on the ribbon which appears when clicking on one of the tabs. It will familiarize them faster with the new look and before they know it, they will remember where to find things back.
Now, if this trick of mine fails which is bound to happen in most of the cases because who am I to think that what I think is right, here are some links to interactive guides which can help you to find your way back in the new versions. When using them you will see that you get a 2003 screen onto which you can click on the menu and the item that you need and once done, Microsoft will show you on which ribbon and where you can find that same item back in the new Office versions.
So, now you know that I will not only be writing about the daily things that happen in my life but that I will also write down some tips and tricks to help you make work more enjoyable. Or is that just wishful thinking of my part?
Access 2003 – Access 2007
Excel 2003 – Excel 2007
Outlook 2003 – Outlook 2007
PowerPoint 2003 – Powerpoint 2007
Word 2003 – Word 2007
Click here to find the same features for Office 2010. You might have to scroll down a bit to find the list of products that have this interactive guide available.
Years ago I used to amuse myself by keeping statistics. I would count how many people where reading while driving, how many of them were poking into their nose and how many of them would eat whatever they caught by doing so. There were some other things I would count while waiting to advance yet another ten meters or so but I suppose that you can imagine them yourselves as nowadays not many people are still able to drive jam-free to work.
But ever since I started teaching again I quit keeping statistics. Instead I use the time to think things over. In the morning I prepare my class, thinking of ways to make the subjects to teach less boring. You do not want your students to fall asleep after lunch and you also want to avoid becoming bored yourself. To my mind it is impossible that a student can learn a lot in a short time if the trainer himself is not showing some enthusiasm for the subject he is teaching. And believe me, some of the topics that we have to teach can be pretty tedious for not having to repeat the word ‘boring’ too often.
In the evenings however, I use my jam-time to evaluate the training I gave that same day and to think about things that keep baffling me. And one of these things was trying to understand why so many people hate Office 2007 and 2010 while, once you know them, they are just a wonderful tool to produce much nicer looking documents than one could ever before. This question had kept me busy for some time and in the end I came up with a, to my peanut-brained mind, plausible answer which I would like to share with you tonight.
People keep telling me that they hate the new Office versions because they cannot find these functions back that they are used to use to format documents, calculate excel tables and so on. That was the onset why I started searching for an answer and one day, while standing still in yet another jam, trying to find the phone number of a customer in order to warn him that I would be late, it dawned on me that all the names were listed vertically.
And all of a sudden I realized that in life we have been conditioned to look and read vertically. Imagine being in a restaurant and reading the menu. If every single plate would be written horizontally you could, as a matter of speaking, have your starter at ‘Comme Chez Soi’ while having your desert at ‘Villa Lorraine’. If all the books were written on one horizontal line, some of them would be so long that we could start in Belgium and read ‘the End’ somewhere in Tuscany. And all these years, when using a computer and clicking on an item in a menu, the functions pertaining to them would appear vertically on the screen.
And then Microsoft decides to change the way to present all the functions, that they have to offer, in Ribbons. As the available tabs in 2007 and 2010 look a bit like the different items on the earlier menu’s, one is more likely to expect some menu popping down and does not know what happens when at first sight nothing has changed on the screen. And that just because we are not used to have things pop up horizontally.
I have tried this philosophy out on a lot of my students who kept telling me that even after a year they still could not find their way around Office 2007. I also talked about this to people who are about to migrate to Office 2010. I just tell them that they should start getting used to look horizontally instead of vertically and that they can even start to do so upon leaving my class. Just getting out on the street and quitting to look at the ground. I tell them that practicing even before the new version is installed has some advantages. Not only will they remember to look things up horizontally when clicking on a tab but they will also re-discover how beautiful life can be as they will see much more than the pavement that they will be walking on. But I also do warn them for the only disadvantage that they might encounter while practicing on the street. Sooner or later one will be bound to oversee an obstacle on his path as he forgot to look down. I would not like to be sued because I did not warn them!
