I spent yesterday in Xlendi for one last time. I planned to sit by the sea all afternoon. The weather didn’t really agree with my intention, turning cloudy and stormy as soon as I arrived. But not knowing when I’d be back to Gozo again, I stuck it out taking up my post at my favorite spot and just watching the clouds roll through over the sea. It was so windy and the waves were so big that the salt was in the air, landing on my cheeks as it whipped around through the bay. It took an hour for the storm clouds to pass but eventually they broke, giving way to sun. Which was, of course, right about the time I needed to go to catch the last bus back to Victoria. Now that it’s winter, the last one comes at 4:30. Groan.
I headed over to Anna’s shop for one last visit. I was there for probably an hour and a half. We talked about a bunch of stuff – the festa, her kids, how she named them, what giving birth was like…the interesting thing is that it’s a Maltese tradition that the godparents choose the middle names of the child so they have 2 middle names. I can’t even imagine what I’d pick for my god daughter Estella if I had been given the choice.
The time seemed to fly on this last visit though Anna, as usual really took her time with her stories. I like how I ask her a question and it takes about 20 minutes for the events to unfold. I guess I do the same sometimes. I asked her what her children’s middle names were and the next thing you know I’m hearing about when they lived in Toronto when Sara was born, where Frank worked, how far away he was from the hospital, how fast her labor was, etc. But I think the details are what help me remember it. When it was time to close the store she pulled out a bag and said there was a small gift in there for me to open when I got back to my flat. She gave me a hug and said goodbye in case I can’t stop tomorrow. I told her thank you for always talking with me and told her how great it was to meet her. I told her I’d send her some postcards of the snow. She laughed. We made sure I had her address and she made sure to point out her email address on the business card, letting me know that if I write her there Sara will get it for her. I told her my dad is the same. When I got back to my apartment I opened my gift and found she’d given me a really nice gift clock in a “vine” theme and a matching photo frame. I think I’ll keep the clock set to Gozo time.
I dashed out again to get a soda at the confectionary across from Maji. The man there recognizes me now, especially after I commented one day on how they are always so busy. So now he greets me with the more familiar “alright?” I still couldn’t really find any pastries I was dying to try – they all just look and taste the same to me. So I asked for 2 of the pastini ta la rusi. He asked me which ones I was talking about and I told him the ones with the pink on them. He said they call them biscuitini ta la rusi. Hmmm…interesting. I had thought about maybe getting a bunch to take home with me but they really aren’t that amazing so why would I bring them home? Too bad I couldn’t really bring home a pastizzi.
I spent the rest of my evening packing. I had a dream last night that the airport said my bags were too big and I couldn't take everything home with me. I really hope that doesn't happen.
Today, Ted arrived around 11 to read the water and heater readings. I think that, despite the fact that he’s normally very particular and would take great joy in “dinging me” for some damages (were he to find any) he was quite easygoing about the check out because, as it turns out, he wants a favor from me. Apparently there’s an American store online that won’t ship to Malta and he’d like me to order something for his son to then ship over to him. As he was in need of a favor he was very good about agreeing to buy the wash tubs and drying rack that I clearly can’t take back with me. He also invited me to his home this evening to meet his wife, have a glass of wine, and see his painting collection. I can’t say I am thrilled to spend my last evening with Ted, but I remembered that if he’s meeting me at 6 I can exit by 8 or 9 and claim I have dinner plans elsewhere. It doesn’t have to be an all night thing. Though, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing for dinner yet. I had planned to get a pizza from It-Tokk but they too have winter hours and are closing at 4 p.m. today. Maybe I’ll head to Café Jubilee. I just didn’t want to have to buy anymore groceries since I’m cleaning out my fridge tonight.
I saw Grace in the Square this afternoon. She gave me her address and texted Mario so I could get his email address in case I don't see him today. Now that I have less than a day left I feel as if there’s a ton to do. Thankfully I’m already packed but I want to make sure I make the rounds, say goodbye to the people who have helped me, and see all of the things I want to see one last time. I got a sausage roll from the Sphinx on my way to connect and had a nice chat with the girl who works there about how she lived in NY for a year while she was visiting her brother in Queens and how she can’t wait to go back and how envious she was of the snow I told her we got back home. I feel like every day I’ve met someone new here who has been so great about telling me their stories and letting me into their lives in some way or another. I’ll admit, I’m ready to go home as far as creature comforts are concerned. Being able to do laundry sits really high at the top of my list, along with living in an apartment that has heat (who would’ve thunk I’d care about HEAT in Gozo?). But I wish I was going home for a vacation and then returning here. There’s still so much that could be done and so many ways my thesis would benefit from more time. Of course, my advisor says that’s always the problem. We often feel like our work is never done. So I guess I’ll own that there is a lot more I could do. But I will also own that I’m going to “make best” with my work, as many of the Maltese have said to me. Hopefully my best is good enough.
So that’s it for this blog as far as my trip is concerned. I don’t know if I’ll end up using the website when I return. I suppose I could keep updates about how the thesis is coming along the way. We’ll see. I know there are a few blogs I’ve been meaning to add photos too, though I’m not sure how necessary they are after the fact. I can’t deny that writing this blog has been helpful. There were days when I really had no motivation whatsoever and it was only the thought that I would have nothing to say in my blog that got my butt out of my chair and got me moving. So for that, I thank you all. You held me accountable. I also thank you for reading and sharing this adventure with me. I can’t believe it’s already over. I look forward to seeing you all soon.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
One last Festa
12/8
Since returning from my trip sleeping has been a lot easier. I’m still up late to start with but once I lay down it’s not taking forever to fall asleep. Until last night that is. Today is a public holiday- the feast of the Immaculae Conception. So last night Grapes Wine bar had a band playing underneath my window that didn’t start until 10 and ended at 1 a.m. I was so pissed. Oh and there were fireworks in the street too. Those I didn’t mind so much – they weren’t right outside my window. But that band. The music wasn’t “bad” per se – it was done well. They played everything from “Sail Away With Me” by David Gray to “Winds of Change” by the Scorpians, U2’s “All I Want is You” and Kansas “Dust in the Wind.” But I kept thinking about the other people who live in the square all of the time and how at home this would never fly in a residential area without some sort of noise permit. It really got me thinking again about participant observation and how much and when to participate. How much do we leave ourselves at the door and participate like the locals? And would I still be welcome in that scenario? Looking down at the crowd, the people were mostly in their mid to late 20’s with all of those in their 30’s at home with their families sound asleep. And would I have gone were it something happening at home? Maybe if I had someone to go with. But I wouldn’t go to a club by myself at home and locals here confirm that you wouldn’t here as well. And what if I wasn’t the kind of person who would either way?
This morning at 8am the church bells rang, and after every bell a firework went off. That was enjoyable. Then again at 9am. Now at noon the church bells are going. I wonder if they will go for an hour like they did yesterday. Yup – we’re going on 49 minutes so I’m guessing it’ll be a full hour. I’ve decided that if I was ever captured and tortured for information, noise torture would be most effective on me. Between the concert last night and the bells that seem to never end, I’m convinced of it.
After 1.5 hours I couldn’t take it anymore and I decided to head out. I was going to go to a specific store for some souvenir items but it was closed so instead I went down to Grace’s shop and had a quick chat with her and a fellow named John. He described himself as a “domestic engineer” but in reality he’s a retired engineer whose wife has gone on to work. They are both Maltese and just moved to Gozo 4 years ago. Grace explained that the PH for today is the Feast Day of the immaculate conception. She said they were doing a big motorcycle/bike caravan from Ta Pinu to Qala and that there would be a feast in Qala as well though not as big as what would be happening in St. Francis Square tonight. I asked after the bells from the baby’s funeral and she confirmed my guess that it’s because it’s not supposed to be an occasion for sadness since the baby will go straight to heaven. I thought I heard the “motorcade” coming so I excused myself to check it out, telling Grace I would still see her again before I leave.
I was wrong, however, so instead I ducked into a shop that I know takes credit cards and bought some souvenirs. I popped back home to have a snack before going out to St. Francis Square. I figured if they were setting up for a Festa then there would be some action going on there. I was certainly right about that. The streets are lined with the red and yellow Festa banners – most of them brand new without any paintings or embellishments on them. A statue of the virgin Mary has been placed over the normal statue in the center of the square and I found out it was done by Paul Aquilina – Kilena’s son. Men were starting to get the fireworks prepared so I approached a man who was having a cigarette leaning over his gate next to the Schembri watch shop to ask what time the fireworks would begin.
He was balding, with glasses and patches of hair on his ears but he had a kind smile and was dressed well. He wore tan slacks and a maroon colored v-neck sweater, underneath was a sort of red checked flannel shirt. He said around 10 p.m. and that there would be a procession at 6. He asked if I’d gone in to see the church yet and I said no. I made some polite conversation, asking after the feast and what sorts of things might happen in the square tonight and if the noise would bother him living so close. He said the fireworks aren’t too big of a deal for him, some loud bangs but mostly he said its better than the noise of the cars – traffic is blocked off to the street for the day. I asked if he’d be watching and he said yes from his balcony. I asked if it was the kind of public holiday where stores and shops were closed and he said yes, primarily. I asked if he worked or was retired and he said he’s a retired jeweler. He learned the trade from his father and his grandfather before him. He said he loved making jewelry but the paperwork and VAT stuff got to be too much. He said he had 2 shops – the one next door and another one and he said he worried most of the time that they would be robbed and because he didn’t pay for insurance they would get nothing back. But he didn’t want to pay for insurance because of the headache for claims and because they would provide you with things he already had – like the security doors and such. He said he ended up retiring because he had enough. One day a guy from the VAT came to do an inspection at like 9am and he thought, “okay fine” but the man came back 7 times between 9 am and 6 pm! He said “and I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” He said after that he swore it was his last day. He just closed up shop and was done with it. He said it’s silly too because now he draws on the pension instead of working. When he was working he was paying taxes and contributing to the community, now he does nothing but take.
He said they’ve lived in the house he has for 35 years – before that they lived in a place around the corner and he grew up in a house on the hill to the citadel. I asked if the old block Tapie’s was on was still there when he started to build and he said yes. He said it was much quieter then. I asked him how long he’s been married and he said to guess. Because he mentioned he had 2 sons and one was 20 I said “30 years” and he said – no 37. He said he has twins – a boy and a girl and they are 36 years old. And then 16 years later they had another one. I told him that I’d heard that Joseph and Mary were the most popular names on the island and he said it’s true – his twins are Joseph and Miriam. He said, then 16 years later we had our son and thought – we now have Emmanuel. Ha. His eldest son works with cars and his daughter is a social worker. His younger son, the 20 year old, is an artist. He’s still in school but he is already working selling some of his works through the church. He said that one of his items was part of the lottery for the nights festa. He said he had some of his work there if I wanted to see it. I said yes and he took me down to their garage where his son has a makeshift studio set up. He had several very large wall hanging type paintings in various stages of completion and all were magnificent. His father proudly showed off his work, telling me which saint each was and showing me photos of ones that have already been completed and put into the wall hangings for festas. He said his son gets paid for them but not much.
I couldn’t believe how good they were for a 20 year old. I asked if his son wants to stay in Gozo and he said yes, very much. He said he’s going to have to work hard to make a living from it if that’s the case. I said it’s nice that he has the space to support him and let him do his work. He said yes although sometimes his son complains that he needs more space and here he pointed to 2 old cars (pre-50’s) that are sitting in the back of the garage and I’m sure in his sons mind they are just taking up space. I asked a lot of questions about the work – who commissions the pieces, where they’d be hung, how often they make new hangings and what they do with the ones they aren’t using. He said they will use each one for a few years and then they put them into a museum and make new ones. He said there’s been an argument brewing about whether they should continue doing such works. He said he doesn’t understand it – it keeps kids busy and off the streets for them to help their community. It gets them involved in the church and their neighborhood to do so much on a volunteer basis. Indeed the square was swarming with people setting up fireworks and making preparations for the evening and it is all volunteer. He said, “what do they want the kids to do? Crack?” He certainly sounded like he had a beef with the government, that was for sure.
We talked about cars and car insurance and how expensive it is for him to insure his cars. (one is 500 Euro a year and the other is 300.) We talked about how Paul Aquilina is a family friend and how he and his son use each other for relaxation, stress relief, and constructive criticism. When we talked about his daughter being a social worker I tried to get him to explain exactly what she works with (the poor, the abused, etc.) and he said she does it all. He said at first she was in schools but now she works in the office and does all kinds of stuff. I said there don’t seem to be a lot of poor people in Gozo and he said “don’t be fooled. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” He said that there are people who get assistance but yet they have to have their water and electricity shut off because they can’t afford it. He said it’s silly – why don’t they pay for their water and electricity and give them some food? He said it’s not as obvious as it used to be but it’s still there. He said that when he was a kid everyone in Gozo seemed to be barefoot because they couldn’t afford shoes. He said he had some fellow students who came to class with only 1 shoe on. When the teacher would ask why one shoe they would say because their other foot hurt but the reality was because their mothers had bought one pair and split them between her kids. He said when he was at primary school he never took a lunch with him. He asked me if I could work out why and when I said no he said it was because he never wanted to eat a lunch and have all of the kids who didn’t have one have to watch him eat. He figured if they don’t eat lunch then I won’t either. He said he never had lunch all through school. I asked if that was during the migration period when things were really bad and he said yes. I asked him if he migrated and he said no. He went to school until he was 16 and then started working in his father’s shop and that was it. He said he’s gone to England a few times but never wanted to go anywhere other than for traveling.
He said they went to England because everyone told him how nice it would be to go there to celebrate Christmas but he said he and his wife were disappointed. They went to church with their friend who was hosting them but that was it. he said it wasn’t a big deal at all and the church only had about 30 people in it. I asked him what Christmas is like for him here in Gozo and he said that for him personally he doesn’t like it anymore because of how commercial it is. You have to buy these gifts and send Christmas cards and all of this nonsense and no one seems to care anymore about what it’s really about. He said as a family they go to the midnight mass on Christmas eve and it goes until 1 am and then afterward they have some guests to their home for a drink until 2 or 3 and then they go to bed. He said it’s nice to celebrate with their friends. I asked if they’ve stopped doing a tree then since his children are so old and he said no – his wife is wild about Christmas and decorations though he’s not sure yet about this year because she’s going on a trip to England for a week directly following and by the time she comes back it will be over so he’s not sure what she’ll put up.
While we were talking we were approached by a man who was selling books. I guess his dad was a writer who had started a book on the role of Gozo in WWII but he died before he could finish it and so this guy finished it. he was going around to people in the square selling them for 20 E and autographing them. If it wasn’t in Maltese I would’ve considered buying them. He did turn to me and start talking in Maltese so that was interesting. Then he said that maybe if I have a friend in Malta I could buy one for them because it would be a nice gift. Ha. I said I don’t and then we stood their awkwardly while the other guy excused himself to get more money and said he’d be back. When he returned we talked about Thanksgiving and other American holidays and then he said that I should probably go and check out the church before I can’t anymore – he said pretty soon there would be too many people for me to get in and see it. I asked him what his name was and he said it was George.
As far as I was concerned the church was already packed and it was in the middle of a mass as well so I wasn’t going to bust through just to take photos. I noticed that the church was draped in the red that had been in the citadel last year and I wondered if it was because of the Festa as I don’t recall it being like that last summer when Greta and I went. I made sure to take a picture of the lottery photo his son did and I took some other photos of the hangings. I can’t believe they are all hand painted.
The procession of the statue of Mary started from the church at 6pm and took a good solid 2 hours to complete the rounds of the neighboring streets. It takes 8 men to lift and carry the statue, with 4 in the front and 4 in the back. There are also 4 spotters with these poles that the statue can rest on whenever the men need a break. And believe me – walking for 2 hours, they need to rest a lot. That thing is massive. I’ll post some pics once I’ve uploaded them. They walk from St. Francis Square through the street behind St. George’s into Triq Repubblika and then up to Independence Square, into St. George’s Square, and back down the street to St. Francis Square. The procession is led by the priests carrying banners and candles, followed by one of the band clubs who played a really slow version of “Immaculate Mary.” Next comes some of the festa organizers in suits and I noticed George’s son Manuel had changed into a suit and was walking with them. No doubt because of all of the work that went into the paintings for the banners. Then comes the statue and then following behind the statue is a group of priests holding the blessed sacrament (Body of Christ). And then after that, the congregation follows along as if it’s a parade, walking to whatever stopping point the statue has and watching/listening to the band play. My favorite part of the procession was when the statue stopped in front of the Franciscan Convent and all of the old nuns serenaded Mary from their front door. It was beautiful.
