Rome

Tonight I learned that I have a week in Rome in May ...

A moment while I dance the dance of pure joy.

My question: Does anyone out there know of a lovely place to stay?

I want to photograph Rome endlessly, I would love to be in walking distance of as much as possible, and I would like to hear if there are any interesting folk to be interviewed there in that beautiful world.

As a photographer/writer, my budget is smallish but can be stretched for something lovely perhaps.

All suggestions would be so welcome and appreciated.

Grazie,
Di

You know, there's something a little sad about the dentist saying that they stopped using the materials in that filling that fell out today ... stopped using them 15 to 20 years ago.

How old does that make me feel?

Who knew . . .

Leaving your teeth to heal on their own doesn't work out.
Nonono!

In fact, it's as Erin said 'The problems only get worse.'

Still, I was hoping I had some kind of deal with the universe, one that gave me a get out of jail free card when it came to dental work and everything could wait until I was rich enough to fly home AND have my dental work done with the only dentist I've ever trusted.

I had to stop reading Van's blog while he went through his dental ordeal because that was a reality I didn't want to know about ...

I carried on with life, clenching my teeth, occasionally explaining to Gert (when he asked) why I preferred to lie awake worrying about my teeth in the mornings as opposed to dealing with my teeth.

This morning was one of those fretting mornings.
I woke before the alarm and lay there, checking my gums with my tongue, checking the broken tooth, fretting and fretting and fretting some more. I think the psychological vibration of my fretting woke Gert.

Today was the day I knew I HAD TO make a dental appointment.
10am came and went and still the task went undone.

Instead I talked to Jessie as she traveled towards Paris to meet an old school friend, guiding her in the train stations I knew and wishing her luck.

10.30am, I brushed my teeth and OUT POPPED MY FILLING!

I panicked, as is my habit in anything regarding my teeth, then realised I didn't know my dentist's phone number, phoned Gert who didn't answer either call and then shaking, I ran out the door ready to sell a kidney if the dentist could just fit me in.

She was out at the desk between patients when I arrived.
One look at me and she looked both amused and sympathetic.

After offering a kidney, she said she could fit me in in 5minutes ... I think she thought I might just fall over crying if she didn't.

Ummm so yes, tooth temporarily repaired.
6 weeks and she'll fix it for me but the gum has to heal.
Sigh.

She's a photographer too ...

It's been a long morning here.

Sad times back in New Zealand

Martin phoned with news of a canyoning river tragedy back home in New Zealand.

Reading on, I was stunned to find another weather story about a lightning strike that killed both horse and rider.

New Zealand weather can be incredibly unpredictable but so much loss in a such a short space of time is so very sad.

Salamancan sunshine

Salamancan sunshine, originally uploaded by - di.

There are things wrong with this photograph but I love it anyway ... from time spent in Spain.

Ieper (Ypres) Belgium

Ieper (Ypres) Belgium, originally uploaded by - di.

Then again, there are beautiful streets here in Belgium ...

Gypsy Festival, Istanbul

Gypsy Festival, Istanbul, originally uploaded by - di.

There was the night I took the teensy weensy not very good digital camera out to a gypsy festival in Istanbul city and took photographs like this ...

I miss Istanbul, did I mention that?

Street scrapbooking, Antwerpen

street scrapbooking, antwerpen, originally uploaded by - di.

I loved Monet's Garden

I am so in love with this song!

Thanks V.

An interview with Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova and John Carney.

What do I do with a day sometimes ...

Mark and I finally caught up on skype - too long it had been.

As usual we discussed the deeply important ... student loans, whether I would ever return to New Zealand and what stops me from watching the television series he sent for discussion almost 2 years ago.

He explained that while I read busy, I rarely explain.
I guess it surprised me and so here are some details, the ones that come to me now anyway.

Not that he asked.

The alarm at 6.45am.
Breakfast for everyone ... from 4 to 6 people, more when we have guests.

Kindy run maybe, cleaning for sure, then work and it's that work seems to bleed, even hemorrhage a little, into this home-based life of mine.

I have the one day per week in the city of Brussels where I work for an NGO as a communications chick. Website updating, press release writing, brochure development, business card creation, database maintenance, newsletter creation, photographer and etc ...

I took it on at one day a week but we all agree it is more and I'm fine with it stealing 2 or 3 days depending on workload.

Then there's the development of Di Mackey Word & Image ... business cards, a website perhaps, advertising and etc, including the same kind of work with Di Mackey Photography which actually falls into the Word & Image basket.

A photography gig can go on for weeks, as with the conference in March. 3 nights of photography, a week of organising the results, a weekend of loading 250 onto the web and then receiving and filling out orders from newspapers, magazines and the conference folk themselves.

Out-of-the-blue requests for photographs from an interesting international group based in Egypt takes up time and then general maintenance of promises made, as in a dvd full of photographs taken out on Flanders Fields in 2007 for the man who organises so many of the events there.

Spare time researching a friend of my father's adoption story, trying to locate some of his lost family here in Belgie. A story possibly getting national coverage in Belgian media soon, courtesy of Gert.

There's dinner and dishes and vacuuming and laundry and windows and all those endless things meant to satisfy the female soul.

There's the photo-ordering, frame-choosing, pick-up errands where I learn who is honest, talented and affordable in this relatively new city of mine.

And there's the new website, so close to completion that my eyes are almost ready to bleed from the wait. And that's why I'm here ... at Via Via Cafe, with a glass of red wine, a laptop full of photographs, trying to select 4 perfect images for the new website banner. And I mean perfect. Images that convey all we need them to convey, that are stunning and say, 'Come read us, we're fabulous'.

Bookshop, photography shop, and post office last, so many parcels to post ... it's a day.

The photograph was my everyday metro stop back in Istanbul. Going through all of my photographs, I stumbled upon a million memories of Istanbul and decided to add one, even if it is completely out of context.

Still running in sand some but getting there ...

I worked most of the morning on a small writing workshop offered up by Pam, over at Nerd's Eye View.

A 200 word post (or less) following a prompt. I only discovered it late last night but managed to skid in before the deadline today.

One of the things I have always struggled with in my writing is the letting it go ... the saying it's done. It was no different this time and I'm trying not to look at again because part of me would like to put the end at the beginning and alter things some to make that work too ...

In other news from my day ... one of the delightful things about Belgium is that the workers have rights. The downside is you can never be sure of which days the shops will be open. I raced into the city today, intent on getting a photograph framed for Lut only to find the framing shop closed Mondays ...

Then some photographs I had printed didn't print as they should have so it's back in tomorrow, with a couple of extras.

I have this huge 'to-do' list ... feeble sigh.

But today! There was time spent catching up with the lovely Peter and that was pure relaxation.

I climbed his impressive spiral staircase, it's probably 3x the height of mine and clearly deadly if one is foolish enough to drink too much red wine, saw his cathedral view and peeked out at the river from his balcony, heard a ship's horn as it passed by and smiled over the tinkling of the very serious European cathedral bells.

