Tomorrow starts a new year.

2010. The end of the naughties, the end of my life in Belgium, the end of my full-time studenthood, the end of living at the Duinenabdijstraat, the end of a lot of things. And yet, the end of 2010 has been the start of so much more. It was the year in which I started my life in Liverpool and though it might have had a bit of a rocky start, I am positive about the future. I am positive about 2011. The first decade of the new millenium has come to a beautiful close, with financial problems clearing up, friendships emerging from the ashes of my first attempts, a wonderful week spent with my family (much against my and probably everyone's expectations) and a promise of a great offset into the new year in the company of one of my dearest people on earth, my lovely cousin Delfien. And then, the new begins. A day or two left in the company of mom and Siem, a day spent with my old housemate, a day spent with my old improv group, a night spent in my favourite club. And then, onwards and upwards, back on the train, on my way to Liverpool. I start the year with some minor surgery which will make me less of a circusfreak (though no one will want to feel my head out of curiosity anymore), a signing on for money and occupance of time, a cinematic deviation and hopefully some dinner with my closest friends. I have so much to look forward to and even to be thankful for, despite the bumps and craters in the road that I have come. A new year, a new start, a new hope. I really should watch the entire Star Wars cycle. New Year's Resolution no.1.

New pictures

A bunch of new pictures up on facebook, follow the public link here.

Things I like about being home (in random order)

- Food in the refrigerator
- Pets in the house
- Heating in the toilet
- My little brother's laugh
- Talking to mum
- The Christmas tree
- The shop two doors down
- Plenty of DVDs I've never seen
- Boardgames
- Freshly baked bread

And more. Which I forgot for the moment. But will remember soon.

Christmas so far

As you may have read, my journey home was absolutely magical and I must say, my stay has not disappointed. We are now halfway and so far, there have been no fights, no tears, no frustrations, no wanting to go home. All very good, considering I normally hit all four of those within 24 hours. My brother has come to an age where he and I see eye-to-eye, the unpredictability of young age has mostly gone and not to brag, but he more or less adores me. And I him. My cat is perfectly lovely, crawling on my lap every evening and miaowing throughout the day for attention. My dog, broken leg included, is a sucker for attention, you cannot move an inch without her fawning at your side. Oh well, a cuddle is always free. The house I'm staying in is the house I grew up in, where I spent the first 18 years of my life (apart from the first two). We now have hardwoodfloors and different furniture, but my, have I missed it. It feels good to be in a place so familiar to you, a place where you know where every plug is, where your hand automatically trails to the lightswitch and doesn't have to wander, where you know what door closes badly and which one like a charm. I've seen my family and some of my friends and later on this week I'll get to spend some quality time with my cousin and my old housemate(s). In the meanwhile, it's crafts with the little brother, followed by playing with cars and dominos. A little internet and film inbetween and that's the mix which fills my days. And I'm loving it. So far, so good. Bring on part two!

Een brief aan mijn grootvader.

Dag Vake!

Ik dacht je maar eens een berichtje te sturen om je te laten weten wat ik zoal doe in Engeland, want zaterdag had ik daar niet genoeg tijd meer voor. Ik studeer nu dus in Liverpool, een havenstad in het noorden van Engeland en de thuisstad van de beroemde Beatles. De charme van de stad en de reden waarom ik erheen verhuisd ben, is vooral de rijke geschiedenis die te vinden is tussen de fraaie herenhuizen en verwaarloosde pakhuizen. De stad kende een ontzettende groei tijdens de hoogdagen van de steenkool. In het noorden waren een groot aantal mijnen en Liverpool gold als de belangrijkste haven van Engeland. Echter, toen de steenkoolconsumptie kelderde, verloor de stad de meeste van zijn inkomsten en het mooie Liverpool vol statige gebouwen veranderde in een verwaarloosde puinhoop met een criminaliteitsgehalte dat bijna even hoog was als het werkloosheidscijfer. Voor decennia was Liverpool de achterbuurt van Engeland; een gehucht enkele kilometers buiten de stad werd zelfs opgenomen in de lijst van “meest achtergestelde regio’s in Europa”, waar het ver boven landen zoals Oekraïne en Roemenië troonde. Maar in de late jaren ’90 kwam hier langzaam verandering in. Het Beatles-toerisme trok steeds meer mensen richting Liverpool en de stad begon terug inkomsten te genereren. In plaats van zich te focussen op industrie, werd het steeds meer een toeristische, culture plek, wat de inkomsten omhoog trok en zelfs leidde tot de bekroning van “European Capital of Culture” in 2008. In de laatste tien jaar is het krakkemikkige Liverpool veranderd in een moderne stad, die echter nog steeds het oude met het nieuwe combineert. Wat mij aantrok, waren de vele facetten van de stad. Door de status van havenstad is er een ontzettende multi-culturaliteit, die vooral gedomineerd wordt door de Ieren die naar Liverpool trokken tijdens de Great Famine. Zij waren zelfs zo sterk in aantal dat ze hebben meegeholpen aan het vormen van het typische dialect, ‘Scouse’, wat nog het meest op het West-Vlaams lijkt met een sterke “g”-keelklank.
Ook in de architectuur is de woelige geschiedenis van Liverpool terug te vinden: grote bakstenen pakhuizen aan de ene kant van de stad (al dan niet omgebouwd tot musea en moderne appartementen), nieuwe kantoorgebouwen aan de andere. Door de vele heuvels heb je op sommige plekken een prachtig panoramisch uitzicht over de rest van de stad en dan vooral de haven met de Mersey, de rivier die zich richting zee slingert en die zo belangrijk is geweest voor het ontstaan van Liverpool. Ikzelf woon buiten de stad, een busritje van twintig minuten verwijderd van het centrum. Mijn huis ligt in een buurt die vooral door studenten en jonge gezinnen wordt bevolkt, hoewel ik net iets verder woon dan de meeste van mijn vrienden. De universiteit bevindt zich volledig op één campus en mijn faculteit (Geschiedenis) bevindt zich in één van de herenhuizen rond een mooi grasveld annex parkje, net naast de bibliotheek. Ik spendeer er geen uren, aangezien ik slechts vier uur per week les heb, maar de bibliotheek is mijn grote vriend. Die is trouwens 24 uur open, met uitzondering van zaterdag en zondag. Een luxe die ertoe leidt dat ik soms meer dan tien uur na elkaar in de bibliotheek doorbreng, hoewel die vaker worden ingevuld door internet en boeken lezen dan met het echte studeerwerk. Maar aangezien ik halftijds studeer, is dat geen probleem. De vakken zijn niet eindeloos boeiend, maar ook niet al te saai. Ik zou niet zeggen dat ik me mispakt heb, maar ik hoop toch op wat meer interessante stof in het volgende semester. Ik ben trouwens wel erg dankbaar voor zes jaar Latijn in het middelbaar, aangezien ik net een mooie 77% heb gehaald voor de cursus ‘Latin for Medievalists’, waarvoor ik niet al te veel werk heb moeten doen. Er staat me nog een paper te wachten die binnenmoet begin februari, maar daar heb ik dus nog een redelijk aantal weken voor. Volgend semester pakken we dan nog wat meer geschiedenis aan (dit keer de Renaissance, vorig semester was het de Middeleeuwen) en gaan we ook Latijnse manuscripten lezen, waar ik erg naar uitkijk.
Na een financieel moeilijke periode in de afgelopen maanden heb ik eindelijk een job gevonden die me ligt. Ik verkoop Cd-roms aan de telefoon, maar voor je denkt “wat saai!”, moet ik toch even erbij vermelden dat het Cd-roms zijn over Shakespeare (wat netjes aansluit bij mijn thesis van vorig jaar) en dat ik enkel verkoop aan scholen en leerkrachten, wat zorgt dat de meesten wel geïnteresseerd zijn in wat ik te vertellen heb. Daarbij komt nog eens dat we hen enkel kunnen bereiken tijdens de pauzes, dus dat mijn werkdag zich strekt van half twaalf ’s morgens tot vier uur ’s middags, met een pauze van twee tot drie. Ik kan het me dus zeker niet beklagen. Ik hoop nog in Liverpool te blijven tot december 2012, wanneer ik zal afstuderen in de typische “cap and gown”, iets waar ik al jaren over droom. Wat ik daarna ga doen, weet ik nog niet. Hoewel ik er volledig van overtuigd was dat ik voor altijd in Engeland zou blijven wonen, veranderde mijn zware heimwee dat al snel na mijn aankomst en nu durf ik geen uitspraken meer te maken, zij het over het één of het ander. We kunnen slechts afwachten en zien wat de toekomst brengt.

My first first class

After only an hour wait, we boarded the train. I thought it rather convenient I was positioned in coach 7, the first coach you see when entering the platform, but thought nothing more of it. Until I saw the purser in front of the door. This couldn’t be right, could it? Quickly entering the wagon, convincing myself that yes, indeed, I was in the right place. Checking with the purser. Yes, it is indeed first class. Carefully venturing inward, then quickly heading towards my seat. Don’t want to get thrown out, when people realise their mistake. Nice window seat, plug for my computer, table… Spacious seats, too. This is nice! And then, five minutes in the trainjourney. “Here’s your menu, miss”. Menu? Wait, what? This can’t be free. Checking with my neighbor. Yes, it is indeed free. Uttering small cry of joy. Catching the smile of my fellow passenger. Deciding whether ordering champagne would be too decadent. Settling on white wine. Secretly hoping they take orders twice. Though 187 ml of Mirambeau will certainly do. Do I get that three course menu too? Folding out the rest of the table. Trying not to disturb my neighbour. Glass glasses instead of plastic cups. What class. Snow is flying past on the fields outside. I decide on a film. Got to do something with my spare time, and the wifi isn’t working. Not that I’m complaining. ‘Mr Bean’s Holiday’. Yes, that is something I’ve not seen in ages. Strange metaphysical moment when I see him getting on a Eurostar. Ordering in the buffetcar. Well, I certainly don’t have to do that today. Three course meal, hopefully. Would they wait to serve til they arrive in France? I couldn’t bear to eat without light, let’s hope they don’t serve when we’re in the Chunnel. But even then, I’m not complaining. I should do this every time. What snow, what snow. Is that the three course meal I smell? Salad or pork? Salad, pork is spicy. But first the entrée, of course. When will they take my order? So much food left in my bag. Shouldn’t have bought it, but how did I know. Haven’t even started on my tea. Save that for Belgium? What snow, what snow.

