“Nice guys finish last.” So said the baseball manager Leo Durocher. On Sunday, Leo was proved wrong.

Sepp Kuss won the Vuelta a España, a three-week cycling race in Spain. Here’s a celebration with his teammates only minutes before the finish line:

I love the pointing.

Most especially, Sepp is a nice guy to his wife:

This photo is so real … the joy, the love.

Sepp includes just about everyone, even folks whose hands he’s touching for the first time.

“In his two Vuelta stage wins – the first in 2019 and the stage six victory this year that set his GC challenge in motion – Kuss slowed down in the final kilometer of the stage to high-five fans lined up along the roadside barricades.”

(GC means “General Classification”. The winner of the GC has the shortest overall time at the end of the race)

Take a look:

What’s this fellow like? What you see and hear is what you get.

Teammates are revered:

Robert and Dylan were pulling 90% of the stage. [Riding in front of Sepp, protecting him from the wind] It was a long hard day and they were up there all day so just big hats off to them, they were amazing. And then Attila was there on the last climb and Primoz did a lot of work for me there on the last climb and on the flat as well with Jonas.

After a stage in the middle of the Vuelta. Sepp had been wearing the red jersey, which indicates the fastest rider so far:

I’m really happy. When I crossed the finish line, I thought I had lost the jersey. And I wasn’t even sad because I gave it the best I could on the climb.

And reflecting on winning the race:

No, I’m not different now that I’ve won La Vuelta, not at all. I’ll still be me. It’s life changing for sure. I think I’ll look back on this experience with a lot of fun memories. It’s still sinking in, I think it’s gonna take quite some time. Now, a big celebration. Family, friends are here, and that’s gonna be really special, to be with the riders and the staff, tell the stories of the last three weeks. So many memories and good times.

***

A good man

A great story

Izy Coffee is such a gathering place.  I walked in there just before noon today wearing one of my favourite t-shirts:

There’s a fine line between numerator and denominator

Only a fraction will understand

I hadn’t even sat down when a woman approached me, loving my shirt and wondering if I was a mathematician.  We talked for a bit.

A nearby couple were craning their necks to hear.  More gabbing ensued … and I joined them.

Julie and John are from Adelaide, Australia.   They’re on a 14-week tour of Europe, celebrating their marriage and John’s impending retirement as a teacher.

They were heading to Brussels tonight and wanted to know what I’d suggest they’d see in Ghent.

Their eyes told me a story and I knew I wanted to show them a few things.  Not the big, touristy stuff (like the Gravensteen castle).  Instead walking ordinary streets seeing ordinary people doing ordinary things.

I told my brand new friends that moments like this – sitting with one or two other people – was the best thing about my city.  The old buildings, the rivers, the cafés are all cool … but everything pales before human contact.

John and Julie accepted my invitation to be their tour guide. I told them about the small and magnificent Carmelite church on the Burgstraat, how the late afternoon sun floods through the stained glass, lighting up the sacred statues. They smiled. The church was closed until 2:30 but I said I’d show them where it was.

And off we went …

On the way, we stumbled upon a narrow curving side street. “I wonder what’s down there,” I thought. We entered. Ambling along, we approached what appeared to be a dead end. But there was an opening to the right. As we turned, there was … a door. It was a dead end. And we laughed. Who cares? We were splorin’.

We stood in front of the church. I knew the energy within that would have drawn us inside had the door been open. I remembered the private park behind the building that I’d been privileged to see a few months ago.

I had found an office and a woman gave me permission but today I couldn’t remember where the office was. However I knew the church had a bookstore nearby.

The store opened at 1:00, in 45 minutes. So we kept strolling. Not a care in the world as our feet floated us along.

Now another tiny street, full of homes with brick painted white. Nuns used to live here. On the right a community centre offering coffee and goodies. In we went. Some smiles and some stares from the locals. All was well.

This was what I wanted: show these folks “from away” what the real Ghent feels like. Not the monuments to fame. Not the tourist “must sees”. Not the glitter.

Back on the street, we heard the sounds of kids playing. I knocked on a door and asked if we could see the school. The woman smiled and said no. To be expected in this era of protection.

