'Back', a little more everyday.

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
Sylvia Plath

Friday was the longgggg day of travel.  I do it the most difficult way and almost destroyed my shoulder this time.

I caught a taxi to the train station because the possibility of me experiencing a Mr Bean-like incident is high.  Once, while rushing to Genova’s Brignole Station through the rain, I slipped and bent my knee in a way I hadn’t bent it in a long time.  Lying on the ground, pre-pain, I remember considering the possibility of hospital and not having to leave the city I loved however, a lovely man helped me up and I realised that the bone-crushing bend had actually freed my rather stiff knee up.  Bizarre but true. 

My train platform lacked both elevator and escalator access.  I looked at my bags ... one 23kg suitcase, one 7kg+ equipment bag, and considered weeping.  Needs must, and so I picked them up and began the climb.  There was a beautiful young man at the top of the stairs, watching me, resplendent in his Milan clothes.  I reached the top, looked at him, and said OHMYGOD! and laughed because what else can you do when you’re not sure you can survive that kind of ‘lift and climb’ scenario.  I wandered off to a spot in the sun to see what was going to happen.  It seemed I was to survive but for the odd achey muscley bits.

Then it was almost 2 hours on the train to Milan, first class ... because it was just 6 euro more, and so worth it.  And almost another hour on the train to the airport and yes, that was me, 2 hours early for the earliest check-in.  I still have a mild cough thing going and I was so tired, I just wanted to make sure I got home…

So they sent me away with my suitcase, my much-hated suitcase by that point in time, and I found a quiet spot where I could buy some pasta and tomato, and drink a glass of red wine.  My usb modem was still working and so I worked a while but, really, I just wanted to get rid of the suitcase, buy a book, and get through security.

Evening, on the plane and I bought one of those tiny bottles of airplane Merlot, twitching my nose a little over the fact it wasn’t the Chianti I had come to love. 
It was really bad.  I sipped but couldn’t drink it.  The air hostess noticed I hadn’t finished it when I returned it to her and offered to pop up the front and replace it with something nicer.  And she did!  I’m still smiling over that.

Home, suitcase battered but ahah! I had encased it in plastic wrap to avoid the usual suitcase breakage I experience on reaching Brussels.  Well ... I got it home only to discover that they had had their dastardly way with it and that the lock was broken and had jammed closed.  Dank u wel, Brussels airport.  Another suitcase story to add to the growing collection titled ‘Horrible Things That Have Happened to My Suitcase at Brussels Airport’.  This was its final journey.  God only knows what I’ll replace it with, probably titanium or some other unbreakable material.

On the bright side my suitcase on one of the first off the conveyor belt.  I looked at the time, I had about 6 minutes to reach the hourly bus to Antwerpen. I sprinted through the ‘anythingtodeclare’ section thinking that perhaps that wasn’t the best look when toting a plastic encased suitcase.  I ran, jogged, walked briskly and arrived, a dishevelled panting heap with about 2 minutes to spare.  The driver told me to calm down, that he’d wait, and he laughed. 

Gert met me in the city and, he too, experienced a small destruction to his body on taking my suitcase the rest of the way home and voila, I was home by 10.30pm ... to the most delicious guests.  Ashley, last seen when she was 10 and I was living in New Zealand, daughter of one my favourite friends in the world, was staying over with her lovely Australian friend Beck.  Our place had been their Belgian base for 2 weeks.  It was good to catch up on the years that had passed ...  although how lucid I was is debatable. 

I slept.

The next day, Paola, Simon and Matteo arrived, fleeing their home renvoations, and the quiet party kicked off.  It was more of a talking and eating and lounging around time together.  Persian chicken for dinner, with Paola’s delicious Limoncello Tiramisu for dessert ... and red wine.  We were trying to find a Chianti replacement for the Banfi I came to love in Genova.

Well, that’s what I was doing.  Maybe the others weren’t quite so interested in that particular search and, in fact, Gert had a Belgian beer.

Sunday came, Paola and Simon left after lunch.  Beck’s and Ashley started packing ... Beck was heading for Spain on the 5am airport bus, and Ashley’s flies out of Paris tonight, heading for New Zealand.  Jessie and little Miss 7 arrived and I did an impromptu photo shoot of the girls.  Dinner ... what was dinner?  Oh yes, it was the one where we introduced the girls to rabbit cooked the Belgian way ... in tons of beer, with sultanas and all kinds of yummy things.  They weren’t quite convinced despite me promising we were only eating the naughtiest rabbits.  Beck finally decided it would have been better not to know which creature we were consuming. (Note: that didn’t work with Jessie.  I may have led her to believe she was eating chicken once ... when it was rabbit.  I wouldn’t do that again.  She was veryvery cross with me.)

We heard the taxi leave this morning for the airport bus stop around 4.30am.  I went with Ashley to the train later.  I’m home now.  Sunshine on my back, an empty house.  Good music playing. 

So I’m back from Italy and now ... to work on that book.

New Zealand Wins the Rugby World Cup ...

AMAI ! (the Flemish equivalent of ‘my goodness’ perhaps), I’m not sure how regular my breathing was during the final of the rugby world cup. 

So many times, we have known we have the best rugby team in the world ... so many times, they have failed at the final hurdle, that final rugby world cup test. 