Veronica, you were missed :)

Back to business, and a glass of red wine before dinner I think.
Tot straks.

Paris to Roubaix ... on cobblestones

I was pulled into watching the 106th Classic Paris to Roubaix cycle race again this year ... and so very relived when Tom Boonen pulled out, speeding past the Swiss and Italian competitor in the final 200 metres.

Hearts all around Belgie will be slowly recovering from the tension of waiting to see if Tom could do it again.

Proficiat, Meneer Boonen!

Recalling Nederlands class back in 2006

I was in something like despair when I wrote the following about Nederlands classes:

'I' is an 'e' for me, and a Dutch 'e' is my 'a'.
'G' is a 'hee', and 'h' is an exhalation of air that creates a 'haa' sound.
'K' sounds like 'car' and 'q' sounds like 'coo'.
'J' is said 'yay'.

'U' involves me pursing my lips, pretending to blow someone a kiss then saying 'uu' while my lips are still kiss-shaped.
'Z' has a t on the end of the sound = 'zet',
'V' becomes 'vay' and 'w' become 'way',
(so www = waywayway is the way it is said)

and then 'y' ... well 'y' is 'ipsilon'.

Isabel Allende, writer

I've been enjoying Isabel Allende's books for years and loved this interview from New Zealand's Sunday Star Times.

Her interview caused me to laugh out loud a few times, with statements like:
"Of course I had cosmetic surgery!" she says. "Why would I want grey hair, sagging wrinkles, and warts with whiskers growing out of them? I will always fight the ugliness of old age. But as my mother says, there comes a point where you have to give up, and just be happy that you don't smell!"

If you haven't heard of her, this gives you something of an idea about what she writes: Indeed this sharp, fiery, bossy, yet warm and generous benefactor is mobbed like a rock star when she returns to Latin America. She's thronged, wherever she tours anywhere in the world, by adoring fans who've bought more than 30 million copies of her books, printed in 28 languages. "The crowds are for what I represent, as much as for my books; and because my name is Allende," she says frankly. "People see me as a symbol for The Disappeared, the torture victims. I've written so much about politics, people know I'm never afraid to speak out about oppression and injustice."

You know those days when you pick up the phone and there's a voice that you think you recognise ...

It was v-grrrl, sounding all familiar and family-like, to the point where I thought she was a fellow kiwi calling.

We just spent some time talking.

Alles goed.

A day at a Belgian Spa

Lut and I set off on another of our Belgian adventures yesterday ... this time it was a much-needed session at a spa.

I was a little concerned about embracing this European style of spa and massage, not overly-excited about pulling on a brand new swimsuit for the day. My concern reached Def-con 5 when we arrived in the changing room just as the man removed his trousers.

Sigh, I'm an adult but undressing with strangers just isn't my favourite thing.

He left and I do believe I might have managed the fastest change in the history of shared dressing-rooms.

We slipped into our toweling robes and set forth on the tour, clutching our towels while slopping along in our sandals. Be aware that although we paid for a package, the towels, robes and sandals were a cost that surprised us at the end of the day. Next time we'll be taking our own.

That said, it was a day that left us deliciously boneless and relaxed.
We lounged on heated tile chairs, we swam in the heated outdoor pool twice and warmed up in the hot dry sauna room. We spent just two minutes in the steam sauna thanks to me. I had suffered from croup as a small child and the cure was the steam-filled bathroom. The sauna brought back memories of struggling to breathe way back when.

There was even the choice of 3 jacuzzi-type baths for a while but best of the day was surely the massage.

We had opted for the face and foot massage and it was sublime. As the masseuse moved from my face to my feet, I quietly commented that my friend would imagine I was dead, due to the silence. Even my cough went away for a while.

A pale older naked couple wandered by every now and again, giving the experience of sharing the compact very modern space an edgy European film festival kind of feeling.

We finished the day with our men and a sumptuous Belgian meal at De heksenketel, celebrating the fact that Maurice and Lut had been together for 10 years.

Proficiaat to two of our favourite Belgians!

Khaled Khalifa, writer

A book for my 'to find and to read' list found in the Saturday Profile of the New York Times.

A bearish man with a boiling corona of steel-gray hair, Mr. Khalifa, 44, has a clownish humor that undercuts his large literary ambitions. He smoked, drank and plowed through a table full of appetizers during a late-night interview at Ninar, a Damascus restaurant popular with Syrian artists and intellectuals, his long answers interrupted by bursts of raucous laughter.

... “The main thing I wanted to get at was the struggle of two fundamentalisms,” he said. “I remember that heaviness, that feeling of death dominating the whole city. You were always surrounded by armed men who agreed on only one thing: If you’re not with us, you’re against us.”

... “In Praise of Hatred” is narrated by a young woman, and its title comes from an observation she makes about the way hatred filters from the violent streets outside into her own quiet life: “Hatred possessed me. I was excited by it, I felt it was saving me; it gave me a sense of superiority I had been seeking for a long time.”

A Sad War Story about Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The New York Times has the story: After the disappearance of Amelia Earhart, the demise of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry on a reconnaissance mission in World War II has long ranked as one of aviation’s great mysteries. Now, thanks to the tenacity and luck of a two amateur archaeologists, the final pieces of the puzzle seem to have been filled in.

... Without hesitating, Mr. Rippert replied, “You can stop searching. I shot down Saint-Exupéry.”

Mr. Rippert, who will be 86 in May, worked as a television sports reporter after the war. It was only days after he had shot down a P-38 with French colors near Marseille that he learned of Saint-Exupéry’s disappearance.

He was convinced he had shot him down, though he confided his conviction only to a diary. In 2003, when he learned that Saint-Exupéry’s plane had been located, his suspicion was confirmed. But still, he said nothing publicly.

Over the years, the thought that he might have killed Saint-Exupéry had troubled Mr. Rippert. As a youth in the 1930s, he had idolized the aviator-turned-author and had devoured his books, beginning with “Southern Mail,” in 1929, an adventure tale written while Saint-Exupéry was flying the Casablanca to Dakar route.

... In Paris, Saint-Exupéry’s grandnephew, Olivier d’Agay, who is a spokesman for the family, said that Mr. Rippert’s version of the events was credible. “All he said was that he hit and brought down a P-38 in that region on July 31 — he never said he shot down Saint-Exupéry,” Mr. d’Agay said. “Of course, he asked himself if it were true, though he kept it to himself.

“Rippert said he often felt desperate,” he said. “If he had known what he was doing, he never would have done it.”

Tibetan Temple detail

temple detail, originally uploaded by - di.

A blog to check, out if you haven't already ....

Sparkletopia is full of delights if you are art-orientated ... well, if you're travel, people and all kinds of others things orientated too.

Wandering there tonight compelled me to tell you ...check it out if you haven't already.

A quietly satisfying day

At times I was a little cross-eyed, trying to make my pdf link work on the website long after the sugar buzz had worn off but other parts of my day were just grand.

