Ireland!

So I did it ... passed the ‘haven’t driven in 7 long years’ test.

There was the flight from Brussels to Dublin, with the politest airline I’ve ever been on ... Aer Lingus.  So polite, so sensible, so amusing.
Loved them!

Boarding order was strictly enforced.  Really. Then, so sensibly, they had the people at the back of the plane board first ... so we didn’t have to wait while those at the front of the plane faffed about with their overhead lockers.

I laughed, thinking ‘they’re teaching us manners’, as they enforced the order of boarding ... with charm.  A first over here, I have to confess.  It was so like New Zealand's way of being that I could only smile.

My first drive in 7 years was only a Peugeot 308.

A 2011 Peugeot 308!!!


I think the Hertz guy almost smiled (and he didn’t seem like a big smiler) when he asked if that was okay.  I was surely a little bit sparkly and enthusiastic.

It’s a diesel, with 14,000kms on the clock.  It handles like a dream.  I thought I might just stay in the slow lane and sit around 90kms for the 200km trip across Ireland, from Dublin to Gallway and beyond but ummm no ... it handled well at the speed limit of 120kms.

Along the way, we stopped at Athlone for a little food but made sure we picked up a Christy Moore cd.  He was just the perfect traveling companion, up loud as we drove.

We arrived, found Rob and Angie’s, met Gus and Jessie - their big beautiful dogs, had a lovely glass of red wine handed to me and we sat down to chat some of the night away. 

This morning, I made myself get out of bed just before 8am ... groaning a little, as the bed is one of those ones that are good to just kind of stay in but there’s talk of a bit of a sail today, out on the water here where we are, after we’ve walked the dogs in the forest.  This New Zealander is just beside herself with excitement over it all.

Sadly, I did forget that Ireland is an hour behind Belgium, well, it’s on GMT actually.  And it may be that my 7.45am, ‘feet on the floor, Di’ was really a 6.45am start.  Oh well, it gave me time to write here before I go off and harass Rob for some coffee.

So, good morning, and I’ll let you know how it goes.

In a Country not your Own ...

I think, if you have lived through a war
or have made your home in a country
not your own, or if you’ve learned
to love one man,
then your life is a story.
Anne Michaels, extract from Blue Vigour

I think, that when you have made your home in a country not your own, you never take the good people you find, out there in this new land, forgranted.

A few weeks ago, I photographed a family and met a woman who has the sweetest soul I’ve experienced in a long time.  Since then, she has quietly opened doors into her world, determined to connect the people she is leaving behind when she finishes her time here in Brussels.  She’s another world wanderer.

Spending time with her has felt like time spent around the warmth of a small sun.  And I’m writing of it here because I think, sometimes, we forget to thank the people who are like this.  And honestly ...I know more than a few really good people.

As I waded into the reality that is being a professional photographer, I had to shift my focus from the passion I feel for photography and people, and deal with the fact that I had I market myself and play a little bit of hardball to get paid.  I have had to learn so many hard lessons along the way about things like contracts.

I’m not like that.  I love photography, I love people.  To price everything was deadly but every 3 months I had a minimum social security payment of 600euro to make.  Just one of many many bills.

Lately, I’ve gone back to just being me and my photography, chasing the passion again, instead of turning myself inside out about paying all the bills. 
And lately, the magic I had been missing has returned.

First there was Karla, then she introduced me to Marcia and these two, they’re just so absolutely lovely. 
Yesterday, they invited me into their circle of friends.  I should have known not to worry about meeting new people ... it was the sweetest few hours.

It turns out, our host Doug, is one of those special people who just knows how to be with people and he delighted me with a small taste of the stories from his life.  We have both lived in Turkey and share a love for Italy.  He’s a writer.

There were babies involved, 3 of the most beautiful roly-poly baby boys and I left with the badge of motherhood imprinted on my black top ... banana fingerprints.  Champagne and most incredible food.  Quiches like I haven’t tasted since New Zealand.  A chocolate mousse by Felix, one so good that Doug got goosebumps from tasting it.

I was lulled into a sense of a forever afternoon ... you know?  Where time feels like it has stopped fora while?  I guess it’s the mind’s way of protecting you from the idea of it all ending.

So yes, that’s what I did with my afternoon.

Oh, and I’ve found somewhere so perfect to hold my photography workshops.  Details and dates to be announced by the end of August.

Hmmm, I think that’s all.  Now to pack for Ireland.  Dublin tomorrow ... first time driving in seven years.  Just a couple of hundred kilometres ...

A Maurizio Carnevali Sculpture

This is the artwork created by Italian sculptor, Maurizio Carnevali during the 1st Brussels International Sculpture Symposium.