Things always sound better than they really are. The food was good, but turned out to be completely different than I expected. But I liked it, and I liked the second bottle of wine I got. That’s 374 ml altogether. Plus three courses. Plus tea. Plus a mini-chocolate. Plus a bun and butter. And a bottle of water. What food, what food. The Chunnel took longer than expected (and of course they served food in the dark), but now snowy France is all around us. It’s like a fairytale, like a movie, like a big adventure. First class train through snowy surroundings, what more could I wish for Christmas. I feel like I’m on holiday in Austria or Switzerland or one of those other winter countries, but without the commercial aspect of it. Travelling by train is always different from flying or a car, certainly when twilight falls. It’s like riding through a Christmas card, like travelling in good old times. Like the movies and the Transsiberian Express. I expect Porroit to show up any minute now. This is so unreal, so magical, so unlike my life. I am enjoying every minute of it and have never felt like Christmas before. To travel home for Christmas was already something magical, what with the snow falling and everyone so excited (why don’t Belgians get excited over Christmas?). The past week was a wonderful build-up and so far, it has not disappointed. A white Christmas might happen yet, and oh, how I see why people write songs about…

A troublesome travel

I set off this morning, rushing to get my bus (left the house a little too late because I forgot to wash a dish and put out my trash and make some tea and so on), which I made just in time (and a Stagecoach too - that's 40 pence saved!). Stressing throughout the journey, I made it to the station with a nice margin, only to discover my train was in fact delayed, leaving me enough time to pick up some food before boarding (and reading the paper too). The train finally set off for London 15 minutes later than planned, which raised my bloodpressure slightly, but I decided not to stress about it. After all, there was nothing I could do. As field after field passed, barely distinguishable under the thick white coat of snow, the minutes ticked by. Soon we were running on a delay of 30 minutes and we weren't even half way yet. The stress build up, but I ignored it, instead losing myself in sudokus and food. When I realised there was no way I would be able to make my train, a weight fell off my shoulders. No need to run to maybe get that train, I would be late anyway. Still, I got my things together and set off for the corridor at least ten minutes before the train actually stopped and rushed out of the station as soon as the doors opened. Down Euston Road, panting, my bag banging against my leg, my feet hurting as always. When I didn't see a queue snaking out of the St Pancras, relief set into my heart. There was no line, no waiting people, and the first steward I saw came to my rescue immediately by assuring me there was no problem whatsoever to get on the next train. Get a new ticket (five minute wait), check-in (three minute process), get laptop out, log on to the free wifi. See a trolley with free sandwiches. Get a turkey one. See another trolley, with rolls. Get a chocolate one. Enjoy the warmth, the internet, the food, being where I should be.
I'll be on my way in twenty minutes (if the train is not delayed)*, on my way home, cutting short a day which looked disastrous from the start. I might be delayed in Belgium, the Eurostar might take hours to get home, but at least I am on my way. I cannot wait to get home, speak Dutch, see my family, eat homemade food which isn't bangers and mash, play in the snow, have a nice shower, celebrate Christmas, give presents. Almost there!

*I just heard the train is delayed. Predictable, but I am not too bothered. Life is good.

YES!

I have a job and it's a brilliant job and a well-paid job and a nice-hours job and an interesting job and a chill job and a holidays-off job and a good-for-my-CV job and a job which starts soon and a job which will pay for stuff and a job which will give me some freedom and a job which will bring me into town and out of the house every day and a great job. And I am excited.

A very brackety Christmas

As the end of December comes closer, I get more and more invitations to Christmassy events. Last night I went to the Winter Jamboree at the Guild and it was pretty much lovely. I got a henna tattoo (which isn't too pretty, I must say, but at least I can scratch an item of my bucket list), a poem written especially for me (printed below), sweets from a piñata (though I didn't wack it myself), some Indian deepfried things I forgot the name of already (sorry Steven) and some spicy Chinese food (which I gave to Andy). I also saw some horrible music piece from the Theatre Society (which was basically them dancing and singing to Glee songs), a rather unsynchronised dance by BodySoc (with one ginger guy surrounded by a bunch of girls and doing the same moves, which was rather disturbingly funny), a nice Chinese dance (with traditional clothing and pretty pink fans) and some lovely Bollywood dancing (which left me bouncing in my seat). There was also a piece by the Reenactment Society (prompting a rather geeky conversation between Steven and I about who was Royalist and who was Parliamentarian) and a 15min show by Sticky Floor (which started off a little rough but ended nicely). The only real downside of the evening was the raffle (in which I didn't participate) which lasted for at least ten minutes, solely consisting of a guy calling of numbers which nobody had.

Tonight Cafe Home (the international student society I am part of and help to organise) is going to a Carol Concert (yet another item on my bucketlist I will be able to cross off), something I am very much looking forward to. After that I will probably head down to a Christmas party organised by some of my church friends, where I will taste a mince pie for the first time in my life (though I might have one before, at the carol concert), accompagnied by mulled wine (which we like to call 'Glühwein', a term very blatantly stolen from the Germans).

On Monday the Frisbee team has its Christmas meal, in which I shall be participating and which more or less constitutes my first English Christmas meal. However, I have a slight feeling I might have to wait for the crackers and partyhats (there is some special name for them which I don't exactly recall right now) til Thursday, when I will celebrate Christmas with my dear friends Tom, Liz, Jonny and Anne (and probably Anne's boyfriend, Matt). In between I might hop over to the cinema for a beautiful rendition of C.S.Lewis's "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" (something I am very much looking forward to) on Wednesday night. Friday will be an extremely busy day, as I will have two Christmas parties to attend, both the Cafe Home one (international students) and the Christmas party at Barrington Road (church people). I am not sure how I am going to juggle those two but I am sure I'll find a way.

After all these parties, I have a mere four days left before I leave for Belgium, something I am very excited about. I have never looked forward to going home this much, not even when I felt so homesick in November. For the first time in years, Christmas has this magical attraction to me, like a fairytale I will be completely immersed in for two weeks. I of course know this is a rather unrealistic expectation, but I can't help dreaming about being home, in front of the fire, thick socks on my feet, feet on the new hardwood floors, Christmas tree in the corner, brother playing at my feet and my cat on my lap. I still have to decide what books to take, what clothes to wear, how and when to giftwrap my presents, but for now, dreaming will do. It is strange how much a holiday like this can make you long for home. I am going home for Christmas, and though I've technically done the same thing for the last four years, this year I am not just going home, I am coming home. No matter how lovely Liverpool might be, Belgium is still the place which holds my heart, which I call home, where I belong. This might all change with time, but right now, I can't wait to go home.

Hanne

She gets funny looks

for carrying her history books

She just loves the past

She thinks it's a blast

She's from Belgium, but loves it here

She's a lovely girl, she's such a dear

Job?

I actually found another job I might get, though it won't be until the new year, which basically makes sense, as no job would employ me now seeing I will be off for two weeks over Christmas. The job would be temporary but with possibility of staying on and is perfectly up my street. The company sells Shakespeare education packs with DVD's, which ties in with my dissertation subject. It has very sensible hours and a good pay (£6.60/hour) and I could probably manage to work full time instead of part time. But, I shouldn't be too excited yet, we will just have to wait til I get an interview (which will be in January). Hopefully this will work out, I really want to do it!

I found a puddle in the park

The park is coated in frosting, the vivid green grass hidden beneath its silvery white tips. As I walk across the lawn, the grass cracks underneath my boots. And then, silence. I look down. I see myself, blurry, dark, with little green specks across my face. I glance around, but no one seems to notice. Slowly I slide. My foot glides across the glassy surface. A giggle escapes me. A quick pirouette. A grin. My eyes see another pair looking at me, a smile in its corners. My feet touch ground, we walk on, strangers but for a single moment. And the mirror remains, hidden in the grass.

Cold and foggy

So I thought I had found this really good job, but after some extensive research, it turned out that though it all looked good at first sight, this was a very clever and well-documented fraud. Which means the jobhunt contines.

Meanwhile, I am missing Sinterklaas and it really gets to me. I mean, my mom has sent me a package (which hasn't arrived yet, but maybe in today's post), but it's still not the same. I am really looking forward to going home, to a warm house filled with family and friends and seeing Brugge in winter (gorgeous).

But for now, I am stuck in foggy Liverpool, trying to find a job and figuring out what the better option is. You see, if I accept a job which earns less than 8 pounds an hour, I will actually receive less money than I would be if I just stayed on benefits. Benefits provide me with about 110 pounds a week, which covers my rent and just enough money to live on. If I accept a part-time job which earns less than 8 pounds an hour, I will in effect earn less than that. And there aren't many full-time jobs I can fit around my schedule. It is rather disturbing. Which is why that job seemed so good, but it's almost certainly a hoax. It is all a little disappointing, one must admit. But I will figure something out, no matter what. It'll probably mean living on a little less and I really am not sure where I am gonna get enough money to pay my tuition fees, but I will just deal with it. After all, the job as a waitress is still open, and though that really doesn't pay enough, I can actually combine it with benefits and then do some extra shifts during the examination period and earn a little extra for those tuition fees. I will figure something out, I am sure. And if I don't, then that is life, and I will simply return to Belgium after a year. The future is this, and I accept it.