It began in the ultimate mobile office ... the train from Antwerpen to Brussels.
If I board at Central Station, I'm guaranteed one of the single seats with a tray table. So I wrote up an outline for the photo gallery on the new website almost through its development stage.

Work.
I love where I work.
I'm lucky and have this rather deliciously special group of people I get to call colleagues.

I spent the day working and during the course of that day, I checked in at my gmail account. The result of those checks are a school visit as competition judge of that photography competition at a high school here in Belgium.

Then there was an enquiry from a web designer in need of a photographer and as I write this, I'm sending photographs that capture the essence of Belgium (I hope) to a magazine website in Egypt.

It's been one of 'those' days.

Tomorrow Lut and I are disappearing off into a place of pampering and beauty.
I have to take a swimsuit.
There's talk of a massage.
I'll get back to you ...

inside the Tibetan Meditation room, originally uploaded by - di.

I loved this ... is it a gong?

I was torn between concentrating to follow the lecture in Nederlands and watching the way the light played on the red frame around this 'gong'.

I came home wanting to find the reds and the yellows, the greens and oranges and paint things that are mine.

I didn't come close to capturing the beauty I saw in this piece but here is an attempt.

Meditation Room

Meditation Room, originally uploaded by - di.

It's been a rough week and I'm only in the middle of it however for about 45 minutes today, I had the privilege of spending some time in this room.

It was a place of incredible peace.

There was a hint of the woodsmoke I recall from those days spent in the safety of a happy childhood but sweetly scented.

The silence was so thick, so dense, so peaceful it seeed to caress my skin but without suffocating me. I sat there for ages trying to think of how to describe it.

It was stunning.
It made me think about Buddhism and whether there was a way for me to escape to this room of meditation on a regular basis.

Then it was back to the real world and I was late every where on an impossible schedule. Heading out again soon, just touching base with my 5-minute-meditation room here at the blog.

A little bit of Tibet here in Antwerpen

Tibetan prayer flagsm, originally uploaded by - di.

Sitting still for a moment ...

3 hours sleep last night in no way prepared me for my today ...

I worked all morning and sent out my very first 1000 subscriber newsletter. It was a bit buzzy to be honest.

Lunchtime and I raced into the city with a huge list of errands and that would have been fine but for the huge thud as the tram ground to a halt slowly, crashing over something metal, then something soft.

A collective gasp went up as we all thought a bike had been hit and flattened, along with the rider but then ... a heap of a car completed its u-turn, huge mess with its side all stoved in and drove off.

The tram had clearly run over pieces of car, unable to stop in time.

The driver was furious and started making the round of phone calls required to notify the powers that be an accident had occurred.

Some people started trying to leave, I was already a little bit late for my first meeting unfortunately this made the driver very impatient with us and we were all sent back to our seats.

Okay ... so the chances of further accidents were high, as you step out of the tram and straight into traffic.

Like scolded children we sat waiting while the tram limped along and pulled off the mainline near Centraal Station and then we were given permission to leave.

A brisk walk and I was only 30 minutes late.
The schedule went downhill from there and I'll have to work out how to gracefully exit before lunch on the temple visit tomorrow, just to get everything done.

Welcome to the real world of multiple tasks, Di ;)

You know when ...

You know when the police ring on the doorbell downstairs and want in and they say a lot in Dutch, very fast, so that you have to say 'Ik spreek Engels' and they sound a little testy and say 'It's the police. Let us in!' and you do because that's what you're taught to do?

But ... there's no screen to identify them on.

And you wonder why they're coming to visit, assume they're checking that the daughter and granddaughter really live here, tidy your hair a little and wait but they stop downstairs and you think 'Okay?' but then the banging begins and the drill and you think 'Dammit, are they police?' And 'What are they doing?'

But having watched a few too many television shows you don't really feel inclined to open your noisy front door and peer over the spiral staircase railing because ... if they aren't police you will be the person able to identify them, so won't they have to poke out your eyes or something?

So I phoned the Belgian but he was of no use and hadn't even thought through the issues of me having a look to make sure they were who they said they were ...sigh.

And anyway, the other elderly neighbour across the hall downstairs will surely pop his head out to check out the noise because that's what he always does when there's too much noise.

But wouldn't I want someone else to do this for me?

Okay, going to look ...

On my return.
I'm mortified.
I acted like a city person.
Whoever they were, they left while I had my iPod-like music player playing.

After going out to pick up Miss Three, I learned that the locks were changed on the apartment below and one has to see the politie if they want to enter.
Seems authentic ...

Today ...

Today began with the insanity that is everyone going in different directions at the same time and then a sudden peace.

My first day alone in a very long time.

Breakfast, painkillers and a clearing of my horrendously buried desk.

A list began, needing more in-trays and a bulletin board.

Some work done on photo orders and a growing list of dvds full of photographs needing mailed.

Every now and again, raising my head to the peace of an empty apartment.

A new letterhead to complete and a business card to alter just a little more before sending to work.

A newsletter to email to the mailing list of over 1000.

A little planning and preparation for the Tibetan Temple visit on Wednesday, a note to remember to find my swimsuit for a day out with Lut on Friday ... work Thursday.

Re-arranging and making space for a photo-shoot that had to be cancelled because of this cough that continues ... 2 weeks seems to be about usual with bronchial things since my mum died.

I have 2 novel ideas begun on my desktop, nagging me from their points of beginning and an idea for a book of interviews that could be both timely and cathartic.

Today is an attempt to pull all of these aspects of my life into some kind of manageable framework ... without the PA that I need to organise me.

My Little Sister ...

My little sister turned 40 today ...

I find it quite stunning mostly because I imagine her about 25, maybe younger.

My very best New Zealand source on things family sent me this photograph, taken on his cellphone at 'the' birthday party. No family were present, we're rotten at birthdays ... 2 brothers who don't call for birthdays from Australia, a dad who was more efficient when mum was in charge of his memory. And then there's me, the hopelessly irresponsible one living 23 hours in flight time away, with the boxed, not-quite-completed gift still here on Gert's desk.

So, what can I write about my sister ...?
The first thing would be that she's the kind of person you most want in your corner when things go wrong. She's a person who makes people feel safe, whether they're actually dying or simply imagining they are. She's a registered nurse who works in a hospice now.

She's almost the practical one, except when she's not ... it used to be handbags and shoes were her shopper-sins, these days I don't know what saves her for sure.

She's a giggler when she gets going. There was that time in the Las Vegas elevator, the one where the man with the scarred face joined us with two of his henchmen. He gave them instructions about Room ... and they exited a few floors up, leaving us alone with him and his shoulder-holstered gun.

My little sister and I caught each others eye and tried not to laugh but it was one of those situations where the harder you try not to laugh the worse it is until that point where you're convulsed and exploding.

He didn't shoot us.
He tried to ignore us.
Did I mention we were in the Landmark Hotel's tower elevator ... many floors to the top, many many floors.

She was my giggling buddy during those long catholic sermons back in our childhood days too.

