Feeling Blue

It all started the 8th of November.  The day before my 35th birthday.  I am not one who cared much when I turned 30.  Didn't phase me at all, but this year life seemed well, unbearable.

I think that is when the cultural shock really took hold and just about suffocated life out of me.  I would look in the mirror and think, "Man, I look old.  Where did all this blasted gray hair come from?  And the wrinkles with zits.  Come on already.  Make up your mind...teenager or adult. Oh, and next year you should just be a cowgirl because you already have half of your costume, Ole Saddlebags!"

This trip to Belgium has been such a romantic thought.  Who does this kind of thing.  Uproots her whole family, finds her cowgirl whip and cracks it behind her unwilling herd.  Giddyup.  Ok, that was just keeping with the saddlebag image.  It really consisted of 98%  bribery.  "Come on guys.  I will buy you Belgium chocolate EVERYDAY. You can choose a destination in Europe of your choice.  And on and on." (Feel free to add-lib here.  I'm sure it would fit perfectly)

But back to November 8th.  Complete and total meltdown.  I had cried that morning.  Listened once again to the daily (probably justified) whining, which I hear every school day I might add.  "Oh, no.  Not school.  Mom we hate school.  We don't understand what they are saying.  We just sit there all day.  Don't make us go."  Today it really hit.  I dropped them off at there school with hugs and kisses and then drove the 40 minute commute to my French class.

My usual route from Leuven to Overijse is really picturesque.  Through little provincial towns like Eiden, Huldenburg and Neerijse.  Next to century old churches and brick building with amazing character. There was a slight mist in the air and everything seemed dreamlike.  It was truly a gorgeous morning. But one thing.

A constant gnawing feeling.  I couldn't place it.  I arrived at my teacher's house and entered the classroom and then he asked, "Quoi de neuf?"  It means: What's new?  And my reply...crying.  Uncontrollable, body shaking, ugly crying.  My friend Wendy gave me a hug and said, "Power through."  I sat for a total of maybe 5 minutes and then I excused myself.  I drove home blinded by my tears and tucked myself into bed.  I just thought that maybe I was tired.

The next day was my birthday and I tried to rally.  Wendy took me to lunch and we had a good time walking the streets of Leuven.  My family and I went out for dinner and I cried right before I left.  No real reason that I can nail down.

For the next month I would curl myself up into the fetal position and cry at least once a day.  To say I was hormonal is a HUGE understatement.  Call it what you will.  Depression. Case of the blues. Or plain old cultural shock.  Whatever it was, I never want to go back.  The closest I can think of was my post-postpartum depression mixed with the feeling of getting kicked in the gut.  Now that I think about it, maybe it was a lot like those dark days of years ago.  Anyways....

December was here and I had done 0 shopping, 0 decorating, 0 baking and I didn't even care.  I finally bought a po-dunk Christmas tree at the local Carrefoure. (Walmart)  and some ornaments to paint.  We sat around the table that night painting our ornaments and something trivial was said and I was at it again. Crying and bed.  Crying and bed.

I am not sure what brought me out of the black abyss or blues, but right before Shea's birthday of the 14th things started looking a little brighter.  Thank you Shea for being such a sweet girl and Logan for his smile and laugh and Hayden for his ability to talk your ear off.  (He really can.  I wonder where that shy, quite kid who hid behind my legs went.)  And a big thank you shout out to Brent who loves me still through it all.  Silver linings. :)

©ColleenFisher

A Visit from Sinterklass and his helper(s) Zwarte Piet

Zwarte Piet/Pere Foutard

‘Twas the weekend before Sinterklass, when all through our house

Quiet commotions were happening and perhaps even a mouse.

Logan and Hayden were playing Monopoly with care,

Both wondering who’s the ultimate tycoon, and who’s the spare?

Brent was upstairs programming solutions to problems as usual,

Probably wishing those bugs would disappear faster than his struedel!

And Shea doing math and I sitting next to her workin',

Had just decided it was time to get dinner a cookin'.