Update: more good news

My landlady has agreed to give me two more weeks. Hallelujah!

Good news

My money issues might soon be resolved. It's all still a little too uncertain right now, but I will let you know when I know more. However, this I can say: whatever happens, I will do everything to stay here. Be it in this house or not, I will do my best. I don't know how I will fix uni yet, but we will see how things go. For now, this is where I want to be. And if I get kicked out, well, I guess I'll just have to find a new place then. A warmer place. A cleaner place. Something closer to city centre. With a better shower. And maybe a garden. Aaaaahh... Is it bad that I might be getting a little excited about being kicked out?

Nog steeds geen sneeuw

Terwijl het hele land kreunt onder het sneeuwtapijt, ligt Liverpool verloren in de kou. Er zijn geen vlokken om ons te troosten, geen krakende voetstappen op ons pad, slechts spatjes ijs, hier en daar, en wat bevroren vijvers. Elke morgen kijk ik hoopvol uit mijn raam, maar zie slechts het wit van de rijm op de daken, het zilver van het ijs op de auto's, het grijs van het asfalt en de stoep. Als er sneeuw was, zou het draaglijker zijn. Dan was de kou niet zo'n problemen, hoopten we zelfs dat het nog kouder werd. Dan konden we gaan spelen in het park en lekker opwarmen met thee. Nu is het zelfs te koud en kaal en kil voor wandelingen in het bos en op het strand. Wat goed is de winter als je niet eerst bevriezen kan, alvorens op te warmen met een boek. Nee, dit weer doet ons schuilen, diep onder de dekens, met de verwarming op het hoogste, een thermos bij de hand. We eten niet, want de keuken is te ver, we drinken niet, want de glazen zijn te vuil. Ons leven speelt zich af binnenshuis, omgeven door warme sokken en vele laagjes, die ons omhelzen en doen vergeten dat het buiten winter is. Maar onze handen en onze neus kennen de waarheid. Waarom werkt mijn laptop niet wanneer ik handschoenen aandoe?

Mijn waterpijp staat wat verloren op de kast. De parken lonken, maar de winter staat als wachter aan de deur en slaat ons met de koude wanneer we durven buitengaan. Blijf binnen, blijf binnen, hier is niets te zien. Er zijn zelfs geen vlokken om mee te spelen. Waarom kom je buiten? Fietsen in dit weer? Nee, nee. Ga maar gauw weer schuilen. Zelfs in de bib is het te koud, de verluchting staat er altijd aan, omhult je met de kilte. Het is geen weer om productief te wezen, nog minder om actief te zijn. Als alles maar in pyjama kon, onder een verendeken.

Snow

It's snowing! Tiny flakes, but still, snow!

Finally this cold is good for something!

Visitor map

In my pursuit of my benefactor, I added this gadget on my blog telling me where my visitors are from. There are the obvious dots on Liverpool and Belgium, but for some reason there is also one on the Westcoast of America, someone in Ireland, a bunch of them in the Midlands and someone from a tiny island before the coast of Madagascar!!
So, now I am very interested to find out who these people are, or if they are just a random visitor. So, if you regularly read this blog, or sometimes read this blog, or sporadically read this blog, or even just now read my blog for the first time, leave a comment and let me know who you are and where you're from, and how you found out about this blog!

Benefactor

I really wanna know who you are now! So curious!

Guardian Angel

Dear you, whoever you are. I am over the moon with your gift. When my housemate came knocking on my door just now, and asked me if my adoptive family(*) had a habit of dropping off food for me, I was utterly confused. "I found some bread and cheese in a Tesco-bag on the doorstep this afternoon, I think it might be for you. No note though".

It took me a while to figure it out, I must admit. I checked the receipt, looking for a name, a note, anything. And then it dawned on me. Bread and cheese. The bread I ran out off and could not afford, the cheese which was too much of a luxury to buy. Brought to me, on my doorstep, anonymously, by a reader of this blog.

So, dear you, whoever you are, I am so grateful. It means that tomorrow I can get a good, healthy breakfast and have a full stomach to spend the day in the library, studying. You are a lifesaver and when I find out who you are, you are getting the biggest hug in the world. Thank you.

(*) I really need to write a blog about my adoptive family soon, but I'm gonna wait til I see them again, gives me more to report about.

Money is short

These past two months have taught me how it feels to be "poor". I am down to my last 10 pounds right now and let me tell you, it isn't fun. I am lucky enough to still have my family (and especially my dad) to rely on when I have absolutely no money left, but as I rather wouldn't owe anyone any money, I try not to do that too often. But sometimes, like right now, I have no choice. I have been trying to get Jobseeker's Support and, what's more important, Housing Benefits for the past two months now and have gotten nowhere. With a little bit of luck, today will be decided that I am actually eligible for Jobseeker's and my troubles will be whisked away (be it with an about 2 week-delay from now), but by now my faith in the system has dropped so far below zero that I don't see any improvement in the very near future. Ergo, I am broke. I am poor. It is scary to have to choose between food or medicine, to try and figure out if you really need that bottle of milk or whether you can survive in drinking just water, not being able to buy cheese because it is far too expensive for a mere condiment. Realising you have no more bread in the freezer and not being sure whether you can afford to buy a new loaf and even then, it runs out so quickly. Not being able to leave the house because you can't cycle or walk anywhere because your foot won't carry you and not being able to afford the bus. Having to explain to charity workers that no, you cannot buy a cupcake for charity, no matter how cheap it is, or you won't have enough money to buy food tonight.

I am lucky to have people like my dad, who lends me money when I need it, or my housemate, who offers to buy me groceries. My "adoptive" dad who comes by the house to bring a big piece of carrotcake. International students who bring food to our weekly meeting. Friends who buy me a drink and tell me they are better off than I am and to drop it. My friends who support me in prayer and tell me there will be a way to provide. But I can't keep on counting on other people's charity like this. I would start working now, were it not that I can't, because I can barely walk to the end of my street before I start limping like an idiot. So all my hope is on this Jobseeker's Allowance. Because even though it's only 50 pounds a week, I would rather have 50 pounds a week and spend only 30, than only have 10 pounds to survive an entire week.

I cannot imagine what it would be like to live like this every day. To have no money, no extras, no savings. To not have family to fall back on when times are hard, when sickness strikes, when it rains and you cannot afford to get sick. I am grateful that this is only a temporary toil, that this is not something I have to carry every day of my life. My heart and prayers go out to those who are not so fortunate, who are alone in this world without any financial help. The people who live on reduced price-foods, who walk for an hour to city centre for a two hour-class, who never drink milk but always water. And when my money finally comes through, I hope to support those people, financially, morally and passionately, and do my best for those who are less fortunate in this world. Because no one should go through this every day of his life.

Feet

I am crippled. I've been limping around time for a few days now, with ups and downs. It all started on Sunday, after mass (mass in the cathedral crypt, not as impressive as it sounds, but still good). I walked out and all of a sudden my feet hurt excruciatingly much. And it didn't really stop. So on Tuesday I went to the doctor's and now I'm scheduled for an ultrasound of my foot to see if I have a little thingy on my nerve of my foot which they then have to inject and it should be fine. Or it is not that and then I will need new support soles. Either way, I am temporarily crippled. Not fun.

Winter in Liverpool

When the cold hits in England, it truly hits home. While in Belgium you can more or less ignore it til the start of December, at least, everyone has been complaining about the weather since the start of November, if not even from before. Cold is different here. Cold is more penetrating, more icy, more encompassing. I have been wearing the standard two pairs of socks since the start of the month and when I plan on staying at the library I always take my hoodie as an extra layer against the slumbering cold. I am yet to come into a house where there is not a hint of a draught coming from the windows or the door, creeping up on you while you are watching tv or reading a book. My house in particular is absolutely freezing during the day, as we only put on the central heating between 5 and 9 at night (and 5 and 7 in the morning, but I am never awake at those times and therefore my heating is never on). Before I left, my good friend Lance gave me a blanket-sized fleece and whenever I want to watch some tv in the lounge I trail it along, covering myself up and trying to hide my frosty toes underneath of one of the pillows. The cold is so bad that I barely eat, as it means getting out from underneath of the covers and making myself some supper. Which means I am of course even colder, as I have no energy to burn. And the winter has only just started. You can imagine how grateful I am to myself for taking my dressing home back with me on my last trip to Belgium. It has kept me warm on many a day in the past few weeks.