A park in front of another church offered an empty bench. A man was throwing a stick, over and over again. A small black dog was delighted to be the recipient. So simple, so lovely.

John noticed a wall at the far end of the park. There were more children having fun behind. Then the door opens and fifty kids burst out into the park. They filled the grass. They ran and jumped. And some smiled as they zoomed by.

The bookstore opened. I asked the woman behind a desk if we could see the private park. She phoned someone. And then grinned a yes.

We got to go inside. The photo shows us amid the quiet. A place for meditation.

Sometimes we walked together. Sometimes we were each alone with our thoughts. Perfect.

Then, on a bridge over the Leie River, we said goodbye.

***

And now Australia and Canada know each other a little more

I sat with my friend Geert in Izy Coffee today.  He has been dedicated to learning Turkish so he can have free flowing conversations with his girlfriend.

I asked Geert for advice about learning a new language.  He accepted my invitation. 

Wisdom proceedth …

1.  Spaced Repetition

Spending an hour learning something and then returning to it a week later is useless.  Instead spend a few minutes each day absorbing the new stuff.  And if you forget some of yesterday’s learnings, that’s fine.

I thought of my efforts to start learning Dutch on the Babbel app.  It’s been two weeks since I looked at it.  I studied the words for I, you, he, she, we, you and they.  And today?  I remember nothing.

2.  The Feynman Method

Richard Feynman was an American physicist.  He said that to learn something you’ve been taught, teach it to someone else.  Speak it to a friend or to the mirror.

Here’s the guy:

Since Geert was sitting in front of me, I chose him.  I told him the instructions that my cello teacher gave me last Thursday.  The main points:

A.  Curve the fingers of the left hand so they don’t buzz on the string next door

B.  If you’re alternating notes on two strings, and one of the notes is an open string (no finger pressed), leave the fingers on the other string rather than lifting them off

C.  Use the full bow, from the tip to the nut, for a more flowing sound

Geert isn’t a cellist but he basically understood.  I felt the power of speaking something into existence.  I’m used to doing this by writing, but the oral expression was shaking up my brain cells.

3.  Create a Pressure Cooker

Put yourself under some stress.  Feel your commitment to the new.  Spaced repetition – every day – accomplishes this nicely.  And look for other ways to have pressure be your friend.

4.  Create a Lifestyle

This daily practice becomes a part of who I am.  I commit to the learning.

***

It’s like writing.  Virtually every day

Feels good

I love the movie Mulan on Disney Plus. I love strong women. I love chi … or life force.

Here’s the gist:

“To keep her ailing father from serving in the Imperial Army, a fearless young woman disguises herself as a man and battles northern invaders in China.”

I’ll let quotes from the film do the talking:

***

An army commander speaking to Mulan and the other soldiers:

The chi pervades the universe and all living things … But only the most true will connect deeply to his chi and become a great warrior. Tranquil as a forest, but one fire within.

Mulan’s father speaking to the ancestors:

If you had such a daughter – her chi, the boundless energy of life itself, speaking through her every motion – could you tell her that only a son could wield chi?

Mulan’s father speaking to her (10-years-old):

Your chi is strong, Mulan. But chi is for warriors, not daughters. Soon, you’ll be a young woman, and it is time for you to hide your gift away. To silence its voice.

The matchmaker speaking to Mulan and her mother:

Quiet. Composed. Graceful. Elegant. Poised. Polite. These are the qualities we see in a good wife. These are the qualities we see in Mulan. When a wife serves her husband, she must be silent. She must be invisible.

Mulan’s father:

I am the father.  It is my place to bring honor to our family on the battlefield.  You are the daughter.  Learn your place.

Mulan (17-years-old):

I know my place. And it is my duty to fight for the kingdom and protect the emperor.

Mulan disguises herself as Hua Jun. Her true identity remains a secret for a long time. Eventually she is one of the leaders as the Imperial Army defeats the invaders.

Mulan returns home:

Forgive me, Father. I stole your horse. I stole your sword. I stole your armor. And the sword … I lost it. The sword is gone. Now I understand how much that sword means to you.

Father:

It is my daughter that means everything to me.

And Hua Jun did die. For a lie can only live so long. But Mulan lived.