When they got to St. George’s square I went into my apartment so I could get a nice view of everyone in the square. The band played and competed with the sound of the bells that were being hand rung by some of the boys from the church. As they rang the bells they took turns from each of their towers throwing confetti from the bell towers. It was blue paper cut in the shapes of stars with a picture of the statue of Mary on one side and a notice of the date of the festa in Maltese on the other. The procession stayed in St. George’s for awhile and so the band played 3 or 4 songs before they moved on.
By then it was about 8 so I decided to stick around the apartment to write up some notes. The weather was good but still cold enough that I didn’t want to stand around in the Square for 2 hours waiting for fireworks. It turns out I should’ve followed the crowd because George was wrong. They did the fireworks at about 9:15 so by the time I got there at 9:30 I missed the whole thing. Gah. What a bummer. There’s nothing like Maltese fireworks.
Since returning from my trip sleeping has been a lot easier. I’m still up late to start with but once I lay down it’s not taking forever to fall asleep. Until last night that is. Today is a public holiday- the feast of the Immaculae Conception. So last night Grapes Wine bar had a band playing underneath my window that didn’t start until 10 and ended at 1 a.m. I was so pissed. Oh and there were fireworks in the street too. Those I didn’t mind so much – they weren’t right outside my window. But that band. The music wasn’t “bad” per se – it was done well. They played everything from “Sail Away With Me” by David Gray to “Winds of Change” by the Scorpians, U2’s “All I Want is You” and Kansas “Dust in the Wind.” But I kept thinking about the other people who live in the square all of the time and how at home this would never fly in a residential area without some sort of noise permit. It really got me thinking again about participant observation and how much and when to participate. How much do we leave ourselves at the door and participate like the locals? And would I still be welcome in that scenario? Looking down at the crowd, the people were mostly in their mid to late 20’s with all of those in their 30’s at home with their families sound asleep. And would I have gone were it something happening at home? Maybe if I had someone to go with. But I wouldn’t go to a club by myself at home and locals here confirm that you wouldn’t here as well. And what if I wasn’t the kind of person who would either way?
This morning at 8am the church bells rang, and after every bell a firework went off. That was enjoyable. Then again at 9am. Now at noon the church bells are going. I wonder if they will go for an hour like they did yesterday. Yup – we’re going on 49 minutes so I’m guessing it’ll be a full hour. I’ve decided that if I was ever captured and tortured for information, noise torture would be most effective on me. Between the concert last night and the bells that seem to never end, I’m convinced of it.
After 1.5 hours I couldn’t take it anymore and I decided to head out. I was going to go to a specific store for some souvenir items but it was closed so instead I went down to Grace’s shop and had a quick chat with her and a fellow named John. He described himself as a “domestic engineer” but in reality he’s a retired engineer whose wife has gone on to work. They are both Maltese and just moved to Gozo 4 years ago. Grace explained that the PH for today is the Feast Day of the immaculate conception. She said they were doing a big motorcycle/bike caravan from Ta Pinu to Qala and that there would be a feast in Qala as well though not as big as what would be happening in St. Francis Square tonight. I asked after the bells from the baby’s funeral and she confirmed my guess that it’s because it’s not supposed to be an occasion for sadness since the baby will go straight to heaven. I thought I heard the “motorcade” coming so I excused myself to check it out, telling Grace I would still see her again before I leave.
I was wrong, however, so instead I ducked into a shop that I know takes credit cards and bought some souvenirs. I popped back home to have a snack before going out to St. Francis Square. I figured if they were setting up for a Festa then there would be some action going on there. I was certainly right about that. The streets are lined with the red and yellow Festa banners – most of them brand new without any paintings or embellishments on them. A statue of the virgin Mary has been placed over the normal statue in the center of the square and I found out it was done by Paul Aquilina – Kilena’s son. Men were starting to get the fireworks prepared so I approached a man who was having a cigarette leaning over his gate next to the Schembri watch shop to ask what time the fireworks would begin.
He was balding, with glasses and patches of hair on his ears but he had a kind smile and was dressed well. He wore tan slacks and a maroon colored v-neck sweater, underneath was a sort of red checked flannel shirt. He said around 10 p.m. and that there would be a procession at 6. He asked if I’d gone in to see the church yet and I said no. I made some polite conversation, asking after the feast and what sorts of things might happen in the square tonight and if the noise would bother him living so close. He said the fireworks aren’t too big of a deal for him, some loud bangs but mostly he said its better than the noise of the cars – traffic is blocked off to the street for the day. I asked if he’d be watching and he said yes from his balcony. I asked if it was the kind of public holiday where stores and shops were closed and he said yes, primarily. I asked if he worked or was retired and he said he’s a retired jeweler. He learned the trade from his father and his grandfather before him. He said he loved making jewelry but the paperwork and VAT stuff got to be too much. He said he had 2 shops – the one next door and another one and he said he worried most of the time that they would be robbed and because he didn’t pay for insurance they would get nothing back. But he didn’t want to pay for insurance because of the headache for claims and because they would provide you with things he already had – like the security doors and such. He said he ended up retiring because he had enough. One day a guy from the VAT came to do an inspection at like 9am and he thought, “okay fine” but the man came back 7 times between 9 am and 6 pm! He said “and I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” He said after that he swore it was his last day. He just closed up shop and was done with it. He said it’s silly too because now he draws on the pension instead of working. When he was working he was paying taxes and contributing to the community, now he does nothing but take.
He said they’ve lived in the house he has for 35 years – before that they lived in a place around the corner and he grew up in a house on the hill to the citadel. I asked if the old block Tapie’s was on was still there when he started to build and he said yes. He said it was much quieter then. I asked him how long he’s been married and he said to guess. Because he mentioned he had 2 sons and one was 20 I said “30 years” and he said – no 37. He said he has twins – a boy and a girl and they are 36 years old. And then 16 years later they had another one. I told him that I’d heard that Joseph and Mary were the most popular names on the island and he said it’s true – his twins are Joseph and Miriam. He said, then 16 years later we had our son and thought – we now have Emmanuel. Ha. His eldest son works with cars and his daughter is a social worker. His younger son, the 20 year old, is an artist. He’s still in school but he is already working selling some of his works through the church. He said that one of his items was part of the lottery for the nights festa. He said he had some of his work there if I wanted to see it. I said yes and he took me down to their garage where his son has a makeshift studio set up. He had several very large wall hanging type paintings in various stages of completion and all were magnificent. His father proudly showed off his work, telling me which saint each was and showing me photos of ones that have already been completed and put into the wall hangings for festas. He said his son gets paid for them but not much.
I couldn’t believe how good they were for a 20 year old. I asked if his son wants to stay in Gozo and he said yes, very much. He said he’s going to have to work hard to make a living from it if that’s the case. I said it’s nice that he has the space to support him and let him do his work. He said yes although sometimes his son complains that he needs more space and here he pointed to 2 old cars (pre-50’s) that are sitting in the back of the garage and I’m sure in his sons mind they are just taking up space. I asked a lot of questions about the work – who commissions the pieces, where they’d be hung, how often they make new hangings and what they do with the ones they aren’t using. He said they will use each one for a few years and then they put them into a museum and make new ones. He said there’s been an argument brewing about whether they should continue doing such works. He said he doesn’t understand it – it keeps kids busy and off the streets for them to help their community. It gets them involved in the church and their neighborhood to do so much on a volunteer basis. Indeed the square was swarming with people setting up fireworks and making preparations for the evening and it is all volunteer. He said, “what do they want the kids to do? Crack?” He certainly sounded like he had a beef with the government, that was for sure.
We talked about cars and car insurance and how expensive it is for him to insure his cars. (one is 500 Euro a year and the other is 300.) We talked about how Paul Aquilina is a family friend and how he and his son use each other for relaxation, stress relief, and constructive criticism. When we talked about his daughter being a social worker I tried to get him to explain exactly what she works with (the poor, the abused, etc.) and he said she does it all. He said at first she was in schools but now she works in the office and does all kinds of stuff. I said there don’t seem to be a lot of poor people in Gozo and he said “don’t be fooled. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” He said that there are people who get assistance but yet they have to have their water and electricity shut off because they can’t afford it. He said it’s silly – why don’t they pay for their water and electricity and give them some food? He said it’s not as obvious as it used to be but it’s still there. He said that when he was a kid everyone in Gozo seemed to be barefoot because they couldn’t afford shoes. He said he had some fellow students who came to class with only 1 shoe on. When the teacher would ask why one shoe they would say because their other foot hurt but the reality was because their mothers had bought one pair and split them between her kids. He said when he was at primary school he never took a lunch with him. He asked me if I could work out why and when I said no he said it was because he never wanted to eat a lunch and have all of the kids who didn’t have one have to watch him eat. He figured if they don’t eat lunch then I won’t either. He said he never had lunch all through school. I asked if that was during the migration period when things were really bad and he said yes. I asked him if he migrated and he said no. He went to school until he was 16 and then started working in his father’s shop and that was it. He said he’s gone to England a few times but never wanted to go anywhere other than for traveling.
He said they went to England because everyone told him how nice it would be to go there to celebrate Christmas but he said he and his wife were disappointed. They went to church with their friend who was hosting them but that was it. he said it wasn’t a big deal at all and the church only had about 30 people in it. I asked him what Christmas is like for him here in Gozo and he said that for him personally he doesn’t like it anymore because of how commercial it is. You have to buy these gifts and send Christmas cards and all of this nonsense and no one seems to care anymore about what it’s really about. He said as a family they go to the midnight mass on Christmas eve and it goes until 1 am and then afterward they have some guests to their home for a drink until 2 or 3 and then they go to bed. He said it’s nice to celebrate with their friends. I asked if they’ve stopped doing a tree then since his children are so old and he said no – his wife is wild about Christmas and decorations though he’s not sure yet about this year because she’s going on a trip to England for a week directly following and by the time she comes back it will be over so he’s not sure what she’ll put up.
While we were talking we were approached by a man who was selling books. I guess his dad was a writer who had started a book on the role of Gozo in WWII but he died before he could finish it and so this guy finished it. he was going around to people in the square selling them for 20 E and autographing them. If it wasn’t in Maltese I would’ve considered buying them. He did turn to me and start talking in Maltese so that was interesting. Then he said that maybe if I have a friend in Malta I could buy one for them because it would be a nice gift. Ha. I said I don’t and then we stood their awkwardly while the other guy excused himself to get more money and said he’d be back. When he returned we talked about Thanksgiving and other American holidays and then he said that I should probably go and check out the church before I can’t anymore – he said pretty soon there would be too many people for me to get in and see it. I asked him what his name was and he said it was George.
As far as I was concerned the church was already packed and it was in the middle of a mass as well so I wasn’t going to bust through just to take photos. I noticed that the church was draped in the red that had been in the citadel last year and I wondered if it was because of the Festa as I don’t recall it being like that last summer when Greta and I went. I made sure to take a picture of the lottery photo his son did and I took some other photos of the hangings. I can’t believe they are all hand painted.
The procession of the statue of Mary started from the church at 6pm and took a good solid 2 hours to complete the rounds of the neighboring streets. It takes 8 men to lift and carry the statue, with 4 in the front and 4 in the back. There are also 4 spotters with these poles that the statue can rest on whenever the men need a break. And believe me – walking for 2 hours, they need to rest a lot. That thing is massive. I’ll post some pics once I’ve uploaded them. They walk from St. Francis Square through the street behind St. George’s into Triq Repubblika and then up to Independence Square, into St. George’s Square, and back down the street to St. Francis Square. The procession is led by the priests carrying banners and candles, followed by one of the band clubs who played a really slow version of “Immaculate Mary.” Next comes some of the festa organizers in suits and I noticed George’s son Manuel had changed into a suit and was walking with them. No doubt because of all of the work that went into the paintings for the banners. Then comes the statue and then following behind the statue is a group of priests holding the blessed sacrament (Body of Christ). And then after that, the congregation follows along as if it’s a parade, walking to whatever stopping point the statue has and watching/listening to the band play. My favorite part of the procession was when the statue stopped in front of the Franciscan Convent and all of the old nuns serenaded Mary from their front door. It was beautiful.
When they got to St. George’s square I went into my apartment so I could get a nice view of everyone in the square. The band played and competed with the sound of the bells that were being hand rung by some of the boys from the church. As they rang the bells they took turns from each of their towers throwing confetti from the bell towers. It was blue paper cut in the shapes of stars with a picture of the statue of Mary on one side and a notice of the date of the festa in Maltese on the other. The procession stayed in St. George’s for awhile and so the band played 3 or 4 songs before they moved on.
By then it was about 8 so I decided to stick around the apartment to write up some notes. The weather was good but still cold enough that I didn’t want to stand around in the Square for 2 hours waiting for fireworks. It turns out I should’ve followed the crowd because George was wrong. They did the fireworks at about 9:15 so by the time I got there at 9:30 I missed the whole thing. Gah. What a bummer. There’s nothing like Maltese fireworks.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Funeral crashers, flirting, and fireworks
Today has been a mixed bag of activities. I woke this morning to the sound of funeral bells so made a mental note to check into that. As I was leaving the apartment I ran into Ted coming up the stairs. He asked if we could check the water/heater meters today and I said sure if he wanted but I’m not leaving until Friday. This seemed to surprise him, though I’ve mentioned it now about eight times. He said he’d come back on Thursday instead. He asked after my trip and I did the same. I’ll have to warn Wim – his whole family is planning to spend Christmas 2010 in Brussels! Watch out!!!
Next I made my way to the bus stand to get the newest schedule for December. As predicted, the buses have been cut yet again. From now until February there are no more buses to Drewjra and if you want to go to Gharb, San Lawrenz, Zebbug, Ghasri, Ta Pinu, Sannat, Munxar or Kercem you’d better plan on hiking back because after noon there are no more buses. Not even one at 4:30 or 5 pm to take people back. Nada. I guess it doesn’t really matter since I’m only here a couple more days but still…what a pain.
Heading out to Independence Square I saw Grace taking down her shop. I said hello and told her I was sorry I haven’t seen her in awhile, noticing that they’d switched from displaying summer clothing to more winter apparel. She said they were taking down for the day and then she’d be heading over to her/Mario’s shop for the rest of the afternoon. She looked cozy wearing a snug bright green sweater and a denim cap, holding onto a cup of coffee to warm her hands. It wasn’t that cold out since the sun was peaking in and out of the clouds but we talked about how cold you can get when you’re just sitting in one spot all day. I told her I’d heard funeral bells that morning and asked if she’d heard anything and she said that yes, she’d heard someone died. She asked her husband George about it in Maltese and he confirmed that the funeral would be today at St. George’s. She said probably between 3 and 4. I told her I’d been to the one on Saturday for the little baby and I asked after the fact that so many people seemed to be wearing brown instead of black. I asked if it was intentional or if I was just noticing something that wasn’t there. She said no – it’s because of the babies. She said that when a baby dies, “they have nothing to pay for and we shouldn’t be sad.” She said we should be happy because they are going to heaven and so we don’t wear black because there shouldn’t be any mourning. I asked, “even if the baby wasn’t baptized?” And she said “well I am sure they would baptize the baby if they knew that it was not going to make it.” I then asked about the white flowers and pink ribbons instead of the usual colors. And she said “yes, also for the babies. White – the color of heaven.” This too falls into the logic of babies not needing to pay for anything in the afterlife. Flowers are typically used in commemoration as a payment or offering of something that is alive. If babies don’t need such an offering but the commemorative gesture remains, then white flowers would be a way to make the offering without making a “payment” per se. I also asked about how come they came up Triq R. instead of via St. Francis (the back way) and she said there would be two reasons for that. The first would be if the procession included the band and the second would be if they procession came all the way from the hospital in Malta rather than the hospital in Gozo – which was the case with the little girl. I asked when someone would have the band in the procession and she said either because they themselves were in the band or because one of their family members was in the band. The one thing I forgot to ask about was the bells that rang. They too were different – sounding more like the regular mass bells that ring at noon rather than mourning bells. Perhaps this is because there is no call for sorrow. I will check into it. I thanked her for her insight and let her return to packing up the store as George seemed a little put out that my conversation was hindering her work getting done. He wasn’t being rude or anything but he kept working on around us in a way that made me feel like I was getting in the way.
On my way to the bus terminal I ran into Francis. I was planning to find him tomorrow so this saved me the trip. I told him I was leaving Friday and we made arrangements for him to pick me up in Independence Square at 4:15 am so we could catch the 5:00 am ferry. It’s only a 10 minute drive from here to the harbor but because he takes the car onto the ferry he likes to get there about 30 minutes early to join the queue just in case there are any issues. Especially since the 5 and 6 o’clock ferries are the two busiest in the morning.