Today was the first day I had to face the dreaded English rain. I must say, it is not as bad as Belgian rain (English rain is either heavy or light, Belgian rain is a standard drizzle, soaking you through and through in a matter of minutes but still not heavy enough to take shelter), but the wind makes it almost unbearable. I had to bike from the university to the Jobcentre and then home (all in all about 30 minutes), and boy, was I cold and wet when I came home. And I couldn't dry my clothes on the heating as the boiler wasn't on til about three minutes ago. I can only hope my shoes will dry out nice and clean and will not smell of damp clothes as my old pair did. But yes, the rain. In the past week the rain has been almost a constant to our lives, making us run from building to building and forcing students to take shelter in the libraries, resulting in packed and damp floors with almost no computer to spare. Luckily I have taken my refuge in the Harold Cohen Library lately, the science library which has so many computers at its disposal that you never fail to find one. Plus the widescreens are amazing. Anyway, I always managed to beat the rain by walking with my hood pulled tightly over my eyes for short distancing and taking a bus or taxi for the long ones. But today I had no choice, I had to cycle the long, cold road which is named Lawrence Road (never doing that again, that is for sure) while the rain splattered in my face and the wind blew my hood to the back of my neck. It wasn't fun and it made me crawl into bed with my duvet and my fleece blanket when I came home, tracky bottoms replacing my soaked jeans and my dressing gown firmly tied around my waist. And still I am cold, though the heating is slowly coming to life. But it's not the cold or the rain which is worst. Oh no, that would be an easy task to carry, sitting inside with hot chocolate and biscuits, while Jeremy Kyle gives his advice to the scallies of Great Britain. No, the worst of all is this bloody daylight saving time. In Belgium it is bad enough, the sun sets at half four and everyone creeps back in their houses trying to preserve some warmth and light in their lives. But in Liverpool, the dark hits at three o'clock, half three if we're lucky, and before you know it, it feels like it's evening and all is cold and dark and scary. Your day feels like it is over, while you are only halfway (only one fourth if you're me, waking up at twelve). It is depressing and makes me wonder how the town does not empty itself once November hits, everyone travelling to the sun. Money is of course the issue, but by Jove, if there is one thing about England I thoroughly dislike, it's the weather and how it makes me feel. I haven't felt this miserable for no particular reason in a long time, and I am quite sure my mother (and most of my family) would positively drown themselves if they were forced to live here for longer than a week. Luckily I can bear it a little, blaring away the darkness with a brightly lit laptop screen in front of me and some chocolate at my disposal. Let's hope Spring comes soon, and Summer next.

Studenthood

So. It has been some while again. I am currently in the library, typing on a qwerty keyboard, the clock reads slightly after ten and my eyes are swollen and red. Ergo, this is too early a time and too serious a place to be at. And yet there are a whole bunch of people around me. The study-culture in Liverpool is so very different from how students live and work in Belgium. It seems to be a "constant vigilance" situation (in the words of Mad-Eye Moody), and yet it is not as if the evaluation is actually much harder than in Belgium. I would even claim the opposite: to pass in the UK one only has to obtain 40% and the biggest paper I have had assigned to me has been one of 3000 words. I don't really know what to write about, I would be very happy if our professor just gave us a range of subjects and we could just choose one, as I have no idea where to begin if I can just about write about anything. So, this should be interesting. Now, I certainly wouldn't say I am afraid of the exams, I am just a little in dubio as to whether I will be able to perform properly, as this system is so very different from the Belgian one. Then again, I have spent the last four years learning how to write papers, so I don't really see how it could be a problem to write yet another couple. I am sure I can charm my way into a pass (and by this I of course mean with my words, not with anything else).

But there is still so much to sort out. I need to get money, somehow, and my registration seems still incomplete, and what about my tuition fees? I have not had a moment of peace since arriving here, or not really, at least. There is always that worry in the back of my mind and I cannot wait til I finally sort everything out and can focus on university and stress about THAT. Because even though I am very confident about my abilities to pass, and pass with a good grade, a student always feels a certain anxiety which lies in the fact that in the end, it is the professor who decides your grade and fate. That thrill, the tiny beating of your heart, is slightly intoxicating, exciting, reviving. It is the thrill to studying, the edge, so to speak, and I haven't really had time to feel it at all. At the end of the day, I feel less like a student than anything else, and I miss the feeling to be one. So let's hope that once I get my life sorted, I'll feel the freedom of university once again.

Belgium: the follow-up

According to my housemate this is now the wrong blog to post on, as I am actually in Belgium. Which makes quite a valid point, were it not that I do like to write about being here and that I desperately need some new posts. So, Belgium.
I have been very busy meeting people and catching up with them, so busy even that I have never once succeeded in checking all my blogs in one day. And that says a lot. Anyway, I arrived late on Tuesday night, stuffed some fries down my mouth and went to bed. On Monday, lunch with the housemates was lined up, followed by a social call with two others, dinner with Preparee, followed by training and Reynaert. Wednesday was of much of the same stramine, involving some shopping for contacts (those are SO expensive!), lunch with Katrien, coffee with Bee, dinner with Hannelore and Birgit, watching Kick-Ass (such a weird film) and drinking with the housemates. Early night, which was good (some catching up with Liverpool was prone). And today, well, today is busy again. Lunch in twenty minutes, then drinks at 5 and dinner at 7. Should probably find something to do inbetween. Or someone, but that sounds rather rude. More impressions later, when I do not need to get cleaned up and dressed in less than fifteen minutes.

A night's travels

I ended up stuck in Lille and in Brussels (not at the same time, as these are in two separate countries), calling friends but not having any salvation, crying my eyes out in despair, almost ordering a taxi with three other strangers for the humane price of 16 euros each, considering playing out different taxi drivers against each other, until all of a sudden the train to Leuven flashed up on the announcement screen and I ran up the stairs, accompagnied by ecstatic bouts of laughter, spent a train journey discussing Belgian politics in English with a Wallon software engineer who wanted to practice his English and has a vintage online clothing shop and finally arriving at my old dorm at one o'clock in the morning, where three of my old hallmates welcomed me, before setting out for a bit of true Belgian fried food and a nightly stroll, followed by a solid night's rest and a wake-up to Belgian morning.

Belgium

I want to go home, now. At the moment, so many things are on my mind, of which money is, as always, the biggest issue, and all I wanted to do is go home and relax. And what do I get in my inbox today? An email from Eurostar saying that my train home has been cancelled. If I'm lucky, I'll be stranded in Lille (France) on Monday night and then maybe one of my friends will come pick me up, if I'm not, however, I will be spending the night at Euston station. I am not happy, at all, right now. I am so stressed and just had such a bad day today, where everything that could go wrong went wrong, that I just want to cry and sleep and not wake up til I have heaps of money and everything goes well for me in this world.
Belgium was supposed to be amazing, a breath of fresh air, a week of unforgettable memories, and this has just made it a stressful event which I wish I could just skip. Or better even, not just a trip, but an actual coming home. I am so tired of not having money, of not knowing where my next meal is coming from, how to pay next month's rent. I just want one stroke of good luck. That's all. And what do I get? A cancelled start to my trip.

Time for bed. Time for sleep. Time for tears.

Quickie

I have been so very busy the last week that I simply haven't had time to check my emails, let alone write a blogpost. I have been having heaps of fun and am very happy, but I am also ridiculously tired and ill. I have caught Fresher's Flu and am suffering from it, to such a degree even that I will not be able to go to class tomorrow, no matter how badly I want to. It'll be a day of staying in as much as possible, sleeping in, cleaning my room, calling some people and trying to get some money matters sorted. And then frisbee at night, of course.
But, I am happy, and that is what counts. Speak to you all soon.

Oh, yes, before I forget: I dropped Latin. Well, I didn't exactly drop it, I just dropped going to class. Why? Because I had six years of Latin in secondary school and it turns out that that is useful after all. It's strange how quickly it all comes back to you. Easy pass? I think so!

Pictoral impressions

Some photos from Liverpool and what I've been up - be sure as to check regularly for updates!

Happiness has a shape, it is round and it flies.

So it appears I have rediscovered what I found so amazing about Liverpool in the first place. It's called... *drumroll*... Frisbee people. Seriously, most fantastic people in the world. Not that church people aren't also very lovely people, but these people get me and are just as crazy as I am (well, not júst as crazy). I've spent a lovely week with these people and by Jove (this is my newest expression, do you like it? I'm adapting to a historical level), they are awesome. Tonight I'm having a chickflick night/sleepover in my house/room, as I finally got all my dvd's back and that should be celebrated. As all the guests (4) are frisbee girls, this is going to be freakin' awesome (I'm using the word awesome a lot, must be indicative of my mood).

I am generally very happy. Yes, there are some glitches which are not that great (the old classics, money and guys), but apart from those, which, one has to admit, are just superficial things, I am generally very happy. The financial situation will sort itself out (I am trying to get my hands on some compensation for my dogbite and I'm planning on going to the financial department to get some money from them, plus I will be working from October onwards) and guys, well, it's not really worth being depressed over. Why be sad because one guy might not be in the position you want him to be, while you have such amazing friends all around you?

It appears I have found myself again, my life, my friends, my studies. I have people who ask me around, people to confound in, people to be all geeky about literature and history with. My life is unfolding, the landscape of people is taking its form (for those who know my writing, the landscape of friends is a very popular theme). Soon I'll be roaming its hills, happy and singing like Maria, but without the endless amount of children. I wouldn't object to the Captain, though.

More on uni

As I have a little more time than yesterday, I will give a short review of what the two following years at university will entail.

As I am a part time student, my course has been split up in two parts of a year (that was kind of obvious). This year, I am more or less doing all the interesting courses. In the first semester, I am taking 2 hours a week of the core History module (see last blogpost), 2 hours of Latin (yes, indeed, Latin!) and 2 hours every other week or so of 'Medieval Gender and Identity', an optional module I took to replace 'Locating Sources' next year (and good riddens). This last course is an English department course, which means I will be studying Literature (yay!), and it will only consists of six students and a teacher, all female, and it will be amazing. We will be discussing the stereotypical women in medieval literature (the queen as a goddess, the woman as representative of the country, Guinevere etc). It should be insanely interesting and I am quite sure it will be.

Next semester, I will take the second part of the core History module and 2 hours of Latin Paleography a week (yes, that's why I am studying Latin in the first semester). For those who do not know what Paleography is, it is basically reading old manuscripts in the typescript and in the form they were produced and found. No modern translation, no modern font, just reading pen strokes from scheep skin, so to speak. That too should be insanely interesting, as I've done some Old Dutch Paleography and very much enjoyed it, and always found the translation of Latin texts the most fun in secondary school.

