I can’t remember ever being this focused. My exam for Level One of Dutch language training is on Tuesday, November 7. That’s the written part. I’m online with the teacher on the Wednesday for the oral section.
It’s disorienting for me to launch into a new language. The structure feels so … foreign. There are so many times when the subject shows up at the end of the sentence. So many words with “ij” in them. And of course irregular verbs.
A counsellor suggested a “fast course” for me – six weeks. The usual speed is twelve weeks. I said yes to six. Ouch.
Oh well … I signed up for Belgium. All of it. And now it’s home.
Maybe I won’t write much for the next few days. My mind will be zeroed in on a four-letter word:
He’s a marvelous actor, lighting up the screen in roles such as Neo in The Matrix.
I often wonder about Hollywood stars, famous athletes and the like. I love how they perform on the world stage … and I hope they’re nice people. Do they connect deeply with their family and friends away from the silver screen or the playing field?
Keane Reeves shines. A recent article on Facebook told me so much:
In 1997 some paparazzi found him walking one morning in the company of a homeless man in Los Angeles, listening to him and sharing his life for a few hours.
When he was filming the movie The Lake House, he overheard the conversation of two costume assistants. One cried because he would lose hishouse if he did not pay $20,000 … and on the same day Keanu deposited the necessary amount in theman’s bank account.
For many successful films, he has even given up 90% of his salary to allow the production to hire other stars.
In 2010, on his birthday, Keanu walked into a bakery and bought a brioche with a single candle, ate it in front of the bakery, and offered coffee to people who stopped to talk to him.
We all have things that go wrong in our lives, sometimes horribly wrong. Failures, disasters, being scorned, the death of loved ones …
How many moviegoers know about the words that follow?
Keanu was abandoned by his father at three-years-old and grew up with three different stepfathers. He is dyslexic. His dream of becoming a hockey player was shattered by a serious accident. His daughter died at birth. His wife died in a car accident. His best friend, River Phoenix, died of an overdose. His sister has leukemia.
“North Dock” is a shopping mall near the water in an area of Gent formerly full of factories. Some of the old brick buildings have been preserved and are now residences and offices. New apartments have sprung up, along with the modern mall.
My friend Michelle and I took the tram to Dok Noord this afternoon to celebrate the opening day of the latest Izy Coffee location. We sipped our cappuccinos on a cozy couch and I looked out at the mall area (on the right in the photo).
So new, so rectangular … with so few people. Actually Izy was pretty full for its first day but outside there wasn’t the flow of humans I’m used to at Izy in Gent centrum.
Michelle wanted to show me the mall and the cool stores. “Sure … I’m game.”
First was an electronics and appliance store. Brand new stuff at deeply discounted prices. Maybe if I’d been in the market for the latest and greatest I’d have worked up some enthusiasm … but instead it was a big ho-hum.
Next was the largest supermarket I’ve seen in Gent. Subtle lighting, well displayed produce and an infinite variety of foodstuffs. As Michelle filled a basket with quality items, I roamed the aisles looking for square boxes of tissues (a fetish of mine). They were not to be found.
The corridors between stores were open to the air – a refreshing touch. But for much of our time I thought I was back in Toronto. And I don’t want to be there.
I wasn’t at home at Dok Noord. I longed for the cobbles and stepped gables of centrum. The mall would give me every imaginable material possession … but I don’t want that.
Werner Erhard is a deep thinker and a man of action. In 1971 he founded Erhard Seminars Training (est) which offered an intense two-weekend experience meant to “transform one’s ability to experience living so that the situations one had been trying to change or had been putting up with clear up just in the process of life itself.”
He talked about “distinctions”. How is one thing different from another? For example, what really is integrity? If we understand what it is, then we can tell it apart from what it is not. We can “get clear”about integrity. And then we can act accordingly.
Werner:
We define integrity as: a state or condition of being whole, complete, unbroken, unimpaired, sound, in perfect condition.
In a relationship, nothing held back, nothing distorted. So … the truth.
Here are two more distinctions that Erhard had me examine – action and access:
It is important that you get clear for yourself that your only access to impacting life is action. The world does not care what you intend, how committed you are, how you feel or what you think, and certainly it has no interest in what you want and don’t want. Take a look at life as it is lived and see for yourself that the world only moves for you when you act.
How powerful to consider how we can access what we want to bring forth in the world.
And then there’s responsibility:
Every human being’s deepest, most natural expression is the desire to make a difference in life, of wanting to matter. We can choose to make the success of all humanity our personal business. We can choose to be audacious enough to take responsibility for the entire human family, to make our love for each other and for the world what our lives are really about.
I remember Werner saying that in a relationship each person is 100% responsible for its success … not 50.
It’s a small square in Ghent, hundreds of years old. The tram goes right by. People wait there to get on. Others flow by, eager for the eating and shopping.