I prefer not to annoy her although it does happen accidentally sometimes. Her raised eyebrow is easily equivalent to 1000 cutting words, specially if you know you've messed up or that it could be perceived you have messed up.

However ... when my little sister has had a couple of glasses of wine she becomes the most amusing, verbally-adept creature you could know but knowing it's wrong to encourage this type of verbal-adeptness, I tend to tell the same couple of drinking legends over and over and she tries not to drink (a moment for laughter).

Apparently her 40th party was lovely, and Mark claims that those present sang the most in-tune rendition of Happy Birthday he had ever heard ... although I have no evidence regarding his alcohol intake prior to phoning me ;)

Theres only one sms I keep on my phone permanently, it's from Sand's. She was at a winery concert in the summer and it works as a snapshot. She wrote:Sitting at Millbrook, Queenstown, drinking beautiful wine, listening to Dave Dobbyn and Hayley Westenra with Jim and Bridge

Homesick?
Hell yes!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY Sand's, I do wish I could have been there.
All the very best things in the year ahead.

Love,
Di xxx

Need to go out and take new photographs

Bompi and Miss Three, originally uploaded by - di.

It's raining today but it's the best kind of spring rain - the balcony plants are happy.

And missing friends who have flown away.

V, originally uploaded by - di.

Still sick ...

a guiding hand- paris, originally uploaded by - di.

So desperately looking for nice things like this memory of wandering in Paris.

a difficult couple of days ...

I've spent the last 2 hours, willing the time to fly by while I waited the almost recommended time for my next dose of painkillers.

This flu has been a dog and I spent most of yesterday in bed, napping and coughing, then most of last night coughing and sleeping.

Today I didn't know if there was any improvement simply because I was so tired and I had this headache. My neck, rearranged long ago during a 100km per hour flight from my pillion position to the road, seemed to be protesting the very forceful cough.

It was too sore to lie down but I kept falling asleep sitting up ... so I waited for time to pass and perhaps I'm feeling a lot better - like typing at least.

My sister's 40th birthday ...
In New Zealand, Saturday April has already begun and I'm still adding to the box of goodies even today. I went out for cough syrup and came home with a few more treats for the box.

I can imagine Sands raising an eyebrow on reading this, knowing the true test will be in the posting of said present.

Mark's flying home for the big party but Auckland to Dunedin isn't quite Europe to New Zealand. I didn't offer that kidney on Ebay and so didn't quite find the 1500euro airfare.

And this isn't your birthday post, Sandra ;)

Japanese Pen Spinning

It could be that my judgement is way off at 5.30am but Japanese pen spinning seems fairly impressive, specially if you've spent most of the night almost but not quite coughing yourself awake ...

Thanks Neil, for Neilochka's Successful Technique 3.

Ismael Lô, Singer and the Fes Festival of World Sacred Music

Catching up on news over on The View from Fez and I read of Ismael Lô.

They had written Ismael Lô is from Senegal. He almost became a painter, but singing took precedence. He joined the successful group Super Diamono in Dakar, but eventually went solo. His music draws on mbalax - the rhythms of the Wolof people of Senegal - along with cool French ballads; he plays guitar and harmonica. A member of the Tijani Sufi brotherhood, whose saint is buried at the Sidi Ahmed Tijani Zawiya in Fez, he's enormously popular in France where he now lives, and was awarded the Legion d'Honneur in 2002.

Lô will be performing at the end of his set with the Hamadcha Sufi Brotherhood of Fez, led by Moqaddem Abderrahim Amrani Marrakchi. This brotherhood was founded by Sidi Ali Ben Hamdouch in the 17th century and is known for its spellbinding music, dance and trance.

If you would like to see him perform or the Fes Festival of World Sacred Music appeals to you, then you can check out the update here.

The most beautiful piece of writing ...

I found this post, this piece of writing over at Shutter Sisters and for some reason, I found it stunningly beautiful ... perhaps it was that it seems like a series of snapshots, I don't know but I'd like to be able to find my way back to it sometimes.

Ik heb de griep

Huge dramatic sigh that fades into tired ... I have the flu.

It's disgusting.

Aching, coughing, miserable.

One of those days ...

Imagine you haven't been home for almost 4 years and it's your sister's 40th birthday soon ... how do you know what she loves if she's not a huge letter writer, even worse, if she doesn't have a blog!

So that is my fate today.
Walking Antwerpen streets, looking for gifts for the first birthday parcel I've been financially free to send home in a long time.

I have Little Miss Three's latest lurg, as we called them back home - this flu thing that starts in the chest. The first sign is the crackle in your lungs ... gruesome. That started last Thursday and it's just building up a little more each day. Gert's living in terror, as he has a section of marathon to run in a few weeks and is going well on his training for the 16kms and we all have this cough now but for him.

The newsletter ... it goes out for the colleague check today which is how I ended up lunching at Via Via Reis Cafe eating my lunch, having taken that first improper sip of red wine at 11.57am. Back in New Zealand, a sure sign that I have veered off the path of sobriety. It was a weekday rule of my father's - no alcohol before 5pm. But one glass of red with a hearty bread and cheese sandwich in Europe seems okay to me.

And even better, I have an new interview lined up for the 'still-in-progress' website, the one where the most recent webdesigner has completely disappeared, with money. I have to phone her today, enquire after her health, ask her for solutions to our unfinished webzine.

12 degrees celsius and sunshine is adding to my day.
I hope your day is a good one where ever you are.

Scott Anderson, Triage

I just finished a stunningly excellent book.

I'm not even sure how to summarise it but ... if you're curious about how a war journalist might deal with trauma experienced out in the field, or if you're curious about why man is perhaps doomed to be a creature of war, or even if you have an opinion on history and the good or harm it does to mankind, then Scott Anderson's book titled 'Triage' is a novel you might just devour too.

Slow to start for some perhaps but there is this beautifully powerful unfolding at the end.

I found this short piece on Scott. He's a veteran war correspondent, a contributing writer for the New York Times Magazine, whose work also appears in Vanity Fair, Esquire, Harper's, Outside and many other publications. Over the years he has reported from Beirut, Northern Ireland, Chechnya, Israel, Sudan, Sarajevo, El Salvador and many other war-torn countries. He is the author of the critically-acclaimed novel Triage, as well as the nonfiction book The Man Who Tried to Save the World: The Life and Mysterious Disappearance of Fred Cuny and, with his brother Jon Lee Anderson War Zones.

And for those of you fortunate enough to live in NY City, you can check out his restaurant here, although try reading the book before going.

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.
Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Car-less...

So ... we sold the little blue car during the week, for all kinds of reasons, mostly because we rarely use it and it's so very expensive to simply 'have' a car here in Europe.

In return for our car-less state, we receive THREE years worth of free tram and bus tickets here in Flanders (I had previously thought it was 2 years) and can buy into a car rental scheme that offers very good hire rates.

Yesterday was the big test and we passed but for a little exhaustion.
We city-shopped - real tea, a teapot (because yes, Di really did break yet another teapot lid), pesto and good olive oil.