Now, onto next year. That year is going to be endlessly dull. I am taking all the research modules and I just can't be fussed, to be honest. First semester will be 'History and Theory' (Nietzsche, Foucault, Marx...), and for those who know me, you are all aware of how much I loathe philosophy, so that's going to be one long journey of boredom. Together with that, I will get the course 'Sources and Methodes for Medieval and Renaissance Studies', a specific module of a course I failed twice at the KUL and then was mercifully let through because of "failing points". So that too will be a nightmare. In my last semester I will get 'Feasibility Study', of which I have no idea what it entails, but it sure does not sound interesting (it's something about taking the theory seen in the first semester and applying it to your dissertation subject). And then over the Summer, I will write my dissertation. Because this second year sounds so horrifying, I will try and take some extra modules (Irish Studies, Old English), as to try and brighten things up a bit, because otherwise I will never be able to see things through.

But, those are worries for later. First, this year, which is going to be amazing. Hooray!

Very excited about uni

I have barely any time, as my friends are coming to pick me up in a minute or so to go (watch them) snowboarding, but I thought I'd just give you a little taste of what my year is going to be like (more will follow later). These are the subjects for the next 12 weeks of Core History Module:


- Introductory Session: Exploring Uses of the Past (aka, reading old text fragments and discussing its contents, to kind of get in the groove and get to know each other and each other's previous training and knowledge a little bit more)
- The Bishop and the Dragon
- Stories of Kings of Britain
- Telling and Re-creating the past: The first crusade and its many (hi)stories, part one
- Telling and Re-creating the past: The first crusade and its many (hi)stories, part two
- The ambiguity of history: uses of the past in machiavelli's "the prince"
- The print revolution
- From orality to print
- The authority of the past in reformation England, part one: Deploying the past
- The authority of the past in reformation England, part two: re-writing the past

What a day, what a day, oh, what a day.

I just had the most wonderful day. Literally, it was amazing. We were supposed to be going to Southport to an airshow. My friends Liz and Tom (Frisbee) had invited me and somehow, my friends Will and Luke (Church) ended up tagging along. Early rise, which was not too bad, on the bus, to Central Station, where it turned out that both Dan and Kat (Frisbee) were joining us for the day, as well as two other friends of Liz and Tom's. We all got on the train and set off, the rain leaving slight trails on the windows. With nine people crammed into eight seats, the banter soon hit the wagon and in under fifteen minutes, I felt so completely at home and joyful that I couldn't help but giggling for most of the time (inward, at times). One stop away from Southport, Liz gets a call from a friend, who explains that the air show has been cancelled due to flooding. We decide to stay on the train anyway and try and get a refund for our tickets. Facing a downpour of rain (okay, it was not that bad) and quite a slippery boardwalk - which would have been a lovely walk had the weather been better -, we finally made it to the pier, where we were told to get a refund through the website. Having no better thing to do, we fled into a bowling alley, where we learned exactly how expensive Southport is (Very). In the meanwhile, James, one of Liz and Tom's friends, gave me 15 tickets which he had won by putting 50p in a slot machine, and I got a tiny airplane for it. Which was really nice. Seeing as there wasn't really anything to do, off we went, back to the station (stopping at a chippy and a candystore on the way), back to Liverpool. In this great city, there was a festival going on at Hope Street (one of the main roads), which was (very conveniently) called Hope Street Festival. Consisting mainly of street theater and food stalls, the festival offered a nice (though rainy) stroll which was very relaxing and enjoyable. This flood of culture added to the morning of randomness, moulding the whole day into a rather perfect day. After the group split up and the Frisbee people headed to the pub, we headed into the Philharmonic Hall, where we attended 40 minutes of free Philharmonic Orchestra, which left me completely awestruck. As a child, I went to quite a few concerts, what with my dad being in a choir and my uncle being a professional violinist, but I always got rather bored with them and developed an aversion towards them. But today, the music flooded me, filled my veins, made me smile and grin and almost cry with joy. I felt so at one with the melody, felt the drums booming in my stomach, rocked along with the sweeping strokes of the violins. It was absolutly incredible. But concerts end and on we went. As we stopped to watch a small theater act, me and Will got asked upon a little stage, he stroked a chicken and I milked a cardboard cow and together we had an imaginary picnic, in which we drank yukky milk (which he apparently liked) and Will held up an egg-and-cress sandwich. Seeing this as a good closure of the day, Will and Luke headed off, while I found my way to the pub where the rest of the group had been watching the Liverpool-Manchester United game. A rather aggressive Scouse girl scared me a little bit, but the treble gin made up for any discomforts. After finishing our drinks, onwards we went, to go play Wii at Tom and Liz's. We met Alex on the way, which was weird (the boy has grown at least two inches!), but good. I only had two more hours before I had to go to church, which, accompagnied by a good glass of wine, went by rather quickly, making me late for church (and slightly intoxicated; I almost fell asleep during the sermon). After the service had finished, I felt so bad (tired, slight headache, zoned out completely) that I was in grave doubt whether I was going to join the after-church fun, but the desire always wins from the reason, so I had a lovely kebab from Friends (where else), some random conversation at Barrington (where else) and a ten minute wait in the rain for a bus to drive me home (where else). And here I am now, shivering, smelling of garlic naan and in slight need of a wee, but with a radiance of happiness that would make the sun pale in comparison.

Of friends, drama, work and theology.

One of the reasons I am feeling so much more at home in this foreign city is because of certain things which happened in the past week. Last weekend, Elisabeth came for a visit. By showing her around 'my' city, I realised again how wonderful the city truly is. The time we spent in the different churches and at the waterside took me back to the trips I myself made to these attractions, and how amazed I was at their beauty. Liverpool is a vibrant, ever-changing city, which combines history and modernity, art and labour, rain and sunshine. There is so much of this city I am yet to explore. I am thinking about making a bucket list of Liverpool, trying to visit every special corner of this very special city. I enjoyed Elisabeth's stay to the fullest, enjoyed speaking Flemish again, discussing language with her in rapid succession of obscurely connected sentences and actually being found funny again (something which has not happened to me in quite a while - my humour seems to be quite different from what the English see as funny). And dressing up as a pirate made the whole thing even better.

Something which was a little less pleasant is the drama in the house. Our new housemate, Dani - who is lovely, by the way - moved in two weeks ago and thus we decided it was necessary we had a housemeeting, to get some cleaning schedules in and discuss certain basic rules. After a meeting of an hour, we had everything written down and everyone was happy. Until the next day, that is. The housemate who had been absent during the meeting decided to disagree with just about everything we had agreed upon, which let to a whole lot of drama, which finally ended on a good note, as we all agreed on keeping to the terms agreed upon the night before. At least, I thought it ended on a good note, until we heard that particular housemate and another one whispering in the kitchen, clearly complaining about things. We had given them plenty of opportunity to speak their mind, instead they chose to do so behind our backs and smile to our faces. Thus, I (and the two other sensible housemates) have more or less decided to keep to my room as much as possible, and not interact unless absolutely necessary. Dani and I are prone to become quite close friends, but the rest will remain housemates, and nothing more. The only complication which now rests is trying to get my DVD's back from the one bitchy housemate without offending him too much, as to avoid him throwing a hissy fit. But that can wait. As I'm getting a new mattress soon (the one I have right now is horrible), tending to my room shouldn't be too bad at all, especially not as I am getting all my DVD's this Monday, as Eva is coming down to Liverpool for three days, something which I am very much looking forward to.

I also finished work, which means I have a little more freedom now, however, I am very much planning on getting a new job as soon as possible, as I really, REALLY need the money. I have to pay the second installment of my tuition fees (£350) on the second of December, and it is safe to see that unless I get a job soon, I will not be able to pay those. So, let's all hope that works out.

But the one thing that I can safely say is what made me feel properly at home in this life, is the discussion I had on Wednesday about free will, predestination and God's plan with this world. For those who know me, you are probably fully aware of the fact that I don't particularly like discussing theology and religion, as it mostly drives me to a very aggressive and frustrated state. But this time, it raised me to a whole new level, one of exaltation and conviction that theology is something worth studying. It's hard to explain why this discussion made me feel this way, I suppose it's one of those things with which you just had to be there. Me and Will, who don't believe in predestination, tried explaining to Rose and Katie why exactly that was. The rational approach ("It is not free will if God knows which option you are going to choose") may seem like the logical choice, but it is hard to convey something so complicated. After all, if God knows all, He surely must know what we are going to choose? And so on. I am not going to give a transcript of the entire discussion, it suffices to say that I left the house with a glow, with knowledge and intelligence and a general buzz in my veins and it was the happiest I had felt in a long while. There is nothing which can match the feeling you get when discussing an intellectual topic with someone who knows how to discuss, and with whom you connect on such a level that when you try to explain something and don't succeed, they reword what you were trying to say in a way that the others do get it, and all just because you are on the same level and know what both of you mean. It's a feeling I have had with very little people and it warms my heart to find a like-minded soul in this city. It was what I needed to feel connected to where I belong.

This is England, I am home. I have found my voice again.

Nightly observations, aided by some tobacco.

It is hard to type while smoking a shisha, but nevertheless I will try. The bubbling of the water might wake my neighbours, but as the sounds of their TV's are blaring through the hallway, I will not worry too much. I promised I would write and write I will. There is something about smoke circling above your head that makes the words flow more easily. Is it sad, that I smoke alone? Or does it add a hint of poetry to what I do? Either way, I enjoy it. I have noticed lately that I enjoy life, in general. The spell Liverpool put on me, so many months ago, is slowly enchanting me again. The fact that I finally have a bank and am registered for university probably helps towards that cause, but I think the most convincing role is played by the people around me. Though my life here started with a few struggles, I am slowly settling into a decor of friends, a landscape of acquaintances and bosom friends. There are events to look forward to, days out to enjoy, classes to attend. My life is unfolding and I can finally iron out the creases which complicated matters so intensely at the start of my stay. And though certain difficulties remain, I can see myself growing more and more into the person I want to be and was, the confident young woman who managed to baffle all those around her by graduating on her Master's Degree with distinction. If I can do the impossible, than why on earth would I have to worry about things like money and a love life? All will come my way, as long as I have faith and am prepared to battle for that which I think is worth it. And like the smoke in my room, my dream will slowly encompass everything around me and before I know it, I will never want to leave again.

