Clare and Chris ...

They booked their visit months ago.  It was written into 'the book' and then time passed, in its usual haphazard manner.  Being me, I lost track but suddenly, despite this non-participation with regard to time, it was 25 August and voila, they were here.

I met Clare in Istanbul and adored her there.  She left, we stayed in contact and Gert and I had the joy of photographing her British wedding to the lovely Chris ...  

This friendship,  it's been lovely so far.

Yesterday we wandered the city ending our day at Taverne Ter Rivierenhof, with unlimited exceptionally exquisite Mosselen a Velonte, Scampi in Lookboter, and Stoverij.  Bliss!

This morning a traditional Belgian breakfast was enjoyed by all, conversations too, and then afternoon saw them disappear on our bikes, exploring this city Clare has only visited during colder months.  Chris has never been here ... it was therefore imperative that he went wandering.

Last heard of, they were leaving the Open Air Sculpture Park called Middelheim, heading for the famous Het Elfde Gebod - a pub full of religious statues, bought when the Catholic Church entered its minimalist phase.

There have been a couple of serious downpours but we're thinking they're fine.  She's an intrepid soul, as is he ... and we're looking forward to the stories that will surely be told over Shepherd's Pie and Pavlova tonight.

Oh ... and red wine too. Belgian beers for the boys we're thinking - in the style of an anthropological-style ethnography.  Gert's been introducing all the blokes to the new beer by Duvel Tripel Hop.  So far, everyone he has introduced to this new limited edition beer to, has looked like they have partaken of a miracle upon supping from their Duvel glass.

Even Clare toyed with not returning Chris's glass to him after a taste of the Duvel, despite the fact that we in the midst of our own red wine religious experience.  That, my friends, is how good the Duvel Tripel Hop is ... 

Anyway, meet Chris and Clare.

 

 

Moving to the other side of Belgium ... stories to follow

After 7 years spent living here in the heartland of Belgium ... I'm heading away from 't stad' and out into the 'parking' that is the rest of Belgium, or so some Antwerpenaars have told me.  't stad being 'the stad' abbreviated ... or the city.

I'm off on a 2 week Wallonian adventure, complete with one fierce rooster on whom I've been told not to turn my back. 

Stories will follow.  Meanwhile, meet the rooster.  He's the tallest scariest rooster I've ever seen.

 

 

 

The Price of Water in Finistère by Bodil Malmsten.

I'm in my garden in Finistère filling out change-of-address cards.  It's an afternoon at the beginning of September 2000, a  soft haze over the countryside.  The Atlantic is breathing tides and seaweed, the reassuring sound of the warning buoy like an owl.

I live in Finistère because I've moved here.  It wasn't by chance; for a woman of experience there's no such thing as chance.

Sleep with open eyes and you shall find.

... In the same way that there's a partner for every person, there's a place.  All you have to do is find your own among the billions that belong to other people, you have to be awake, you have to choose.

Extract from The Price of Water in Finistère by Bodil Malmsten.

Who could resist a book with an opening like that ...

I'm a reader who loves to fall in love with the opening paragraph.  I found this book today, by chance, in my favourite secondhand bookshop here in Belgium.  And fell in love.

I began reading it while waiting for the metro, read it as we slid through the underground on Tram 5, and will read it whenever I have a moment spare. 

It's beautiful so far.