We garden-shopped, preparing our balcony for summer with lavender, pansies and etc...

We supermarket-shopped (or grocery-shopped as we call it back home in New Zealand) and that was the big test ... we passed that one too if you call falling onto the couch for the evening, exhausted.

Daylight saving begins here today.
It all seems like a good start to summer.

A cute little fit of the giggles on BBC

Charlotte Green had just introduced an item about the oldest known recording of the human voice on the Radio 4 Today programme's 8am news bulletin.

As the recording of a woman singing the French song Clair de Lune, made in 1860, played, somebody in the studio apparently whispered in her ear that it sounded like a bee buzzing in a bottle.

The result was an uncontrollable fit of the giggles as Ms Green struggled to make it to end of the next item - a report about the death of the Hollywood screenwriter Abby Mann.

Tell your own story, and you will be interesting," she responded. "Don't get the green disease of envy. Don't be fooled by success and money. Don't let anything come between you and your work.
Louise Bourgeois

Loved this. Thanks to sparkletopia.

An Astounding Event!

And it might not seem so to those who haven't lived in Belgium but I just had a service provider say words that I never thought I would hear here ...

I'm not being harsh.
Checking with my source on all things Belgian, I discovered that he had never in his life heard those words here.

What were the words?
Well... 'The customer is always right.'

Really, that's faint-from-shock stuff.
After coming from relatively service-orientated New Zealand, having lived in Turkey and had American friends commenting on the issue of customer treatment here, hearing those words so stunned me that I paid the 25euro charge on the library book I had supposedly damaged.

It's a rotten book that I couldn't bring myself to finish but there was a faint water mark on the bottom inch of it and I couldn't prove I hadn't done it. The guy at the library completely blew away my outraged argument by quietly saying that they couldn't prove that I had done it so I wasn't obliged to pay however a small donation would be appreciated.

Seeing my face, he explained that they operated on the customer is always right policy.

I said 'I'll pay'.
He said 'You will?'

Gert said, 'You did???'
I said, I would have paid 50euro just to hear those words even once when I had felt wronged by incorrect change and other small customer outrages in the past.

It's sounds so small and mean, I know but really, if you had lived here you would know what I mean.

Permeke Library, you impressed me!

Frances Mayes and Colette

Taieri Mouth, New Zealand, originally uploaded by - di.

For those of you who haven't guessed, I adore the non-fiction writing of Frances Mayes, identifying with so much of what she writes about. I found this quote while I was reading on the way to work yesterday morning and loved it.

Frances is writing of Colette: She liked in her early adult life to "move house". Intensely domestic, she was also restless. This oxymoron is one source of my identification with her.

"Whereever you are, you're thinking of somewhere else," my first husband accused me. Sadly, he spoke the truth. Only later, when I lived in places I wanted to be, did the restlessness cool.

A little of this, a little of that ... and some red wine.

It was a punch-drunk kind of work day ... but delicious.

I went in planning to work on the newsletter, finishing it actually.
I ended up doing all kinds of things, tearing my hair out in an amused kind of way, missing my laptop and photoshop CS2 I use here at home and drinking far too much caffeine and sugar.

It all began this morning, after ironing the black jeans that had dried overnight.

I tramed, trained, read and metro-ed my way to the office, worked the day away with my lovely colleagues, went out for lunch and didn't die when I ordered my brie baguette from the upmarket French-speaking sandwich shop that turns me into a-barely educated-unable-to-speak kind of creature

Day over, I left ... then had my umbrella sent down in the elevator because I had forgotten it and well ... the elevator wasn't working so reliably today. It's tiny and I prefer not to be the chick stuck in the elevator story.

Metro-ed, train-ed, read and tramm-ed to the supermarket where I bought some medicinal red wine on the way home.

Trammed, walked, pondering the fact that apartment building was that much further from the tram stop than it was when I left it this morning.

I ate, drank and was almost merry when work in the form of a big pdf urgently required by the printer intervened.

That done, I sat down here to listen to the cd that furiousball sent and it was soothing my brow as I worked ... dank u wel, Van UNTIL I remembered my 'date' with one of the very best New Jersey people ... although they all seem like good people.

I dusted off skype and spent a lovely hour catching up on Shanti, at her place in New York.

It's been a good day.
I hope yours was too!

where we are

Thanks to v-grrrl for posting this recently.

where we are, originally uploaded by - di.

Just hanging out at the Via Via Cafe here in the city

I finished my book on the tram to the city and was left full of the feelings a good book fills you with ... that feeling of having absorbed some of their wisdom and of having bathed in the golden glow of their life (or that's how it is for me.)

Despite non-serious snow storms and a long list of things to be done, I was heading for the Via Via Travel Cafe here in the city.

Did I tell you I've been invited to judge a school photography competition ... their prints arrived in the mail today so I opened them here at the cafe and it will be a pleasure to work through them, worrisome choosing 3 winners.

I've been invited to the school here in Belgie, so I'll come back with the rest of that adventure one day soon.

But I really came here to work on my exhibition collection. The organiser was a little concerned about my subject choice ... he has this idea that commemorations and kiwis on Flanders Fields might a grim subject area. I've just spent the last hour proving him wrong.

Each of the 5 artists in the exhibition has been invited to exhibit up to 15 pieces of work and there's this deep pleasure in selecting my best while making sure there is a story in each piece I hang.

Next comes the decision on print size and then how to frame ... affordably or beautifully. I've found a truly talented framer close to home so I'll go talk with him soon - maybe both is possible.

There are posters, flyers and invitations being created by the organisation, this being the 10th exhibition. Soon we hear which work or works were chosen for the advertising.

The talent is astounding and I feel very much like the baby in the midst of some grown-up artists. But more on that too, as the tale unfolds.

Tot ziens from the kiwi in Antwerpen.

Andrea over at Superhero writes of the Great Media Cleansing

And I could see how it worked.

If curious, you can read more here.

Snow showers and madness

A description of a slice of life taken from our place this morning ...

Gert went off to work in the midst of a glassy snow-globe kind of snow shower and accidently, I found myself back in bed with the final pages of a much-loved book to finish.

I fell asleep and woke to the sound of a little hand knocking on my door ... a knock that was actually signaling the beginning of the great sock and scarf theft.

Miss Three was all innocence and cuddles while her mum cased my room, noting the location of, what she has come to consider, our shared sock collection. The theft ended up being quite brazen and involved many socks.

Seeing I was still weakened by my mid-morning laziness, the even greater scarf heist began with Miss Three being heard to shout gleefully ... 'LET'S TAKE TWO SCARVES'.

Revenge was sweet.

Realising they were clothing themselves in stolen goods, I snuck up to their bedroom door and let out a blood-curdling roar.

Shock, horror and much laughter followed, with the short creature being heard to say through her laughter, 'That was fun, wasn't it mummy.'

Mummy wasn't so sure but I can still see their faces.
It was funny, I promise.

A Middelheim Image

a musician and his manuscript, originally uploaded by - di.

