Katherine Mansfield... a small and unexpected pilgrimage

Risk anything! Care no more for the opinion of others ... Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.
(Journal entry, 14 October 1922)
― Katherine Mansfield, Journal of Katherine Mansfield

 

Gert surprised me by taking me on a small pilgrimage to Fontainebleau, France ... to the grave of my most favourite New Zealand author, born 76 years before me. A much-loved author, a woman I might have modeled my life on if I had known of her when I was young.

She fled New Zealand before she was 20, striking out in a world that was bigger than her 1903 Wellington, New Zealand, world.  She returned home then left again, forever, in 1908 and died in Avon, near Fontainebleu, in 1923 ...aged 34.

She knew so many writers, forming close friendships with D.H.Lawrence and Virginia Woolf, to name two.

Katherine’s friendship with Virginia Woolf was an extraordinary blend of intimacy, rivalry and mutual admiration. Artistically, they were intimates. Culturally they were hemispheres apart.

After Katherine’s death Virginia confided to her diary that Katherine's writing was: “the only writing I have ever been jealous of.”

And so it was. Katherine was bold.  She wrote: I believe the greatest failing of all is to be frightened...  in a letter to her husband, John Middleton Murry, 18 October 1920.

She revolutionised the 20th Century English short story. Her best work shakes itself free of plots and endings and gives the story, for the first time, the expansiveness of the interior life, the poetry of feeling, the blurred edges of personality. She is taught worldwide because of her historical importance but also because her prose offers lessons in entering ordinary lives that are still vivid and strong. And her fiction retains its relevance through its open-endedness—its ability to raise discomforting questions about identity, belonging and desire.

NZEdge.com.

And so, we called by, visiting her grave today.  Said our hellos and photographed that place where she stopped with her wandering, leaving her work to travel the world on her behalf, inspiring others oftentimes ...

But honestly, who wouldn't love her?  That woman who wrote ... The pleasure of all reading is doubled when one lives with another who shares the same books.

The New Baby ...

Or perhaps I should write, the new secondhand baby ...

The Belgian bloke and I were up early and out the door before 8am this morning.  It's Sunday and we had decided to head out to the huge outdoor Sunday market in Waterloo. 

The range of stuff you can find there is remarkable, perhaps even more so for a girl from smalltown New Zealand.  There is so much really ancient stuff.  200+ stalls, laid out in an orderly fashion, allowing you to explore the entire market and not get confused.  There's a delightful mix of genuine antiques, that stuff that looks like it's been pulled directly from someone's cellar or attic without stopping to clean it along the way, and more contemporary 'stuff'.

The new baby may have traveled that middle path, straight from the attic, undusted.  It was quite stiff from lack of use and Gert had the unenviable job of breathing new life into it. 

It's a little orange Standard Ugro and I can't find one online so far and now I'm wondering if it's older than we realised.

Anyway ... anyone who knew me back in those days that were filled with tortuous hours of learning to touch-type on old Olivetti typewriters would now collapse laughing over my delight at playing with this little orange machine ...

I love it.

Hair On Her Teeth ...

I'm just in from an evening out in Antwerpen. 

It's 1am, and I'm still recovering from seeing a young and relatively inexperienced Dutch team beat the pants off an experienced world champion Spanish team ... 5-0.

Extra time was a nail-biting experience simply because it still seemed entirely possible that Holland might score again and that, that would have been too embarassing to watch.

But I have to confess, there is something so good about finding yourself at a cafe in Grote Markt, sitting with a lovely Flemish guy you consider a friend, watching the football on a big-screen there at the cafe where you're attending an official function.

We drank our wine.  Vic put up with my enthusiasm for the game while Gert was off and doing his work there in the crowd.  It was quite the balmy summer's night and the sky was clear. 

The football-watching crowd were divided.  There were some who supported the Spanish however ... and I might be the only person who reports on this truth ... a large number of Belgians here were overjoyed when Holland won.

Really!

Towards the end of the evening, I met a small crowd of 20+ something Belgian blokes as we were leaving.  One of them mistook me for an Australian and it quickly turned into a mocking kind of tournament.

