I wrote a blog post yesterday while sitting in Izy Coffee.  It was about today’s cello concert.  I’m more excited than nervous.  Cool.

“Now what? I know … I’ll go to my favourite place to drink beer – Café Come Back” (on Emilius Seghersplein).

It was a tidy walk from Izy’s, and there was a spring in my step.  I said on Facebook exactly what I wanted to say.

I walked in – and looky looky – the Tour de France was on the TV above the door.  I ordered a very cool beer – Westmalle Tripel – with an alcohol content of 9.5%.  “Careful, Bruce.  Only one.”

On the phone, I was following the score of a Wimbleton tennis match featuring one of my favourite players – 16-year-old Mirra Andreeva from Russia.  She keeps upsetting players ranked far above her.

And … there’s a jukebox!  For two euros, I could play seven of my favourite songs. I chose Adele, Bruce Springsteen, Lady Gaga, and other folks I forget. In front of me, along with my friend Westmalle, was a round table … perfect for playing piano. Do you realize that you never hit a wrong note when you play table piano?

So … the climb of the Col du Tourmalet in the Tour, Mirra close to winning her match against one of the best players in the world, the seeping effects of alcohol, the sweetness of Adele’s “Someone Like You” and inspired table piano playing … it was a perfect storm of happiness.

The race really got my juices going and I heard myself asking for another Westmalle. “Uh oh.”

An hour later, I gracefully stumbled out of the café and headed home. Seeing the door of my favourite church open, I walked in and sat down. The Carmelite Church on the Burgstraat is a wonder.

Ten minutes later, a Mass began. Oops. I decided to stay, despite my wavering head.

The priest spoke in Flemish. At least fifty times, he said something that included the words Jesus (Yay-zoos) and Maria. Each time the congregation would respond in Flemish. Often there were long periods of silence, which usually I love, but it was becoming harder for the body to stay vertical.

The chair I had chosen faced two statues: a Roman soldier stabbing a monk. Every time I snapped out of my slumber, here’s what I saw:

I kept hoping the priest would say the Dutch equivalent of “Go in peace.” Actually any form of “go” would have worked for me.

After an hour of Mass, with no end in sight, I hauled myself out of the church.

Slow as she goes, I found my way to the apartment. My eyes closed. My head spun.

***

The whole thing was so surreal

And I’m happy