For why should I worry, why do I freak out? I am in England. This is my dream. I am in England. This is my dream. I am in England. This is, and was, and always will be, my dream. I heart Liverpool, so much, so deep, so endlessly.

Promises

Yes, a short one again, as it's quite late and I have to get up in less than seven hours. This is just a proclamation of the fact that I will write posts on the following things:

- My work being done
- The start of university
- Elisabeth's stay
- Drama in the house
- Finally getting my bank stuff and ordering off Amazon
- The air show I'm going to this weekend
- Eva's stay next week
- My new shisha
- My wonderful night tonight, discussing theology
- Anything else that might happen or come to mind in the meantime


See you soon!

Sadness comes and sadness goes.

I feel better. So does my finger. And life.

Four things

Four things that are always in my purse

1.Wallet(s)
2.Keys
3.Cell phone
4.A pen

Four things on my desk

1.A 'Vos en Haas'-pen-holder with pens I barely use
2.Pictures of my family
3.An elastic hairband
4.Notebook

Four favourite things in my bedroom

1.My double bed (though I REALLY need a mattress topper)
2.My bookcase
3.My filled-to-the-brim wardrobe
4.My jewelery box

Four things I always wanted to do

1.Graduate in cap and gown
2.Travel to another continent
3.Get married
4.Be pregnant

Four things I like at the moment

1.My shiny new debit card (sadly still waiting for my pin)
2.My bookcase
3.Wotsils
4.The bunches of friends from Belgium who are coming over in the next weeks

Four things no one knows about me

1.When I was in primary school, I passed a geography test because I used an atlas all through the exam, even though we were only allowed to use it for a little bit. I was not aware of that rule and only found out later, but have still felt guitly about it ever since.
2.While walking down the street, I always try to walk on the lines of the tiles and not in them, but I never succeed and still haven't found the perfect rhythm to it (line-tile-line-tile or line-line-tile-line-line-tile or anything). This is one of my biggest daily frustrations.
3.I used to email with a guy from the USA with whom I had a real connection, despite a slight age difference, before he retreated as a monk in a monastery.
4.I have a biscuit tin which holds memories of important periods in my life, including a security code to a toilet in Poland, an eraser and a little pink feather.

Four bloggers I want to tag

1. Ciska
2. Pauline
3. Mama
4. Kyle

Elisabeth

Finger got infected. Not fun. I'm still in a bit of pain, though it comes and goes. Mainly discomfort and a slight fear this injury might have permanent damage.

In other news, I finally got my bank sorted and got my debit card in the mail today. This means I can start booking my trip to Belgium in October, something which I am really looking forward to. Before I came to Liverpool, I was so certain that this is where I belonged, so convinced that I would not feel even an ounce of homesickness, that I would be happy and vibrant and everything I was in Belgium and so much more. But I am not. I look for myself, but cannot find seem to find me. I miss the real Hanne, the Hanne who is careless and happy and bubbly and confident. I miss the Hanne my friends see and love. I cannot seem to adjust, truly adjust, and be myself in a whole new environment. And though my homesickness has not showed its roaring head for almost two weeks now, I can feel a new bout coming up. Every day it creeps a little closer, making me long for my friends, my home, the places I feel comfortable and confident at. My very dear friend Elisabeth is coming over this weekend and I am more or less afraid that by the end of her stay, I will want to come with her, hide in her suitcase, leave this country and go back to where my heart (still) is. This might be where I belong, but I still feel lost, in this world, this city and the company of those who barely know me. I miss long conversations in the Reynaert, making funny noises and weird dancemoves in the kitchen of Herman Servotte, discussing the hotness of Ortwin De Graef in the MSI, smoking shisha on my balcony, dancing the night away in the Seven Oaks, reading on the train journey to Brugge, sitting in the Snuffel with a beer and friends. I miss speaking Flemish, being found funny, reading subtitles, opening up the curtains in my room and lighting it with the afternoon sun. I miss foam mattresses, having my own sink, my brother's hand in mine, walking along the canals in Brugge, European vacuum cleaners, people to talk literature and history with, feeling a part of a group. And I miss my cat. I miss my cat so much, so much, so endlessly much.

Though I thought I was cured from homesickness, it seems to have kicked in again. And it will probably only get worse, now my friends are coming over. I am so longing for my visit to Belgium in October, I am afraid I will not want to come back.

If I still miss home so much, if I still haven't seem to have found my way, if I still long for the company of my friends and feel so misunderstood by those around me, then how can I be certain this is where I belong? How can I go on claiming this is the country of my dreams? I have lost my faith, and don't know if I really want to stay here. I might pack up and leave, and never look back again.

But you know what I hate the most of all? That so many people told me I would be homesick, so many people told me I didn't know how it was to live in England until I lived there for real, and I just laughed it all away. "This is where I belong". Is it? I don't know anymore. I am lost and alone, and no one to turn to who can show me the way.

(And then the homesickness hit home again.)

Quick one: Books

I have recently bought some more books, which I would like to mention here because my mother and sister will really like them. Ha.

Anyway, I bought The Secret Garden (ooooh yes), finally found the second book of Harry Potter (Chamber of Secrets) (these were both for 50p) and also bought a theological/christian book, the first one in a long time, from our dear friend C.S.Lewis, entitled, The Screwface Letters.

I am currently finishing Jude the Obscure, from who else but Thomas Hardy (love that man), and now I am in dubio as to which book I should read next. Should I dig in to religion (with a splash of irony and C.S.Lewis's genius) or relax by taking a trip to Hogwarts (now the memory of the first book is still fresh). Or should I just go for the classic and take in the scent of the Secret Garden (renewing all those faint memories of the film I saw so many years ago).

What do you think?

A clean start

My room smells like lemon and fresh air, and for the first time in weeks, the floor is absolutely spotless. My laundry is drying outside (be it at a very slow pace) and my bookshelves are filled with backs in every colour. It was the only piece missing (apart from a dvd-cupboard which I am yet to purchase) to make this a room which fits me perfectly. There is plenty of room for an extra matress, space which is screaming for visitors to enrich my life (and theirs). From this Friday on, friends will be coming to visit me, one by one bringing me a piece of happiness, with some strangers thrown in the mix, bringing that piece of excitement every new character brings to a day-time soap.

My life, my home, my happiness. And love? Love can wait. I can wait.

Quick update

I got bitten by a dog at work today. Nothing too bad, three deep bitemarks on the middle finger of my left hand. Nicely bandaged up, though. Typing is hard.

Also finally got a bank account! This means I should be able to cash a check, so I can get registered and pay my rent. This is good news.

It has also been really nice weather lately, which has made work really pleasant (the dogbite being the exception).

I must say, I have generally been really happy for the past couple of days. The homesickness seems to be finally faltering. Ready for my new life :)

Bosvruchtenhagelslag en chocotoffs

My dad and his family were over this weekend. Apart from the fact that they brought me food, books and hairproducts, they also cleaned the kitchen and took me shopping for a new bookcase. It was amazing, to say the least. I had to work on Friday, so after they arrived late Thursday night and I had installed them in my room, I packed an overnight bag and spend the night at a friend's, as I did not want to risk hurting my finally-recovering back by sleeping on the couch and then having to work an 8-hour shift the next day. So I did not see my family til 9pm the following night, at which point everyone was rather tired, so I installed myself on the couch and watched television with my brother and housemate. My brother's English is actually quite good for his age (12), he had no trouble holding up (simple) conversations with my housemates, which rather surprised me.

After a short night, we head out to the secondhand store the next day to find me a bookcase. Not happy with our first options, we visited two more shops, to finally buy a nice black-and-white simple bookcase which will hopefully hold all my books. It fits in perfectly with my room and my new interior design is actually even better than before, so I am very happy with that. I have not begun to unpack my books (two large boxes of them!), as I want it to be a special moment. No matter how dorky that sounds.

Saturday afternoon we went for a meal in town (Full English Breakfast!) and then headed out to the shopping centre, as my brother needed some clothes. As all English people will know, it is the final week of the sales, so when we found the New Look, we didn't leave for another three hours. Poor dad. After shopping for literally hours, we headed down home, where we had a wonderful meal and I headed out to the pub with some of my friends, while my family relaxed at home.

Came Sunday morning, we headed to the 10.30am service at Frontline, which, though it was nice, was not really my thing, which meant I actually attended the evening service too! Anyway, after the service, it was time for my family to head back home (with a slight detour at Anfield to get a Liverpool scarf), so we said our goodbyes and I headed to a community garden nearby to read a bit of Hardy before meeting up with a friend for a drink.

At night I went to church and when the service was over, I got picked up by some Frisbee friends to go to a birthday house party on the Wirral, which, though short, was very lovely.

And today, today I head to the Matthew Street Festival, which has been messing up traffic the entire weekend, so it must be a must to see!

Update

It has been quite a while since I wrote on here and even now I am, it's going to be a short one. I have been very busy with work, working almost every day from 12 til 8. I enjoy it very much, but today my back just started hurting like crazy and I had to go home. I took painkillers, but was still in pain for most of the day and I doubt tomorrow will be any better, so I will probably have to call in sick. Not the best start of a new job, but I do not want to risk damaging my back permanently.