This little philosophical thought of mine might sound very silly but some people have been telling me that my story has helped them to remember that they had to look in another direction while clicking on one of the tabs of Office 2007 or 2010.
Another trick to get used a bit faster to the new Office versions is to take the time to look at every single icon on the ribbon which appears when clicking on one of the tabs. It will familiarize them faster with the new look and before they know it, they will remember where to find things back.
Now, if this trick of mine fails which is bound to happen in most of the cases because who am I to think that what I think is right, here are some links to interactive guides which can help you to find your way back in the new versions. When using them you will see that you get a 2003 screen onto which you can click on the menu and the item that you need and once done, Microsoft will show you on which ribbon and where you can find that same item back in the new Office versions.
So, now you know that I will not only be writing about the daily things that happen in my life but that I will also write down some tips and tricks to help you make work more enjoyable. Or is that just wishful thinking of my part?
Access 2003 – Access 2007
Excel 2003 – Excel 2007
Outlook 2003 – Outlook 2007
PowerPoint 2003 – Powerpoint 2007
Word 2003 – Word 2007
Click here to find the same features for Office 2010. You might have to scroll down a bit to find the list of products that have this interactive guide available.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Today I do not like the snow
This is what my world looks like while I am writing the last entry of the day for my blog.
And on normal days I would rather be gaping out of the window, enjoying this white clean world. I would be sitting here, watching the big fir in front of my window grow whiter and whiter and enjoy it. But the last two hours a good five centimeters have been added to yesterday’s snow and I do not like it one single bit.
There is a very simple reason for not being happy with this white beauty. I do have a son. And you might wonder now what my son has to do with the weather but it will all become clear if you bear with me for one more minute.
Last academic year my son went studying abroad at Canisius College in Buffalo, NY. I was a proud mom (still am by the way) and greatly enjoyed following his life through facebook. One of the perks of suddenly becoming and Atlantis Student through the University of Antwerp was that all students being allowed a grant for Canisius also had to study one trimester at the University of Strasbourg and so, at the end of August my son left the country again. This time he was much closer and thus, while traveling back and forth to Italy for work, I had the chance to visit him a few times.
That trimester being over and done with, my son is at this very moment on his way back from Strasbourg. By car. And as I just read that cars are at a standstill in Waver because they cannot drive upon the hill, I turned from a very happy mother into a very worried one. And that is why, for once, I do not like the snow.
And on normal days I would rather be gaping out of the window, enjoying this white clean world. I would be sitting here, watching the big fir in front of my window grow whiter and whiter and enjoy it. But the last two hours a good five centimeters have been added to yesterday’s snow and I do not like it one single bit.
There is a very simple reason for not being happy with this white beauty. I do have a son. And you might wonder now what my son has to do with the weather but it will all become clear if you bear with me for one more minute.
Last academic year my son went studying abroad at Canisius College in Buffalo, NY. I was a proud mom (still am by the way) and greatly enjoyed following his life through facebook. One of the perks of suddenly becoming and Atlantis Student through the University of Antwerp was that all students being allowed a grant for Canisius also had to study one trimester at the University of Strasbourg and so, at the end of August my son left the country again. This time he was much closer and thus, while traveling back and forth to Italy for work, I had the chance to visit him a few times.
That trimester being over and done with, my son is at this very moment on his way back from Strasbourg. By car. And as I just read that cars are at a standstill in Waver because they cannot drive upon the hill, I turned from a very happy mother into a very worried one. And that is why, for once, I do not like the snow.
Brussels - Christmas Market
In spite of the for Belgian standards abundances of snow, a friend of mine, Nancy, and I took the car to Brussels. We were supposed to have visited the Christmas Market last Wednesday but as our friends were unable to join us that day, we postponed our trip. The road to Brussels was a joy for the eye. Trees covered with snow and a clear blue wintery sky made that we did not mind having to drive slowly. There was just too much to enjoy. We parked our car at Park 58, a parking lot not only handy as it is situated between the ‘grande place’ and the ‘fish market’ but also known as providing a beautiful almost 360 degree view over the city. If ever, on a clear day, you are in the neighborhood, do not hesitate to visit the roof, even if you did not park your own car there.