An army commander, speaking to Mulan and the people of her village:

She has brought honor to her ancestors, to her family, to her village, and to her country.

***

May we all be “loyal, brave and true”

What if there are messages from the Gods in the geometry of daily life?

Sometimes I hear sacred voices and sometimes I see lines. It’s up to me whether I notice and respond. It’s so easy to slip back into the figuring-out mind … and not see what’s in front of my face.

The horizontal is lovely:

Simple, elegant, level.

I’m tempted to go into a long description of what the horizontal means to me but that quiet voice inside is simply saying “No”. And I’m listening. After all, your mind may go to different places. So stretch out your body and soul and drink in the photo. No doubt it will speak to you.

***

The vertical also whispers volumes:

Do the thoughts that come speak in paragraph or poem? Are they written in bold or italics or just normal? Is their invitation right in front of your nose or hidden behind a veil?

***

Two fine directions

Perhaps the lines have no end

This is my latest piece of jewelry … actually my only piece of jewelry.  I’ll leave it up to you to figure out what body part it should adorn …

…

Done guessing?  Here’s your answer:

I went to see Naomi yesterday.  She’s an occupational therapist, someone who sells or makes braces for hands.  My right thumb is weak with arthritis and it’s hard to hold my cello bow.

I had been given a hard plastic and fabric brace last week but it didn’t work.  I could only play for five minutes until the pain and loss of grip took over.

Naomi said that one joint of my thumb hyperextends and will continue to weaken until I immobilize it.  “It’s time to think outside of the box.”  I imagined her saying “Have you considered jewelry?” but that didn’t happen.

Anyway, consider Exhibit A:

I’ve often demonstrated my unusual thumb angle to friends in the spirit of “See how cool I am?” but Naomi told me to say goodbye to that attempt at humour.  Instead I’ll start wearing the brace three hours a day and work up to maybe twelve.

It’s an experiment, and I’ll report the results next Thursday. The demo brace Naomi gave me was too small but if it’s working she’ll make one for me that fits.

Meanwhile, later yesterday I had my group cello lesson with Lieven.  Would it be a thumbs up or a thumbs down?

Up! I could play for fifteen minutes at a time before my dear thumb needed a rest. Oh … I love progress.

***

I moved from Canada to Belgium

The task continues to be huge

And someone immense is holding me

I’ve worked hard to have my music theory teacher’s Dutch speaking show up in written English.  I have not been successful.

I downloaded at least fifteen apps that translate from one language to another.  Each one’s microphone shuts off when the speaker pauses.  If I press the microphone again, the previous English disappears.  If I focus on the English translation first, then I miss the next things he’s saying.

I bought a lapel microphone so an app like Google Translate can hear what words are being spoken in Dutch.

I discovered the Live Transcribe app for Samsung phones.  It doesn’t translate but apparently it gives an accurate written record of the Dutch that is being said.  I used it in today’s class.  Then I copied and pasted it paragraph by paragraph into Google Translate, taking screenshots of the results. This took the whole two hours of the class.  I learned no music theory in real time.

Tonight I looked at the photos. A few were hopeful:

I sort of get it.

However, consider how well your brain handles this translation:

Huh?

And just one more: (I won’t torture you with endless examples)

(Sigh)

I’m not totally out of ideas. I just Googled “most accurate translation app”. What came up was one I hadn’t seen before: DeepL Translate. I’ve downloaded it, ready for the musical mysteries of next Wednesday.

Whoever said life is easy?

Not me

(Although sometimes it really is!)

There they are … two little electronic thingys that may hold my future at the Poel music school.

My friend Geert says that Google Translate is excellent at converting the spoken word from one language to another. The problem is that without a microphone the app can’t hear what the teacher is saying.

Amazon has provided a solution.

I sat in Izy Coffee this morning eager (and scared) to put Geert’s theory to the test. I unboxed the microphone and removed little plastic bits. And bonus (!) the instructions were in English.

“Why am I so nervous?” The answer was clear, as I’m sure it is to you.

My plan was to get everything set up and then wait till the barista Arjen didn’t have any customers waiting. I’d have him pin the microphone to his shirt and then talk some Dutch. Then the screen on this phone would show a marvelous English translation.

The instructions were simple but my mind was not. It was roiling in fear.