Next I stopped off to see Sonja at Coffee Break. I almost didn’t bother her because she looked so busy, and she admitted as much to me as well, saying that she’s been working nonstop. I asked her if she’s working all week and she said yes. The fellow she works with, Roberto, had said hello to me because he recognizes me now from stopping to see Sonja and so I said “you work her too hard, you should give her a break!” He laughed and said “What are you saying about me?” (as in, he’s the one who needs a break). We all laughed and Sonja said to me over the counter “You should tell him to take a break and that you can take a break together.” She had pointed her finger at me when she said it and then moved her two pointer fingers together. She gave me a devilish grin and I returned it saying, “Noooo, Sonja. No. I have to go – see you.” And so instead she called back to him and said, “You should take a break together!” By then I was halfway to the front of the café and was saying “bye” and waving over my shoulder as I laughed. He was doing the same. I have to admit that were he not already talking to a friend of his I may have been game for it. He’s not unattractive and he does know how to make good pastries. Isn’t that what every girl looks for in her man?
I wandered back towards Arcadia hoping to run into some other folks I knew and ended up seeing Alfred having drinks with a lady at the Tamarisk, a pub across the street from the primary school that’s just down the block from Arcadia. He was wearing the same thing as he was the last times I’ve seen him – black jeans, white shirt, black tie, gray jacket heavily dusted with dandruff. He was smoking one of the local cigars and drinking whisky. The woman he was with was English and said she moved here in 2005. They were actually in the midst of a legal discussion and though she was nice enough you could tell she didn’t really appreciate the interruption. Alfred introduced me to her as someone who is here studying the weirdos of Gozo. He asked how my research has been going and I told him it was going well and that I was leaving soon. I asked if it would still be alright for me to send him some questions via email and he said of course. After seeing him it occurred to me that he might be able to ask some of his students to fill out a survey for me as well. I’ll have to check into that.
I did walk all the way to Arcadia before turning around and heading back to my apartment. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to be located for the funeral. I could go to St. Francis Square where everyone would gather for the procession, or I could stay in St. George’s and perhaps take some photos as they entered the square. I decided to stay in St. George’s and managed to take a video clip of the procession of 11 priests, 3 acolytes and about 20 mourners as it rounded the corner of the church and up the stairs. I recognized George among the PB’s. I then exited the apartment, having already changed into black and headed in myself.
This funeral was not as well attended as the last few, with only about 35 people total. I couldn’t get over how many tourists kept wandering in as the mass was about to start and found myself nodding in agreement when one of the older locals got up and went to the back of the church and asked some of them to leave. I couldn’t believe how many continued to stream in, taking photos despite the fact that there was obviously a coffin sitting in the middle of the row and that a mass was going on. But they did it nonetheless, walking the perimeter of the church and taking the photos – some with flash. The whole time I thought, “I get it, you’ve never been here before…it’s cool to take the pictures of the inside of the church…but can’t you wait another 20 minutes until the service is over?” My own disdainful reaction made me all the more aware of my own intentions and presence. It also made me grateful that I know the drill of Catholicism and can follow along respectfully despite not knowing the language of Maltese. I did see that the man who handed out prayer cards left out the tourists at the back but included me. I guess that’s something. It helps that I threw money into the collection plate as well, I am sure.
Oh and this reminds me – the other day during the funeral for the little girl, the woman who was standing next to me was joined by her daughter. The daughter kept slowly backing into her mother whenever she wanted to say something to her and then the mother kept slowly backing into me. Soon enough I had t move completely because the daughter had backed us into some marble stairs. It was almost comical and the daughter had no idea she was doing it. I was thinking about how daughters can be like that, almost smothering at times. The woman turned to me at the same moment and we sort of gave each other exasperated looks and she said something to me in Maltese! Ha. Of course, I have no idea what it was but I’m telling you…give me another 9 months here and would be doing my damnedest to learn.
It turns out the funeral was for a 65 year old man named George. I couldn’t tell at first if he was survived by a wife, as the front row in the church had 4 people in it and they could’ve all just been his children. When the priest finished the mass and came down to shake hands with the family there was only one woman he gave condolences too and I saw that she had gray hair and the rest did not. Perhaps she is the wife and the others are their children. The other thing that caught my eye during the service was that one of the acolytes was either new and still learning or just needed reminding because he was so young. He seemed to be following the direction of one of the priests more than the others who were more experienced, anticipating needs and cues. One of them even went around and took the back of the vestments of all of the priests and placed them behind the chair so that when they next sat down they wouldn’t sit on them. I thought of my own experiences as an acolyte and how the most trusted of jobs (like with the incense) were always given to the older, more seasoned, and less fidgety individuals. I thought of how hard it was to be young and stand still. How despite the fact that it was a funeral there is often still fun to be had in youth as the two younger boys kept trading grins over some inside joke that they alone would think was funny at a time like that.
There are fireworks going off outside today. Tomorrow is a public holiday. I’m not exactly sure why, but there have been fireworks intermittently throughout the day and at noon, the bells of St. George’s rang for an hour and 15 minutes straight. The fireworks remind me that if tomorrow is a public holiday some of the stores will be closed and I was planning to buy some things tonight. Better get to it.
Next I made my way to the bus stand to get the newest schedule for December. As predicted, the buses have been cut yet again. From now until February there are no more buses to Drewjra and if you want to go to Gharb, San Lawrenz, Zebbug, Ghasri, Ta Pinu, Sannat, Munxar or Kercem you’d better plan on hiking back because after noon there are no more buses. Not even one at 4:30 or 5 pm to take people back. Nada. I guess it doesn’t really matter since I’m only here a couple more days but still…what a pain.
Heading out to Independence Square I saw Grace taking down her shop. I said hello and told her I was sorry I haven’t seen her in awhile, noticing that they’d switched from displaying summer clothing to more winter apparel. She said they were taking down for the day and then she’d be heading over to her/Mario’s shop for the rest of the afternoon. She looked cozy wearing a snug bright green sweater and a denim cap, holding onto a cup of coffee to warm her hands. It wasn’t that cold out since the sun was peaking in and out of the clouds but we talked about how cold you can get when you’re just sitting in one spot all day. I told her I’d heard funeral bells that morning and asked if she’d heard anything and she said that yes, she’d heard someone died. She asked her husband George about it in Maltese and he confirmed that the funeral would be today at St. George’s. She said probably between 3 and 4. I told her I’d been to the one on Saturday for the little baby and I asked after the fact that so many people seemed to be wearing brown instead of black. I asked if it was intentional or if I was just noticing something that wasn’t there. She said no – it’s because of the babies. She said that when a baby dies, “they have nothing to pay for and we shouldn’t be sad.” She said we should be happy because they are going to heaven and so we don’t wear black because there shouldn’t be any mourning. I asked, “even if the baby wasn’t baptized?” And she said “well I am sure they would baptize the baby if they knew that it was not going to make it.” I then asked about the white flowers and pink ribbons instead of the usual colors. And she said “yes, also for the babies. White – the color of heaven.” This too falls into the logic of babies not needing to pay for anything in the afterlife. Flowers are typically used in commemoration as a payment or offering of something that is alive. If babies don’t need such an offering but the commemorative gesture remains, then white flowers would be a way to make the offering without making a “payment” per se. I also asked about how come they came up Triq R. instead of via St. Francis (the back way) and she said there would be two reasons for that. The first would be if the procession included the band and the second would be if they procession came all the way from the hospital in Malta rather than the hospital in Gozo – which was the case with the little girl. I asked when someone would have the band in the procession and she said either because they themselves were in the band or because one of their family members was in the band. The one thing I forgot to ask about was the bells that rang. They too were different – sounding more like the regular mass bells that ring at noon rather than mourning bells. Perhaps this is because there is no call for sorrow. I will check into it. I thanked her for her insight and let her return to packing up the store as George seemed a little put out that my conversation was hindering her work getting done. He wasn’t being rude or anything but he kept working on around us in a way that made me feel like I was getting in the way.
On my way to the bus terminal I ran into Francis. I was planning to find him tomorrow so this saved me the trip. I told him I was leaving Friday and we made arrangements for him to pick me up in Independence Square at 4:15 am so we could catch the 5:00 am ferry. It’s only a 10 minute drive from here to the harbor but because he takes the car onto the ferry he likes to get there about 30 minutes early to join the queue just in case there are any issues. Especially since the 5 and 6 o’clock ferries are the two busiest in the morning.
Next I stopped off to see Sonja at Coffee Break. I almost didn’t bother her because she looked so busy, and she admitted as much to me as well, saying that she’s been working nonstop. I asked her if she’s working all week and she said yes. The fellow she works with, Roberto, had said hello to me because he recognizes me now from stopping to see Sonja and so I said “you work her too hard, you should give her a break!” He laughed and said “What are you saying about me?” (as in, he’s the one who needs a break). We all laughed and Sonja said to me over the counter “You should tell him to take a break and that you can take a break together.” She had pointed her finger at me when she said it and then moved her two pointer fingers together. She gave me a devilish grin and I returned it saying, “Noooo, Sonja. No. I have to go – see you.” And so instead she called back to him and said, “You should take a break together!” By then I was halfway to the front of the café and was saying “bye” and waving over my shoulder as I laughed. He was doing the same. I have to admit that were he not already talking to a friend of his I may have been game for it. He’s not unattractive and he does know how to make good pastries. Isn’t that what every girl looks for in her man?
I wandered back towards Arcadia hoping to run into some other folks I knew and ended up seeing Alfred having drinks with a lady at the Tamarisk, a pub across the street from the primary school that’s just down the block from Arcadia. He was wearing the same thing as he was the last times I’ve seen him – black jeans, white shirt, black tie, gray jacket heavily dusted with dandruff. He was smoking one of the local cigars and drinking whisky. The woman he was with was English and said she moved here in 2005. They were actually in the midst of a legal discussion and though she was nice enough you could tell she didn’t really appreciate the interruption. Alfred introduced me to her as someone who is here studying the weirdos of Gozo. He asked how my research has been going and I told him it was going well and that I was leaving soon. I asked if it would still be alright for me to send him some questions via email and he said of course. After seeing him it occurred to me that he might be able to ask some of his students to fill out a survey for me as well. I’ll have to check into that.
I did walk all the way to Arcadia before turning around and heading back to my apartment. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to be located for the funeral. I could go to St. Francis Square where everyone would gather for the procession, or I could stay in St. George’s and perhaps take some photos as they entered the square. I decided to stay in St. George’s and managed to take a video clip of the procession of 11 priests, 3 acolytes and about 20 mourners as it rounded the corner of the church and up the stairs. I recognized George among the PB’s. I then exited the apartment, having already changed into black and headed in myself.
This funeral was not as well attended as the last few, with only about 35 people total. I couldn’t get over how many tourists kept wandering in as the mass was about to start and found myself nodding in agreement when one of the older locals got up and went to the back of the church and asked some of them to leave. I couldn’t believe how many continued to stream in, taking photos despite the fact that there was obviously a coffin sitting in the middle of the row and that a mass was going on. But they did it nonetheless, walking the perimeter of the church and taking the photos – some with flash. The whole time I thought, “I get it, you’ve never been here before…it’s cool to take the pictures of the inside of the church…but can’t you wait another 20 minutes until the service is over?” My own disdainful reaction made me all the more aware of my own intentions and presence. It also made me grateful that I know the drill of Catholicism and can follow along respectfully despite not knowing the language of Maltese. I did see that the man who handed out prayer cards left out the tourists at the back but included me. I guess that’s something. It helps that I threw money into the collection plate as well, I am sure.
Oh and this reminds me – the other day during the funeral for the little girl, the woman who was standing next to me was joined by her daughter. The daughter kept slowly backing into her mother whenever she wanted to say something to her and then the mother kept slowly backing into me. Soon enough I had t move completely because the daughter had backed us into some marble stairs. It was almost comical and the daughter had no idea she was doing it. I was thinking about how daughters can be like that, almost smothering at times. The woman turned to me at the same moment and we sort of gave each other exasperated looks and she said something to me in Maltese! Ha. Of course, I have no idea what it was but I’m telling you…give me another 9 months here and would be doing my damnedest to learn.
It turns out the funeral was for a 65 year old man named George. I couldn’t tell at first if he was survived by a wife, as the front row in the church had 4 people in it and they could’ve all just been his children. When the priest finished the mass and came down to shake hands with the family there was only one woman he gave condolences too and I saw that she had gray hair and the rest did not. Perhaps she is the wife and the others are their children. The other thing that caught my eye during the service was that one of the acolytes was either new and still learning or just needed reminding because he was so young. He seemed to be following the direction of one of the priests more than the others who were more experienced, anticipating needs and cues. One of them even went around and took the back of the vestments of all of the priests and placed them behind the chair so that when they next sat down they wouldn’t sit on them. I thought of my own experiences as an acolyte and how the most trusted of jobs (like with the incense) were always given to the older, more seasoned, and less fidgety individuals. I thought of how hard it was to be young and stand still. How despite the fact that it was a funeral there is often still fun to be had in youth as the two younger boys kept trading grins over some inside joke that they alone would think was funny at a time like that.
There are fireworks going off outside today. Tomorrow is a public holiday. I’m not exactly sure why, but there have been fireworks intermittently throughout the day and at noon, the bells of St. George’s rang for an hour and 15 minutes straight. The fireworks remind me that if tomorrow is a public holiday some of the stores will be closed and I was planning to buy some things tonight. Better get to it.
The end of the cemetery tour
12/6
It’s become increasingly difficult to work since returning from my trip to Belgium/Denmark. I thought the pressure of a deadline would make it sink in – the reality that I’m leaving so soon. But apparently not. I DID get work done today…motivated by the fact that it was my last opportunity to hit the remaining cemeteries on the island and be assured they’d be open as it was the first Sunday of the month. I paid penance for not waking up in time to take the bus to San Lawrenz by walking there. It took a full hour and 5 minutes. The sun was out, warming me as I walked and I think it was the first time I’d felt truly warm since I left 2 wks ago. Now that the weather is cooling here I’ve experienced first hand the cool damp of limestone living. Sitting in one spot here in the apartment it almost feels cooler than it does outside. And with no heater…needless to say the 60 – 65 degree temps are fine for during the day but at night when the sun is down I become very aware that I don’t keep my apartment that cool back home. Of course, people still gather at the cafes outside despite the cooler temps, adding layers to their look and sitting behind screens of plastic where possible. I can’t decide if I’ll be relieved to return to the winter cold of Milwaukee where I’ll have all of my winter clothes at my disposal, not to mention a proper heating system or if I’ll be bummed to leave the warmer daytime weather and gorgeous sunny days. Hmmm…tough call. Too bad I couldn’t have all of my winter gear shipped out here.
On the walk to San Lawrenz it struck me once more how hindered my work has been because of lack of funds. I kept seeing cars whiz past me and couldn’t help thinking that had I the money to afford a rental, my own work would’ve taken on a completely different quality. I could’ve gone to all of the cemeteries in one day rather than one or 2 at a time due to the poor bus schedules and the amount of walking. Not to mention, I would’ve probably spent more time in each town in general were I able to get there in a quick 5 minute ride. Perhaps it would’ve been easier to include information from all of the churches that way. Or perhaps I would’ve spent a day in Malta at the Adoraloratu cemetery where I able to drive there myself (via ferry of course) rather than paying for taxis. I also would’ve spent more time at the Azure window and gone other places of interest at times when the bus doesn’t run – sunset in particular.
In any case, I did walk to San Lawrenz and I did go to the cemetery. But before I could get there, I had to pass through the Square in SL where they were having some sort of holiday raffle. They were playing Christmas music (English) through the speakers and there was a man spinning a wheel and calling out numbers to win chocolates and other prizes. There was also a large castle style jump house for the little ones. The area where the raffle was taking place had about 150 people surrounding it but as there were no other rides, food or other enticements anyone else wandering into the area didn’t stay very long.
Getting to the cemetery, the first thing I noticed was that it was the first cemetery to be sort of “in ground” in the sense that it’s built into the downside of the hill rather than perched on a top or at level with the rest of the street. It therefore has these tall outer limestone walls that act almost as retaining walls. Those are then lined with tall green trees and shrubs and then inside of that there is an inner wall row that is made up of smaller rocks – they are probably limestone but not that typical block style. The whole area looks more “green” than any of the others I’d been too with more plants, trees, and palm trees (because in my mind palm trees are totally different from just “trees”) surrounding the area than any others. The entrance looks out to Drewjra. There were no visitors while I was there at first, though just as I sat down to write up some notes before leaving a family of 4 showed up. They stayed a total of 3 minutes. On their way out, I asked the man if the cemetery was only for ppl of San Lawrenz. He said it used to be but now anyone can buy a plot there if they wish. I asked if they knew if Gharb and Ghasri had their own and they said yes. One thing that was different here than any of the other cemeteries – it was the first place I saw people had left stones on the graves. There were a few where it was clear they were being used to weight something down but there were 2 where it looks like the stones were put there purposefully. There were color pics instead of etchings and that was a feature I’d only seen in one or 2 other places. I also noticed an etching I had not yet seen before – the arch angel Michael defeating Satan.