Once back on the street we were a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people who apparently had the same idea as we had but it did not refrain us from slowly making our way to the ‘grande place’. I cannot say that there was a lot to see apart from the Christmas stall with real sheep and a big tree. But for once, the doors to the town hall were open and for a minute or two we had a quick glance at the inner court. I dare say that it was rather sober, a big contrast with the outside of the building. On the way to the fish market we stopped for a glüwhein at a stall in front of the Cirio, one of the best known pubs along the Bourse and worth a visit for those who love a good beer or a nice meal.
It was time to set out for the fish market as we had not only planned to wander past the different Christmas stalls but also wanted to enjoy some lovely oysters in a stall I discovered two weeks before when visiting Brussels with another friend.
I dare pretend that most of the time I do know my way around in Brussels but I have two major problems. I do not remember street names and more often than not I remember having seen something worthwhile to share with my friends but do not know anymore where exactly this place is to be found. Yesterday was no exception. I knew how to go to the fish market and I knew that somewhere in the area there was the Amadeo, a restaurant where you can eat all the ribs you can eat and which had charmed me upon discovery because its walls where lined with books. As two weeks ago we were just too late to be allowed to eat I thought it would be nice to give it another try. But I could not remember whatsoever in which street I could find this restaurant. Nancy is used to me not knowing exactly where I am going but she does not mind. She also knows that in the end we always arrive there where we want to be. But yesterday on the walk to the market, I did not find the restaurant at all but instead I found the Moroccan tent back of which I had talked to Nancy and thus my detour was not in vain.
At the fish market it was even busier than at the ‘grande place’. People were impatiently pushing to get through and we were quite happy to arrive at the oyster bar which, thank any known and unknown god for small mercies, was heated. The oysters tasted lovely and after eating them we continued our walk around the market. We spent some time at the ice skating ring. Partly because I wanted to take some pictures of the big Ferris wheel in the dark, partly because of a funny old man who was entertaining the children skating around him. But it was getting colder and we were thirsty. We wanted to find a pub where we could have a hot drink and a cigarette but that was not an easy task. Last summer I had visited a lovely pub nearby a church and I told Nancy that I did not exactly remember where this pub was but that we would find it if I took a certain direction towards the Bourse. I did not succeed but instead we ended up in the Lord Byron, a nice little pub, with interesting art on the walls and where, apart from the waiter, almost everyone present was speaking Flemish. We stayed there an hour, just enjoying our Italian coffee and the warmth.
It was time to grab something to eat and to figure out where we could find the Amadeo. The owner of the pub did not know exactly where we could find the restaurant but a nice girl sitting at the bar told us that we were only two streets away from it. We found the restaurant but we were not the only one and after the hostess rather rudely told us that she did not have a table for two and immediately afterwards offered a table of four to people who arrived almost ten minutes after us, we decided not to wait anymore. In the mean time it started snowing again and we decided that it was better to drive back and to eat closer to home.
Our usual eating hangout however had just closed its doors when we arrived but we did not bother about that and just challenged some more snow covered roads to Klein Willebroek where a far away niece of mine owns restaurant Zeezicht. By the time we finished our bottle of wine and ate a delicious pot of stewed beef it was more than time to drive home.
This might have been a boring story but just remember that this is my blog and that I am entitled to also use it as an ‘aide mémoire’ for the next time I visit Brussels. At least now I have put the links towards the places I want to remember, next time I might also remember to have a look at the street map before setting off. One never knows.