The symposium took place between 2nd and 16th July and was rather stunning.  Ten artists, of international reknown, created a Brussels-themed sculpture in Park Parmentier, Sint-Pieters-Woluwe. 

I only arrived on that last day, as finished sculptures were revealed, artists were thanked, and champagne was poured.  Thanks for letting me tag along, Paola.  A lovely outing despite the rain.

Food for Thought Regarding the Current State of our Education Systems ... & a short piece on Passion

I couldn’t not share this over here ... This animate was adapted from a talk given at the RSA by Sir Ken Robinson, world-renowned education and creativity expert and recipient of the RSA’s Benjamin Franklin award.
Click here for more information on Sir Ken’s work.

But I loved this too ... Sir Ken was asked by the British newspaper, the Observer, to contribute a 280 word piece on passion to the regular series on Life Lessons.
Here it is:
Make the most of whatever it is that floats your boat…

It was Jeremy Bentham, I believe, who said there are two types of people in this world: those who divide the world into two types and those who do not. Well, these days I do. On the one hand, I’m constantly surprised by how many people settle for so little fulfilment in their lives, who endure their lives rather than enjoy them. On the other, I know people who simply love what they do and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. “This isn’t what I do,” they say, “this is who I am.” There are people in every walk of life for whom this is true: people who are in their element. Being in your element involves doing something for which you have a natural aptitude. But it’s more than that: it’s about passion. You have to love it, too.

Passion can be a disconcerting idea in Britain, conjuring up images of fiery glances, pounding hearts and a hint of castanets. It’s not always like that. Passion is a deep attraction. It can be for someone else or for a process: music, maths, cooking, sport, entrepreneurship, teaching… whatever fires your imagination and stokes your energy. We all have different aptitudes and we have unique passions. The challenge is to find them because it’s in the fusion of both that we live our best lives.

 

An original meaning of “passion” is to suffer or endure, as in the Passion of Christ. Its modern meanings have evolved to include love, attraction and pleasure. Finding our own element is also a journey from endurance to enjoyment. It’s a vital step, too, in moving from being one type of person to being the other type.

A Climbing Film - Towers of the Ennedi Film Festival Edit and Camp 4 Collective

I love climbing literature and films about as much as I love reading the stories of war photographers and journalists .... it’s like that with me.  A bit of an armchair passion.

Perhaps this short film gives you an idea of what it is about this kind of life ... where it’s just about what’s in front of you.  And there’s more treasure over here at Camp 4 Collective on Vimeo.  Found on Jimmy Chin’s blog.

I had to add a link to the incredible Alex Honnold’s film too ... but you’ll see, the Camp 4 Collective have a whole range of short films on their Vimeo site.

Towers of the Ennedi from Camp 4 Collective on Vimeo.

 

The North Face®:  Towers of the Ennedi from Camp 4 Collective on Vimeo.

Trains, Friends and the tiniest mention of my Nespresso Machine.

I’ve been busy and I have had no idea how to write of it all. 

Perhaps I should blog a story of each day because I know I have missed telling some beautiful stories along the way. I saw it begin to happen back in the Genova.  I dropped the ball when it came to some of the every day beauty of people and place.  There was the time I wanted to save the story of eating at Chichibio with Stefano until I could tell it beautifully ... but it slipped away in the cascade of the life I lived there.

It’s not too late though, and if you are ever in Genova and want someplace where you can enjoy exquisite food in elegant surroundings, I would suggest you hunt down Chichibio at via David Chiossone 20R.  You can phone for a reservation on 010 247 6191.  Not to be missed.  And, as always, I followed Stefano’s advice when ordering and had not one single regret. 

Grazie, Stefano ...a long overdue grazie.

Then, on Thursday, I was up and out the door with Gert.  Well, that was the intention however, he did ask me if I had my 10-ride train ticket for the big trip to Leopoldsburg and perhaps I didn’t ...

So I set out again, scarf and train-ticket packed, arriving in plenty of time to board my departing-hourly train and blogged my fabulous Wednesday from the train.  Destination reached, my lovely lovely friend, Judy, met me there with her car and over coffee we agreed, Maastricht was the destination.  I had heard rumours of book stores ... rumours whispered to me by Judy, who just happens to love books as much as me, if not more.

We started out in Selexyz Dominicanen, which has to be seen to be believed.  It is housed in a most unexpected space, a cathedral full of books, with a coffee-selling cafe up the back ... seemed like heaven to me.  I was disappointed with their selection of English books but then again, I’m not the easiest reader to please and have been spoilt by De Slegte, my favourite secondhand bookshop in Antwerpen.  It seems the English-reading Antwerpenaars and I are compatible.