When from down the street there arose such a clatter,

Shea and I looked at each other and wondered what was the matter.

We heard knocks on our window, laughter and voices,

Singing and cheering and all sorts of happy noises.

The doorbell then rang.  We got up to answer.

Opening the door to five Zwarte Piet dancer-s.

They were talking and smiling and we understood not one bit.

“Ik spreek Engels” and they changed language in a Jiff.

“Sinterklaas is coming, here’s a goody bag for you”

Then I said, “Can I take a picture, maybe two?’

They grabbed onto Hayden and held him in their arms.

Logan and Shea stood in front, engrossed in the swarm.

We grabbed our boots and jacket and ran to meet their St. Nick.

He was sitting in a trailer…fully equipped.

He asked if my children and been good that year.

They answered a resounding “Yes!” and were of good cheer.

He then turned to me and said, “Ma’am, how’ 'bout you?”

I said, “Absolutely Not.”...And he knew it was true.

“That’s alright by me.” He said with a wink and a smile,

And then they were off after only a short while.

A visit with Sinterklass and Zwarte Piet was just what we were needing.

To lift our spirits on this snowy cold winter’s evening!

©ColleenFisher

What's That you say?

Hayden did some painting at school today. When we got home he was walking down the hallway.

"Hayden, what is that on your butt?"  I said.
"Ass paint." Hayden said.
"What did you say?" I asked.
He said, "That's paint."
My old ears are playing tricks on me!

But, both would be correct answers.  (And no, it doesn't come out!)

"Pants a la mode"

©ColleenFisher

Concert de l'Ecole

Yesterday, Logan and Shea participated in a school singing concert.  Shea was totally excited and Logan was well, anxiety ridden.  Most of the songs were sung in French, or course.  They did sing one song in English.  It was Chim-Chim Cher-ee from Mary Poppins.  I think it might have been for our benefit, but who knows.  We don't know French well enough to ask!  There isn't really a hard CH sound in French, so the Chim sounded more like Shim-shimmanee.  When practicing for the concert, they asked Logan and Shea how to correctly pronounce the words.  Great way to get my kids a little more involved.

The concert was held in a really old small town church.  It wasn't like any concert I have ever been too.  The school children would sing a few numbers and then this orchestra made up of young and older children would play a few pieces. The director of this "orchestra/choir" is a part of some major orchestra in Liege.  You can tell these people love what they are doing and wanted to be there.  It is such a big difference from the have too and guilt-ed into involvement I am so used to.

At the end of the concert everyone kept clapping like they were asking for an encore....and one was given.  I am sure this is the norm.  It seemed like everyone knew what to do and we loved it.  So worth the money we spent to watch the performance.  (Shea front row middle; Logan top right back)

©ColleenFisher

Will the REAL Valkenburg...please stand up, please stand up!

The Real Valkenburg

Saturday we decided to go to our first European Christmas market. Different markets make claims on being the oldest, the most "lit up" etc.  The one we chose was in a town called Valkenburg located in Holland.  It's claim to fame was "the largest and oldest Christmas market held underground."  That's right, it is held in a cave.  What isn't cool about that?  So, we plugged the address, or the part of the address we did know (Valkenburg, Holland) into our GPS and off we went. 

The drive was fairly uneventful. It is amazing what a few treats and a Ninetendo DS can do. Ahh, we had finally arrived, but we could see no signs pointing us to where the Christmas market was.  We stopped in at a gas station and asked the attendant.  "No idea, maybe the airfield?"  No, they are held in caves.  "Sorry, don't know."  We drove to the airfield thinking maybe someone there could help...but no.  We pulled into a gardening store and Brent the Brave asked the lady behind the cash register if she knew anything about the Valkenburg Christmas Market.  "Yes."  Yeah!!!!

"But you are in the wrong Valkenburg.  This Valkenburg is to close to the see to have caves.  The Valkenburg you need to go to is in the 'mountains'.  About a 2 hour drive from here."  What?!?!?  That's right the 'REAL' Valkenburg we wanted was only about an hour from our house to the east, not the north.  Nice.

