Monthly Archives: February 2023

My Second Favourite Thing About Ghent

You might think that my fav would be the old buildings. Or the rivers and bridges. Or the terraces … also known as patios in Canada.

You’d be wrong.

My number one favourite thing is the people. I can feel the friendly energy in this city and it often comes to my table when I sit down in a pub. Many folks are happy to talk. Of the 400,000 residents, about 80,000 of them are post-secondary students. Ghent is ancient and young. I call it home.

But then there’s my number two favourite. You could guess until the cows come home and not find the answer. Go ahead … knock yourself out.

…………………………………………………………..

Nope. All of your ideas are simply wrong. Would you like a hint? Okay, it’s a living being. And I’ve already mentioned humans as #1 so that’s not it.

The aardvarks, you say? No, I’m pretty sure none of them hang out around here.

All right … it’s a living being that flies. I’ve seen thousands of them since I arrived. They zoom along the Leie River near my home, especially at sunrise and just before sunset. They swoop left and right, they soar, they dive, and I can’t pull my eyes away.

I suppose I’m the only one in town with a seagull fetish but that’s fine. I position myself at a table beside the river on the terrace of the ‘t Kanon pub and watch the show. Couples nearby gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes – I raise my face to the birdie sky.

Today it was sunset before I reached my spot. For the first five minutes there were no seagulls. Also for the second five minutes. I sighed in the probability that I was too late. No gliding wings this evening. It was bittersweet. All I wanted was one gull to show me her majesty. Just one. During the daylight I had seen so many. Now I just wanted one.

For many years I’ve reflected on the absence of something that often is present. The loved one lingers after leaving. The air still ripples with a subtle energy. Usually I smile at the recognition of something beyond the consensus reality. And I smiled tonight.

***

Then a solitary gull grazed the rooftops on its way home …

Tomorrowland

Okay, a skill-testing question:

What’s my favourite type of music?

If you know my history, you’d probably say Bruce Springsteen and Lady Gaga. I love those two … but you’d be wrong.

If you knew of my soujourns in Koerner Hall in Toronto, and my youth as a cello player, classical music might come to mind. I love symphonies with a full orchestra. But again you haven’t found the mother lode.

Are you ready?

Techno or EDM.

Driving beats, all electronic. Fabulous light shows. And dancing! I love the DJ Tiesto and the tunes he spins.

I’ve never been to an EDM festival. I suppose everyone will be twenty. I’ll dance like them but I’ll get tired faster. More breaks. And then back at it.

I arrived in Belgium ten days ago with visions of Tomorrowland in my heart. That’s the techno festival in the appropriately named town of Boom, in eastern Belgium.

Awhile ago I registered for Tomorrowland so I could have a chance of getting a ticket. The pre-sale (with discounted prices) was on January 28. Regular prices on February 4

“I’m going to Tomorrowland” sang in my heart.

I was all set at 5:00 pm on the 28th. I entered the ticket shop beforehand and then the process was random. I lounged on the sofa while staring at my Samsung screen. I waited. Eventually a sign showed up saying that all the discount tickets were sold. Come back next week.

(Sigh)

On Saturday I was ready again. Surely they’ll be many thousands of tickets this time. Bruce and Boom sounded so good.

When I entered the ticket shop before 5:00, a sign told me not to refresh the page or I’d be shunted to the end of the line.

“I’m a smart guy. I can do that.”

5:05 … 5:10. Nothing. I got up to do something, phone in hand. My time in history was approaching!

As I sat down again, I glanced down at the screen. It was the Tomorrowland home page. I guess my jiggling and wiggling had refreshed the page.

“You, Mr. Bruce, are at the end of the line.”

(Sigh again)

The end of the story is that I’m not going to Tomorrowland in 2023.

What I am going to is a smaller EDM festival – Core, which will be for two days in late May in Brussels. What the hell! I’m going to dance with a few thousand fewer of my best friends.

Give me the dance, the lights, the bass notes roaming through my body. I’ll take Brussels, thank you.

Someone Is Smiling On Me

I knew Friday would be a big day. It was time to register with the city of Ghent. My visa to live in Belgium was approved four weeks ago, while I was in Canada. The Belgian Consulate in Montreal attached my brand new visa to the passport and mailed it back to me in Toronto. After I landed in Brussels last Saturday, the rule was that I had eight days to register with Ghent. I tried on Wednesday but the Ghent Administration Office was closed until Friday because they were moving to a new building.

Okay, those are the details. On Friday, I put all the originals of the necessary documents in my little backpack and started walking to Woodrow Wilsonplein, the square in Ghent where the office is. Momentous. Changing countries. New city. New home.

I took a number and after twenty minutes walked up to a friendly service representative. All that happened was that I was given an appointment for February 21. The cool thing was how welcoming she was. And making the appointment was good enough to fulfill my eight-day responsibility.

There was a skip in my step as I wandered away from the office. Soon I was beside the Leie River, and a row of blue metal chairs invited me to take a load off … to celebrate. So I did. My mind was as airy as the seagulls flying by. I watched two guys on the far shore having an animated conversation. The tram whizzed by on the nearby Veldstraat. I love the ring of its bell. Folks filled the street.

I was a smiley type of guy. All was well. Why not mosey over to one of my favourite pubs – Café de Loge – for a thrilling Belgian beer? Why not indeed? I raised my bod from the chair and headed off down a marvelous curving street full of buildings that are 200-300 years old. I felt LIGHT!

Wait a minute – a little too light. I reached behind for the backpack strap … and it was not to be found. I uttered a well-known expletive and whirled around. Passport, visa, originals of essential documents – O my God, please may they be there! Around one corner, now two. The third one would give me a view of those blue chairs. I had put my backpack on the ground beside the rightmost one.

The corner of the last building, and then revealed was my backpack, sitting on top of the chair. O my God again! Somebody moved it. As my legs sped up my feet, and I was only metres away, there stood a young man. I pointed to my chest. He nodded … and smiled.

“I hoped you’d come back.” Me too. “I didn’t look inside. You’re very lucky.” Agreed.

We talked for a few minutes, after I had ripped open the pack and found everything intact. He was a nice guy, a really nice guy.

Thank you, whoever is watching over me in life. (Sigh) I am blessed.