After exploring Selexyz Dominicanen, Judy and I wandered off into the streets of Maastricht, making our way to the secondhand bookshop, De Slegte, Maastricht ... hooray.  And it was there that the wheels fell off Di’s Intention to be a Good and Frugal Wife.  No really huge crimes were committed.  There was a beautiful book titled Venice is a Fish, a sensual guide by Tiziano Scarpa - a Venetian poet, novelist, playwright, and essayist.  And a couple of others.  Under 20 euro altogether ...

If books are my heroin, then I think we could view this visit to my ‘supplier’ as hopeful in terms of managing my addiction.

It would have been more positive were I not currently intent on roaming the ‘Roads to Santiago with Cees Nooteboom.  A beautiful book ... exquisite.  I think you might really enjoy this one Shashikiran. 

But back to Thursday ... so Judy took me over to the river Maas, after book-shopping, to a beautiful little cafe on the edge of the water.  She wanted to show me that Maastricht really wasn’t in Luxemburg, Germany or Austria (silly kiwi girl), and it takes its name from the River Maas.  This river Okay? 
Okay ... I get it now.  Mostly.

Happy, we drove back across the border and into Belgium for dinner, where we devoured the most excellent pizza I’ve had in a while.  Dank u wel to Judy ... it was a lovely day in a lovely place with a lovely person.  And the pizza, a thank you to Willy too. 

Back in Antwerpen, and waiting for a very tardy tram 10, on the very day that Belgium was having its coldest 14 July since records began back in the 1860s.  It was an unexpected 12-14 celsius, with rain.  No one else there at the city tramstop was prepared for the summer plunge.  We were all very sad and grouchy.

Friday came along and was a slow day, where I caught up on housework and photo-processing.  There was a wee Nana-nap in the afternoon, some lovely Chianti in my evening ...

4.30am Saturday morning. 
I should have been sleeping.  I wasn’t.
I tried but no, that was me, still awake when the alarm went off at 6.30am. 
A mad dash, my bag packed (more or less), running from the house at 7.15am.  I was on my way to Brussels to visit with a lovely family ... or two.

I’ve been enjoying my recent adventures to parts of Brussels I’ve never been in.  Yes, it’s less compact than Antwerpen, difficult to navigate in some ways but those little villages within the city, like Ixelles and Stockel are so very worth visiting.

I was at Paola’s by midday and off on whole other adventure.  An international group of sculptors, a presentation of their work to the city ... champagne, red wine, lovely nibbles, excellent company and enough space in the big open-sided tent when the heavens opened and the rain poured down.

Evening came and it was a girls night in ... a multi-national private event with excellent conversations.  Oh, and the most delicious selection of food, accompanied by yet more champagne and red wine. 
Bliss ... just the 4 of us.

I arrived home today, using that first class train ticket that only costs 4euro more return on the weekend. I love first class.

Now I’m just waiting for tomorrow morning ... for breakfast and a Nespresso. 
I love my Nespreso machine.
Tomorrow ... the story of the machine.  You might want to find someone else to read, just in case I lose myself in Gollum-like mutterings ... my precious, my precious, drool, and etc.

Oh ... and I had the pleasure of spending quite some hours hanging out with this sweet little man this weekend.

A Delicious Day here in Antwerp

Note to reader: The words ‘delicious’, ‘delightful’ and ‘lovely’ are used often in this post.  Just so you know …

Yesterday was one of those delicious days I don’t want to forget but today finds me train-traveling to Leopoldsburg, with no time to sit down and savour my yesterday howevere I have packed my tiny blue travel laptop and so, here I am, writing from the train.

But perhaps it didn’t begin yesterday.  It began months earlier, when a woman called Karla wrote me a note enquiring about family photo-shoots.  It didn’t work out then but later it did. 

And the shoot was so much fun.  There was the pleasure of meeting the loveliest family, photographing the baby with the bluest eyes, hanging out with a friendly black labrador … stuff like that.

We stayed in touch, worked out a date for the photographs to be picked up and voila, we arrive at my yesterday.

Karla came over, toting her beautiful blue-eyed baby, accompanied by this lovely Irish woman who brought her very own chuckling bundle of delightful baby boy.  Really chuckley … I can’t emphasise how delicious his giggle is.  I’ll photograph him one day, it’s written all over his face when he laughs.

We sat down at my kitchen table, with tea and coffee, and talked, in that intense and delicious way that strangers sometimes do and voila, my marvellous yesterday had begun.

We looked through the photographs first, we learnt something of each others lives, I was introduced to my very first colour therapist and did I mention … we TALKED.

The babies played while we toyed with new ideas for each others lives and businesses.  There was that delightful click of like-minded souls meeting, it’s something that always amuses me.  While right-wing populist politicians work at making us fear ‘the other’, there we were, as is more often the case, finding connections across 3 different cultures and histories.