Wendy Quinlan, flautist

Wendy Quinlan studied in Canberra and Switzerland. She has been principal flute for the Australian and World Youth Orchestras, Basel Sinfonietta, Sydney Symphony Orchestra, Orquestra do Porto and the Symphony Orchestra of Flanders. As a soloist she has appeared with a number of ensembles, and has made several recordings. She is based in Brussels and in 2007 played at the ANZAC Commemorative Service at Tyne Cot.
Excerpt from, Flanders 1917.

And it is Wendy on flute in this youtube taken from 'The Private Life of Plants'. Thanks Martin.

Travel

Salamancan streets, originally uploaded by - di.

When you travel, you become invisible, if you want. I do want. I like to be the observer. What makes these people who they are? Could I feel at home here?

When traveling, you have the delectable possibility of not understanding a word of what is said to you. Language becomes simply a musical background for watching bicycles zoom along a canal, calling for nothing from you. Even better, if you speak the language, you catch nuances and make more contact with people.

Travel releases spontaneity. You become a godlike creature full of choice, free to visit the stately pleasure domes, make love in the morning, sketch a bell tower, read a history of Byzantium, stare for one hour at the face of Leonardo da Vinci's Madonna dei fusi.

You open, as in childhood, and - for a time - receive this world. There's a visceral aspect, too - the huntress who is free. Free to go, free to return home bringing memories to lay on the hearth.
Frances Mayes, from A Year in the World

It has been too long since I last wandered

Castel Sant' Angelo, pastel, originally uploaded by - di.

It builds up in me and I just want to go. Payday is about to come round again and I'm thinking of returning to Rome to re-take the photographs I took last time I was there, when I was restricted by film and the way my Istanbul photo shop was processing my work.

My photography will take me to London and Berlin soon but I need something else, something just for me and my camera.

I've been trying to refit my skin after living a while outside of self. The promised snow seems to have been banished by sunshine and I'm here by an open window, soaking up sunlight.

I found a quote and wanted to remember it ...

The need to travel is a mysterious force. A desire to go runs through me equally with an intense desire to stay at home. An equal and opposite thermodynamic principle.

At home I'm dreaming of catching trains at night in the grey light of Old Europe, or pushing open shutters to see Florence awaken. The balance just slightly tips in the direction of the airport.

Frances Mayes, A Year in the World.

other worlds, originally uploaded by - di.

One of those flash epiphanies of travel, the realisation that worlds you'd love vibrantly exist outside your ignorance of them. The vitality of many lives you know nothing about. The breeze lifting a blue curtain in a doorway billows just the same whether you are lucky enough to observe it or not.

Travel gives such jolts.
I could live in this town, so how is it that I've never been here before today?

Frances Mayes, A Year in the World.

A bedankt for the Belgian

I have this Belgian guy who comes to find me when I fall down deep work to be done holes.

He cleans the house when I'm chained to photoshop and the computer on a Saturday, then rides in on the white horse to individually number, code and upload more than 300 of the best images for me.

Snow has begun falling as I write this but I'm feeling calm after almost a week of conference-related edginess. In celebration of the most difficult part being over, I'm roasting some New Zealand lamb and we have this cherry and custard dessert for later.

A kiwi friend is coming over for dinner and I foresee some good conversations and Australian wine in the hours ahead.

Yesterday ...

Mostly, I try not to blog about the negative things here ... mostly. But sometimes I'm so very very appalled that one of 'those' posts appears here and usually, when I wake in the morning, I take it down again ... anger over.

Wednesday night and I was out wandering in the city. A kiwi friend was in town from Brussels and we went out for dinner then onto a cosy old jazz bar here. We talked endlessly and somehow the glasses were constantly full, in that lazy 'not really paying attention' kind of way.

Thursday morning was the awakening.
I had a little Miss 3 to get off to kindy and then I had to get myself on a train to Brussels for work and I wasn't feeling superb.

Belgium's Burger King equivalent saved me - or one of their bacon burgers eaten at South Station Brussels made me feel more human.

A long day at work with much laughter and an endless to-do list before heading home.
And so there was the refunding of very expensive train ticket incident but there was also a phone call from the conference organiser. My photographs of the Israeli ambassador and a group of British women were urgently required for the Jerusalem Post ...

I had just missed what would turn out to be the last tram for 20 minutes and it was pouring down in the city.

Home by 8pm, eating dinner, sorting photographs, sending them, phoning to say they were on their way, preparing for Gert's children to arrive, tired.

Today is another day, of heavy rain showers, hail, the possibility of snow and a second attempt at a train ticket refund. I just imagine how it will go ... that amount of money in the morning, are you an idiot?

A lesson for the world to listen to ...

I hope America gives this man a chance to be President.

It is a speech that can be applied to so many countries and I learnt things as I sat here listening to Barack.

Thanks Manic.

I may have to join a gym ...

Re-aquainting myself with housework, I finally had time to check out the new vacuum cleaner we picked up on Sunday night.

I enjoy vacuuming.
Maybe it's the guaranteed results with not too much effort.

Hah! Not so with this vacuum cleaner.

Being a kiwi, or perhaps being a Diane, I couldn't resist the urge to use the cleaner on maximum suction.

It was like wrestling an elephant.
Fantastic results but I was almost a hunchback by the time the lounge was done and quite relieved that I didn't have to explain how it was that I had lifted all the flooring Gert put down before he moved in and why it was inside the new cleaner.

I like the new vacuum cleaner but might just have to join up with the gym before doing the 'max' thing.

Monsoon ... or something like it

Last night, driving between Brussels and Antwerpen, Gert and I were discussing the difference in our photographic styles.

When I first met Gert, one of the things we immediately recognised was a shared interest in photography. As the photographic workload has increased, Gert has gone from being my 'fix-it-all' assistant to photography partner ... our different styles offering a comprehensive coverage at events, his multiple languages a godsend.

Initially he was more about the technical photography but these last 3 days saw him put together some truly superb people essays and we're both delighted. It wasn't an area he'd had much to do with before meeting me.

So driving home ... I confessed to being truly empty, a boneless mass of physical person, psychologically drained.

Photography shoots don't affect him in the same way. He applies the technical and I apply the ... we tried to find a name for it. I 'feel' my way. I look for emotions, for connections, for moments and I give everything to the moments when the camera is in my hand. When work goes on for hours, coming back to the world can be difficult.

Photography is flight for me ... it's best feeling in the world, it's like a natural high and no matter how stressful the preparation or workload is, once I'm working with the camera, I'm happy.

I'm a little sad that I didn't give in to this instinct for photography before but I never felt that this feeling of flying was the most valid reason for becoming professional even though I had been pressured to take the step for years.

Last night, seeing peoples delight over the portraits I captured of them while they were unaware I was focused on them made all this exhaustion today so worthwhile. The president of the Belgian organisation in charge of the international conference was delighted and said she would recommend me on out into the world whenever she could, that more work would follow.