As I was about to approach Arjen, I realized that the microphone wasn’t charged. I found the company’s website and discovered it took two hours. So the moment of truth has been delayed.

I’ve been at home now for half an hour, and guess what? The little red charging light just went out. The beast is ready for action.

I’m about to pin on the microphone, plug the receiver into my phone and open Google Translate to English > Dutch. Wish me luck.

***

Success! (I guess) What I know is that the words I spoke showed up on the screen. Good. I don’t know if they were translated accurately to Dutch. The microphone was six inches from my phone. How will it do when the teacher is wearing it, and it’s five feet from the phone?

Everything was cool as long as I continued to talk. When I paused, the microphone shut off. I wonder what will happen if I press the “Conversation” button rather than “Microphone”? Let’s find out:

***

Nope. The microphone doesn’t stay on after the first speaker completes a thought, even though in real life there’s a pause before the second speaker starts.

Oh well … so far so good. Something has been accomplished. Now I’ll head back to Izy and pin the microphone on Arjen.

***

Arjen is busy so I asked Inge, another Izy employee, to help me. And there’s good news!

The Dutch and English that showed up on my phone was at least 90% accurate

The noise reduction button on the mic seemed to filter out the music from nearby speakers

I had the thought that Google Translate was learning Inge’s voice (!) She was later able to pause a bit longer without the microphone shutting off

***

And tomorrow is my music theory class at Poel. May I get enough of what Mattias is saying to allow me to stay at the school

All fingers crossed

Three colours here … each unique, each standing on its own, not influenced by other tones.

Green is lovely but it exists because of its neighbours yellow and blue.

I wonder if there are eight billion different primary colours on Earth.  Even though each one was created by a mom and dad, the result is always someone previously unknown in the history of the world.

Yes, I’m speaking to you.  Perhaps you do (or will do) great and big things.  Or great and small things.  Either way, they are your things.  Unduplicatable.

Your flavour of yellow, blue or red exists in this moment.  There’s no preamble, no period of adjustment to slowly become your colour.  You have been your version of brand new since day one.

Explode it into the world

I bet you know a thing or two about failing.  I sure do.

In 2018 I set off with about eighteen others on the Tour du Canada, a cross-country bicycle ride.  I lasted four days.  I didn’t have the bike-handling skills or the endurance.  What I did have was fear, especially of the semi-trailers blasting by three metres to my left.

I sat in a hotel room for two days in Abbotsford, B.C., waiting for a flight east to Toronto.  I was in shock … crushed … wasted.  My self-esteem was gone.  Happily it returned.  Even though I don’t want to ride a bike anymore, I can look myself in the mirror and smile.

What’s true is that I failed in the task of riding across Canada.  That’s worlds away from being a failure. 

***

I’m enjoying the Vuelta a España on TV.  It’s a three-week cycling race in Spain.  The Friday and Saturday stages were in the Pyrenees – the mountain range that straddles Spain and France.

Remco Evenepoel is a young Belgian cyclist who won the race last year.  Friday’s stage crossed four mountain passes in its 135 kilometres.  He was considered one of the favourites for victory.

Remco finished 27 minutes after the winner.  He failed … spectacularly.  Not sick, not injured.  The legs were weak.

The cycling world was shocked.  Remco was inconsolable.

“I didn’t sleep too much,” he revealed. “I had a very bad night [with] negative thoughts in my head.” His defeat on the Aubisque, Spandelles and Tourmalet had hit him like a punch in the stomach. “It was a difficult evening with a lot of tears and crying,” he added.

Two people stayed with Remco in his sorrow: his wife and the team’s sports director.

“They talked a lot to me because I wasn’t motivated to start anymore; my big goal had disappeared, and there was a lot of disappointment. But the words Oumi said to me, literally, were, ‘Champions always answer with the pedals, and if you do it, do it for me.’ And that gave me the motivation to go for it today.”

What happened on Saturday was that Remco won the 156 kilometre stage, also full of mountain passes.  The photo shows him crying at the end.

***

From one of my favourite songs, The Mary Ellen Carter …

Rise again, rise again!
Though your heart it be broken and life about to end
No matter what you lost – be it a home, a love, a friend
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again!