Decision time.  Well, we could just take the 2 hour drive home or take the 2 hour drive to the 'REAL' Valkenburg and hang out, then go home.  So off we drove again to find the 'REAL' Valkenburg.

We arrived after the festive parade and pretty late in the evening.  We found parking, always seems to be an event in itself.  Walked to one of the two Christmas Markets held in caves and asked to go in. We walked up to pay (yes, it costs money to go shop..I think it is weird too) and the lady says, "We close in 15 minutes.  It probably won't be worth it.  I could sell you a child ticket and you could go in for 2 euro cheaper." Ok.  We did drive all that way.  "Oh, sorry.  My register won't allow me to sell you tickets."

So, the kids settled for a sausage dog as a consolation prize.  Never mind that we had eaten at McDonald's, the only place near the road, just an hour earlier.   Side Note- My children are going to look so old when we move back to the states.  They are growing like crazy.

We walked the streets for a little bit and found a souvenir shop that was still open.  We spent our time looking at everything and then came home.  Had to feel like the drive was worth it.

Next day:
Drove to the Christmas Market in the 'REAL' Valekenburg.  It took a little more than one hour.  Spent 12 euro on admission into the cave.  Checked out the vendor's wares.  Went back to the market we visited the night before, ate another sausage dog and came home.''

My review:
The cave was the coolest part about the whole Christmas Market.  It is enormous.  People hid in them during the World Wars.  They reminded me of something straight out of Lord of the Rings.  The Christmas Market itelf- kinda lame.  I was expecting more Christmas ambiance.  It ended up feeling like a swap meet in the wrong place.

I haven't given up hope just yet on all Christmas Markets.  Apparently there is a really amazing one in downtown Brussels.  I better make sure it is the'REAL' Brussels before I go.

©ColleenFisher

Visitors in the Night

It is after 9 p.m.  It's cold and dark outside and then our door bell rings.  Our door bell rarely rings, so I was honestly a little nervous answering it.  I call Brent's' name just in case I need a back-up for the mystery that awaits outside  He tells me, through our awesome video surveillance phone, that it is our next door neighbor.  Ok. No major problem, unless you don't speak any Dutch and she doesn't speak English, and she has a touch of dementia.

I open the door and invite her in. (It's cold outside).  She stands at my doorway and looks around.  She walks down the front entryway and looks in the kitchen and then our living space.  I "ask" her in English and with hand movements if she want to come into the living room.  She walks in and shakes Brent's hand and then starts talking rapidly in Dutch and to help us out she uses gestures.  She is very excited as she is speaking to use.  We here the words doctor and she is holding her chest and then gesturing the hand across the throat..you know...death. I am thinking that something is happening to her husband.

We are not quite sure what to do, so Brent calls our Landlord, her son.  No answer.  I end up taking her next door, hoping that this other neighbor (who I haven't met) knows some English.  (A lot of the Flemish people know at least a little, once again amazing)  I ring his doorbell.  He come to the door, but doesn't open it.  He yells through it in Flemish, of course.  I say, in English, "I am sorry.  I live next door and only speak English, and my other neighbor is very excited and trying to tell me something and I can't understand her."  He talks in Dutch again and then opens the door.

I ask him if he speaks English and he says a little and that he will try to help me.  He talks to my other neighbor and she repeats (I assume) what she told me without the gestures. He then translates for me that she wants me to know that her uncle and some of her extended family are in a bad way.  They are dying.  Phew.

I said, "Ok.  I am sorry to have bothered you.  I thought that maybe something was happening with her husband."  He says, "No, no.  By the way let me introduce myself properly.  I am Jan.  Welcome to the neighborhood.  My wife Betty has some short-term memory loss (and in walks the son-in his 40's?)  this is my son."  I attempt, "Guten Abend".  And he says to me, "You just spoke German,  in Dutch it is Goedenavond".  Oh, sorry.