I stayed for about a half hour and then decided to start heading toward Gharb. On my way, a car of tourists stopped me for directions. Guess I’m starting to look either less like a tourist or at the least, like I know where I’m going. I was glad I headed for Gharb rather than the one I knew to exist in Ghasri because the cemetery in Gharb was larger than the one in San Lawrenz with space for 300 tombs. The one in San Lawrenz could hold 185 roughly. I almost missed it too. I was heading down the road to the left of their church, following the signs that led to some chapel or another. There was a fork in the road and I was going to continue to the right, thinking I could make out the funeral walls in the distance. Thankfully I took a look to the left as well because that’s when I noticed the unmistakable walls of a cemetery as well as the front entrance to a chapel with the light bulbs and everything. I was a little worried it wouldn’t be open, or that only part of it would be, as it looked as if it was sectioned into 2 parts with one being accessible from the chapel entrance and the other behind a closed gate. Thankfully you could get to the second section once inside the first. The first section was smaller, holding maybe 50 tombs and located directly in front of the chapel. Going up a few stairs there was a large area for the common burial section though I wondered if they were still in use as there were no commemoration items on the top of them despite the fact that they looked quite old. In fact, there were even markers indicating some of the tomb areas must’ve been for babies because they were so much smaller than adult sized tombs and Loretu, the caretaker in Ghjansiliem had said this was something cemeteries used to do. The rest of the cemetery spread out to the left and looked more rectangular and average in nature. While I was there, there was only one younger man (late 20’s) there and he said hello to me as he passed to get his car. As I exited, 2 cars pulled up separately, each holding an elderly woman and a middle aged woman and all got out with flowers and candles to leave behind.
On the way back to Victoria I abandoned the Ghasri cemetery. For one, it was getting close to 5 pm and the cemeteries aren’t open past that time anyway. For two, I have actually “seen” the cemetery before on my way to the one in Zebbug. It’s probably big enough to hold 50 plots and is certainly the smallest of them all. Not that this makes it insignificant but walking a half hour out of the way in the dark knowing full well it wouldn’t be open certainly was a large part of making up my mind about it. Triple checking the map, this means that I’ve gone to every cemetery on the island…with the exception of actually going inside the one in Ghasri. It’s a blemish on the record to be sure but at this point, unless there’s a funeral in Ghasri in the next couple of days or I could track down the undertaker I wouldn’t be able to get in either way.
On my way to Arcadia last night I ran into one of the gentlemen who sits outside the Aurora theatre all the time and now says hello to me when he sees me. He said he’d been at a football match at Gozo Stadium from noon until 4 and was very tired and going home. He asked how long I was staying for and I told him just until the end of the week. I told him I’d been at the funeral yesterday and tried to ask him about people wearing brown clothes instead of black. Unfortunately, his English isn’t the best and so he kept thinking I was trying to tell him that the baby was brown or black. Ha. He apologized for not understanding and I apologized for asking and said I’d just ask someone else. He said “Bon voyage and safe travels!”
It’s become increasingly difficult to work since returning from my trip to Belgium/Denmark. I thought the pressure of a deadline would make it sink in – the reality that I’m leaving so soon. But apparently not. I DID get work done today…motivated by the fact that it was my last opportunity to hit the remaining cemeteries on the island and be assured they’d be open as it was the first Sunday of the month. I paid penance for not waking up in time to take the bus to San Lawrenz by walking there. It took a full hour and 5 minutes. The sun was out, warming me as I walked and I think it was the first time I’d felt truly warm since I left 2 wks ago. Now that the weather is cooling here I’ve experienced first hand the cool damp of limestone living. Sitting in one spot here in the apartment it almost feels cooler than it does outside. And with no heater…needless to say the 60 – 65 degree temps are fine for during the day but at night when the sun is down I become very aware that I don’t keep my apartment that cool back home. Of course, people still gather at the cafes outside despite the cooler temps, adding layers to their look and sitting behind screens of plastic where possible. I can’t decide if I’ll be relieved to return to the winter cold of Milwaukee where I’ll have all of my winter clothes at my disposal, not to mention a proper heating system or if I’ll be bummed to leave the warmer daytime weather and gorgeous sunny days. Hmmm…tough call. Too bad I couldn’t have all of my winter gear shipped out here.
On the walk to San Lawrenz it struck me once more how hindered my work has been because of lack of funds. I kept seeing cars whiz past me and couldn’t help thinking that had I the money to afford a rental, my own work would’ve taken on a completely different quality. I could’ve gone to all of the cemeteries in one day rather than one or 2 at a time due to the poor bus schedules and the amount of walking. Not to mention, I would’ve probably spent more time in each town in general were I able to get there in a quick 5 minute ride. Perhaps it would’ve been easier to include information from all of the churches that way. Or perhaps I would’ve spent a day in Malta at the Adoraloratu cemetery where I able to drive there myself (via ferry of course) rather than paying for taxis. I also would’ve spent more time at the Azure window and gone other places of interest at times when the bus doesn’t run – sunset in particular.
In any case, I did walk to San Lawrenz and I did go to the cemetery. But before I could get there, I had to pass through the Square in SL where they were having some sort of holiday raffle. They were playing Christmas music (English) through the speakers and there was a man spinning a wheel and calling out numbers to win chocolates and other prizes. There was also a large castle style jump house for the little ones. The area where the raffle was taking place had about 150 people surrounding it but as there were no other rides, food or other enticements anyone else wandering into the area didn’t stay very long.
Getting to the cemetery, the first thing I noticed was that it was the first cemetery to be sort of “in ground” in the sense that it’s built into the downside of the hill rather than perched on a top or at level with the rest of the street. It therefore has these tall outer limestone walls that act almost as retaining walls. Those are then lined with tall green trees and shrubs and then inside of that there is an inner wall row that is made up of smaller rocks – they are probably limestone but not that typical block style. The whole area looks more “green” than any of the others I’d been too with more plants, trees, and palm trees (because in my mind palm trees are totally different from just “trees”) surrounding the area than any others. The entrance looks out to Drewjra. There were no visitors while I was there at first, though just as I sat down to write up some notes before leaving a family of 4 showed up. They stayed a total of 3 minutes. On their way out, I asked the man if the cemetery was only for ppl of San Lawrenz. He said it used to be but now anyone can buy a plot there if they wish. I asked if they knew if Gharb and Ghasri had their own and they said yes. One thing that was different here than any of the other cemeteries – it was the first place I saw people had left stones on the graves. There were a few where it was clear they were being used to weight something down but there were 2 where it looks like the stones were put there purposefully. There were color pics instead of etchings and that was a feature I’d only seen in one or 2 other places. I also noticed an etching I had not yet seen before – the arch angel Michael defeating Satan.
I stayed for about a half hour and then decided to start heading toward Gharb. On my way, a car of tourists stopped me for directions. Guess I’m starting to look either less like a tourist or at the least, like I know where I’m going. I was glad I headed for Gharb rather than the one I knew to exist in Ghasri because the cemetery in Gharb was larger than the one in San Lawrenz with space for 300 tombs. The one in San Lawrenz could hold 185 roughly. I almost missed it too. I was heading down the road to the left of their church, following the signs that led to some chapel or another. There was a fork in the road and I was going to continue to the right, thinking I could make out the funeral walls in the distance. Thankfully I took a look to the left as well because that’s when I noticed the unmistakable walls of a cemetery as well as the front entrance to a chapel with the light bulbs and everything. I was a little worried it wouldn’t be open, or that only part of it would be, as it looked as if it was sectioned into 2 parts with one being accessible from the chapel entrance and the other behind a closed gate. Thankfully you could get to the second section once inside the first. The first section was smaller, holding maybe 50 tombs and located directly in front of the chapel. Going up a few stairs there was a large area for the common burial section though I wondered if they were still in use as there were no commemoration items on the top of them despite the fact that they looked quite old. In fact, there were even markers indicating some of the tomb areas must’ve been for babies because they were so much smaller than adult sized tombs and Loretu, the caretaker in Ghjansiliem had said this was something cemeteries used to do. The rest of the cemetery spread out to the left and looked more rectangular and average in nature. While I was there, there was only one younger man (late 20’s) there and he said hello to me as he passed to get his car. As I exited, 2 cars pulled up separately, each holding an elderly woman and a middle aged woman and all got out with flowers and candles to leave behind.
On the way back to Victoria I abandoned the Ghasri cemetery. For one, it was getting close to 5 pm and the cemeteries aren’t open past that time anyway. For two, I have actually “seen” the cemetery before on my way to the one in Zebbug. It’s probably big enough to hold 50 plots and is certainly the smallest of them all. Not that this makes it insignificant but walking a half hour out of the way in the dark knowing full well it wouldn’t be open certainly was a large part of making up my mind about it. Triple checking the map, this means that I’ve gone to every cemetery on the island…with the exception of actually going inside the one in Ghasri. It’s a blemish on the record to be sure but at this point, unless there’s a funeral in Ghasri in the next couple of days or I could track down the undertaker I wouldn’t be able to get in either way.
On my way to Arcadia last night I ran into one of the gentlemen who sits outside the Aurora theatre all the time and now says hello to me when he sees me. He said he’d been at a football match at Gozo Stadium from noon until 4 and was very tired and going home. He asked how long I was staying for and I told him just until the end of the week. I told him I’d been at the funeral yesterday and tried to ask him about people wearing brown clothes instead of black. Unfortunately, his English isn’t the best and so he kept thinking I was trying to tell him that the baby was brown or black. Ha. He apologized for not understanding and I apologized for asking and said I’d just ask someone else. He said “Bon voyage and safe travels!”
Saturday, December 5, 2009
A funeral for a little one
Today I attended a funeral for a little girl who was only 9 days old. I almost missed it, actually. I was leaving my apartment and noticed some people at St. George’s with flowers. They weren’t the “typical” funeral flowers though – they were all white and instead of being tied with a purple ribbon, they had a pink one. The woman holding the flowers wasn’t wearing black and the young boy she was with had on a brown dress uniform for his primary school. I brushed them off as guests for a baptism or some special school mass.
I came out into Independence Square and knew something was going on. Four traffic wardens were at each of the corners of the square and as I came into it I heard the unmistakable chant of a church procession coming up Triq Repubblika. I stayed where I was, abandoning my former plans and waited. Sure enough, After the procession of 2 candle bearers and a cross bearer came 13 priests. Following them was a man in a navy suit carrying a very small, white coffin in his arms. He cradled the coffin as if he were cradling the baby. There was a woman standing next to him wearing a camel colored long coat and matching slacks and then behind them was Bertu, though noticeably absent in my eyes were the crew of men he usually uses for pall bearers. Following the couple were about 200+ mourners.
I watched the procession go by and then went back into St. George’s Square via the back street so I wouldn’t interrupt the procession. I went up to my room, got rid of my backpack, and grabbed some money for the offering plate. Inside St. George’s the church was packed – standing room only which is quite a feat in the large space. The only spot I could find to stand was behind a bunch of columns obstructing my view from just about everything.
I couldn’t help but notice that there were more people wearing that tan/camel color rather than the typical black. I also noticed that all of the flower offerings were either white or a combination of white and pink. There were also more students – maybe 25 or so - like the one I saw at the beginning and I wondered if the couple had an older daughter and perhaps these were her classmates. The kids in the brown school uniforms looked to be about 10 – 12 years old.
The man from the church who had come around with the collection plate also came around during the mass to hand out the prayer cards so there was no procession to the front to see the coffin. The mass went quickly – only an hour for the entire thing. On the way out, the mother and father together carried the coffin in their arms to the applause of the congregation. Though the applause sounded robust due to the size of the church and the number of people in it, I couldn’t help but notice it was almost perfunctory for most people. The woman in front of me put her phone in the crook of her arm so she could clap but I noticed she only brought her hands together 2 or 3 times, as if her heart wasn’t really into something so jovial.
Out in the square, people lingered for awhile, some approaching the father and mother to give their condolences. Because it’s a 45 minute walk to the cemetery from St. George’s there was no walking procession afterward and only a few cars followed the hearse as it left.
I found myself feeling relieved that they were going to the Rabat cemetery, where it wouldn’t matter if the child had yet to be baptized in order to be buried there.
I couldn’t help but notice that the mother had about 2 inches of outgrowth on the color in her hair. I remembered that it’s “frowned upon” to color your hair when you’re pregnant and how most moms can’t wait to get it taken care of once their baby is finally born. On this mother though it just made me think about what this last week had been like for them and the stress that couple had endured. The little girl died only yesterday and so I wondered if her parents had been prepared for it. Was she born prematurely? Had she been in the hospital the entire nine days? Or was it sudden and unexpected? And of course I thought of my own experiences with friends and family who had such a loss. It made me sad in a way that none of the other funerals had – though I will admit that they all did. I’m not made of stone. And then I thought about “good deaths” and “bad deaths” and how despite it being a “bad death” to lose her too soon her funeral was as well attended as any of the others I went to. Good or bad, the people of Gozo come out in droves to pay their respects and support the members of their community, whether they know them or not. What a refreshing, healing thought.
I came out into Independence Square and knew something was going on. Four traffic wardens were at each of the corners of the square and as I came into it I heard the unmistakable chant of a church procession coming up Triq Repubblika. I stayed where I was, abandoning my former plans and waited. Sure enough, After the procession of 2 candle bearers and a cross bearer came 13 priests. Following them was a man in a navy suit carrying a very small, white coffin in his arms. He cradled the coffin as if he were cradling the baby. There was a woman standing next to him wearing a camel colored long coat and matching slacks and then behind them was Bertu, though noticeably absent in my eyes were the crew of men he usually uses for pall bearers. Following the couple were about 200+ mourners.
I watched the procession go by and then went back into St. George’s Square via the back street so I wouldn’t interrupt the procession. I went up to my room, got rid of my backpack, and grabbed some money for the offering plate. Inside St. George’s the church was packed – standing room only which is quite a feat in the large space. The only spot I could find to stand was behind a bunch of columns obstructing my view from just about everything.
I couldn’t help but notice that there were more people wearing that tan/camel color rather than the typical black. I also noticed that all of the flower offerings were either white or a combination of white and pink. There were also more students – maybe 25 or so - like the one I saw at the beginning and I wondered if the couple had an older daughter and perhaps these were her classmates. The kids in the brown school uniforms looked to be about 10 – 12 years old.
The man from the church who had come around with the collection plate also came around during the mass to hand out the prayer cards so there was no procession to the front to see the coffin. The mass went quickly – only an hour for the entire thing. On the way out, the mother and father together carried the coffin in their arms to the applause of the congregation. Though the applause sounded robust due to the size of the church and the number of people in it, I couldn’t help but notice it was almost perfunctory for most people. The woman in front of me put her phone in the crook of her arm so she could clap but I noticed she only brought her hands together 2 or 3 times, as if her heart wasn’t really into something so jovial.
Out in the square, people lingered for awhile, some approaching the father and mother to give their condolences. Because it’s a 45 minute walk to the cemetery from St. George’s there was no walking procession afterward and only a few cars followed the hearse as it left.
I found myself feeling relieved that they were going to the Rabat cemetery, where it wouldn’t matter if the child had yet to be baptized in order to be buried there.
I couldn’t help but notice that the mother had about 2 inches of outgrowth on the color in her hair. I remembered that it’s “frowned upon” to color your hair when you’re pregnant and how most moms can’t wait to get it taken care of once their baby is finally born. On this mother though it just made me think about what this last week had been like for them and the stress that couple had endured. The little girl died only yesterday and so I wondered if her parents had been prepared for it. Was she born prematurely? Had she been in the hospital the entire nine days? Or was it sudden and unexpected? And of course I thought of my own experiences with friends and family who had such a loss. It made me sad in a way that none of the other funerals had – though I will admit that they all did. I’m not made of stone. And then I thought about “good deaths” and “bad deaths” and how despite it being a “bad death” to lose her too soon her funeral was as well attended as any of the others I went to. Good or bad, the people of Gozo come out in droves to pay their respects and support the members of their community, whether they know them or not. What a refreshing, healing thought.
Friday, December 4, 2009
More electronic frustration
I swear I'm going to throw this computer out the window. I finally figured out a work around for the cut/paste problem. But now I'm sitting here at Cafe Jubilee trying to paste pictures for my trip to Belgium/Denmark and they won't load. Grrrr. Stay tuned for photos.