My dissertation has been submitted and my bank might get sorted within now and the end of the week, so at least that is okay.

Now time for bed, in the hope of not waking up with a very sore back in the morning, but to be honest, I very much doubt that...

New, brilliant job!

So, I finally found a good job! From Thursday on, I will be working fulltime (40 hours a week), getting paid £8 an hour (very well-paid!) and doing a rather pleasant job of informing people door-to-door about the public transportation here in the area. Plus, I will be working with two of my church friends, making it all the more pleasant.

The job is only til the 17th of September, making it perfect for me, as it means I will earn about £1000 and then enjoy my part-time studying, part-time working life by getting a weekend job of sorts.

Gloriousness!

Waiting for the clock to strike ten.

The sun is out and I’m wearing a dress, sandals on my feet. I know the lack of sleep must affect me somehow, but my weariness has presently been wiped away by the sound of running busses and a latte. Why did I never go to cafés in Belgium, book in hand, enjoying the solitariness? It seems to be a travelers trait and yet, there’s a man at the table next to me drinking a coffee and reading the papers like it's everyday business. Which it probably is. He seems a little disturbed by my typing, but I type as I talk. I feel more free in this country, different from my Belgian self.
I’m full of hope, today. I think it is the weather. It snowed in Swiss last night. The world is turning topsy-turvy. Why did it take me so long to discover lattes?

New job

I found a new job, doing Silver Service Waitressing, what I've done for the past two years or so, and am very happy to do again. This afternoon I have a trainingsession to refresh some of the basics and then I can start from Monday on. Very happy with this one! However, as this is not regular work and I cannot say for sure I will have work every week, I am still looking for a parttime regular job, even if it is just for two nights a week, so I at least have a regular income to be certain of.

As for my dissertation, I will probably work on it through the night, as we all know that I work best at night. Hopefully I'll have finished everything I can work on without a library by tomorrow morning, so I can write the finishing touches on Saturday/Sunday and send it to someone at home by Monday. Wish me luck!

And the jobhunting continues...

Today I hunted for some more jobs, resulting in an interview tomorrow morning for a company which will probably only give me a few hours a month, but still, money is money, and I also got a modelling job! Well, my feet did. This should be interesting, hah!

Tomorrow will be a day of some more jobhunting and dissertation finishing (going especially to the library for that), followed by a night of creative writing!

Very much looking forward to that, I must say. I have not picked up a pen properly in a long time and I cannot wait to get the inspiration flowing again. Bringing my fountain pen and perhaps even my manuscript, though it is still so rudimentary that I might just as well not take it and write something completely different.

The sun has been out for a couple of days now and I can see the effect already. I am a lot more joyous and positive, though this might also have something to do with my birthday, the Belgian sweets my sister sent me, some good news about a situation I was worrying about and a wonderful service on Sunday which just filled me with joy and positivism! :)

Birthday ftw

My birthday was a grand success, after what appeared to be a sad start. I spent the afternoon eating sweets, surfing on youtube and talking to a friend of mine for more than three hours, which helped me through my sadness. After a refreshing shower, I headed down to my friends' house, where they gave me a glass of delicious wine (which didn't taste like wine at all) and another friend gave me my first birthday card! After a short chat, we went off to Bingo and the awesome part of the evening started. The guy behind the register was lovely and funny and hilarious and incidentally also the caller of the numbers, which led to him (and the rest of the bingo hall) singing "Happy Birthday" to me halfway through the evening. Redness and laughing fits were all-present. We didn't win, but the thrill of stamping your way through the numbers and always be so near to winning was exhiliarating and we had a laugh and just a generally amazing time. After, we went for some cocktails at my favorite cocktailbar (Font!), where I had my first Cosmopolitan (sooo good!).

When I came home after what I thought was the perfect birthday, I found yet another surprise: my lovely housemate Brenda had hung balloons on my door and bought me a huge chocolate cake and a bottle of wine! It was the perfect ending to a perfect night and has lead to yet another birthday celebration tonight, a picnic in the park with cake and wine with a group of friends. This is the life!

22

So it's my birthday today. First birthday to be spent away from Belgium, without my family and (old) friends. Slightly strange. It's not that I'm not enjoying my leisure day, it's just that the normal excitement of birthdays (I get sooo into it) is absent. There are people I wish were here, people on my mind, people in my heart. And it's not that I am sad because I miss them, but it does feel incomplete.

I miss hugging you, throwing my arms around your neck, dancing on the streets with you, making silly jokes with you, talking about personal things and trivial things with you. I miss being me, and being loved for it. I miss being missed. Being loved. Being wanted.

For the first time since I moved, I really wish I was back home. Even if it was just for a day. Cos I miss you, so much...

The rose after the drying process.

I think it looks rather nice, to be honest! Bad picture quality, but trust me, it's beautiful in real life.

Look, I missyou.

Ouch

Also, on other news: I fell with my bike today. The bikechain fell of the gears when I set off again after waiting at a red light, which made the pedals yank my feet down and set me flying right into the curb. Luckily for me, I was not biking in the middle lane anymore as I was at first, otherwise I would have surely been badly hurt, if not killed. So I have decided, in view of this incident and the fact that the whole ride before that I was thinking "this is madness, I am never riding down Smithdown Road anymore, what horrible country is this that they don't even have bike-paths!", that I will not be riding down Smithdown Road anymore when going from Plattsville Road in the direction of City Centre (madness!), only when coming back up (much safer). Instead, I will figure out a peaceful route through backstreets and parks, so I can take my bike out for a spin without risking to be killed on the way.

This country should really start thinking about its cyclists...

That bloody dissertation...

Yes. I did it. I actually worked on my dissertation today. I figured that seeing I have no job at the moment, I might as well spend at least part of my time doing something useful. I edited grammar mistakes and some suggestions of my professor, leaving the bigger issues to be tackled at a latter date. But not to be worried: I will finish this dissertation in time. I have two more weeks, which means I have one more week, so I am giving myself the deadline of Saturday the 14th (so I am worry-free by Sunday the 15th) and I will have finished by then, and it will be good. I don't know if I will work on it tomorrow, as I am going out for lunch and might stick around after (at Barrington Road, where else), and I certainly will not work on it on Monday (imagine working on my birthday - what ludicrecy!), but Tuesday is booked as a schoolday (together with an appointment at the bank - finally!) and unless I find a job by Wednesday, I will be working on it for the rest of the week. If I do find a job, I will just have to work on it in the evenings (now I still have time to spare).

All this productivity is making me feel rather jolly, to be honest. Hoora!

On to the beach we go!

Friday night, we went to the beach ("we" is a bunch of people from church, ed.). Though the sun might not have been shining and the wind was a-blowing, it was a lovely evening. I myself am quite used to going to the beach in winter and autumn, taking long walks along the waterside, the salt embalmed on your lips when you head back to the car. After some dune-rolling (ever so slightly, only one meter or so and I already got a pounding headache from it!), Katie, Greg, Luke and I decided to test the waters. Jeans rolled up to my knees, I paddled a little, but after seeing both Greg and Katie swimming to their hearts' content, I could no longer restrain myself and I strode into the high seas, the water splashing my jeans as the sand embraced my toes. Feeling free and alive and with the water only an inch away from my buttocks, I headed back to the beach, where the realisation hit me: I now had on salty, sandy, wet jeans, which were stinging my skin (very sensitive skin, remember!) and I had brought no change of clothes. Onto the beach towel it was, trying not to provoke any of my church friends with the nakedness of my upper tighs whilst squirming myself out of the wet piece of clothing. With a towel wrapped around my waist and a warm hoodie sheltering me from the sea breeze, I happily stared out over the water and felt at home and at peace.

But the adventure wasn't over. We rounded the group up and drove into the woods, where by now the darkness covered all in a spooky gloom. The boys had the bright idea to play hide and seek. Luckily, we paired up. Coincidentally, I was always found first (why would that be, I wonder?) and enjoyed many a minute eating pringles and drinking a delightful fizzy peach drink whilst trying to discern shapes in the ever faster approaching darkness. It was a rather pleasant evening, not too warm nor too cold (I had put on my slightly dryer jeans before we headed into the woods), which ended in an interesting conversation about different cults and denominations. Cup of tea at Barrington (of course - I keep referring to Barrington Road when I say I am heading home - this is becoming rather awkward) and then a refreshing walk home, meeting butterfly bushes all along the way. And the sand in my shoes wasn't even that bad.

That's how you know.

I've been trying to write. Not just tell what is happening, but write. Thoughts are spinning in my head, keeping me awake and rocking me to sleep. My room smells like ginger. I patiently wait for the package to drop through the letterbox. I patiently wait for the text to come through. And on and on I go. I wonder if I'll find a job. How long I'll have to look. I wonder if I did the right thing, if I made the right choice. I wonder whether I am waiting in vain.

But the butterfly bush in the neighbouring garden gives me peace in my thoughts and hope in my heart.

Another jobhunt.

So I quit my job last night. The reason I did this was that I had been leaving the house at 7.30am and not returning til 8 or 9pm, without earning a penny and even losing some money on transportation and calls we had to make for the job. I had to make a choice between hanging in there, trying again and again, and hopefully making a sale at some point, or quitting and looking for a new job which had normal hours and normal pay. I told myself that if I didn't make any sales on Tuesday, I would quit. And so I did. And instantly, a burden fell off my shoulders. I felt myself again, happy again, without stress or the feeling of sufication. I found my way back to Barrington Road (more on that later) and afterwards slept well for the first time in four nights.

So tomorrow, I will go on another job hunt. I will not be picky and I will not give up. All I need is a job which pays, so I can pay my rent and my tuition fees. And have a life. Especially that last detail. I did not move to slave away. This is the city of my dreams and no bonus in the world could make me not experience it like that.

