Le Plat Pays

I am back in front of my big window, looking at the mountains. The fields are greening with a white fuzz of wild crocuses. It looks like even the larches, the predominant trees of the forest across the valley, are about to leaf out (needle out?). The old snow has receded further up the slope but new snow has sprinkled the lower reaches. Considering how cold it was at the lower elevations over the last few days, I am not surprised. Did you notice how I am dressed on the picture?

Here I am, musing about the weather, fully aware that I am avoiding tackling the more difficult subjects. Many of my readers have been extremely generous with compliments about my writing - which now ups the ante for me. What were the salient events of the last few days? How can I describe them, and at the same time extract some meaning from them? I don't want this blog to read like a travel log. However, turning my not terribly interesting daily life into a story is a daunting challenge. Today I toyed with the idea of stopping the writing, but it feels like I would not only let my faithful readers down, but also myself. I decided that it's good for me, both for my soul and for my brain, to rise to the challenge, and therefore I'll make another attempt, with the help of a cup of tea.

Last week, returning from the Swiss lowlands I just spent 3 days at home before going on my next trip. Barely time to do laundry and repack before leaving for Brussels one more time. I got home earlier this afternoon and will be here for a week.

It was fun to travel to an unfamiliar part of the world. I visited Brussels on Friday, Amsterdam on Saturday, Brugges on Sunday - a city per day. Those of you who know me are aware that I usually prefer to travel more slowly. I would have liked to spend more time in Brussels, to get a good feel for the city. I actually had spent time in each of these cities in 1970, on my first trip abroad ever. In 1971 I spent a whole week in Amsterdam - my high school graduation trip with my school mates. In those days it felt like I was very far from home, while this time I was awed by how close everything is. It took me only 6 1/2 hours, door to door, from my friend Paul's place to my sister's in Lausanne! Amsterdam was only 2 hours by train from Brussels, Brugges even closer. Paris is just over an hour from Brussels.

I am not a shopper, but I was enchanted by the shops, especially the candy stores. Each one was a marvel of decorating, color schemes and delicacy. Belgium is known for its chocolate, but cookies are also popular. I saw a store selling all things made of or relating to honey. One for olives and olive products. There was the hardware store carrying exclusively items for house boats.

Because we were so much on the go, we took most of our meals in restaurants. This was a great excuse to sample some of the many local beer, the traditional frites et moules (French fries and mussels), and gauffres (waffles). Ordering risotto in Brussels, though, was a mistake.

Belgium of course, also is the home of Tintin, the famous comic character. I am sure my kids know in which book the chinese boy appears along with Tintin and Milou.

Amsterdam was a major disappointment. Filthy like no other city I have ever seen. On the flight home, I asked the Dutch man sitting next to me how such a rich and popular city could let garbage become a problem of this magnitude. I was reassured when he explained that this was exceptional: the day before had been the Queen's birthday, with much partying, and since the garbage men are on strike, all the waste was still around, much of it in the canals. Not a pretty sight.

Traveling within Europe felt both strange and familiar. At times I had a hard time figuring out where I was. It was fun to speak French despite having left Switzerland, except that Paul and I speak in English to each other. Paul and I met in Canada in the late 70s, and with all our banter about the old days, once in a while I would have to pinch myself to bring my awareness back to our present location, Brussels, Amsterdam, Brugges. One day while we were sipping coffee on a sidewalk cafe, a woman sitting close to us, hearing us speak English, asked me where I was from. How can it be so hard to answer such a simple question? I stuttered, half French, half English... Switzerland, hum, US. She made things even more complicated by asking where in Switzerland: Neuchatel, hum, Zuoz... At least I am not the only one with this predicament. It seemed that in the Brussels/Nethelands area, everybody speaks 3-4 languages, and most people I interacted with have lived in various places on earth. Starting with Paul. While I feel equally at home and attached to Portland, Zuoz and Neuchatel, he doesn't feel attached to any place. We had a conversation about where we'd want to live if we could live anywhere. My choices were between the above 3, Portland, Zuoz and Neuchatel. He picked cities where he has never lived before. Would it be easier for me to figure out the next step in my life if I were more free, if I didn't build such strong bonds with places? Can I change?

The point of going to Brussels, etc. was not for sightseeing, but to catch up with Paul - and catch up with did, every night to almost 1am! Several times I was so lost in our conversation that I would forget where we were. While I am a little frustrated because there was no time to visit these beautiful cities in depth, I definitely feel that we caught up with each other, got to know each other much better and discovered that we can have a grand time together.

Thank you, Paul, for being such a gracious and patient host. And thank you Brigitte for one more time letting me spend the night at your place. The bottle of wine from Dad's cellar and the accompanying conversation were the perfect end to another great trip.