(Click here for more pictures of this beautiful day)
Once back on the street we were a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people who apparently had the same idea as we had but it did not refrain us from slowly making our way to the ‘grande place’. I cannot say that there was a lot to see apart from the Christmas stall with real sheep and a big tree. But for once, the doors to the town hall were open and for a minute or two we had a quick glance at the inner court. I dare say that it was rather sober, a big contrast with the outside of the building. On the way to the fish market we stopped for a glüwhein at a stall in front of the Cirio, one of the best known pubs along the Bourse and worth a visit for those who love a good beer or a nice meal.
It was time to set out for the fish market as we had not only planned to wander past the different Christmas stalls but also wanted to enjoy some lovely oysters in a stall I discovered two weeks before when visiting Brussels with another friend.
I dare pretend that most of the time I do know my way around in Brussels but I have two major problems. I do not remember street names and more often than not I remember having seen something worthwhile to share with my friends but do not know anymore where exactly this place is to be found. Yesterday was no exception. I knew how to go to the fish market and I knew that somewhere in the area there was the Amadeo, a restaurant where you can eat all the ribs you can eat and which had charmed me upon discovery because its walls where lined with books. As two weeks ago we were just too late to be allowed to eat I thought it would be nice to give it another try. But I could not remember whatsoever in which street I could find this restaurant. Nancy is used to me not knowing exactly where I am going but she does not mind. She also knows that in the end we always arrive there where we want to be. But yesterday on the walk to the market, I did not find the restaurant at all but instead I found the Moroccan tent back of which I had talked to Nancy and thus my detour was not in vain.
At the fish market it was even busier than at the ‘grande place’. People were impatiently pushing to get through and we were quite happy to arrive at the oyster bar which, thank any known and unknown god for small mercies, was heated. The oysters tasted lovely and after eating them we continued our walk around the market. We spent some time at the ice skating ring. Partly because I wanted to take some pictures of the big Ferris wheel in the dark, partly because of a funny old man who was entertaining the children skating around him. But it was getting colder and we were thirsty. We wanted to find a pub where we could have a hot drink and a cigarette but that was not an easy task. Last summer I had visited a lovely pub nearby a church and I told Nancy that I did not exactly remember where this pub was but that we would find it if I took a certain direction towards the Bourse. I did not succeed but instead we ended up in the Lord Byron, a nice little pub, with interesting art on the walls and where, apart from the waiter, almost everyone present was speaking Flemish. We stayed there an hour, just enjoying our Italian coffee and the warmth.
It was time to grab something to eat and to figure out where we could find the Amadeo. The owner of the pub did not know exactly where we could find the restaurant but a nice girl sitting at the bar told us that we were only two streets away from it. We found the restaurant but we were not the only one and after the hostess rather rudely told us that she did not have a table for two and immediately afterwards offered a table of four to people who arrived almost ten minutes after us, we decided not to wait anymore. In the mean time it started snowing again and we decided that it was better to drive back and to eat closer to home.
Our usual eating hangout however had just closed its doors when we arrived but we did not bother about that and just challenged some more snow covered roads to Klein Willebroek where a far away niece of mine owns restaurant Zeezicht. By the time we finished our bottle of wine and ate a delicious pot of stewed beef it was more than time to drive home.
(Click here for more pictures of this beautiful day)
Letter to my readers
Dear Readers,
For those who do not know me yet, my name is kaat. Lower case k, not the big one as I do feel small enough in this big world for not using an upper case. There are three famous people in my country whose name is Kaat. One Kaat has become known because she cannot refrain herself from giving good advice, the other Kaat became famous because of a sequel on Belgian television, bearing the name Kaat and Co, and the last Kaat is a famous fashion designer.
As all good things consist of three, there was no room left for me to join the list. And so, I am none of the above. I do not feature in sequels. I never give good advice. I have no inclination whatsoever to become a fashion designer. And last but not least, I am certainly not famous. Just as most of us, I am an ordinary person living in an ordinary village who will be writing ordinary stories for you to hopefully enjoy.