Back to Gozo
On 12/3
I had to be up by 5:40. Ugh. But it was worth it since we had so much fun at the Scottish Pub. By 6 we were out the door to head to the train. Chris originally was going to go to campus to do some work but decided against it so we said goodbye at the station. The train dead ended at the airport so I knew there wouldn’t be any problems getting there. I was a little worried when I arrived at the check in kiosk and the computer said there was no record of my reservation. They still have people monitoring the check-in areas but they are trying to move to a primarily automated system. I found a live person and he managed to find my ticket – probably some problem with the fact that it was a Lufthansa flight being operated by Scandinavian Air. The flight left on time at 8:20 and we connected in Milan. From there it was on to Malta and I landed at 1:20. I was grateful to be back but really tired after being up so late and not really sleeping on the plane. I took the taxi to the harbor, the ferry across, and the bus into Victoria and I was back to my apartment by about 3 p.m. After a shower I felt more like a human being and decided to forgo a nap to go to the grocery store and restock some of my essentials. I spent the evening catching up on this blog though now that I think about it I’ve realized that I’ll probably still have the problem of not being able to paste anything into blogspot which will really piss me off if that’s the case.
One week left.
I had to be up by 5:40. Ugh. But it was worth it since we had so much fun at the Scottish Pub. By 6 we were out the door to head to the train. Chris originally was going to go to campus to do some work but decided against it so we said goodbye at the station. The train dead ended at the airport so I knew there wouldn’t be any problems getting there. I was a little worried when I arrived at the check in kiosk and the computer said there was no record of my reservation. They still have people monitoring the check-in areas but they are trying to move to a primarily automated system. I found a live person and he managed to find my ticket – probably some problem with the fact that it was a Lufthansa flight being operated by Scandinavian Air. The flight left on time at 8:20 and we connected in Milan. From there it was on to Malta and I landed at 1:20. I was grateful to be back but really tired after being up so late and not really sleeping on the plane. I took the taxi to the harbor, the ferry across, and the bus into Victoria and I was back to my apartment by about 3 p.m. After a shower I felt more like a human being and decided to forgo a nap to go to the grocery store and restock some of my essentials. I spent the evening catching up on this blog though now that I think about it I’ve realized that I’ll probably still have the problem of not being able to paste anything into blogspot which will really piss me off if that’s the case.
One week left.
Danish Pastries and Danish Castles
On 12/2
My last day in Denmark we bought a 24 hour rail pass so we could check out some castles outside of Denmark. We started by heading to Fredricksborg Slot in Hillerød. It was supposed to be an express train yet we ended up having to switch to three different trains to get there. We weren’t really in a hurry so I didn’t care and at one of the train stations we got some grub while we waited. There was a small pastry stand where I could get 2 pastries and a coffee for 39 kroner (around $8). The guidebooks say that the Danish pastries are the best around and Wim had told me as much as well but I wasn’t expecting 2 pastries from a stand at the train station to be so good. They were probably the best I’ve ever had. Yay for train mix-ups!
Once in Hillerød we headed straight for the Fredricksborg Slot because we could get into the castle/museum for free with the 24 hour rail pass. It was totally worth it. The inside of the castle was breathtaking and we roamed the large halls, hallways and rooms for quite awhile. I tried to take some photos but they didn’t allow flash and depending on what room we were in we didn’t get much natural light. I think my two favorite rooms of the castle were the chapel and the great hall. The chapel was so large that it actually once functioned as the town church so I thought it was crazy that the royalty once thought of it as something small and quaint enough to be called a “chapel.” Chris and I spent some time hanging out in the Great Hall and picturing what it would be like to have a camp dance in the enormous space and wondered how long it would take 150 campers to heat up the room once they got their groove on since the place was obviously not heated.
Next it was on to Helsingør to see the Kronborg Slot, better known as the castle that was the setting for Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” though no one knows if he ever actually visited the place. It too is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and stages the Hamlet play there each year. Now THAT would be something to see for sure! By the time we got there it was too late to go inside owing to the earlier winter hours of the museum closing at 3 p.m. And, like Malmö, owing to its location a bit further north the sun set earlier there as well. We had just enough time to take a quick walk around the grounds before it was completely dark. The biggest thrill was standing at the top of a row of tumuli on the grounds with the castle to my back and looking out over the water to Sweden and the town of Helsingborg. It gave a complete perspective of the notion of watching your enemies crossing the sea for an attack. Chris and I just kept saying to each other, “yeah – that’s Sweden over there. We’re looking at another country.”
On our way to and from the castle we walked through yet another Christmas Bazaar complete with ferris wheel. Though this time there was also what we thought was an ice skating rink as well. Upon closer inspection we noticed a girl in skates having a devil of a time skating across owing to the fact that it wasn’t actually ice. It looked like it was slippery blocks that fit together and had been doused with water to make them icy. It didn’t make sense because it wasn’t really ice at all. On our way back through the kids had given up on the ice “skate” part of it and were wearing instead these sort of blue plastic coverings for their shoes and just sort of sliding around on them. Interesting.
Taking the train we headed back to Flintholm to warm up for an hour before striking out again to go back to Copenhagen and hit Tivoli. Tivoli is the city’s amusement park and it’s open all year round. Complete with whizzing rides and games of chance they even have a few roller coasters. The entire place was lighted for Christmas with some of the buildings dripping in white lights. We were able to get in for free with our 24 hour rail pass which made it worthwhile. I don’t know that I would’ve paid to go there during cold weather like that considering there was no way you’d get me on a ride in the freezing cold. I mean, you could see your breath for Pete’s sake! But sure enough, those roller coasters were zooming past anyway with people screaming their fool heads off. Tivoli itself was also decorated like a Christmas Bazaar with all of the vendors selling lots of hot chocolate and warm nuts. The smells were delicious (but expensive!) and it was cool to walk around checking it all out. At 8pm there was a laser light show on the water and I have to say, I haven’t seen a light show that good since I saw Poison open for Warrant on the Cherry Pie tour back in 1995. The highlight of Tivoli was that they had put together this winter wonderland sort of place where you could go inside and see elves hanging around in the North Pole kind of like the “It’s a Small World” ride…except it wasn’t a ride and it was just elves. The bizarre part was that every little stop along the route it seemed one of the elves was in peril and none of the other elves noticed. In one spot an elf had taken a tumble ice skating and clearly had hurt himself, in another an elf was dangling from a snow capped cliff like he’d lost his balance and would fall. My favorite though was the one that was falling off of a wooden bridge that connected one mountain peak to the next. Hmm…maybe they named the room “Elves in Peril” and we missed it.
Exiting Tivoli we headed for a pub so I could blow the last of my kroner on something worthwhile: beer. Well, more correctly we ended up at a Scottish Pub and ordered ourselves two Crownmoor Ciders. Instead of $10 a pop they were $11. But man was that tasty cider! How tasty you ask? One sip and out came the money for the second round it was that delicious. We each bought 2 rounds while we listened to some guy doing a live performance. We never quite caught his name but he was pretty good and we decided he looked like a shorter, less attractive version of Paul Bettany. His first set was just okay but the second set was really good. He did some Petty, U2, Beatles, Dylan, Eagles, Billy Joel, Van Morrison…and then he asked if there were any Americans in the bar. Chris and I clapped along with a group of women in their 40s who’d been intermittently on the dance floor. He then dedicated “Jack & Diane” to the Americans. Not sure why – most of the stuff he was playing was “American” music but whatevs. I got out and danced with the old ladies and found out they were from Maryland and Virginia and on a vaca with their husbands. During one of the set breaks when the radio was on a Kenny Rogers song came on. I said, “this is the part where Kenny breaks it down” and Chris said “Kenny Rogers ALWAYS breaks it down.” True dat.
I was sort of writing down the play list as Chris and I talked and at one point the guy came over to say hello (though we still didn’t find out his name.) He called me out, asking if I was writing down the set list. I said yes but explained we were also writing down other stuff as well, like Chris’s top 5 favorite songs, our favorite Christmas tunes, etc. (Chris’s favorite is Bruce Springsteen’s version of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Mine is Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas is You.”) He was nice – said he was from Northampton and had married a Danish woman 10 years ago. He’s lived in Denmark since then but only just started trying to learn Danish last week. He ended up playing about 4 sets and I think my two favorites were when he played “Piano Man” with the whole bar belting it out with him and “Closing Time” by Tom Waits just because I love the song and he did a nice job with it. Chris and I left right when he decided to finish for the evening and by the time we got back to the train and walked back it was again 2 a.m.
My last day in Denmark we bought a 24 hour rail pass so we could check out some castles outside of Denmark. We started by heading to Fredricksborg Slot in Hillerød. It was supposed to be an express train yet we ended up having to switch to three different trains to get there. We weren’t really in a hurry so I didn’t care and at one of the train stations we got some grub while we waited. There was a small pastry stand where I could get 2 pastries and a coffee for 39 kroner (around $8). The guidebooks say that the Danish pastries are the best around and Wim had told me as much as well but I wasn’t expecting 2 pastries from a stand at the train station to be so good. They were probably the best I’ve ever had. Yay for train mix-ups!
Once in Hillerød we headed straight for the Fredricksborg Slot because we could get into the castle/museum for free with the 24 hour rail pass. It was totally worth it. The inside of the castle was breathtaking and we roamed the large halls, hallways and rooms for quite awhile. I tried to take some photos but they didn’t allow flash and depending on what room we were in we didn’t get much natural light. I think my two favorite rooms of the castle were the chapel and the great hall. The chapel was so large that it actually once functioned as the town church so I thought it was crazy that the royalty once thought of it as something small and quaint enough to be called a “chapel.” Chris and I spent some time hanging out in the Great Hall and picturing what it would be like to have a camp dance in the enormous space and wondered how long it would take 150 campers to heat up the room once they got their groove on since the place was obviously not heated.
Next it was on to Helsingør to see the Kronborg Slot, better known as the castle that was the setting for Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” though no one knows if he ever actually visited the place. It too is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and stages the Hamlet play there each year. Now THAT would be something to see for sure! By the time we got there it was too late to go inside owing to the earlier winter hours of the museum closing at 3 p.m. And, like Malmö, owing to its location a bit further north the sun set earlier there as well. We had just enough time to take a quick walk around the grounds before it was completely dark. The biggest thrill was standing at the top of a row of tumuli on the grounds with the castle to my back and looking out over the water to Sweden and the town of Helsingborg. It gave a complete perspective of the notion of watching your enemies crossing the sea for an attack. Chris and I just kept saying to each other, “yeah – that’s Sweden over there. We’re looking at another country.”
On our way to and from the castle we walked through yet another Christmas Bazaar complete with ferris wheel. Though this time there was also what we thought was an ice skating rink as well. Upon closer inspection we noticed a girl in skates having a devil of a time skating across owing to the fact that it wasn’t actually ice. It looked like it was slippery blocks that fit together and had been doused with water to make them icy. It didn’t make sense because it wasn’t really ice at all. On our way back through the kids had given up on the ice “skate” part of it and were wearing instead these sort of blue plastic coverings for their shoes and just sort of sliding around on them. Interesting.
Taking the train we headed back to Flintholm to warm up for an hour before striking out again to go back to Copenhagen and hit Tivoli. Tivoli is the city’s amusement park and it’s open all year round. Complete with whizzing rides and games of chance they even have a few roller coasters. The entire place was lighted for Christmas with some of the buildings dripping in white lights. We were able to get in for free with our 24 hour rail pass which made it worthwhile. I don’t know that I would’ve paid to go there during cold weather like that considering there was no way you’d get me on a ride in the freezing cold. I mean, you could see your breath for Pete’s sake! But sure enough, those roller coasters were zooming past anyway with people screaming their fool heads off. Tivoli itself was also decorated like a Christmas Bazaar with all of the vendors selling lots of hot chocolate and warm nuts. The smells were delicious (but expensive!) and it was cool to walk around checking it all out. At 8pm there was a laser light show on the water and I have to say, I haven’t seen a light show that good since I saw Poison open for Warrant on the Cherry Pie tour back in 1995. The highlight of Tivoli was that they had put together this winter wonderland sort of place where you could go inside and see elves hanging around in the North Pole kind of like the “It’s a Small World” ride…except it wasn’t a ride and it was just elves. The bizarre part was that every little stop along the route it seemed one of the elves was in peril and none of the other elves noticed. In one spot an elf had taken a tumble ice skating and clearly had hurt himself, in another an elf was dangling from a snow capped cliff like he’d lost his balance and would fall. My favorite though was the one that was falling off of a wooden bridge that connected one mountain peak to the next. Hmm…maybe they named the room “Elves in Peril” and we missed it.
Exiting Tivoli we headed for a pub so I could blow the last of my kroner on something worthwhile: beer. Well, more correctly we ended up at a Scottish Pub and ordered ourselves two Crownmoor Ciders. Instead of $10 a pop they were $11. But man was that tasty cider! How tasty you ask? One sip and out came the money for the second round it was that delicious. We each bought 2 rounds while we listened to some guy doing a live performance. We never quite caught his name but he was pretty good and we decided he looked like a shorter, less attractive version of Paul Bettany. His first set was just okay but the second set was really good. He did some Petty, U2, Beatles, Dylan, Eagles, Billy Joel, Van Morrison…and then he asked if there were any Americans in the bar. Chris and I clapped along with a group of women in their 40s who’d been intermittently on the dance floor. He then dedicated “Jack & Diane” to the Americans. Not sure why – most of the stuff he was playing was “American” music but whatevs. I got out and danced with the old ladies and found out they were from Maryland and Virginia and on a vaca with their husbands. During one of the set breaks when the radio was on a Kenny Rogers song came on. I said, “this is the part where Kenny breaks it down” and Chris said “Kenny Rogers ALWAYS breaks it down.” True dat.
I was sort of writing down the play list as Chris and I talked and at one point the guy came over to say hello (though we still didn’t find out his name.) He called me out, asking if I was writing down the set list. I said yes but explained we were also writing down other stuff as well, like Chris’s top 5 favorite songs, our favorite Christmas tunes, etc. (Chris’s favorite is Bruce Springsteen’s version of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Mine is Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas is You.”) He was nice – said he was from Northampton and had married a Danish woman 10 years ago. He’s lived in Denmark since then but only just started trying to learn Danish last week. He ended up playing about 4 sets and I think my two favorites were when he played “Piano Man” with the whole bar belting it out with him and “Closing Time” by Tom Waits just because I love the song and he did a nice job with it. Chris and I left right when he decided to finish for the evening and by the time we got back to the train and walked back it was again 2 a.m.
A Day in Malmo, Sweden
On 12/1We took the train to Sweden to spend the day walking around Malmö. It rained yet again and I was ever grateful that I brought my umbrella along for the trip. The shopping streets of Malmö were much like those in Copenhagen and were also lined with special vendors for a Christmas Bazaar. Their square also had a large tree in it, though I liked the one in Brussels better. They also had a ferris wheel and a merry-go-round and I kept thinking that you couldn’t pay me to ride either in that cold of weather. Most of our day in Malmo ended up walking around Kungsparken where the Malmo castle is located. The grounds were a beautiful green (thanks to the rain I’m sure) and we were able to check out some of the Fiskehoddorna (fishermen’s huts) that are still used today to sell fresh fish in the morning. The Malmöhus Castle is Scandanavia’s oldest surviving re
naissance castle, though it looked more like a warehouse. It was built in 1434 by Eric of Pomerania who was king of Denmark, Norway and Sweden as a unified kingdom at the time. It was reconstructed in the mid 16th century to the more warehouse look it has now. My favorite part of the castle was that outside of the entrance was a bench that said “Europeans Only.” What? There was also a revolving door to get inside. One section said “Europeans only” and the next as it spun around said “Non-Europeans only.” What what? It’s a revolving door! It spits you out in the same place at the end! What the heck is that for? Though it once operated as the National Mint it eventually was used as a prison in the 1800s. Gotta love that – once a place for royalty and then eventually a pl
ace for prisoners.We decided to stop somewhere cheap to eat and found ourselves a Subway. I knew Areyl would appreciate that since it’s her favorite fast food place. The meatball sub was the sub of the day and as I was freezing cold it seemed like a perfect cheap eat. We walked through Malmö a bit more, stopping in at St. Petri Kyra’s church, the oldest building in Malmö dating to the early 14th century. We knew the sun would set earlier there – 3:45 p.m. so we made our way across to the harbor so I could see the water before it got dark. The west harbor is home to one of Calatrava’s buildings known as the “Turning Torso.” It’s the highest building in Sweden at 190 meters and it consists of 9 cubes with a total of 54 stories that rotate so there’s a 90 degree twist from top to bottom. The West harbor also has a specially designed outdoor skate park that hosted the Int’l Quicksilver competition but we couldn’t see it from where we were standing. We did see the Deloitte offices however and I wondered what it would be like to work in that building.
