We study together as we uncover the innards of the Dutch language. Today Paula invited me to her apartment which she shares with her boyfriend Giovanni.
The studying floated away in favour of lunch and talking about life. Paula is from Argentina and wanted me to taste an arepa, which she had discovered at the home of a Guatemalan friend.
I watched her hands prepare corn tortillas accompanied by scrambled egg, avocado and white cheese. I saw the grace and sureness of eggs being cracked on the lip of a pan. And I smiled at the flavours that came together in my mouth. The talking was richer when accompanied by the delicious.
Paula is a coach, helping people discover the impact of attitude on the body. She’s also a yoga instructor. And an artist:
The eyes drew me. And Paula described the circular flow of energy at the bottom left, where yellow, green and red are drawn from their separateness into union.
Then there’s the creation of her five-year-old nephew in Mendoza, Argentina, where auntie is reaching out to the young one.
Now another expression:
Paula had been teaching two young girls Spanish … and the universe said it was time for them to part. Her drawing of goodbye asked the kids to think of her after she was gone. And when they did that, the three of them would be joined in love – no matter the geography.
I took the train to the coast yesterday … to the North Sea … to Oostende. I was visiting my friend Marieke Janssen. She and six other women artists were exhibiting their work in the De Feniks Gallery.
Marieke was excited. She’d already sold five of her paintings at the show. And she was going to share the gallery with me.
We walked near the beach beside cafés full of Sunday celebrants. They were raising their glasses to each other and feeling the sun on their faces. Our steps were light.
We walked the old streets and some newer ones. Our destination was lunch at Café du Parc.
I thought of art as we strolled. The beauty of colour, line and shape. At the café I savoured my mussels and Tripel Karmeliet beer … and the conversation with Marieke. As a latté approached, I looked down at the table. And this is what I saw:
Sugar for me and cream beneath. So elegant. The curves of the cone. The perfection of one part meeting the other. And something hidden.
***
The walking revealed the majesty of buildings – so many different ones. I was drawn to the vertical, the slender, the reaching for the sky:
I wondered if one family occupied all four floors. I loved the roundness of the balcony and the transom windows. I wanted to open the door and say hello.
***
At the gallery, I lingered with every Marieke work of art. And my eyes lingered longest here:
This is life, I figure. Folks enjoying the presence of others. Celebrating anything that comes to mind. Exploring other lives.
I wanted to buy the painting and hang it in my home. Marieke said the price was 420 euros. I let it stay on the wall.
***
The expressions of Oostende reside in my mind and in this post. That’s sufficient. I don’t need to own the cream-and-sugar presenter, live in the building or have Marieke’s partiers gaze down at me in my living room.
Deep in the Learning Dutch website is a video. The challenge is to learn the numbers from 1 to 100. I find it hard to wrap my mind around the basic structure. If I’m looking for 75, the word starts with the 5 and ends with the 7. Vijfenzeventig.
The video goes above and beyond a language lesson. Yes, I hear the numbers spoken – by a five-year-old, ten, twenty … as I see their open faces. The whole life span before my eyes.
I was transported to the vastness, the wonder of beholding members of the human family. My family … and yours.
My life is floating … rolling … dancing. I’m doing the new and renewing the old. I’m writing. There are people in my corner cheering me on. “You can do it, Bruce!”
If you’ve been reading my posts for the last ten days, you know what I mean when I say “Often I can’t finish the sentences in my head.” My face sags sweetly. I see the beauty of … everyone.
***
Then there was last night. I woke up in the wee hours, nauseated. I sat on the edge of the bed and belched, over and over again. Finally under the covers again, the “sick” word just left. I softened. And I was gone.
On waking, sadness came. The dream was vivid. It still is. I was a student. My classmates were milling around, speaking to each other. But no one looked at me. Every time I ventured into eyes, they were aimed somewhere else.
I walked from group to group, my hand pulling a suitcase. I was perpetually arriving. Or was it leaving? Certainly not in the middle of things.
I walked down a corridor. A ramp painted in raucous colours led me to another common area, full of life. Blues! Reds! Yellows! And kids laughing and bouncing. I was invisible in this world.
Enough of that youthful joy. Up the ramp again to my part of the school. Except it wasn’t mine.
I am ______. I like _______. But then things change. These days I feel fluid rather than solid. My world is moving rather than staying put.
Five years ago golf, basketball and hockey were a big part of my life. Now they’re not. Golf was the only one I played so I’m mostly talking about watching on TV. I had heroes. Sometimes my well-being rose and fell with the fortunes of these athletes. Not a good idea.
***
Here’s Brooke Henderson from Canada. I used to know when she teed off. I knew her1 stats. I went to tournaments and followed her from hole to hole.