But today is only the top of the mountain, now follows the down-climb ... hundreds of photographs to check, downsize and prepare for loading onto a private online album for conference-goers to view meanwhile ... I begin work on my first newsletter for the organisation who employed me tomorrow.

The monsoon season feels like it has arrived and truthfully, I'm loving it.

If I told you where I've been ...

1am and the 3-day photography shoot is finally over.

Tonight, standing in prime position waiting for the VIP to arrive, I tried to count how many times I've been around heavy-duty security here in Belgium ... the Queen of England, the Prime Minister of New Zealand and the Governer Generals of both NZ and Australia and then tonight's guest.

Sometimes though, there is that accompanying 'But what if they actually have to make use of their security people ... then I'm way too close'. I had that thought tonight.

More on it tomorrow although there are over 500 photographs that we're rapt with, so it's been a good few days.

Tot ziens from this kiwi in Belgie.

A stunning night out in Brussels

a stunning night out in brussels, originally uploaded by - di.

Over 300 photographs downloaded and ready to process tomorrow.

It was one of those nights where I ended up feeling like Alice in Wonderland at that wonderful tea party.

More later, falling into bed for now.

Tot straks.

Busy Crazy Days ...

But fun.

Jessie's been ill since last Wednesday and life has been a bit of a juggling act. Little Miss Three had her first day at work as my photographic assistant at a political reception this morning. Results were mixed but she loved it and the staff forgave her for putting that nasty-tasting snack back in the bowl ... or perhaps they responded sympathetically to my startled yelp as I dived in after the wet snack and removed it.

Tonight is the first of three nights covering a European conference in Brussels. I expect to be processing photographs until Wednesday sometime.

Yesterday there was a planning meeting for the exhibition my work is appearing in mid-September. It's all a little surreal but purely delicious.

Busy crazy days but fun ...

Erkan Saka, Blogger

Erkan in Brussels, originally uploaded by - di.

I finally got to meet one of my longtime favourite bloggers today after work. Erkan was in Brussels for a conference and we met at his hotel ... once I found it.

We went out for coffee and talked and talked and talked ... lovely man that he is, he answered all questions that were asked of him. He charmed me to bits when he admitted being surprised at how young I looked.

Home again with a full weekend of art exhibition meetings. other meetings and a big photography gig starting on Sunday.

Tot ziens from the Yeni Zelanda in Belgium.

The Band's Visit, a movie

Huge thanks to Carolien for pointing me in the direction of a movie titled The Band's Visit.



Now to find it.

Got me!

Got me., originally uploaded by - di.

One had to be constantly alert when friends bring cameras too ...

War Photographers dot com

Described as A Portal for Photojournalists Covering Conflict, Crisis & Disaster, Warshooter.com is yet another interesting post over on Tewfic's Travel Photographer website.

Tewfic's post are usuallly interesting - going in there, I'm lost in the same way I am lost in a new city. If you have some time, it's an interesting place to wander a while.

Are You Prone to these Six Symptoms of Creative Procrastination?

Christine Kane has written an interesting post on this subject over on her blog at Christine Kane.com.

Les Prisonniers Series

Les Prisonniers Series, originally uploaded by - di.

I found this old poster falling off a wall while wandering in Brussels the other day. I took it down to the new 'sandpit' I've been playing with and turned the poster into a 'texture' and worked it over one of my photographs ...

Guess what I'm buying next week ...

Click here and then press play and you'll hear something of what I miss most while living in Belgium.

And then there's the sound of the 2000kms of coastline on my South Island of New Zealand.

Back home, I was lucky enough to live in Dunedin on the east coast of the South Island, in Cromwell, Central Otago ... up in Marlborough and finally over in Fiordland.

In a Nature shop over in Brussels, I listened to some soundtracks like those above and my body went into a state of deep longing.

This kiwi chick is going to make do with some audio tracks until she can get home for a fix.

Fragmentation ...

I came here to write after a speedy re-evaluation of the theme of my photography exhibition in September.

The organisers want photographs now for posters and brochures and my gardening tale was a work-in-progress, capturing the growing season and the relationships between gardeners on Antwerpen's allotments so ... a fast rethink and the obvious slapped me in the face, gently. I have folders full of hours and days spent out on Flanders Field.

The morning has been spent working on image selection in the lounge around an excitable Miss Three who was noisily delighting in the fact that Gert's kids are here; around Gert, housework, requests for information from others and all that stuff but here I am, almost 3pm and the mail with attachments has been sent back to the organisers.

Brussels with Ms V was truly fabulous. We spent 2 nights and most of 2 days talking and laughing, wandering and laughing some more.

She earned my undying gratitude by metro-ing me over to Waterstones, an English bookshop with a branch in Brussels. I almost died when I discovered Christina Lamb's Small Wars Permitting - Dispatches from Foreign Lands on their 3 books for the price of 2 table. I've had that book on my 'must have' list for so long and it is as good as I expected it to be.

Jessie begins both social orientation in Flanders, and studying Dutch language next week. Life will kick up a gear for her, with all of us needing to fill out some kind of appointments book so that we know where we are when. I've got a big job coming up mid-March, with a European-wide audience to satisfy and Gert is busy with work too.

Our first guest flies in in April and we head up to Paris to meet Jessie's friend. It looks like I'll be in London that same month, taking a few photographs for a book.

May is Berlin and the wedding, July we're hoping to head into France. September we already have rumours of friends flying in and I've put Rome, Istanbul and New Zealand on my 2008 to-do list.

The days are getting longer and the chill is slowly leaving. It feels like 2008 is finally arriving, even if we're already 3 months into it.

The day I accidentally meandered ... quite quite lost

Note: the tram in Brussels is not the same thing as the metro in Brussels.

I was working today and I had to catch the metro from a new location in Belgium so ... I set off.

The journey.
From v-grrrl's to Arts-Loi (twice-named, as is custom over here, in Dutch it's Kunst-Wet) then it was onto the Number 2 metro in the direction of Simonis BUT I caught the tram ... the underground tram. A mistake that I learned from. Fortunately I still made it to Gare Centrale (Centraal Station in Dutch).

Finding myself unexpectedly above ground I was delighted to note that we were parked outside Gare Centrale, the place I needed to be to make my connection - metro 4 in the direction ... hmmmm, which direction, Stalle P or Esplanade?

So yes ... it might be that I hopped on the metro heading in a direction I had no need to be going in. Two stops down the line and I leapt off, with dignity and waited for a tram going in my direction.

It was much more complicated than but I'm giving you the bones of my journey ...

I phoned the office about then and said it looked like I was going to be about 30 minutes late as I was touring out in the city.

It was a good day though and much belly laughter is happening at V's house tonight. Just ask Martin, who had the misfortune to phone up while I was breathtakingly funny. I think I'm still allowed to travel with him on ANZAC day ...

On Running Away from Home ...

I caught the bus to the train and the train to the metro and the metro to v-grrrl's.

We're spending the next couple of days saying bye, with time out at work tomorrow.