Karla and Marcia didn’t really know Antwerp at all and so we wandered into the city for a lunch.  I couldn’t resist and despite rain, I introduced them to my most favourite square here … Hendrik Conscienceplein … created by the Italian Jesuits, it soothes my soul sometimes.

We stopped in at the soup cafe, Comme Soupe, and I can’t recommend it highly enough.  It’s tiny but the soup is a truly satisfying work of art.  I should have taken a photograph but I will return there, I promise. 

Tiny cafe + two pushchairs meant that we didn’t like to stay longer than need be but afterwards, we crossed the small space to the Cupcake Cafe called Lojola Coffee and Cake, at Hendrik Conscienceplein 14. Oh my, if in Antwerp, you must pop in.

We chose divine little cupcakes to compliment our coffee and we were happy.  Delighting perhaps, in the dollhouse-like playfulness of that little cafe.  Mmm, photographs to follow.

And it was almost 4pm … so suddenly. 

We said our goodbyes in the city, and off I wandered on my next big adventure.  The buying of the Nespresso coffee machine.  Just the espresso part … inspired by a desire to avoid future pain when searching the city for good espresso. Genova and her beautiful coffees ruined me.

I felt childlike but I don’t think they knew in the shop.  Remember that feeling of having that birthday money clenched in your hot little hand as you marched off to buy that thing that you really truly wanted, forever?  It was like that.

I chatted with the woman in the busy Nespresso store, staffed by many.  She had been in Australia.

You know, the more years I am away from New Zealand, and realising both my brothers are married to Australians and living there, the more I feel that we downunder people are fairly similar and there is no insult in mistaking me for an Aussie.

Beaming, and still feeling like a small excited kid, with my coffee machine bagged up and in my hand, I boarded a tram home and had this nice looking guy beckoning to me, wanting me to sit with him.  Gert and I had managed, quite by chance, to find the same tram to ride home.

Well yes, he did have to suffer quite some Chitter-Chatter by Di on the way home.

I didn’t dare caffeinate myself after dinner.  Chitter chatter on a tram after work is one thing, he can do it … just.  Chitter-chatter at 3am, of the over-caffeinated kind, is something else.  I had my first little espresso this morning and it was good.

Lately, life has been all about intensely good friends and meeting lovely people.  Thanks guys.

Anyway, you see it, yesterday was a very good day…

 

Kathleen's Mum

I’m sure that every person who meets this delicious woman falls in love with her ... in all the various forms of ‘falling’ that there are.

I just adored her.  And this photograph almost seems more painting than photo but I think it suits her and so here I am, sharing this beautiful person with you.  I caught her at work in the kitchen ... but really, no one has made me giggle like she made me giggle.  Not in a long time.

The Australians

I met this lovely couple in Suffolk, and really enjoyed listening to Graham’s stories of his time spent living in Italia.

I made a small formal series with them during the wedding in Suffolk and was delighted to capture something of just how lovely they are. 

Tony Madigan ... a remarkable man.

I met Tony at Kathleen and Manuel’s wedding in Madrid.

He was the pipe-smoking guy talking with the fabulous Peter after the wedding ceremony.  My camera wanted to capture him.

It turns out, he is Kathleen’s rather superb voice teacher.  He plays guitar like an angel ... I suspect there is more but I’ll find out and get back to you.

Anyway, meet Tony Madigan ...

Ira Glass ... American public radio personality and wise man

Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.
Extract from Ira Glass on Storytelling, part 3 of 4

However, the actual quote was found over on the lovely Leonie’s Blog.

The Father of the Bride

I admire this man so much ...  and for so many reasons.

I admire him because, along with his delicious wife, he created one of the most beautiful souls that I am privileged to know.
I admire him because he had a terrible stroke last year and fought back so hard, with so much grace and humour, that he managed to fly over to England from Australia, and walk that beautiful daughter of his down the aisle. No one imagined it possible at one point.

I admire him because, even today, he retains this charisma that leaves you sure he will continue to fight his way along that road called recovery.

I feel so very lucky I was there to witness it all and capture this moment during the wedding of Clare and Chris.


Instead of a ‘quite a few’ wedding photographs, there are 100s of this truly exquisite Australian/Brit wedding.  Finishing up this week ...

 

Courage ...

‘I was told the Holocaust happened because the world was silent. So obviously I cannot stay silent when horrible things are being done in my name.’
Yonatan Shapira is the grandson of a woman who was killed in the Holocaust.  In the link above, he explains why he will be on the Gaza Flotilla.

I was moved to tears by Yonatan’s very simple quiet calm explanation.

Internationally acclaimed poet, Alice Walker, has written this essay on why she is sailing to Gaza on the Freedom Flotilla.

The world is finally watching, and I hope to God that no one is murdered this time.