The Masters was my favourite tournament. The magnificent emerald green fairways, the history, the drama of the back nine on Sunday …
Gone
***
Do you realize that the Toronto Raptors won the NBA championship in 2019? We were led by Kawhi Leonard, one of the best all-round players in history. When he gave an interview, I hung on every word. Here he is:
I remember watching the final game of the NBA finals on the big screen, with hundreds of us loving the Raptors. And then … “We win!” Oh joy! High fives and hugs all around. I was swept up in the flow of basketball, in the crowd cheering after every home team basket, in the tension of down-to-the-wire. And now?
Gone
***
Mitch Marner plays for the Toronto Maple Leafs in the NHL. He skates like the wind, passes the puck so softly … as an artist. He was my most recent Leafs hero:
My love affair with the Leafs began in the mid-1950s. I lived in Toronto. Saturday night was Hockey Night in Canada on TV – black-and-white TV.
The Leafs last won the Stanley Cup in 1967. I was at the parade, and loved the speeches from Frank Mahovlich, Tim Horton … I was a fanatic young boy. But in 2023 …
Part Two of yesterday’s conversation was initiated by me:
What city would you love to visit?
I asked my friends to let an answer bubble up rather than think about it. What comes immediately?
Bart started … Porto. In Portugal. He was smiling.
And Bart’s second favourite came quickly – Sevilla. In Spain.
Now it was Larisa’s turn: Porto. So wife and husband saw together.
And the ball was passed to Geert: Edinburgh. In Scotland.
The woman at the next table was enjoying this. I asked her the question … and she didn’t know. “I’ll come back to you.” Minutes later, I did. Firenze. (Florence in English) In Italy.
Then there was me. Firenze. But I broke my own rule, talking about the marvelous art and the Ponte Vecchio, the bridge where Dante fell in love with Beatrice. “No explaining, Bruce.”
This morning, absent of analysis, one word came: Prague. In the Czech Republic.
No … not the people in the photo – my friends at Izy Coffee.
I told myself years ago that I’d never again read a gossip magazine, and guess what I’m doing (in Dutch)?
Larisa told me that the words are basic, perfect for a newbie Dutch learner. She was sitting with Bart, Geert and me this morning. They want me to succeed in my new language. So does the barista Arjen, who was leaning into our conversation.
“Speak to us” was the message, however unsure and full of mistakes in grammar, vocabulary and pronunciation. “And we will speak to you” – slowly and clearly. Thank you, dear friends. My journey will be long … and I am accompanied.
At one point Larisa stood up and walked out of the coffee shop. She lives only steps away. Ten minutes later she was back, with a copy of Story in her hand. “For you.”
And so, not only will I steep in the basics of my new language, but I can catch up on the latest from Hollywood and Monaco (yuck to the second point).
Everyone sitting around recommended Arjen as the perfect Dutch speaker and language partner. And when I watch him, I see how welcoming he is to every customer, including me. Guess I’m going to be drinking a lot of coffee!
***
I feel renewed. I’m going to study hard and do all I can to stay in this course. I see that during class time I’m not good at absorbing new material. So be it. I vow to keep my head up when the new starts to overwhelm me.
I have a lovely apartment – perfect for learning. My friend Paula from the class will have studying sessions with me. We can teach each other.
The painting captures the current state of my mind. On one hand, there’s a royalty in my daily life, a feeling of standing tall, seeing life big, all dressed up for a party. I see the beauty in the folks passing by. My eyes are soft.
Then there is the bowed head. I’m finding the Dutch lessons so difficult, so humbling. But the space is somehow rich within the “not knowing” and the “not being good” at something. There is a gift being extended amid the confusion and angst.
Most of the time I can’t understand what the teacher Isabel is saying. I catch lots of words but I don’t discover the sentences that tie them together. I’m not making meaning.
In my skewed perception, I see every other student nodding agreement with her and engaging in the conversations. And then there’s me.
During the break in class today, Isabel told me that my integration counsellor had put me in the “fast Dutch” class, perhaps because of my university education. Woh! That was a mistake. She will look to see if there’s a slower class that I can transfer into. Or should I stay in this one, absorbing what I can?
I panicked today in the discussion about numbers. How wondrous that numbers in English roll off my tongue but ones in Dutch stick in my throat. Actually, what else would I expect? I’m a virgin in this world.
After writing this, and letting in the words “Don’t panic”, I’m experiencing what I told you about a few days ago as I look out at the street full of strolling people. I see the words “I love you” in my head but when I try to say them internally, I can’t get past the “I”. How can it be that this spaciousness comes calling soon after I was lost in class?
It’s all such a mystery.
***
Wow … what just happened? I’ve slipped into “Poor me”, something I’ve vowed never to do. To snap out of it, I choose to let my eyes rest on each face that enters the coffee shop or strolls outside. I’ll get back to you in ten minutes …
***
Ahh … the wonder of all these human beings – happy/sad, young/old, male/female. Each with a silent story. I feel raised up. Now to the gym for an hour of strength training. Then home for an hour of Dutch.