Though the cold would’ve driven us home regardless, we needed to return early so Chris could work on a final paper for his International Economics class. I confessed to Chris that it was too cold for me to go wandering around Flintholm or Copenhagen by myself and said I’d just read in his dorm while he worked. I was out of reading material though, having finished my book “The Likeness” on the plane ride. He loaned me Dan Brown’s new one “The Lost Symbol” to keep me busy while he worked. I got about halfway through the book…it’s okay. Same plot really. There’s a mystery involving symbols though this time it’s in Washington D.C. There’s a girl involved. There are some police/official characters that aren’t sure they trust Langdon but will probably end up dying once they make up their minds. There’s a “bad” man involved who remains hidden in plain sight…I think half way through I could even guess who he is…but I won’t ruin it here for those of you that are Dan Brown lovers. Not sure I’ll bother finishing it. Chris managed to finish his paper and we decided to watch another movie I had not yet seen – Funny People. Since I was already abroad by the time they started advertising for it I really had no expectations and assumed it would be a comedy. There were funny moments of course but it certainly wasn’t a comedy like I Love You Man had been. It was a great film though! Awesome job by both Adam Sandler and Seth Rogan. I really enjoyed it.
A Day in Copenhagen
On 11/30….
Monday was my full day in Copenhagen. And again…raining. And cold. I had at least wised up a touch and added another layer to my non-winter wear, putting my black hoodie over my track jacket, over my sweater, over a long sleeved shirt. We walked through Nyhavn again and then headed out to check out the city. We walked around the harbor and saw the Opera across the water as well as the spot where the Royal ships would’ve docked to head to the Palace of the King. Turning around you could see it in a straight shot ahead so we walked over there to check it out. There was a great statue of Frederick V in the center of the Palace area and while I was taking pictures I couldn’t help notice some other tourists taking photos of the Palace guards. Those poor guys. They just have to stand there and take it. We moved on to the church laying just beyond whose name escapes me at the moment. From far away I thought it WAS the palace of the king rather than the buildings to my right and left. D’oh. Dumb American – sees a rotunda and thinks it’s where the King would live.
After the brush with royalty it was onto the military and we headed to the fortress, “Kastellet: Citadellet Frederikshavn.” The grounds for the fortress were amazing and if the weather was better I would’ve been content to wander the grounds all day. I kept thinking it would be a great place to see a historical reenactment. It belongs to the Danish Defence so we had to be on our best behavior so we wouldn’t get booted.
Next it was time to see the Danish equivalent of the “Mannekin-Pis” – the statue of the Little Mermaid by Edvard Eriksen in the harbor. Why the little mermaid? Because long before it was envisioned by Disney it w
as written by Hans Christian Andersen and served as inspiration for the statue. Eriksen wanted to use the prima ballerina Ellen Price who had been in the ballet version of the story at the Royal Theatre as a model for the statue but she didn’t want to pose nude for him. Instead he used his wife’s body as the model and Price’s face for the head. I’d heard that like the Pissing Boy of Belgium it is one of those statues where you think “really? This is it?” It’s diminutive in size, especially in contrast to the rest of the harbor area. But it’s still a “must see” and I was fortunate enough to catch her when I did. She’s apparently about to go on tour in China so not only did I get to see her but I also got to see another statue that will take her place while she’s on tour. There will be a few actually but there was only one up at the moment and I just loved it. It was a statue of a very obese naked woman sitting on the shoulders of a lanky, skinny African man and the fat woman was holding the scales of justice in his hand. The statue is called “Survival of the Fattest," was done by a Danish sculptor and represents the wealth of nations resting on the backs of those that are usurped.
“I’m sitting on the back of a man.
He is sinking under the burden.
I would do anything to help him.
Except stepping down from his back”
Justitia (western goddess of justice)
It was brilliant, part of the sevenmeters.net project (check it out) and made the trek in the rain totally worth it. I liked the Little Mermaid too!
We stopped into a café called “Delish” to warm up and when I saw the prices I was bummed we were too cold
and wet to set out to find the coffee place Wim suggested where you get free pastry with your coffee. My pants were wet from dragging on the ground and I was sure I’d end up with a cold by the time the day was over. But we pushed on anyway and headed next to the cemetery. I had mentioned to Chris when he was in Malta that I’d like to see one so he indulged me. Unfortunately I didn’t think ahead enough to try to find the one Hans Christian Andersen is buried at, so we ended up at the closest one instead. I must say, it was gorgeous and looked more like a park than a cemetery. Each family plot area was sectioned off with greenery and the emphasis throughout was on a natural look. Many of the stones were rough looking as if they hadn’t even been finished but rather just fished out of a pond somewhere. I found several tombstones that bore my mother’s maiden name – Dahl – so I made sure to take photos of those despite knowing that I probably had no connection to them. Our family story is that the name was shortened at Ellis island when my grandfather’s family came over from Sweden. But then again…you never know.
My favorite inscription at the cemetery was,
“Grant me a sense of humor Lord, give me the grace to see a joke.
To get some happiness from life and pass it on to other folk.”
Next it was on to the National Museum because I wanted to see their ethnographic collection. On the way we stopped to get take-away food because it was the cheapest thing to do. I should probably mention that the exchange rate is currently at about 5 to 1 in Denmark and everything is more expensive than it was in Belgium. Something at home that would cost around $5 costs about $8 there. Kinda like those $10 beers – granted they were .5 litre glasses but at home I think I would’ve paid about $8 for that – including tip. I don’t want to complain about it too much but it certainly changed the scope of the trip having to think about what I would spend and how much money I’d have left for when I return to Malta and then back in Milwaukee. Thankfully Chris is such a low key guy and couldn’t care less that we weren’t going out for fancy dinners all the time. He gladly got a hot dog from a stand and I found a place that sold pizza by the slice. Unfortunately when we arrived at the museum we found out that it was closed – despite the fact that the website said they were open on Mondays from October through April or something like that. I was pretty bummed because I wanted to see that exhibit and the museum was free.
We turned instead and headed to another spot that looked important, which ended up being Christansborgs Slot, which has been the location of a castle since the late twelfth century, though the one that stands there now was built in the early 1900s. With an equestrian statue of Frederick VII in the center of the court, the palace now houses administrative offices and several little museums that were also closed, like the royal stables and coaches museum. While we were there some sort of convention seemed to be taking place in the centre involving “smart cars” and we wondered if it was tied to the Green convention as well or just a coincidence. We couldn’t tell if they were being test driven, marketed, shown off, sold or what. Oddly, there ended up being an article about smart cars in Copenhagen in the International Herald on my flight back, but it didn’t mention the event.
We kept walking and saw the building with a spire known as “Borsen’s Spire”. It’s a 17th century piece done on copper and designed with the tails of 4 intertwined dragons. The building was part of the design to make CPH the center of trade in the Baltic during Christian IV’s reign and once housed the stock exchange. It’s now owned by the Chamber of Commerce and not open to the public. Boo.
By then the
sun was setting so I asked if we could take another walk through the shopping street near Nyhavn. As we did so we ended up seeing a film set. We had no clue what it was for – movie, TV show…but there was a whole street scene done up outside one of the corner cafes in the area with lots of extras acting as carolers and street vendors. The main focus of the shot was a family of three – mom, dad, daughter and the female seemed to be the lead. They entered the shot from around the corner with the vendors, laughing delightedly at the picturesque winter scene and as they approached the main entrance to the café the female got a phone call. She excused herself, kissing the man on the cheek and turned off in the direction they’d come from with the man and daughter continuing on their way. They were all speaking Danish and we definitely didn’t recognize anyone there but it was fun to see nonetheless. Especially considering that they were just blocks from the real Christmas bazaar in Nyhavn.
At this point Chris and I decided we were freezing and giving up for the day. I was soaked through from the rain and the wind was picking up. We took the train back to his dorm and checked our email. While we were online we noticed Areyl was as well so we ended up getting to chat with her on FB for a while. We asked Chris’ roommate, Rahul, if he would mind if we watched a movie and popped in “I Love You Man” because I hadn’t seen it yet. Good movie!
Monday was my full day in Copenhagen. And again…raining. And cold. I had at least wised up a touch and added another layer to my non-winter wear, putting my black hoodie over my track jacket, over my sweater, over a long sleeved shirt. We walked through Nyhavn again and then headed out to check out the city. We walked around the harbor and saw the Opera across the water as well as the spot where the Royal ships would’ve docked to head to the Palace of the King. Turning around you could see it in a straight shot ahead so we walked over there to check it out. There was a great statue of Frederick V in the center of the Palace area and while I was taking pictures I couldn’t help notice some other tourists taking photos of the Palace guards. Those poor guys. They just have to stand there and take it. We moved on to the church laying just beyond whose name escapes me at the moment. From far away I thought it WAS the palace of the king rather than the buildings to my right and left. D’oh. Dumb American – sees a rotunda and thinks it’s where the King would live.
After the brush with royalty it was onto the military and we headed to the fortress, “Kastellet: Citadellet Frederikshavn.” The grounds for the fortress were amazing and if the weather was better I would’ve been content to wander the grounds all day. I kept thinking it would be a great place to see a historical reenactment. It belongs to the Danish Defence so we had to be on our best behavior so we wouldn’t get booted.
Next it was time to see the Danish equivalent of the “Mannekin-Pis” – the statue of the Little Mermaid by Edvard Eriksen in the harbor. Why the little mermaid? Because long before it was envisioned by Disney it w
as written by Hans Christian Andersen and served as inspiration for the statue. Eriksen wanted to use the prima ballerina Ellen Price who had been in the ballet version of the story at the Royal Theatre as a model for the statue but she didn’t want to pose nude for him. Instead he used his wife’s body as the model and Price’s face for the head. I’d heard that like the Pissing Boy of Belgium it is one of those statues where you think “really? This is it?” It’s diminutive in size, especially in contrast to the rest of the harbor area. But it’s still a “must see” and I was fortunate enough to catch her when I did. She’s apparently about to go on tour in China so not only did I get to see her but I also got to see another statue that will take her place while she’s on tour. There will be a few actually but there was only one up at the moment and I just loved it. It was a statue of a very obese naked woman sitting on the shoulders of a lanky, skinny African man and the fat woman was holding the scales of justice in his hand. The statue is called “Survival of the Fattest," was done by a Danish sculptor and represents the wealth of nations resting on the backs of those that are usurped.“I’m sitting on the back of a man.
He is sinking under the burden.
I would do anything to help him.
Except stepping down from his back”
Justitia (western goddess of justice)
It was brilliant, part of the sevenmeters.net project (check it out) and made the trek in the rain totally worth it. I liked the Little Mermaid too!
We stopped into a café called “Delish” to warm up and when I saw the prices I was bummed we were too cold
and wet to set out to find the coffee place Wim suggested where you get free pastry with your coffee. My pants were wet from dragging on the ground and I was sure I’d end up with a cold by the time the day was over. But we pushed on anyway and headed next to the cemetery. I had mentioned to Chris when he was in Malta that I’d like to see one so he indulged me. Unfortunately I didn’t think ahead enough to try to find the one Hans Christian Andersen is buried at, so we ended up at the closest one instead. I must say, it was gorgeous and looked more like a park than a cemetery. Each family plot area was sectioned off with greenery and the emphasis throughout was on a natural look. Many of the stones were rough looking as if they hadn’t even been finished but rather just fished out of a pond somewhere. I found several tombstones that bore my mother’s maiden name – Dahl – so I made sure to take photos of those despite knowing that I probably had no connection to them. Our family story is that the name was shortened at Ellis island when my grandfather’s family came over from Sweden. But then again…you never know.My favorite inscription at the cemetery was,
“Grant me a sense of humor Lord, give me the grace to see a joke.
To get some happiness from life and pass it on to other folk.”
Next it was on to the National Museum because I wanted to see their ethnographic collection. On the way we stopped to get take-away food because it was the cheapest thing to do. I should probably mention that the exchange rate is currently at about 5 to 1 in Denmark and everything is more expensive than it was in Belgium. Something at home that would cost around $5 costs about $8 there. Kinda like those $10 beers – granted they were .5 litre glasses but at home I think I would’ve paid about $8 for that – including tip. I don’t want to complain about it too much but it certainly changed the scope of the trip having to think about what I would spend and how much money I’d have left for when I return to Malta and then back in Milwaukee. Thankfully Chris is such a low key guy and couldn’t care less that we weren’t going out for fancy dinners all the time. He gladly got a hot dog from a stand and I found a place that sold pizza by the slice. Unfortunately when we arrived at the museum we found out that it was closed – despite the fact that the website said they were open on Mondays from October through April or something like that. I was pretty bummed because I wanted to see that exhibit and the museum was free.
We turned instead and headed to another spot that looked important, which ended up being Christansborgs Slot, which has been the location of a castle since the late twelfth century, though the one that stands there now was built in the early 1900s. With an equestrian statue of Frederick VII in the center of the court, the palace now houses administrative offices and several little museums that were also closed, like the royal stables and coaches museum. While we were there some sort of convention seemed to be taking place in the centre involving “smart cars” and we wondered if it was tied to the Green convention as well or just a coincidence. We couldn’t tell if they were being test driven, marketed, shown off, sold or what. Oddly, there ended up being an article about smart cars in Copenhagen in the International Herald on my flight back, but it didn’t mention the event.
We kept walking and saw the building with a spire known as “Borsen’s Spire”. It’s a 17th century piece done on copper and designed with the tails of 4 intertwined dragons. The building was part of the design to make CPH the center of trade in the Baltic during Christian IV’s reign and once housed the stock exchange. It’s now owned by the Chamber of Commerce and not open to the public. Boo.
By then the
sun was setting so I asked if we could take another walk through the shopping street near Nyhavn. As we did so we ended up seeing a film set. We had no clue what it was for – movie, TV show…but there was a whole street scene done up outside one of the corner cafes in the area with lots of extras acting as carolers and street vendors. The main focus of the shot was a family of three – mom, dad, daughter and the female seemed to be the lead. They entered the shot from around the corner with the vendors, laughing delightedly at the picturesque winter scene and as they approached the main entrance to the café the female got a phone call. She excused herself, kissing the man on the cheek and turned off in the direction they’d come from with the man and daughter continuing on their way. They were all speaking Danish and we definitely didn’t recognize anyone there but it was fun to see nonetheless. Especially considering that they were just blocks from the real Christmas bazaar in Nyhavn.At this point Chris and I decided we were freezing and giving up for the day. I was soaked through from the rain and the wind was picking up. We took the train back to his dorm and checked our email. While we were online we noticed Areyl was as well so we ended up getting to chat with her on FB for a while. We asked Chris’ roommate, Rahul, if he would mind if we watched a movie and popped in “I Love You Man” because I hadn’t seen it yet. Good movie!
Off to Copenhagen
On 11/29
My plane to Copenhagen left at 10am so we got up pretty early to catch the bus to the train station. Gratefully it wasn’t raining anymore which made hauling the luggage in the dark of early morning a little more bearable. Wim took the bus with me to the station to make sure I got on the right train. It was so sad saying goodbye to him and it reminded me of last year when I left Gozo and didn’t know when I’d see him again. Thankfully I held myself together and didn’t cry but we both waved like idiots as the train pulled away until we couldn’t see each other anymore. I had such an amazing time. I can’t wait to go back and see him again. I want to see Bruge and Antwerp and some other places as well but mostly I’ll just want to see him. (And Jan, Marjan and Vicky too.) ugh. Sad.
Everything went fine on my flights to CPH. I flew on Swiss Air so I had to connect in Zurich. It kind of stunk because I was going backwards but then again…I’ve never seen the Swiss Alps and the plane ride definitely gave me the opportunity for a great view. I finally arrived in Copenhagen at 2 in the afternoon. Chris was at the airport waiting for me with a sign that said “Jessie’s Girl” which instantly perked me up after my sad trip leaving Wim. It’s a reference to one of our campers from this summer who screamed it at the top of his lungs all of the time. One of those things that was annoying but at the same time you totally loved it.