An older woman, a friend of Gert's, leaned over and said admiringly of me, that I was one of those women with hair on her teeth ...

Why yes, that is a compliment here.  I was worried it was about not brushing however it simply means that I'm not someone who can be easily taken down in conversational combat.  (or something like that.  i may have to stand corrected.)

I was quite proud, as the last person who congratulated me on my mocking brilliance was Vinnie Paul, way back when I was 16.  It's been a while.

Anyway, all that to simply write, it's been a lovely evening here in the flatlands of Belgium tonight.

In These Days ...

These days find me consumed by a writing course that I'm doing ...

Consumed.  In a way that I haven't been since those rare occasions when school or uni were teaching me things that I was passionate about. 

Writing was my first love, closely followed by photography, way back in my childhood.  But it was writing that took most of my attention when I lived in New Zealand.  Then I flew, I was teacher for while, I wandered some, and I mostly misplaced my writing ... in one sense. 

In another way, blog-writing arrived and I started out on a different kind of writing.  One that I probably didn't really consider as 'writing' ... it occurs to me now, as I realise I have never stopped writing.  I only stopped writing that novel.  I only packed away my manuscript of interviews with climbers.  I only stopped the book-orientated writing.

But anyway, I am writing again.  I have book I want to finish soon.  It's complicated.  I almost made it simple but that would be silly.  I like complications ... why would I write a simple book. 

All that to say, if you're thinking you have a book in you, if you want to explore the whole process ... from the idea to the publishing (including all the tiny details along the way), then I highly recommend you take Christine Mason Miller's course, The Conscious Booksmith.

It's consuming, and fun, and satisfying, and exciting ... it contains all the elements of a damn fine adventure actually.

Oh!  And adventures.  I'm off road-tripping to France next week.  My Belgian bloke has surprised me with a small pilgrimage, in honour of one of my favourite New Zealand authors.  Really surprised and delighted me.

In July, I'm road-tripping, with Helen, to Italy.  Oh the adventures we have planned.  I shall be blogging that road-trip.

August is Norway and I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to spending time with Ren.

For now ... it's all about waiting for this special couple's little girl to arrive in the world. And there a ballet performance and a poetry reading planned for tomorrow.  Dank u wel, to the lovely Ruth, who organises some of my best adventures here.

 

 

 

A New Way of Seeing ...

The new website has launched ...

And we are on Twitter and Facebook.  Places are selling.  It's so exciting.

The newsletter is still coming, I had to wait for my fabulous graphic designer and the marketing guru to ride to the rescue, in terms of logo design and site building. 

More to follow on them in the weeks ahead, as they are superb.  Speedy, efficient, inspired, talented ...

Come wandering in Genoa, Italy. 

Much ...

Forgive me if I fail to write coherently about the food at yesterday's 50th birthday party but I think the photograph at the end of the post goes some way to explaining why I fail ...

It was things like the fact that I don't like the idea of veal but ohmygoodness, it tastes like THAT!?? 

Jayne hosted the most exquisite party, invited a whole lot of lovely people, and made sure glasses were kept full of champagne while tempting our tummies with the most divine nibbles.

And I picked up a camera not my own and took photographs to my heart's content.  I drank champagne, again ...  Why yes, I was that woman who formerly claimed she didn't like champagne, who has shamelessly consumed 'quite some' (as the Belgian bloke has been known to say) these last 48 hours.

It appears I have seen the light with regard to good champagne.

Mmmm, and so it turns out a recipe for surviving a 29 celsius weekend here in Antwerp involves some champagne, much good food, and more than a few excellent people.

Normal service shall resume here tomorrow.

Sometimes ...

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I were able to simply concentrate on one thing ... on just one of those wild and beautiful ideas that I have.

Perhaps it would be about me just going to Genova to work on my book.  Or if I stayed home and only worked on the photography workshops.  I wonder how it would be if I was a one-idea kind of woman.

Or if I just did the housework and cared for my family, deep-cleaning this quirky old Belgian house once a month, studying new recipes then cooking then, and taking the time to be sure my family was happy. 

And maybe I would have that dog I dream about too.