TripAdvisor knows the place. “Come see.” Here are the comments of one visitor:
Very inviting square in the heart of Ghent. Conviviality is an asset due to the location with many cafes and restaurants.
Sounds like the status quo for this day and age … enjoy your meal. But I’ve discovered something cool about certain todays here in the Sint-Veerleplein:
Consider the art of Alberto Garutti. One particular creation of his is present in several cities of the world – such as Bergamo, Istanbul, Moscow … and Ghent.
In the work Ai Nati Oggi (For Those Born Today), the streetlights of a given place in the city (a street, a square, a bridge) get brighter every time a child is born. The maternity ward in a hospital in the city is equipped with a button that can be pushed by the staff at each new birth; the button makes the streetlight system gradually increase the intensity of the light, a surge that then subsides back to normal in about thirty seconds.
Near the streetlights, on the ground, a stone plaque is placed with the engraved words:
“The streetlights of this place are connected to the maternity ward of the hospital … Every time the light slowly pulsates, it means a child has been born. The work is dedicated to that child, and to the children born today in this city.”
***
I’ve sat there under the monument, thinking about life being born, being lived and dying. And about my new home. At the back of my mind is curiosity about the history of Ghent. Hundreds of thousands of people have lived here over the last five centuries. What were their lives like?
I want to delve into the stories of my adopted city. Why not start with Sint-Veerleplein?
Here’s a photo of Ghentians enjoying this place. Maybe 1900 would be a good guess.
***
And … there’s also a deep dark past here:
From 1407 to the end of the 18th century, the square served as a place of justice for criminals. It was the only punishment place in Flanders for counterfeiters. The fact that counterfeiters were punished here had to do with the location of the count’s mint in nearby Gravensteen [a castle]. The counterfeiters were thrown into a cauldron of boiling oil or boiling water.
On March 17, 1540, nine of the leaders of the Ghent Uprising were beheaded here by order of Emperor Charles V. Five more followed on May 4.
***
Life and death
Cobblestones feeling the feet of past, present and future
In yesterday’s Dutch class, Isabel was teaching us how to say that we like or dislike certain foods. It was marvelous to have some fun as I practiced with my partner Waleed.
Eet jij graag stoofvlees?
Do you like to eat Belgian stew?
Ja, ik eet graag stoofvlees
Yes, I like to eat Belgian stew
***
Eet jij graag broccoli?
Do you like to eat broccoli?
Nee, ik eet niet graag broccoli
No, I don’t like to eat broccoli
Our conversation got me thinking of my most unfavourite food – raisins. Waleed’s first language is Urdu, not English, and he wasn’t familiar with the word.
“I’ll look it up on Google,” I said helpfully. I had the choice of many images of the wretched little creatures. I showed one of them to Waleed and he got what I was talking about.
“You ask me the question, Waleed!”
I delighted in pretty much shouting the answer “NEE!”
Soon it was back to the intensity of new material. Then at the end of our three-and-a-half hour class I was pooped as usual. Enough Dutch for one day.
A good way for me to unwind is reading articles on my phone about cycling races. Lounging on the couch, I opened one of those sites and picked a story.
“When what to my wondering eyes should appear” …
You’ll be happy to know that raisins followed me throughout the rest of the day as I read this and that. Talk about pollution of the soul!
Today the advertisements have nothing to do with schrivelled grapes, those tiny demons that taste horrible.
About three weeks ago, I noticed this little creature hanging out beside the container that holds my toilet brush. And he’s still there.
Some people in my life have had a forceful response to spiders: “Kill them!” Then there were the folks who would run away. I’m neither.
Part of me wants a pure environment at home, which includes no bugs. But it’s not the biggest part. Surely I could co-habitate with this little one.
Some days I never saw him or her. Behind the silver cylinder must be a good place to hide. Mostly though, there he was – perched in the air as far as six inches from home. Usually me turning on the light meant he’d scurry back close to the metal thing.
I’m no biologist. But my mind meanders in the presence of my spidery friend:
How long will you live?
Isn’t it boring having a world that’s so small?
What do you think about?
You don’t seem to get much exercise. Are you okay with that?
What do you thinkof me? I must be immense in your eyes
Is it hard being alone all the time?
Should I get you a wee TV?
***
I figure that these are important questions for an important being
I was walking to Hema for breakfast this morning and dropped into Izy Coffee to say hi to Arjen – the barista and my friend.
Bruce: Goedemorgen (“Good morning” in Dutch)
Arjen: Goedemorgen
Bruce: À bientôt! (“See you soon!” in French)
Arjen: Zeer goed (“Very good” in Dutch)
Bruce: Bye
As I contemplated the beauty of my croissant, our tiny conversation returned to my mind. Three languages. Five years ago it was only one.
Back then I considered myself a citizen of the world. I cared about folks of different cultures, races … and languages. But I was just scratching the surface of being international.