We took the train to his dorm in Flintholm so I could drop off my luggage before taking a quick walk around the Copenhagen Business School Campus area and the mall near his school. We stopped at the store so I could buy some food to eat at the dorm and cut costs. He made us grilled cheese sandwiches and let me check my emails before we took the train to Copenhagen centre. There was a photo exhibit in the town centre that ties to the upcoming Green conference that’s taking place in Copenhagen. It’s called “100 Places” and it’s these brilliant photos of places that are threatened because of current climate and environmental issues. Check it out online at www.100places.com. Considering it was a cold night and the exhibit was outside it was surprising to see so many people checking it out. But the pictures were compelling, huge, and lit up at night so that as you walked through the circle of photos the next one in the row caught your attention and you had to check it out before you could move on. Next we took a night walk in Nyhavn – the spot that, if you look up Copenhagen on the internet you’ll surely get a photo. It’s a row of colorful businesses, shops and restaurants lining the canal in this amazingly picturesque setting. Not to mention that while I was there, they too had a Christmas bazaar set up with additional vendors. The weather in Copenhagen was colder still than in Leuven…probably down to 30 degrees. I had on a sweater and a track jacket because of course I didn’t pack a winter coat, hat, or mittens for a trip to the Mediterranean and couldn’t think past it to plan for the rest of my trip.
After we walked the main shopping strip we decided to dip into a bar and warm up with a pint. On the way we were texting with our friend Jeff Ball from camp about being in CPH. We teased him saying it was a new camp trip and he actually believed us. That had us in stitches for awhile as we imagined what several of our campers would be like with passports in their hands. We found a place called Heidi’s that was dead compared to the packed bars that were playing the soccer match. The beers came in .5 L glasses. I liked the sizing but they cost approx $10 a pop. Ouch. Amidst the 2 beers a piece we got to hear some choice music including a favorite Lionel Richie song (Do It to me One more time). But the weirdest part was when we were talking about something from the movie “The Lion King” and at that exact moment “Can you feel the love tonight” by Elton John came on. Bizarre. By the time we walked back and caught the train and then walked back to Chris’s apartment it was 2am before we went to bed.
My plane to Copenhagen left at 10am so we got up pretty early to catch the bus to the train station. Gratefully it wasn’t raining anymore which made hauling the luggage in the dark of early morning a little more bearable. Wim took the bus with me to the station to make sure I got on the right train. It was so sad saying goodbye to him and it reminded me of last year when I left Gozo and didn’t know when I’d see him again. Thankfully I held myself together and didn’t cry but we both waved like idiots as the train pulled away until we couldn’t see each other anymore. I had such an amazing time. I can’t wait to go back and see him again. I want to see Bruge and Antwerp and some other places as well but mostly I’ll just want to see him. (And Jan, Marjan and Vicky too.) ugh. Sad.
Everything went fine on my flights to CPH. I flew on Swiss Air so I had to connect in Zurich. It kind of stunk because I was going backwards but then again…I’ve never seen the Swiss Alps and the plane ride definitely gave me the opportunity for a great view. I finally arrived in Copenhagen at 2 in the afternoon. Chris was at the airport waiting for me with a sign that said “Jessie’s Girl” which instantly perked me up after my sad trip leaving Wim. It’s a reference to one of our campers from this summer who screamed it at the top of his lungs all of the time. One of those things that was annoying but at the same time you totally loved it.
We took the train to his dorm in Flintholm so I could drop off my luggage before taking a quick walk around the Copenhagen Business School Campus area and the mall near his school. We stopped at the store so I could buy some food to eat at the dorm and cut costs. He made us grilled cheese sandwiches and let me check my emails before we took the train to Copenhagen centre. There was a photo exhibit in the town centre that ties to the upcoming Green conference that’s taking place in Copenhagen. It’s called “100 Places” and it’s these brilliant photos of places that are threatened because of current climate and environmental issues. Check it out online at www.100places.com. Considering it was a cold night and the exhibit was outside it was surprising to see so many people checking it out. But the pictures were compelling, huge, and lit up at night so that as you walked through the circle of photos the next one in the row caught your attention and you had to check it out before you could move on. Next we took a night walk in Nyhavn – the spot that, if you look up Copenhagen on the internet you’ll surely get a photo. It’s a row of colorful businesses, shops and restaurants lining the canal in this amazingly picturesque setting. Not to mention that while I was there, they too had a Christmas bazaar set up with additional vendors. The weather in Copenhagen was colder still than in Leuven…probably down to 30 degrees. I had on a sweater and a track jacket because of course I didn’t pack a winter coat, hat, or mittens for a trip to the Mediterranean and couldn’t think past it to plan for the rest of my trip.
After we walked the main shopping strip we decided to dip into a bar and warm up with a pint. On the way we were texting with our friend Jeff Ball from camp about being in CPH. We teased him saying it was a new camp trip and he actually believed us. That had us in stitches for awhile as we imagined what several of our campers would be like with passports in their hands. We found a place called Heidi’s that was dead compared to the packed bars that were playing the soccer match. The beers came in .5 L glasses. I liked the sizing but they cost approx $10 a pop. Ouch. Amidst the 2 beers a piece we got to hear some choice music including a favorite Lionel Richie song (Do It to me One more time). But the weirdest part was when we were talking about something from the movie “The Lion King” and at that exact moment “Can you feel the love tonight” by Elton John came on. Bizarre. By the time we walked back and caught the train and then walked back to Chris’s apartment it was 2am before we went to bed.
Last Day in Leuven
On 11/28…
My last day in Leuven. We decided to stick around and see a few things we hadn’t hit yet, as well as try to get a few “souvenir” items. Wim took me on a bit of a tour of some of his campus buildings which was really neat. One part of the property is home to the oldest tree in Leuven. On the way we met up with Jan who was out and about studying and so we took the sandwiches we made and headed for the public library where there were some benches to sit on inside while we ate. Smart move Wim! Money saving AND warm!
On our way into the cit
y centre I got a really amazing surprise. Sinterklaas was in front of town hall! The Belgians really celebrate “St. Nick’s Day” big time on 12/5 and so the city centre was decorated with lights and trees as well as images of Sinterklaas and his helper, Zwarte Piet.” They apparently arrive in Belgium via a train from Spain. When we got to the square there was a sleigh with Sinterklaas, Piet, and several helpers led by two horses and a military marching band! I took a lot of pictures and resisted the urge to have Wim take my picture with Sinterklaus. (only because even the children weren’t getting them taken – it wasn’t really a photo op…more of a drive-by.)
We headed to a small Beguinage which wasn’t as amazing as the bigger one I saw on my first day but was still nice and gave a good perspective of something different. It also was an example of one that was whitewashed so that was interesting to see. The church there had an interesting addition placed next to/underneath it that I couldn’t help be puzzled by…a comic book museum. Yeah…that makes sense. I’m pretty sure Jesus liked Calvin and Hobbes. ???
I wanted to go to the coffee shop/bookstore one last time and have my last Nocciolato. The three of us talked about our plans for Wim and Jan to hopefully visit the U.S. someday soon. This next year is a big one for them for travel, as they are going to Iceland and hopefully Thailand. So that means it might not be until 2011 and who knows if I’ll even be in Milwaukee by then. Of course, Wim’s dream is to go to New York so maybe we’ll end up meeting there instead. But it was still fun explaining to them what kinds of things we’d do if they did come to the Midwest for a visit. It made me miss home a bit but knowing my return is fast approaching made it easy to get over myself. After the coffee was over I had to say goodbye to Jan as he was heading home to spend the rest of the weekend with his parents/family. Sad.
Wim and I left for the train station to meet up with Leen, his other friend, who had spent the last night in Bruge with some other friends. She was originally invited to Thanksgiving but couldn’t make it so we had dinner with her instead. Before dinner they wanted to take me to their favorite shop in Leuven. It kind of reminded me of a crafts person version of the Organika store in Gozo. They sold all kinds of ribbons and fabrics as well as stuff for jewelry making, ornaments, and all kinds of make-it-yourself décor. If you’ve ever seen the movie “Penelope” then it will make sense when I say that it seemed like the kind of place she would’ve bought supplies to make her clothes and decorate her room. Very cute.
We wanted to go to a Mexican restaurant but it wasn’t open until 6:30 so we dipped into a nearby bar for a quick “aperitif” before we ate. I had a Carlsberg though I should’ve gotten one last Belgian brew. Thankfully they sell quite a bit of variety of the Belgian stuff back at home these days. It was great meeting Leen and I can see why she and Karen are Wim’s closest pals. They are really fun and both have amazing senses of humor and are smart as well. He’s a lucky guy to be able to hang out with both of them and have someone as amazing as Jan in his life too! We moved to the Mexican restaurant where both Lien and Wim were surprised when I told them that at home we don’t really eat Mexican without a Margarita or Daiquiri or Sangria or something. I was relieved they had them on the menu! I hadn’t seen anything like that yet in Belgium and I’ve definitely not seen something like that in Gozo! The food was really amazing but still not the same as at home. I can’t wait to eat some Jalapeno Loco or Botanas. Yum.
Unfortunately Leen had to take the train back home still and it was raining again so we parted ways after dinner. Wim and I debated going to a bar but it was cold and already raining pretty hard. We decided to go home instead and even had to use the umbrellas while riding the bikes. We ended the evening by watching one of Wim’s favorite comedies, “Guesthouse Paradiso.” I guess it was a feature length film made out of a British comedy series. It wasn’t exactly my kind of humor and I felt bad that I didn’t like it more just because I know how much Wim loves it. But I guess we can’t agree on everything!
My last day in Leuven. We decided to stick around and see a few things we hadn’t hit yet, as well as try to get a few “souvenir” items. Wim took me on a bit of a tour of some of his campus buildings which was really neat. One part of the property is home to the oldest tree in Leuven. On the way we met up with Jan who was out and about studying and so we took the sandwiches we made and headed for the public library where there were some benches to sit on inside while we ate. Smart move Wim! Money saving AND warm!
On our way into the cit
y centre I got a really amazing surprise. Sinterklaas was in front of town hall! The Belgians really celebrate “St. Nick’s Day” big time on 12/5 and so the city centre was decorated with lights and trees as well as images of Sinterklaas and his helper, Zwarte Piet.” They apparently arrive in Belgium via a train from Spain. When we got to the square there was a sleigh with Sinterklaas, Piet, and several helpers led by two horses and a military marching band! I took a lot of pictures and resisted the urge to have Wim take my picture with Sinterklaus. (only because even the children weren’t getting them taken – it wasn’t really a photo op…more of a drive-by.)We headed to a small Beguinage which wasn’t as amazing as the bigger one I saw on my first day but was still nice and gave a good perspective of something different. It also was an example of one that was whitewashed so that was interesting to see. The church there had an interesting addition placed next to/underneath it that I couldn’t help be puzzled by…a comic book museum. Yeah…that makes sense. I’m pretty sure Jesus liked Calvin and Hobbes. ???
I wanted to go to the coffee shop/bookstore one last time and have my last Nocciolato. The three of us talked about our plans for Wim and Jan to hopefully visit the U.S. someday soon. This next year is a big one for them for travel, as they are going to Iceland and hopefully Thailand. So that means it might not be until 2011 and who knows if I’ll even be in Milwaukee by then. Of course, Wim’s dream is to go to New York so maybe we’ll end up meeting there instead. But it was still fun explaining to them what kinds of things we’d do if they did come to the Midwest for a visit. It made me miss home a bit but knowing my return is fast approaching made it easy to get over myself. After the coffee was over I had to say goodbye to Jan as he was heading home to spend the rest of the weekend with his parents/family. Sad.
Wim and I left for the train station to meet up with Leen, his other friend, who had spent the last night in Bruge with some other friends. She was originally invited to Thanksgiving but couldn’t make it so we had dinner with her instead. Before dinner they wanted to take me to their favorite shop in Leuven. It kind of reminded me of a crafts person version of the Organika store in Gozo. They sold all kinds of ribbons and fabrics as well as stuff for jewelry making, ornaments, and all kinds of make-it-yourself décor. If you’ve ever seen the movie “Penelope” then it will make sense when I say that it seemed like the kind of place she would’ve bought supplies to make her clothes and decorate her room. Very cute.
We wanted to go to a Mexican restaurant but it wasn’t open until 6:30 so we dipped into a nearby bar for a quick “aperitif” before we ate. I had a Carlsberg though I should’ve gotten one last Belgian brew. Thankfully they sell quite a bit of variety of the Belgian stuff back at home these days. It was great meeting Leen and I can see why she and Karen are Wim’s closest pals. They are really fun and both have amazing senses of humor and are smart as well. He’s a lucky guy to be able to hang out with both of them and have someone as amazing as Jan in his life too! We moved to the Mexican restaurant where both Lien and Wim were surprised when I told them that at home we don’t really eat Mexican without a Margarita or Daiquiri or Sangria or something. I was relieved they had them on the menu! I hadn’t seen anything like that yet in Belgium and I’ve definitely not seen something like that in Gozo! The food was really amazing but still not the same as at home. I can’t wait to eat some Jalapeno Loco or Botanas. Yum.
Unfortunately Leen had to take the train back home still and it was raining again so we parted ways after dinner. Wim and I debated going to a bar but it was cold and already raining pretty hard. We decided to go home instead and even had to use the umbrellas while riding the bikes. We ended the evening by watching one of Wim’s favorite comedies, “Guesthouse Paradiso.” I guess it was a feature length film made out of a British comedy series. It wasn’t exactly my kind of humor and I felt bad that I didn’t like it more just because I know how much Wim loves it. But I guess we can’t agree on everything!
A Day in Maastricht, Holland
On 11/27…
Wim and I took the train from Leuven to visit Riemst, the town he grew up in. We were planning to take a train at 10:30 but some plans changed and we needed to catch the 10 o’clock train instead. This meant kicking it into high gear, dashing out the door, realizing I didn’t have the key for my bike, dashing back up and realizing I DID have it, hopping on the bikes and booking it for the station. We locked the bikes and ran to the train just in time. It was a relief but I was dripping sweat. No joke. (Thanks Gozo for teaching me how to sweat!) His mom volunteered to pick us up from the train station which was a delight because she also gave me a tour of Tongeren, the town she grew up in. The whole country side of that area was lush and green and I thought it was beautiful. The church in Riemst is over 900 years old and the whole area just oozes history. I loved it.
Wim’s mom took us to their home so she could make us lunch which was really nice considering she is in the mid
st of some painting and renovations. It was nice to have a mom fuss over us and it was great to see them interacting together. It really made me miss my own mom but also made me even more happy to be there. There’s just something about being around moms that isn’t like anything else. I was really grateful she took the time out of her day to spend it with us. It was soothing and nice in that calming way mothers have. I could’ve sat at that table drinking her coffee and sharing stories for a week. But Maastricht was calling and Mrs. Peumans offered to drive us there so we headed out.
They had said that crossing the border from Belgium to Holland you would notice the difference in architecture despite the fact that they are only 9km apart…and man was that true. I couldn’t believe the difference. Gone was the monochromatic red brick look and in its place were similar buildings but with more color, subtle differences in the windows and the roofs…of course, one thing didn’t change. The rain. Ugh. We headed for the square in Maastricht where there was a holiday carnival set up in the center, complete with ferris wheel. Unfortunately you had t
o pay to get in so we decided against it.
Wim and I took the train from Leuven to visit Riemst, the town he grew up in. We were planning to take a train at 10:30 but some plans changed and we needed to catch the 10 o’clock train instead. This meant kicking it into high gear, dashing out the door, realizing I didn’t have the key for my bike, dashing back up and realizing I DID have it, hopping on the bikes and booking it for the station. We locked the bikes and ran to the train just in time. It was a relief but I was dripping sweat. No joke. (Thanks Gozo for teaching me how to sweat!) His mom volunteered to pick us up from the train station which was a delight because she also gave me a tour of Tongeren, the town she grew up in. The whole country side of that area was lush and green and I thought it was beautiful. The church in Riemst is over 900 years old and the whole area just oozes history. I loved it.
Wim’s mom took us to their home so she could make us lunch which was really nice considering she is in the mid
st of some painting and renovations. It was nice to have a mom fuss over us and it was great to see them interacting together. It really made me miss my own mom but also made me even more happy to be there. There’s just something about being around moms that isn’t like anything else. I was really grateful she took the time out of her day to spend it with us. It was soothing and nice in that calming way mothers have. I could’ve sat at that table drinking her coffee and sharing stories for a week. But Maastricht was calling and Mrs. Peumans offered to drive us there so we headed out.They had said that crossing the border from Belgium to Holland you would notice the difference in architecture despite the fact that they are only 9km apart…and man was that true. I couldn’t believe the difference. Gone was the monochromatic red brick look and in its place were similar buildings but with more color, subtle differences in the windows and the roofs…of course, one thing didn’t change. The rain. Ugh. We headed for the square in Maastricht where there was a holiday carnival set up in the center, complete with ferris wheel. Unfortunately you had t
o pay to get in so we decided against it. We opted instead to head to Wim’s favorite place for coffee in the world. It’s a huge book store and coffee shop inside of an old cathedral. It’s the most ingenious use of space I think I’ve ever seen. And the coffee isn’t bad either! I got another Nocciolato to compare it to the ones at the place in Leuven. It was prepared different, coming with the flavor and coffee pre-mixed rather than having to stir it yourself. But it was still delicious and warm and it was a perfect way to escape a downpour. Wim and I particularly enjoyed people watching in this space as there were so many different kinds of people to check out here. As Wim is a fellow book lover, it didn’t take much arm twisting on either of our parts to go check out the selection of books before we decided the rain had let up enough to move on.