For perspective on this fact, you probably should know that rugby is almost religion in New Zealand.

And, my goodness, there were times during today’s final where it looked like the All Blacks were going to do it again.  That is ... lose.  It was heart-stopping stuff, with just 1 point seperating New Zealand and France for the final 30 minutes of the game.  France was playing strongly.

But the All Blacks won and our little nation, of just over 4 million people, surely erupted with joy (and quite some relief).  Even there in the Embassy, just as it was beginning to sink in, in the photograph below.  There was another room, with a BIG screen and many more people there too.  The Embassy was full.

Gert and I stayed to chat a while with some of the lovely people who turned up to watch the big match at the embassy.  Apparently there were ambassadors from 5 countries there.  To me, they were all there for the rugby, nothing else mattered ... did it?

From there, we wandered on over to the home of a lovely writer.  I was photographing a man who is in the process of publishing his first book ... in Greek.  If it is ever published in English, be sure, I will let you know because it sounds like one I would enjoy.  He was a pleasure to work with and being there for a while, in his world, was a nice time out.

Home, and voila, our tram took us past a robbery-gone-wrong crime scene, with the police tent covering the body.

Then Oliver had time to film my first ever web video and could I? 
I could.

We spent 2 hours or more, with him interviewing and filming me ... using two cameras. Amai!!  it was intense.  It should appear on the website one day soon, although it is destined for the new website which is up but still being loaded.  Dank u wel to my Belgian bloke who, so very patiently, built me a new site using SquareSpace.  News to follow.

Now, with my glass of red wine almost done, I’m turning my attention towards flying tomorrow.  I jet back to Genova Italy in the morning.  It’s a 5am start, I believe.  A long day of wandering but, by crikey, I’m looking forward to being back there and beginning work on my book ... and organising the dates and the marketing for the first ‘come travel with me’ photography workshop for Spring 2012.

I’m glad I had Saturday.  I had a birthday and my lovely daughter cooked dinner for me, and baked a cake of Veronica’s that still makes me smile when I think of it.  I rested, as if I had an inkling of the sheer insanity of Sunday.  Saturday saw me enjoying Miss 7, hanging out with the Belgian bloke, talking with my sister and her daughter Katie, back home in New Zealand for 3 hours perhaps, there was a family dinner too.

Tomorrow ... tomorrow is coming at speed and I really must pack.  I hope your weekend was a sweet one.
Ciao for now.

My Friend, Judy

It has to be said, I have the loveliest friends ...

Today, Judy was coming to town.  We had plans, that changed, and were all the better for changing I’m thinking. 

We immediately wandered from the train station to Caffenation, for some really good coffee.  Much talking later, we left, heading for my most favourite bookshop in Belgium ... De Slegte, in Antwerpen.  We both love books.

Lunch, and Judy introduced me to a cafe she knew once.  It was lovely and I recommend it so highly ... Moments, on the Meir at number 47.  Second floor, for those like me who have never noticed it before.

We walked on, finding delicious boots at Torfs (that were not purchased), my new favourite shoe brand, also found on the Meir at number 14-16.  Then to the Grand Bazaar ... which is nothing like the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul but still, place of some favourite stores of mine. 

There, she bought me a birthday gift that made me smile.  I have never known anyone quite so convincing in the ... ‘well-it’s-better-if-you-choose-what-you-would-like-rather-than-me-guessing’ line of gift giving.  I do adore her.  And so, after quite some sweating, I chose a favourite author’s latest book.  I have all of Joe Simpson’s non-fiction and I have to confess, his work of fiction had me totally in its grip by the time I reached the supermarket, via the tram home.

Then, I took her to Lojola.  This youtube takes you to the cafe ...  it’s the cutest little cupcake and coffee or tea place in the city.

From there, after much laughter, we wandered back to the train station where ... after running for the wrong train, she decided to walk me to my tram, as she had time to spare.  The most commonly used sentence during the long walk to my tram was variations on ‘Yes Di, I can find my way back to my train, as I did Cuba alone’.  But there was so much more humour that doesn’t quite come through in that sentence.  Both Judy and I are terribly amusing.  Modest though.

So yes ... it was a magical day.  Unexpected really but all the more lovely for it.  As I write this, I’m listening to the Chan Chan Compay Segundo cd that she slipped into that birthday package for me. 

Dank u wel, Judy.  Today was truly delicious.

Autumn means Easter to Me ...

I’m not sure my unconscious will ever adjust to this upside-down life in the northern-hemisphere.

The leaves are changing colour and we’re waiting for our first frost which means ... it’s almost Easter.  But no, that was a New Zealand thing.  Here it’s already mid-October. although Belgium had been enjoying high temperatures as late as last week. 

I took the bike out this afternoon, needing to stretch. I took myself and my camera into the park on our beautiful day.  We’re blessed with this city park, and mostly I love it even while struggling to forget the massively busy European motorway right next door, the motorway that, if I wake in the night, sounds like a Spring tide at Tautuku, on the lower East Coast of New Zealand.

Anyway, today it was pretty.  There was a blue heron down at one of the many ponds, hanging out with the big white geese and the ducks.  The moles hills were there mocking mans efforts to tame nature too.  I love those moles ... there to remind us, surely, that we’re not quite able to tame and maintain everything out there in the natural world.