***
In December, 2018 I went to Senegal with my Belgian friends for the first time. Senegalese folks speak French, and not English. Despite studying the language in high school decades ago, I’d forgotten most of it. I struggled to communicate with my new African friends.
I’ve now been to Senegal four times and my French skills have improved. I can compose simple sentences but when the other person speaks fast in return, I’m still lost.
I am on the French road … la route française.
***
Now I’m immersed in a Dutch course. It’s Level One, the beginning of an immense journey to Level Five (or perhaps Level Ten, the most advanced).
I often shake my head, fascinated with how slow I am in catching on. A classmate who studies neurology says that my 74-year-old brain is smaller than a young person’s and can’t make connections as easily as it once could. So science is giving me an excuse!
My exam is in two weeks – Tuesday, November 7. I’m throwing myself into the book, the audio samples and my notes.
I’m talking really simple Dutch to people like Arjen. He’s learning Spanish. I asked him how difficult that is for him. Scale of 1 to 10 (1 = easy, 10 = very hard). His response? 8! So I’m not alone in my struggles.
I’m a nice little Buddhist guy. I float through life, blessing everyone. Very occasionally I might get a tad annoyed … or even upset.
But I would never get ANGRY. Or so I’ve said.
This morning I went out to breakfast at a very cool restaurant. The manager was outside, cleaning tables on the terrace, which was open to the sky. We laughed for a minute or two.
I sat under an awning and fantasized about the wondrous yogurt and granola that soon would be coming my way. I didn’t look at my phone. I simply took in the flow of humanity and the ancient buildings.
After about five minutes, no one had come to say hi and take my order.
Something started rising in me. It certainly wasn’t a flow.
After ten minutes my eyes narrowed and my mouth got tight. Then a man sits down behind me. A minute later he’s being greeted by a staff member. Coffee appears. For him … not me.
“Okay, Bruce. Stop being a mellow jello!” I got up and headed to the counter inside.
To the manager: “I’ve been sitting out there for maybe fifteen minutes, and no one has come by! How come?”
Mr. Manager started talking about a payment difficulty he had with one table.
“I’ll give you a free latté.” > “I don’t want a free latté.”
I gave him my order.
I sat down again and felt the fury. Me (Bruce!) … angry.
I enjoyed the flavours of breakfast. And then it was time to pay. As I walked to the counter, I asked myself if I’d said everything I needed to say. Was I “complete”? The answer was no.
I told the manager how frustrated I was that someone sitting down ten minutes after me got virtually instant service.
A female server chimed in with “He’s a regular.”
I ended the conversation with “This was bad service” and “It’s not okay.” The server said “You’re right” and I got that she meant it. The manager was silent.
***
Hmm … this was a new version of Bruce, something I’ve kept hidden under a layer of niceness. There’s a time and place for this foaming at the mouth. I didn’t call people names. I didn’t swear. I stuck to the issue. I said what was true.
I walked home with a spring in my step. “I’m proud of you, Bruce.” I’ve forgiven the staff members. I can feel that. And there’ll be lots of delicious yogurt and granola in my future.
Years ago I taught visually impaired kids in London, Canada. My office was in Catholic Central High School.
I’d be heading home sometime after 4:00, just as Randy was coming on shift. He was one of the school’s custodians. Maybe he still is.
Somehow Randy and I started the ritual of “The Word of the Day”. He would ask what the word was and something would come into my head. After some meandering visit with “Gregarious” or “Hypothetical”, I’d end our conversation with …
And that, Randy, is the word of the day
I’m smiling now as I remember those good times. This morning there was a resurrection, this time with me asking the question. Maybe in the future I’ll get into the rhythm of someone asking me, day after day.
This morning I walked into Panos on Langemunt and asked Dominique, the manager. “Sun” was her immediate response. What a bright answer.
Then my eyes turned to Eva, a young employee. She looked uncomfortable for a few seconds and then “Food” came out of her mouth. Cool. That’s a much needed word.
“What about you?” asked Dominique. I heard “Love” escape my lips. The best word in the history of the world, I’d say. Hours later, I wish something unusual had come to me … like “Outrageous”. Next time.
On to Izy Coffee, fortified with the same question. Jamie was the barista: “Plausible”. And then another: “Placebo”. I could tell that he really finds both of those interesting, worthy of reflection. “Plausible” especially gets me thinking. I wonder about “Implausible”, and how to shift from something unlikely to something that actually happens.
Geert, a fellow customer, is next. “Stoofvlees”. Translation: Flemish beef stew, a classic Belgian dish. A yummy choice.
At the table beside Geert sat a man unknown to me. I asked him. “Hartverscheurend”. Jamie helped me with that one an hour later when I returned to Izy. It means “heartbreaking”. Such a sad choice for today’s word.
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