Then Jan asks me, "Are you here on holiday?"  No. My husband works at research park.  "How long are you staying here?"  We will probably go home next summer.   "Are you learning Nederlander?"  I am currently trying to learn French and a little Dutch, but am doing both terribly.  We talk a little about the kids.  They can hear them.  I don't ask whether that is a bother or not.  I am sorry to have bothered you.  Thank you for your help.

My neighbor and I leave.  I ask her if her husband is home, with pointing, and she says yes but stops at my front door.  She wants to come in again.  Ok.  She comes into the living room again and sits on our couch.  I grab my handy, dandy computer and go to my good old standby...Google translate.  I start typing and she reads the translations and answers my questions.  "Do you want to stay here?"  Yes.  "Would you like to talk to me a little?"  Yes.  "Ok."

Her son calls Brent back and talks with his mom for awhile and then Brent. For the next 10 minutes or so I type questions while she answers them.  I attempt to speak what I am typing and she just looks at me and says.  Hmnnnn, no.  We "talk" about the chickens in the backyard and her beautiful walnut tree, and about our families.  I show her some pictures form facebook.  Her husband then comes and gets her.  He tries to just call her from the door, but she ignores him.  He comes in and then she goes with him.  I type, "Thank you for the visit" (dank u voor het bezoek).

Tonight was interesting.  Kind of sad ,a little crazy but mostly weird.  Sometimes you just have to accept the abnormality of it all, be creative and use the tools you have available.  Then again, maybe I just needed one more thing to make me stand out like sore thumb.

©ColleenFisher

Amster, Amster, dam, dam dam...

Yesterday we took a road trip to Amsterdam, The Netherlands.  Amsterdam is a little over 2 hours from our home and so we made our trip into a day trip.

Parking is somewhat of a nightmare in Amsterdam, so the plan was to go to the Olympic Stadium there and park and then rent bicycles.  Upon our arrival the parking lot was completely full and it was raining.  So, we made a plan B.  We drove to Anne Frank's house and were somehow lucky enough to find parking right in front.  We waited in line and then took the self-guided tour.  The more I see and hear about WWII, the more I admire those individuals that chose to hold tightly to hope and optimism.  It astounds me.  So many time I feel like abandoning ship and wonder who would I be if I lived in those times.  I wish I were one of the strong, but I really wonder.  We purchased a book call Tales from the Secret Annex by Anne Frank.  This book consists of the short-stories, poems and thoughts that Anne wrote down.  I lately seem to be having many thoughts about a little word WHY?  On the inside cover she wrote:

"Why?  Ever since I was a little girl and could barely talk, the word "why" has lived and grown along with me.  It's a well-known fact that children ask questions about anything and everything, since almost everything is new to them.  That was especially true of me,and not just as a child.  Even when I was older, I couldn't stop asking questions.  I have to admit that it can be annoying sometimes, but I comfort myself with the thought that "You won't know until you ask, " though by now I've asked so much that they ought to have made me a professor.  When I got older, I noticed that not all questions can be asked and that many whys can never be answered.  As a  result, I tried to work things our for myself by mulling over my own questions.  And I came to the important discovery that questions which you either can't or shouldn't ask in public, or questions which you can't put into words, can easily be solved in your own head.  So the word "why" not only taught me to ask, but also to think.  And thinking has never hurt anyone.  On the contrary, it does us all a world of good."

I love her thoughts.  And only a teenager.

We got lunch and then went to the Van Gogh museum.  We didn't spend as much time as I would like to of here.  Beautiful paintings.  My favorite...the Almond Blossom.  Really breathtaking.  So much beauty from a sad individual.  It was interesting to learn a little more about Van Gogh's life to.  I would love to go to this museum again.

It was time for dinner and we decided to drive outside of the city.  Like I said earlier, the parking is crazy and expensive.  We did a GPS search on places to eat and found the best Chinese food I have ever tasted in my life.  The restaurant was called Chinese Delight and it was.  I have never really enjoyed seafood, but this place has changed my mind.  It was amazing.  I asked Shea what her favorite part of the day was...dinner. I think she might have eaten more than me, and that is a big feat!

©ColleenFisher