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.