A Early Morning Post from Belgium.

An early night, as in anything before midnight, means I'm almost guaranteed an early morning. 

5am and my mind kicked into gear, with remarkable clarity, driving me out of bed to escape the court hearing I seemed to be hosting in there. 

Downstairs I made the usual selection, choosing between the Dutch-speaking Radio Nostalgia, and something similar in French.  I take that forgranted now ... rarely wondering how a life would be lived in a country where radio was once again heard only in my language.

In Genova I slip easily into a routine that involves a glass of sparkling water, an espresso and a crema-filled pastry at breakfast.  Here it's quite different.  My coffee machine doesn't come close to making good espresso.  My brioche becomes a couple of slices of a particular bread, covered with butter and peach jam.  And the view is of the dining room and lounge here, as opposed to that piazza called Matteotti.

Soon there will be the chaos of an extended family going in different directions, each of them with their different needs. Dutch mixing with English, 'cereal or toast', an Earl Grey for him, water for her ... bicycles being rolled out the front door from their week-day resting place in the hall.

Then sometimes it's me rolling my bike out.  Miss 10 and I ride through the massive park nearby, cycling to a school much closer than her previous one.  We ride through the park, and then under the massive motorway that cuts our section of Antwerp city off from the centre.  Sometimes we hold our breath as we pass under it but it's pointless I know.  I see the brown air is all over Belgium when I fly from this country. As one of Europe's hubs, pollution levels are high.

It's almost 7am as I write this.  Soon people will wake and, as something different, electricians are due at 8am.  Something about the power company changing fuses ... 

And so it begins ...


Remembering Good Food and Good Friends

Last week ... this was the dinner starter at Il Genovese. 

It's a little of this, a little of that, to be shared between five.  Outi, my Finnish friend living in Liguria.  Alessandra and Davide, lovely Italian friends from Genova.  And Gabrielle, my Australian client, the one who has become a lovely friend too.

The food was exquisite ... of course, and the company.

Today finds me at my desk and working, back here in Belgium, freezing.  I'm wearing Fiona's hand-knitted woolen rainbow socks and warm clothes.  It's grey, cold and raining, and I remembered this photograph.

Mmmhmmm, I just had peanut butter on toast and a coffee for lunch.

I miss Genovese food. 

Microguagua - street power Reggae!

These guys. 

I was in awe of the high-energy, joy-filled street performance of the Reggae band called Microguagua.

I bought one of their cds because I wanted their music back in Belgium. 

They're brilliant.  Seeing them perform live made me smile.  Perhaps I caught a sense of them here but honestly, their music makes you smile.

I found them out in Via San Lorenzo, in Genova.  I had to stop for some photographs.

Two Beautiful Souls ...

What matters the most is that you’re doing something to make the world a better place. And you have to believe in this. It’s important… you think with your eyes, and that’s all the world asks you to do.

– Camille Lepage, July 26th, 2013.

Christena Dowsett is a remarkable woman, I follow her blog and make that statement based on what I've read over there.

Christena writes things like this, of time spent with her friend, Camille Lepage:

Our last night together, we closed down the bar by talking with the Maasai guards who were there. It was quite a sight to behold. She and I and six Massai dressed in full traditional clothing. We must have talked for an equal number of hours. I remember how intently she asked them questions, about their culture, their families, if leaving their loved ones behind for work was hard. She asked nothing that would relate back to her. She was intent on knowing them inside their own context.

Meanwhile I was asking questions like, “How do you guys feel about tourists and white people in general?”

She looked outward for her questions. I looked inward.

I sat and listened most of the night. I watched her. And learned from her how to learn from people.

Earlier that day she told me, “You need to not see them as different. See them the way they see themselves. Show them as if they were white. You need to look at them as if they were your brothers. Stop thinking about you, you have to think about them.”

And this post, titled The Bag-less Lady, made me smile. 

These women, the photographs, Camille's legacy kept alive by her friend ... they're so important.