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?