Refound hope.

Kyle, my couchsurfer of last week, wrote a post on his blog about his visit to Liverpool and how it was the friendliest place he ever visited. Reading his wonderful words reminded me again why I love this city so much and wiped away the clouds which have been hanging around my head for the past few days. This is the city I love, the city I lost my heart to, the city of my dreams, the proof that dreams do come true. Looking at Kyle's pictures, I saw the city through his eyes and remembered how much I loved Liverpool when I first set foot on the Merseyside soil and how happy this place makes me.

Life is good, and though I might be jobless at the moment, I will find my way and live the dream, fully, totally, forever.

Jobless

Just quit my job. More on that tomorrow. No worries, though.

A cloud before the sun

I'm worried. Again, yes. What about this time, you ask?

In a little over a week, I turn 22. For the past four years, I would celebrate my birthday at home, after which I'd head off to Leuven for a party with 15 to 20 of my friends. This year, I have nothing planned and the more I think about it, the more I realise that I will probably spend my birthday alone this year. No family, no friends, just me.

For the first time in two weeks, I really feel alone.

Handywoman

Yesterday I went round to a friend's house and helped clean up their front yard, to be specific, I painted their front yard wall. It was awesome. There's something about doing manual labour which is so endlessly gratifying.
After a long day yesterday, I got up at an ungodly hour this morning to go into work. It was... interesting. I am sure I'll do good in this job, but I doubt I'm going to last the entire two months. I cannot motivate myself for a 12-hour workday 6 days a week, and certainly not for two months. So when I hit my goal of £2000, I'll probably quit and enjoy my holiday before school starts.
Speaking of school, before Monday, I will work on my dissertation. I want to at least have something done, as the deadline is swiftly approaching and I cannot afford to fail, as it would mean losing an entire year. So that's the plan for today/this weekend (got a trip to the forest with church people tomorrow, though I hope it rains a little less). For now, I am going to the bank, as I finally got a letter sent to me, which means I have proof of address and can apply for a bank account. Win!

Kyle

Last night, I had another couchsurfer over. He technically did not surf my couch, as he had to leave at 5am in the morning and we both deemed it ludicrous to get some sleep in for a tiny little while like that. Instead, we had malibu, candles and Disturbia (which was dead-scary, by the way). There were many hints of interesting conversations we only swiftly brushed over, ready to dive in there next time we meet. Whenever that will be. Til that day (if it ever comes), I will be reading yet another blog and acquire yet another bit of taste of those places in the world I am yet to visit, eagerly drinking in every detail and storing it in my mind for further reference.

London

Went to pick up my bike in London. Was bored most of the time (as some may have noticed), but it was alright, nevertheless. However, now I am faced with a dilemma: where do I put my bike. In the 'backyard', making it a complete hassle to get it in and out every time I leave the house? On the sidewalk, where people can steal or break it? In the alleyway, where it is safer, yet still not as safe as the backyard?

I really don't have a clue. On a brighter note, though: biking to town takes me 15 minutes. Biking to work should take me about 25, which is 20 minutes shorter than taking the bus. Food for thought.

Getting another couchsurfer in for the night tomorrow, after a day of training for my work. Should be interesting - he's got a bachelor's degree in writing!

Earning big bucks

I got offered the job and gladly accepted! Basically, we work on commission, earning £35 on every package we sale (telecom-package). This means, that if we sell two a day, we earn £400 a week. But there is more: if you sell 12 packages in a week (2 a day), you get a £100 bonus! (If you sell 6, you get a £50 bonus). As I am good with words and people, I am quite confident I will be able to sell this amount of packages, resulting in a total revenue of £4000 in two months!

The downside? We work from 8am til 5pm every day, Monday through Saturday (though we get shorter days on Tuesday and Saturday). But as it is only for two months, I am sure I will survive!

Little Leprechaun

People keep asking whether I'm from Ireland or from "over the water". Though a Scouser actually said I sounded a bit scouse today. Made my day. When I told him I was aiming at scouse, but missed it and ended up Irish, he told me the memorable words:

"Just be yourself, love. Don't try to talk to someone else, just talk with your own accent."

Oh, I do love the North.

Church, part two.

My walk to church leads me through Wavertree Athletics Park. It's a lovely park, with large grass playing fields on which dogs and children roam freely. Yes mom, you heard that right, dogs are actually allowed to run around without a leash here. Last week I met a lovely lady on this path, who was so kind as to show me the way to church and turned out to be the new resident of the former church leader's house. Or something like that. It felt like the so-many-eth confirmation of my belonging to this community and place and like I wrote in my blogpost last week, the church was lovely. Today was my second visit and it just warms my heart to be in that building amongst such friendly, open and mildly crazy people. I already felt part of the group and this was only my second visit! I must say, through most of the service, I had a big grin on my face because I felt so good and so uplifted by it. It was so refreshing to hear the teachers in the front voice those thoughts and feelings I have had inside of me for so long. I knew my move would mean a new start, both in daily life as in my spiritual life, but this I could not expect. The dust has been blown away from the tepid furnishing of my life. I have found myself again. Strange, but good.

Might have to work a little on my overwhelming-ness though. Starting to scare people. Whoops.

Butterfly bushes

One of the things I like most about living where I do is that there's butterfly bushes everywhere. On every corner I turn, I am greeted by those softly swaying purple flowers, sending their scent into the wind. They remind me of my childhood, my home, those long hot summer days in the house where I grew up. To me, they are a symbol, like so many I have seen, telling me with every step that this is where I belong.

Money matters

Today I'm worrying. Worrying about whether or not I'll get the job, worrying about still not having a bank account, worrying about my phone bill getting higher and higher, worrying about my tuition fees, worrying about just about everything. But mainly about money.

The university is not giving me much information, which is highly annoying. They have informed me that the tuition fees for parttime postgrad history students will be 2961 pounds, but I have no idea how much of that amount has to be paid when. I'm aiming at earning 1500 pounds with this job (probably less), deduct rent (£290) and living expenses (£100) and that leaves me with about 1000 pounds by the end of September. It's safe to say that I am worrying, big time. I can supposedly pay my tuition fees in three installments, leaving me with £987 to pay at registration, but I think the second installment might be very well due at the start of term, leaving me with a total sum of £1974, an amount I simply will not have. So yes, I am freaking out.

Hello money

Whilst in Sefton Park, I got a call from Oratory Commerce to ask whether I could come on a job interview the next morning. So I did! The boss more or less offered me the job and told me that he already had made up his mind and wanted me to come work for them, but I still have to go to a second interview/info session on Monday before I am sure to get the job. Though I doubt I won't get it, as Alex (the boss) said, I am "made for this business". This job is a two-month long job, during which I will learn the basics of Sales and in turn teach these to another person. It is the perfect Summer job, with reasonable hours (as far as I know) and a good pay (as far as I hope), and who knows, I might stay on after the Summer as a part-time worker!

Wildlife is scary

A dear friend of mine pointed out yesterday how ironic it was that I had to move to such a big city as Liverpool to discover wildlife. It might sound absurd, but that is exactly what happened. As I said in the previous blogpost, two days ago, Julia and I went to Sefton Park. Sefton Park is a humongously huge park (2,6 km² / 640 acres) and I had been there before, but as I soon found out, the part I had been in is on the completely opposite side. So, this was like a whole new park for me. We entered the park over a sloppy swamp-like field, tried to get into the beautiful Palm House but found the gate locked and thus decided to just take a walk. On this side of the park, there is lovely water-garden with stepstone-bridges, waterfalls and lots of flowers. After being amazed by the pitoresque value of it all and smiling at some kids staring at a dog, we continued our walk, when, at a certain point, I spotted a squirrel. Now, I didn't just spot it in a tree or on a nearby branch; no, I spotted it right in front of my feet. There was maybe a metre between me and him and he was fastly approaching. Overwhelmed by the sheer cuteness of the little guy, I suppressed the urge to pet him and noticed he was coming closer and closer to my bag which held some delicious Bramley Apple Pie. Unwilling to part with my precious pies, I decided to feed the animal a winegum. Yes, that is correct. A winegum. You would think the little bugger would just let it lie there, but no, it picked the sweet up in his cute little paws and ran off to a nearby branch. As I wanted to preserve this moment for prosperity ("I fed a squirrel! So cute!"), I whipped out my phone and tried to take a picture. Alas, the squirrel was intrigued and dropped the sweet. Slightly disappointed, we turned round to continue our walk, when I saw the squirrel running in my direction. Yes, running. It is surprising how fast those little paws can cross a distance. Shoo-ing did not work, running was useless, so in total despair, I let out a high-pitched cry and threw the vermin another sweet. Alas, I threw it too far and after a short glance over his shoulder, the animal charged again. Again I threw a sweet and ran off in the other direction, hoping for a quick escape. But what did I discover, sitting on the path and then, running towards me? Another squirrel! I was surrounded by squirrels and what was more, the road ended at the gates of the closed Palm House! The only way out was past the first squirrel, who had by then been joined by a group of pigeons interesting in a piece of the loot. Desperate to get away, I stormed of the hilly road, shouting and waving my arms, in the hopes of chasing all these horrible animals away. And what'd you know, it actually worked. Relieved as I was, I ran around the corner, only to find a rat crossing my path! The thing about rats is, they are actually really cute. They are not the horrible creatures described in horror tales, no, they're fuzzy little things with a long tail which actually look a little like mice. I pointed out the rat to my couchsurfer, only to see another one leisurely strolling along the river side and taking a plunge in the stream.

We had to sit down and eat some pie after that, giving me the chance to come to my senses again before we set out to home again, dodging the rain by seconds.