Sometimes it feels like my whole life is new. So many startings and re-startings. I’d say it’s time to tell you how I’m doing.
1. Singing and Playing Paint the Sky With Stars
I wrote two days ago about my efforts here, and included a video of the song. The melody changed a lot when this stanza showed up:
Who has placed the midnight sky So a spirit has to fly? As the heavens seem so far Who will paint the midnight star?
On the word “star”, the tune changed keys … and I found the chord I needed. Yay! The stickler was the second “who”. The melody was on the C note, but I couldn’t find the chord to go with it. My ear and my brain were having an argument … and it went on and on.
I listened and listened to Enya singing the piece. I found the guitar chords on the Chordify app.
The bottom line? I persisted for over an hour. I played the C chord but my ear said no. I tried a few minor (sad) chords but Paint the Sky is joyful, not melancholic.
Finally I saw that I’d really been playing the F chord (it has C in it). The true C chord at first felt wrong but repeating the stanza many times finally showed me it was correct. My ear had to be trained!
The lesson is clear as I contemplate other songs I want to sing: “Don’t give up!” Works well for the rest of life too.
2. Cello
My cello teacher is having me do technical exercises, including these:
It’s a world away from playing a simple sweet melody. Once I master control of the bow and fingers and shoulder (as well as the mind), the melodies played will be far sweeter.
Right now many of the sounds I’m creating are God awful. My right arm feels weak when I’m bowing on the highest string (A). Ahh … this ties in nicely to challenge number 3!
See the line of music where there’s a 3 above a 4? Go to the right end of that line. There you’ll see notes that start at a low pitch, climb to a high pitch and then fall back down. Oh my God, that’s difficult! Bad sounds, tired arm and a little smile. I’m on the road.
3. Strength Training at the Gym
There I was yesterday at Basic-Fit, gazing at the circle of machines with my exercise log sheet from Canada. Nine exercises. Would I find the nine machines?
I did.
I was armed with long ago memories of doing too much too soon and staying away from the gym for many days while the pain receded. So I started very slowly. “Twenty pounds isn’t very much” > “Too bad for you. That’s the resistance we’re doing.” > “Okay.”
I couldn’t figure out how the triceps extension machine worked. The instructions were in French. I saw a friendly-looking guy who was taking a break between sets on another machine. I asked him. He smiled and got to work – demonstrating and coaching me with the subtleties of form. I wasn’t alone in my quest!
I completed my circle of nine, giving myself lots of time to rest. I’m pleased. And there are a few other machines I may add in time.
4. Dutch
I feel like a “stranger in a strange land”, but only with respect to this language learning. I love Ghent.
We had online homework which I finally completed this morning with ample help from Google Translate. For instance, my job was to answer questions about this letter. Some words have sunk in. Many haven’t. And that’s okay.
I’m inching closer to the time when I’ll be able to have a simple Dutch conversation with some old man who doesn’t speak English. On that day, home will be even richer.
My life is two huge beginnings – living in Belgium and learning Dutch. It’s also a bunch of re-beginnings – being on the elliptical (cross-trainer) at the gym, stretching at the gym, playing the cello, playing the piano, playing the guitar, learning and singing songs.
How about one more?
Strength training. I know how important it is. It’s essential for me to reach my main fitness goal: continuing to live in my apartment until I’m 90, which means climbing the five flights of stairs to reach my home.
Fitness machines await me at Basic-Fit. Voilà:
They’re arranged roughly in a circle. I like circles … and I love orange. Can’t you hear them calling? “Bruce! Please come here.”
Later this morning, I will.
For many years I had a Bowflex strength training machine in my basement. I waxed and waned in my commitment to climb on board.
This morning I lay in bed thinking about getting stronger. During my cello lesson on Thursday, I noticed that I couldn’t maintain the proper bow position on the highest string (the A). The brace on my thumb is helping but the whole arm is weak when rotated like this. So the sounds up high were squeaky.
My morning musings brought me back to the exercise log sheet that I used to fill in during my Bowflex sessions. I gave the machine away before I left Canada.
Did I throw away the exercise sheets? I tried to remember back to spring 2022 when I was letting go of most of my worldly belongings. What was my mind saying then?
Those sheets are part of your past … let them go
It’s not like you’re saying goodbye to fitness … keep the sheets
Upon rising, the second thing I did was go to my remaining three cardboard boxes from Canada and start digging. And guess what I found?
Yay for foresight! And I even saved some blank copies of the form. I can begin again.
So cool. I don’t have to start at square one. I can find Basic-Fit machines for each exercise. The weights listed will be far more than I can manage now, but so what?
Twenty-four sheets, each with six days of strength exercising. Okay, I used to be committed. I can be committed again. It looks like I was regular until November, 2021 … so I’ve been on a two-year hiatus.
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