'Bye' quite possibly translates as wandering, talking, shopping, coffee-stopping, talking, wine-drinking, talking ... anything that doesn't resemble the reality that is V & Co flying out next week.

Tot ziens from the Brussels-based kiwi.

Just playing ...

the eiffel tower, originally uploaded by - di.

Experimentation

experimentational, originally uploaded by - di.

My daughter just invited me over to her desk to play in photoshop.

I am SO GLAD I live in the time of photoshop.

It may be that I cringe over this in the weeks ahead but voila, my first experiment with textures.

Corporal Willie Apiata

Corporal Willie Apiata, originally uploaded by - di.

In 2007 I took thousands of photographs and today is that day when I go through some of them, searching out a selection that gives an overview of the Flanders Fields work .

And I realised that I skim the best off the top then move onto the next job, rarely having the time to go back and see what else is there.

Corporal Willie Apiata is a New Zealand and Victoria Cross recipient. I photographed him in Messeines during the 90th commemoration of the Battle of Passchendaele.

I was curious about his Victoria Cross and found this: On July the 2nd, 2007, Apiata was awarded the VC for his bravery. In part the citation for the award reads:

"In total disregard of his own safety, Lance Corporal Apiata stood up and lifted his comrade bodily. He then carried him across the seventy metres of broken, rocky and fire swept ground, fully exposed in the glare of battle to heavy enemy fire and into the face of returning fire from the main Troop position. That neither he nor his colleague were hit is scarcely possible. Having delivered his wounded companion to relative shelter with the remainder of the patrol, Lance Corporal Apiata re-armed himself and rejoined the fight in counter-attack.

Belgian traffic lights ...

Manic sent news of this interesting piece in the Economist.

And while news of traffic light 'vandalism' made me smile, I laughed out loud when I read that the Belgian EU commissioner, Louis Michel had called the journalist "perfide", for wondering whether Belgium was in fact a functioning democracy.

Thanks Peter.

Finally, I found the strength to close out the sun

I've been sitting here, almost stupefied by the intense sun pouring down on me, quite unable to stand up and close curtains ... and closed curtains I need over here when I'm working my way through a stack of photograph sorting. I promised the lovely Freddy a dvd full of my 2007 Flanders Fields work.

Promised because he has become a good friend and because he has helped me with my fledgling career.

Who is Freddy?
A mystery, I'm not sure he would want me writing of him and his position in the world, she writes laughing a little.
Sorry.

So, I have 100s of photographs to work through and there was I, lacking the will to close out the sun.

I was destroyed yesterday. It seems I might have to go to the gym to prepare myself for 3 day events like last week. I worked Friday, then partied Saturday and Sunday. I guess this is ... well, neglect actually and that shouldn't be amusing but I did laugh quietly again.

One day you wake up and you're really 'the oldest you've ever been' and you feel it and it's crap actually. No one told me to take care of my body because one day it would bite me. And teeth ... oh lord I wish I wasn't so terrified of dentists.

The last dentist was lovely but did change the shape of my bite which has led to jaw-clenching breakages and ufff, I'm working on courage and finding a new dentist in this land of high taxes and social security which leave dentists working alone without dental assistants which I, quite frankly, hate. You don't understand how reassuring and luxurious a speedy and efficient dental assistant is until they are absent.

I have the best dentist in the world at home but going home means I can't afford him, since it takes everything to get home. Grumble grumble.

v-grrrl dropped off a few serious womens magazines. I've read that womens sex lives improve after 38, improve markedly, despite drooping and stretching, and that women who love food and the pleasure of eating are better lovers who enjoy the moment. So yes, a little more laughter this morning and if you're feeling old and a little droopy, check out Eve magazine, it's British.

Still with me?
I should take this whimsical mood of mine and wander off and work.

So glad not to be on board ...

Although I guess the pilot did incredibly well.

I was reading this article in the The Independent and had to post the youtube.

The Party at Villa Kiwi last Saturday Night

Saturday night was a rather excellent night, here at Villa Kiwi.

There was the sadness of knowing that it was the last party v-grrrl and Michelle would be attending for a while, as they both fly back to the States mid-March but no matter, the party (the entire weekend, actually) turned out to be themed around conversation and laughter as opposed to possible sadnesses. I only remembered that this was almost goodbye when I watched V saying her goodbyes to little Miss 3 who simply adores her. I have a couple more days in Brussels with them before their departure dates come round.

The party mix was delicious (as all party mixes should be), and 2 new kiwis meant that, for once, the New Zealanders were the largest group at the party. It was lovely to meet Jody and Cheryl, both from Palmerston North when they were living their New Zealand lives - neither having met before the party in Antwerpen.

The Brits came, with Sheila's new hip passing the test of our spiral staircase and Manic drove in from his Belgian location and it was so good to catch up with Helen and Heather.

Illness and travel and my terrible organisational skills (come back Shanti) meant that a few people couldn't make it this time. They were missed but hopefully there will always be more parties here at Villa Kiwi.

There was a loose margarita theme but the wine flowed too and everyone seemed to have a good time. Pavlova's were unleashed and once again, we were left knowing Jessie should have made more than two. Next time ... next time.

I think one of the things I truly enjoy about each party is the explosion of conversations from the outset. People walk in and start talking with people and mix and mingle the night away. Then again, I do know some purely delicious people.

As for the photograph. Michelle captured me with my camera while v-grrrl photographed Michelle photographing us. We 4 spent Sunday wandering the city with everyone misbehaving except me ...

We took a million photos, laughed often, ate, drank and were merry.

It was a lovely weekend.
Thanks guys!

The Bright Side of Life ...

I crashed and burned this morning ... so unbelievably tired.

Web-wandering, Nomad reminded me of a song that makes me smile no matter what.

24 hours ...

wandering in antwerpen, originally uploaded by - di.

Let me write of it tomorrow ...

I've had a truly lovely 24 hours with friends but need to recover myself some after we partied till just before 3am here at the apartment and then walked a million miles with 3 of those lovely friends today.

Poppies, Flanders Fields

Poppies, Flanders Fields, originally uploaded by - di.

Something happier...

Party tonight.
Looking forward to catching up with friends and bloggers alike.

Democracy?

# the political orientation of those who favor government by the people or by their elected representatives.

# a political system in which the supreme power lies in a body of citizens who can elect people to represent them.

# majority rule: the doctrine that the numerical majority of an organized group can make decisions binding on the whole group.

I've been following political events in the States and I know how it has been but reading the New York Times tonight, I felt sickened by the campaign of dirty tricks, lies and manipulation that lie in wait when the parties begin their run for the presidential campaign.

Here we are, 21st century and tell me what is evolved, insightful, intelligent or democratic about this ...

So that man or woman with the best spin doctor, most talent for twisting and the most money 'wins'?

Democracy ... clearly I've been reading the wrong dictionary.

Someone else's Little Miss Three ...

Worked today.
Did I tell you ... I love my job.
Then there was this.

Thanks to This Fish Needs a Bicycle.