If I didn't enjoy meeting new people as I do ... or love exploring other countries so much, then that distraction-factor would be so much smaller and that much more manageable.  Perhaps.

But I am seem to be one of those people, genuinely deeply curious about almost everything.  I love photography, writing and people.  I love new people but old friends too.  I love family, and I love those messy new ideas that bubble up and spill all over the place. 

I tried staying in and working one rainy day back in Genova but the balcony beckoned and instead my camera and I attempted to capture some of the beauty just outside the glass doors. 

I miss that apartment and yet, at the same time, I am glad to be home. 

There was a BBQ last night, a reunion with some of Gert's university friends.  They were gracious and kindly allowed me into their circle.  The reunion was held in a beautiful location someplace in Belgium.  We were outside under this sail-like canopy that kept us dry while a Fiordland-New-Zealand-style tempest rumbled and crackled and downpoured around us.  It was a truly superb evening.

We hit 29 celsius yesterday ... summer is here.  The garden is luscious, between the heat and the rain, everything out there is celebrating by growing madly.

And today there's a 50th someplace in the city.   I should get ready but meanwhile ... another of the series of photographs taken from that balcony high up on Via Malta, one rainy day back in beautiful Genova.


Reading in the Garden, Belgium

We wandered out into our small pocket-sized garden after dinner and read until 10pm.  It's been hot here.  We have summer.  It's for sure now.

There's even talk of 31 celsius at the weekend.  We have a BBQ to attend, a birthday party too.  Oh, and the monthly expedition for supplies.

But anyway, the garden ...

Note of caution, based on what I read in Gert's mind ... if you want peace and tranquility, best not take a photographer.

But Genova ...

You can't visit Genova, in Italy, and not taste the pesto.  It's the home of pesto.

Well, if you have an allergy, okay ... you could miss the pesto but otherwise, you will taste of the most sublime pesto ever made while visiting that ancient Italian city. 

They know what they're doing there.  You can taste the difference.

 

 

The Fabulous Ms Y.

We had the fabulous Ms Y in our lives quite regularly for a while.  Hopefully Jess will find work and we can have her back.  She brings the sunshine with her.

Anyway, she was (hopefully) bemused to realise that I view any person standing still as a photography subject.  She was leaving on her bike when the phone rang.  I went to work with my camera ...

The Fountain, Piazza De Ferrari, Genova

There are days when I achieve ridiculous amounts ... because I must. 

There are other days, when I smash into the wall that is too much to do and I am empty.

Yesterday was one of those inspired days.  This new website was born, today I was this crumpled heap who achieved things but not at the level I like to achieve.  Today was all about that early-morning school-run, the masses of laundry, about breathing ...

The new website is all about working with me in Genova, Italy.  Jess built it.  My daughter.  I was so impressed.  Her marketing campaign has begun and is impressing me too.

But finally home, with a computer screen that works, I am looking through photographs of those giddy-beautiful days spent in Genova last week.

The orange water ... the fountain there in the heart of the city is used to mark international days.  I was in the city during Multiple sclerosis week.

Stories and People ...

Maybe we refuse to acknowledge our common origins because racism causes amnesia, or because we find it unbelievable that in those days long past the entire world was our kingdom, an immense map without borders, and our legs were the only passport required.

Eduardo Galeano, Mirrors - Stories of Almost Everyone.

Re-entry is always difficult.  My life in Genova is so different to the life I live here in Antwerp.  And being house-keeper in this quirky little Belgian house means settling back into that domestic life of cleaning and cooking and taking care of people.

It's also about me creating a space that I like to spend time in and so there are peonies in the big vase downstairs ... my laundry is done, the floors have been cleaned, bread was baked, meals cooked.  The transition  is complete, I am a housewife and all kinds of other things too, again.

I've done a couple of school-runs with Miss 9 (almost Miss 10), we're on a countdown to her fourth of July birthday.  And one of those school-runs involved a much-needed detour to my place of worship and peace ... De Slegte.  I found treasure, of course.