Our next stop was at a place where I could try “pofferties” or little, mini pancakes (maybe the size of a .50 cent piece.) We went to a place that was the equivalent of a malt shop though Wim said there it would be called a “tea room.” They sold pofferties, ice cream, waffles…all kinds of treats. The pofferties were served with powdered sugar and melted butter. Delightful. I could’ve eaten about a hundred of them. Thankfully for this fat American we ordered the single portion each which is only 6 a piece. Whew.
Onward through Maastricht and by then it had stopped raining. Wim needed to make a detour to a store in a mall where they sell the coffee he needs for his espresso machine. We passed from here through a more high end boutique area and saw a storefront window for an undergarment designer who decided to dress up the mannequins like pirates. That was bizarre and awesome and I made sure to take pictures for my pirate lovin’ friend Areyl. We were near the canal so we went across it on one side so I could take some pictures and get a view of the other side of Maastricht before the sun finished setting. We then went back along the other side of the bridge so we could check out another store back the way we came and then we turned around and went back finally over the bridge to the other section of Maastricht. By then the sun had set and so we got to see the Christmas lights hanging over the streets and in the trees all lit up. We walked through an area where the campus was and got to see a part of a photo exhibit of World Press photos in their library. (We wanted to go in and see the whole thing but the building was closed.) www.worldpressphotos.org.
It was quite cold once it was finally dark and so we wound up our visit and headed to the train station in Maastricht to head back to Leuven. Jan was making us dinner and the train ride would be more than an hour. Unfortunately after we bought our ticket at the station they made an announcement that the train we wanted was cancelled. We had to sit in the bar at the station (because sitting at a bar is such a bummer!) and have a beer while we warmed up and waited for the next train. Poor Jan having to work making dinner around us trying to get home. Agh. He still managed to make a really nice pesto pasta with broccoli and it was great to get inside to a warm meal after another full day of sight-seeing outside in the cold and rain. Wim and I stayed up again talking for a very long time. You’d think that we’d get tired of it but there’s something to be said for knowing it could be years before you see someone again. It’s like you don’t want to waste one moment, even if you might run out of things to say. Thankfully that was never really an issue – we always had something to gab about.
Our next stop was at a place where I could try “pofferties” or little, mini pancakes (maybe the size of a .50 cent piece.) We went to a place that was the equivalent of a malt shop though Wim said there it would be called a “tea room.” They sold pofferties, ice cream, waffles…all kinds of treats. The pofferties were served with powdered sugar and melted butter. Delightful. I could’ve eaten about a hundred of them. Thankfully for this fat American we ordered the single portion each which is only 6 a piece. Whew.
Onward through Maastricht and by then it had stopped raining. Wim needed to make a detour to a store in a mall where they sell the coffee he needs for his espresso machine. We passed from here through a more high end boutique area and saw a storefront window for an undergarment designer who decided to dress up the mannequins like pirates. That was bizarre and awesome and I made sure to take pictures for my pirate lovin’ friend Areyl. We were near the canal so we went across it on one side so I could take some pictures and get a view of the other side of Maastricht before the sun finished setting. We then went back along the other side of the bridge so we could check out another store back the way we came and then we turned around and went back finally over the bridge to the other section of Maastricht. By then the sun had set and so we got to see the Christmas lights hanging over the streets and in the trees all lit up. We walked through an area where the campus was and got to see a part of a photo exhibit of World Press photos in their library. (We wanted to go in and see the whole thing but the building was closed.) www.worldpressphotos.org.
It was quite cold once it was finally dark and so we wound up our visit and headed to the train station in Maastricht to head back to Leuven. Jan was making us dinner and the train ride would be more than an hour. Unfortunately after we bought our ticket at the station they made an announcement that the train we wanted was cancelled. We had to sit in the bar at the station (because sitting at a bar is such a bummer!) and have a beer while we warmed up and waited for the next train. Poor Jan having to work making dinner around us trying to get home. Agh. He still managed to make a really nice pesto pasta with broccoli and it was great to get inside to a warm meal after another full day of sight-seeing outside in the cold and rain. Wim and I stayed up again talking for a very long time. You’d think that we’d get tired of it but there’s something to be said for knowing it could be years before you see someone again. It’s like you don’t want to waste one moment, even if you might run out of things to say. Thankfully that was never really an issue – we always had something to gab about.
Thanksgiving in Leuven
On 11/26…
We had Thanksgiving! Wim was a great sport about the fact that I was away from my family for such a big American holiday. We decided we’d try to make some typical Thanksgiving dishes if we could find the right ingredients. My Aunt Gayle had sent me her recipe for Pumpkin Apple Butter (a spread for bread that actually doesn’t have butter in it) and since Wim and Jan are vegetarians we decided we’d also make sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce and green bean casserole. It’s a good thing we treated ourselves to sleeping in a little (as well as another Nocciolato at the coffee shop/bookstore) because the rest of the day was a frenzy of shopping and cooking.
Now, as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t normally like cooking but I was determined to give Wim a taste of what our big holiday is all about so I threw myself into it. We hit a few snags at the grocery store…the “French’s Fried Onions” we usually use at home for green bean casserole are called “Baked Onions” there. Also, canned pumpkin isn’t something they keep in stock, but thankfully the organic store had a couple of jars of pumpkin puree that was pretty much the same thing (though a whopping 3,6€ for about 8 oz). We had just about everything we needed when I about had a coronary in the soup aisle. I couldn’t find any cream of mushroom soup! How would we have green bean casserole without it? And they didn’t even have the next best thing, cream of chicken (though that would hardly be vegetarian). All they had was Cream of Asparagus. Uck. We finally found some (whew!) and also managed to grab the only 4 sweet potatoes in all of Leuven.
Back in the kitchen we set to
work with the recipes we grabbed offline as well as the one from Aunt Gayle. Thankfully she was smart enough to give us the breakdown of the spices that make up “pumpkin spice” so we were able to create it ourselves (ginger, cinnamon, allspice and nutmeg). I’d never toasted pecans before so that was interesting (but worked out just fine). We also had a snag with the cranberry sauce but it’s not worth mentioning, though I will say that I’m sure Wim and Jan will be eating cranberries for about the next month. Wim had invited his friend Karen to join us and she arrived around 6pm. Dinner wasn’t done until 7 owing to the long simmer time of that pumpkin apple butter. Karen washed dishes while we finished cooking and we all sat down to eat right at 7. Oh and Wim also made a bread that had pumpkin seeds in it. Not the same as “pumpkin bread” but it was a perfect compliment to the pumpkin apple butter.
Over dinner we talked about what Thanksgiving and holidays are like in the U.S. They all couldn’t believe how much more food we usually have out at our meal at home when I told them what other dishes we would usually have: turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, “party potatoes”, corn, possibly a carrot and cauliflower casserole, deviled eggs, canned cranberry sauce (gotta love the can marks!), pumpkin bread, pumpkin torte or pumpkin pie or pecan pie (or maybe all three). I was almost embarrassed to admit that most of the time we even have pre-dinner snacks as well! They also shared what Christmas and New Year’s are usually like for them. After the first wave of food, we ate in spurts, all of us enjoying it so much that we wanted to have seconds yet realizing even those 4 small dishes were enough to fill us up. Eventually in true American style we all admitted to being stuffed. Between the great food, the good wine and the excellent company it was a truly nice way to spend a Thanksgiving away from family. I was very grateful that I wasn’t alone in Gozo. Karen couldn’t stay all night, having to catch a bus back home. But after she left, Wim, Jan and I moved to their living room area and kept the “party” going by talking and watching clips of funny stuff on youtube they wanted me to see. They finally understood why we normally don’t do much of anything after we eat because we’re so full!
The best part of Thanksgiving was when I got a call from my family towards the end of the evening. It was so heartwarming having the phone pass around between my dad, sister, nephew and brother-in-law. I think my favorite part was listening to Logan count to 30 in Spanish. *sigh* I can’t wait to see him when I get home.
We had Thanksgiving! Wim was a great sport about the fact that I was away from my family for such a big American holiday. We decided we’d try to make some typical Thanksgiving dishes if we could find the right ingredients. My Aunt Gayle had sent me her recipe for Pumpkin Apple Butter (a spread for bread that actually doesn’t have butter in it) and since Wim and Jan are vegetarians we decided we’d also make sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce and green bean casserole. It’s a good thing we treated ourselves to sleeping in a little (as well as another Nocciolato at the coffee shop/bookstore) because the rest of the day was a frenzy of shopping and cooking.
Now, as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t normally like cooking but I was determined to give Wim a taste of what our big holiday is all about so I threw myself into it. We hit a few snags at the grocery store…the “French’s Fried Onions” we usually use at home for green bean casserole are called “Baked Onions” there. Also, canned pumpkin isn’t something they keep in stock, but thankfully the organic store had a couple of jars of pumpkin puree that was pretty much the same thing (though a whopping 3,6€ for about 8 oz). We had just about everything we needed when I about had a coronary in the soup aisle. I couldn’t find any cream of mushroom soup! How would we have green bean casserole without it? And they didn’t even have the next best thing, cream of chicken (though that would hardly be vegetarian). All they had was Cream of Asparagus. Uck. We finally found some (whew!) and also managed to grab the only 4 sweet potatoes in all of Leuven.
Back in the kitchen we set to
work with the recipes we grabbed offline as well as the one from Aunt Gayle. Thankfully she was smart enough to give us the breakdown of the spices that make up “pumpkin spice” so we were able to create it ourselves (ginger, cinnamon, allspice and nutmeg). I’d never toasted pecans before so that was interesting (but worked out just fine). We also had a snag with the cranberry sauce but it’s not worth mentioning, though I will say that I’m sure Wim and Jan will be eating cranberries for about the next month. Wim had invited his friend Karen to join us and she arrived around 6pm. Dinner wasn’t done until 7 owing to the long simmer time of that pumpkin apple butter. Karen washed dishes while we finished cooking and we all sat down to eat right at 7. Oh and Wim also made a bread that had pumpkin seeds in it. Not the same as “pumpkin bread” but it was a perfect compliment to the pumpkin apple butter.Over dinner we talked about what Thanksgiving and holidays are like in the U.S. They all couldn’t believe how much more food we usually have out at our meal at home when I told them what other dishes we would usually have: turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, “party potatoes”, corn, possibly a carrot and cauliflower casserole, deviled eggs, canned cranberry sauce (gotta love the can marks!), pumpkin bread, pumpkin torte or pumpkin pie or pecan pie (or maybe all three). I was almost embarrassed to admit that most of the time we even have pre-dinner snacks as well! They also shared what Christmas and New Year’s are usually like for them. After the first wave of food, we ate in spurts, all of us enjoying it so much that we wanted to have seconds yet realizing even those 4 small dishes were enough to fill us up. Eventually in true American style we all admitted to being stuffed. Between the great food, the good wine and the excellent company it was a truly nice way to spend a Thanksgiving away from family. I was very grateful that I wasn’t alone in Gozo. Karen couldn’t stay all night, having to catch a bus back home. But after she left, Wim, Jan and I moved to their living room area and kept the “party” going by talking and watching clips of funny stuff on youtube they wanted me to see. They finally understood why we normally don’t do much of anything after we eat because we’re so full!
The best part of Thanksgiving was when I got a call from my family towards the end of the evening. It was so heartwarming having the phone pass around between my dad, sister, nephew and brother-in-law. I think my favorite part was listening to Logan count to 30 in Spanish. *sigh* I can’t wait to see him when I get home.
A Day in Brussels
On 11/25…My second day we rode our bikes to the train station and then took the short train ride to Brussels. We were disappointed to find that it was rainy in Brussels as well but we didn’t let that deter us. Wim was a great tour guide and though the city is a lot bigger than Leuven he led me strategically around the city so I could see all of the best parts. This included Belgium’s national symbol, “Manneken-Pis” or “Pissing boy” which is a small statue of…well it’s self defining. The Belgians have really great senses of humor.
We also got to see the Square where they were in the midst of decorating their huge Christmas tree and putting out a very large nativity. (They also had a Christmas bazaar set up in another section of the city – like the one in Gozo but bigger.) Everything we were checking out was outside so we went to a coffee shop called “Café du Vaudeville” – a favorite place for Wim and his mom to frequent when in Brussels. We got seats upstairs next to a window that looked out over the shops and had a coffee (me) and a tea (Wim). We decided to save a bit and had packed our own sandwiches so after we left the coffee shop we strolled the shops and ate our sandwiches, drooling over the chocolatiers as we did so. That wasn’t really too attractive
since we were stuffing our faces with sandwiches at the same time but hey, that’s me. I had a great time amusing/mortifying Wim by purposely eating like a cow and leaning in to check out some of the windows at the really expensive places.We spent the remainder of the afternoon checking out the streets and taking whatever paths seemed to have something we might like to check out. This led us to a really cozy looking street where we decided to stop again at a tea shop because it looked too cute to pass up. This time we both had coffee. I was tempted by the rhubarb cake but Wim reminded me that
I still needed to try one of the waffles before I left as well and we still needed to have dinner. We had plans with Wim’s dad for dinner so we started making the trek over to the portion of Brussels where the parliament building is located. Along the way I got to see the federal parliament building, the palace of justice, and the new music museum which is in this really great nuveau building. We also saw a fabulous garden with a fountain and a statue of two Duke’s who’d been decapitated in the 1500s by the Duke of Alba. Wim took a picture of me in front of it pretending to cut my own throat so I’d remember what the statue was. I thought I was being funny but the picture looks like I’m having a seizure so that’s attractive.We arrived at the Flemish Parliament building pretty much on time. Wim’s father is the current President of the Flemish Parliament and he said to arrive at 4:30, expecting that the plenary session he was leading would be finished by then. After checking through security we discovered that the session was not over. The good news is that the Flem
ish Parliament is one of the only ones in the world that actually allows the public to watch plenary sessions so we were able to check it out. Wim texted down to his father in the middle of the whole thing saying he should look up to the center and we got a huge kick out of it when he looked up at us and waved. The session was in Dutch so I couldn’t understand what they were talking about but Wim translated the main topics for me and then pointed out the layout of the room, showing me where each party sat in the room and who does what for his father. After awhile his dad said they’d take a 10 minute break and then continue deliberation before voting. Wim and I raced to the stairs where we were met by his dad on his way up to his office. Introductions were made and Mr. Peumans said he recognized me from photos Wim showed me. The poor man had 10 minutes to quick go to the toile
t, eat a banana, show me his office, offer me Belgian chocolates, coffee and water, show me the view of the street and get briefed by his wickedly handsome assistant on his 7 p.m. meeting with an official from Bulgaria. Needless to say our dinner was off but I didn’t mind. It was such an honor to be there at the parliament and get to see him in action. Before he took off to head back to work he told us we could hang out in his office for awhile if we wanted to. So there we were, two Joe-nobodies, maxing and relaxing on the leather couches of the President of Flemish Parliament. What a hoot. Wim took a picture of me in the office too. The only thing interrupting us there was Mr. Peumans personal driver asking us if we needed anything. Afterward, Wim said we should’ve told him we wanted to be driven to Bruges for dinner. Ha. We returned to the session because we were curious how the vote would go and so we ended up staying until it ended at 7 p.m.Mr. Peumans had invited us to stay for the Bulgarian cultural evening they were having but Wim and I decided that we’d eat dinner and get back to Leuven. We went to the Italian restaurant his father had recommended but it was closed so we had to come up with an alternate plan. I liked the street the tea shop was on so much that I suggested we find something over there. This meant a nice little hike back to the spot but it was worth it. We ended up in an Italian restaurant afterall. It was cute and the food was good though I think I was more pleased with my dish than Wim was. We saved room for dessert and hit up one of the waffle stands on the way back to the train station. Wim explained that they don’t call them “Belgian Waffles” but rather either “Brussels Waffles” or "Liege Waffles.” The Lieg version are round (though only about half as big as the big round “Belgian” ones we have at home) and are coated with a bit of a sugary/buttery substance before they are cooked so they are nice and sweet even though served plain. The Brussels ones are square and lighter in color than the round ones because they aren’t coated. Instead, they are topped with whip cream, ice cream, strawberries, etc. Basically anything you’d get on a funnel cake back home. Yum. We opted for the “healthier” Liege version without the toppings and ate them on our way to the station.
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