The reason why this blog will mostly be written in English is very simple. I am a purebred ‘Belgianese’ and if I want to keep that status, I would have to write every single entry in our three national languages. I am way too lazy to do so and even if I were not, I just would never have the time to translate every single word that will start filling this still empty blog.
This blog has been dormant for many years. Some of you might still remember that I used to fill it up with the daily things of my life. It contained part of a past which I will always remember as a beautiful past but which became so outdated that some weeks ago, I deleted every single word and every single picture that I ever jotted down on this blog. And it would have remained dormant were it not for a customer who told me that I should write my stories down. That she would be one of my readers. She said this some months ago so I suspect that she already forgot about it.
But I did not. However, the existence of my blog kept wandering through my thoughts but apart from emptying the ‘thing’ and writing that soon I would start filling it up again I, once more, completely forgot about it. But yesterday, while I was enjoying a lovely Italian Coffee after some hours of walking through a rather cold Brussels, a wicked colleague jotted down a comment on my blog. Dared me to pick up my ‘virtual pen’ and to finally start writing. So here I am, a bit at a loss of words. Not knowing where to start because there are so many stories who are anxiously waiting to be told that in the beginning page after page will be filling itself until the flow of up till now hidden words will slow down into a gentle ripple.
I know for sure that I am going to enjoy this writing as writing has always been part of the person I became. This blog will not contain my poetry, nor will it contain non-fiction. If you want to read these you can leave this blog and have a peek at pennenstreken or verhalensite, the latter being much more complete than the first who crashed a few years ago. I never had the time to put all my work back onto it.
There is only one word left to write in this first letter : enjoy.
For those who do not know me yet, my name is kaat. Lower case k, not the big one as I do feel small enough in this big world for not using an upper case. There are three famous people in my country whose name is Kaat. One Kaat has become known because she cannot refrain herself from giving good advice, the other Kaat became famous because of a sequel on Belgian television, bearing the name Kaat and Co, and the last Kaat is a famous fashion designer.
As all good things consist of three, there was no room left for me to join the list. And so, I am none of the above. I do not feature in sequels. I never give good advice. I have no inclination whatsoever to become a fashion designer. And last but not least, I am certainly not famous. Just as most of us, I am an ordinary person living in an ordinary village who will be writing ordinary stories for you to hopefully enjoy.
The reason why this blog will mostly be written in English is very simple. I am a purebred ‘Belgianese’ and if I want to keep that status, I would have to write every single entry in our three national languages. I am way too lazy to do so and even if I were not, I just would never have the time to translate every single word that will start filling this still empty blog.
This blog has been dormant for many years. Some of you might still remember that I used to fill it up with the daily things of my life. It contained part of a past which I will always remember as a beautiful past but which became so outdated that some weeks ago, I deleted every single word and every single picture that I ever jotted down on this blog. And it would have remained dormant were it not for a customer who told me that I should write my stories down. That she would be one of my readers. She said this some months ago so I suspect that she already forgot about it.
But I did not. However, the existence of my blog kept wandering through my thoughts but apart from emptying the ‘thing’ and writing that soon I would start filling it up again I, once more, completely forgot about it. But yesterday, while I was enjoying a lovely Italian Coffee after some hours of walking through a rather cold Brussels, a wicked colleague jotted down a comment on my blog. Dared me to pick up my ‘virtual pen’ and to finally start writing. So here I am, a bit at a loss of words. Not knowing where to start because there are so many stories who are anxiously waiting to be told that in the beginning page after page will be filling itself until the flow of up till now hidden words will slow down into a gentle ripple.
I know for sure that I am going to enjoy this writing as writing has always been part of the person I became. This blog will not contain my poetry, nor will it contain non-fiction. If you want to read these you can leave this blog and have a peek at pennenstreken or verhalensite, the latter being much more complete than the first who crashed a few years ago. I never had the time to put all my work back onto it.
There is only one word left to write in this first letter : enjoy.
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