Eduardo Galeano's book, Mirrors - Stories of Almost Everyone, was my tram-companion today.  I love that  man's humour.  His intelligence more than anything but the way that he writes is rather exquisite.  I heard him interviewed a while back and thought, 'Hmmmm'. 

I have a copy of his Children of the Days too. 

In other news, in news from Genova ... Giovanni is a friend I met long-ago via the internet.  Raised in Milan, he moved to New Zealand some years ago with his wife, and it is from there that he too writes the most marvelous things.

You can imagine, it's rare that we find ourselves in the same country at the same time.  Until this last visit he was always in Italy when I wasn't however we did catch up back in 2010, when I was at home in New Zealand.  And this time the gods of travel allowed us a small meeting.

He arrived in Genova last Sunday and we met in Piazza De Ferrari.  The antiques market was still on and it was fun to wander with him, hearing his stories of this thing and that. 

I was obviously beyond temptation having purchased the beautiful shawl.  (Actually I reached home with about 2euro in change in my pocket.  This is my traveling life, the common story of Di wandering... New Zealand to Istanbul being the most disturbingly close-call of all).

Giovanni and I lunched, we caught up on stories and then, that evening we were able to join Barbara, Donatella, Luciano, and friends of theirs, for aperitivo out in the city.  It was so much fun.  But that's Genova to me ... aka La Superba.

My airline had contacted me that afternoon and so there was the scramble as I worked to get ready to leave a day earlier than I had planned.  Gert has since expressed bemused surprise that he made that mistake while booking for me.  We never make these mistakes and, while it was a situation that made me laugh, there was so much I was leaving until that last day in the city. 

Mmmm, children, don't leave everything until the last moment.

Anyway, I left Giovanni in the city on the Monday, as he wandered there before he headed off along the exquisite Ligurian coastline.  And I gifted my wine and Monday-food to Barbara, then left.  It was over again.

And below ... a photograph I took of Giovanni as we said our goodbyes until next time we find ourselves in the same country again. 

And Then The Email Arrived ...

I know some really special people and, occassionally, we find ourselves in the same country at the same time.

Giovanni is originally from Milan but has spent many years living in New Zealand.  We've never quite managed to be in Italy at the same time however I did visit him and his family when I was home 2 years ago.

Today he caught a train to Genova and I got spend a few hours in the company of this lovely man.  We wandered the city, talking as we wandered.   And tonight we met up again and went out for aperitivo with friends here.

I was saying goodbye (for now) to Donatella and Luciano (aka Susto E Soranzio), to Barbara, as well as a hello and goodbye to two people I hadn't met before but whose company I enjoyed.

The thing that most amused me was that I thought I was leaving on Tuesday.  But no.  An email arrived, that online check-in email that arrives 24 hours before departure.  It would seem that I am leaving tomorrow ...

Probably best I found that out today.

Oh the laughter.  And then the mad attempt to buy a train ticket because, you know, the trains will be quite full as everyone heads home after a long weekend.  And in the rush, somehow, the ticket machines wouldn't take my money. 

But I was in good company.  Barbara and Giovanni made it happen ... well actually, we gave up and I bought one from the woman at the ticket counter. 

So I've packed, more or less.  And I have breakfast plans down in the old city for tomorrow.  And I have to drop off my 'Monday food supplies' because, you know, I won't be here in the  city.

Yep, it's all just one big adventure, isn't it.

That Divine Thing ...

Today, at the monthly antiques market here in Genova, I met the most marvelous man and he sold me this 'most divine thing'. 

I wasn't shopping.  I was actually accompanying Outi as she shopped however ... this happened.  This beautiful shawl that I couldn't resist and believe me, I can resist most things, but this hit me in my girly soul.

I wasn't bartering, I really didn't have the money.  Unfortunately most people assume I'm bargaining.  It used to happen in Istanbul too. The lovely bloke selling this dropped to a price that was simply superb and so yes, I'm walking to catch my plane in Milan on Tuesday ...

But no, really, the Belgian bloke is bailing me out.  Thankfully.  I broke into a sweat confessing.  I love this shawl that much though ...  and I'm not sure I captured it here as it's silky and heavy and completely luxurious.  But anyway, you get an idea.