Dear All,

This will be a mini update as for the last few days, I simply have not been up to much. After my farewell to Bob and Gwyn, I arrived at my next stop: an apartment on the coast in a small suburb of Sydney, called Dee Why. Yesterday an inscription in the pavement, made clear where the origin of this name is to be found. At some stage geese flew over here in a formation that looked like a D and Y… and that was it! I’ve said several times that Australian schools do stimulate creative thinking. Should I list the name Dee Why as a result of the education???

I am currently staying in an apartment, within 5 minutes walk from the coast. Seeing this coast, I am more than willing to forget about the North Sea beaches in Belgium: this wide sandy beach with very fine sand, could be a picture in a holiday magazine. It invites to go walking, absorbing the beauty of nature. The ocean stretches to the horizon with water, which is bluer than any photoshop program would ever dare to use. Not only the clarity and the colour of the water are very different to what I am used to: the waves are certainly too! Although there is barely perceptible wind, the waves raise fairly high up, before throwing themselves on the beach in a seething mass of foam. Really a surfer’s paradise: the water is teeming with black dots, between all the forces of nature. For a split second I believed I was looking at sharks, till one of them got on his surfboard in order to perform a very nice balancing act.

While my host was at work yesterday, I went out to explore: it turned out to be a relaxing walk in the sand: the sun in my face, my skin being chilled by a soft breeze. The countless coffee bars and restaurants are being frequented by hundreds of people, mothers with children are walking on the dike… Where has the hectic life, that I’ve had, gone to?

One can not change one’s personality: I still very strongly feel the need to talk to people. After my walk: I take a seat next to a lonely man, peering at the rolling waves. He appears to be an Italian (makes me wonder where all the real Aussies are, as everyone I spoke to seems to be a first generation immigrant). Some 5 years ago, he left Italy to explore the world and to find out what that big outside world had to offer.  On his trip around the world, he did fall in love with Oz.. on top of that, he found the love of his life here too. A very romantic story of which I am sure, there must be hundreds more.

On to the supermarket then, as I still love my diet of bread, bananas and yoghurt. To my big surprise the tills were not manned: it is a matter of DIY! Not all that obvious for a tourist, for whom this is a first introduction to such a system. A little peek, left and right, gives me the confidence to give it a go. Modern society this is: even the cashiers end up being replaced by a machine. It is with a wry sense that I leave this place. Will there come a day when people no longer speak to each other at all???

On returning to my residence, I passed by a school. My motto being “Nothing to lose, everything to gain”, makes me walk in. I want to inform this school that I have something to offer. Clearly enough, the friendly clerk was not expecting anything of the kind and seems to be a bit lost for words. She notes down my name and phone number with the firm promise to contact me in the next week. In a happy mood, I continue my walk back “home”

My host is a born and bred Brit, who came as an adventurous young men to Oz, some 10 years ago. Having a law degree, he ended up in a very different industry since he has build up a career as a sales manager. I don’t have the slightest doubt that he is good at what he does. Fact is that some things are the same throughout the world: one only gets forward in life if one is willing to commit for a 100 %.  Tim surely sticks to that rule: on a his free Saturday, he sits for hours at his desk, preparing for the next week.

The plan is to explore Sydney during the coming days. For the time being , this city is still the big unknown to me, as other that the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, I have no idea what this metropolis has to offer. Having a private guide, I feel confident that I will get filled in, before departing for Brisbane.

As a bouncer, I have one remark to daily life: it seems that Aussies don’t bother to much to wash the windows. To my surprise, windows don’t open in such a way that they allow you the wash them on the outside. Staying in an apartment on the third floor means that you really need long ladder to give them a clean on the outside! And where I would never describe Aussies as vain, I have noticed that a lot of attention is being paid to ironing clothes. I guess this is something to classify under the heading “cultural differences”?

Best wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

On this occasion, the title surely doesn’t refer to the weather, as that is everything but enjoyable. As a true Belgian, who has so very often yammered of the rain, I do experience this as a lesson to stop for once and for all, the lament on what the weather gods are offering us. I am learning to look at the beauty around me, and then the lesser parts of life pale very quickly.

My new home has proved to offer me a very warm nest… referring to human warmth. I keep on struggling with the cold temperatures in which people live here. Only now, does it become clear to me that we used to heat our house far too much: you won’t find rooms with 21°C here, a modest 18°C seems to be much more realistic. Gradually, my body is becoming used to this: since a few days I walk around with a sweater less, although my toes are still protesting. Could this be the result of the fact that, for years, I have been walking on heated floors?

Glynn and Bob are very active seniors: still very dedicated working with the local scouts organisation. I reckon they have become the grandparents of many of these children. When looking at their house, I recognise a Flemish characteristic in such a way that they have extended their house several times over the years. Without a shatter of a doubt : their hall is the longest I have ever seen in a house! When their parents came to live with them, this was solved in the “Australian” way : just knock down the rear wall and build an extension. Why am I left with the impression that problems in this country are being dealt with more common sense that in our over-materialized world?

Yesterday, I had a lecture to the local RSL (Returned Service League) in the centre of Sydney. A beautiful building but of a very different nature than what I had seen in Canada. Here, everything is modern, sleek and minimalist: somehow, it lacks the charm of an old building, where the walls exude history, but nevertheless: it feels very inviting. When addressing to a group of former soldiers (as the majority of my audience proved to be) you can bet on it, that someone in the group, will have knowledge on ammunition. Right so… as an artillery officer asked me a number of questions to test how far my knowledge stretched. I am pleased to say, I passed the test as David later told me that he was quite impressed with what I had to tell on the subject.  Only one caveat that day: my remote control for my power point (which I had tested just before my presentation) went on strike and refused all service. Back to basics then: hitting the spacebar is the way to work around this problem.

Whilst the temperatures are dropping in the length of my travel, the culinary experience is going up the other way. After the presentation, a lunch was being offered in the same club: a lunch I will remember for a long time and not only because of the breathtaking view on Sydney’s Opera House. The open plan kitchen allowed us to watch how the kitchen staff was working themselves into sweat … and fire! Till today, I am convinced that the cook, of Asian origin, must have had a previous career as a fire breather. Watching flames going up more than one meter high, my inner alarm went off.. Where is the emergency exit here??? I can only hope that the fire prevention of this club was up to date as, in Belgian eyes, this was direct attempt to set the place on fire! That aside, the veal, which was served was of the finest quality I have ever tasted. A lovely closure to a wonderful day…

Dee, Bob’s daughter-in-law, acting as chauffeur today, decided to take me to the best viewing point of the city. Even having no basis of comparison, I will readily admit that it will be difficult to find something better. A place on the waterfront, with a view of the Harbour Bridge (the 2^nd largest suspension bridge in the world) and the famous Opera House. For a moment, I wonder whether there would be anyone on this planet, that would not recognise this building on a picture? Just as beautiful, although less known are the old dockyard buildings, which have been converted in exclusive apartments. If you want to become Nicole Kidman’s neighbour, you have to be assured of a fairly good bank balance though…

Up to Roseville then (the suburb where I am staying) to enjoy a relaxed evening followed by an equally relaxed night. And wonder, oh wonder, the sun is shining today! Leaves me with the question : for how long???

Later today, I will be on the move again: from Roseville to Dee Why (so strange place names are no longer an European privilege), where I will be staying the next 4 days, before moving up North to Taree. I already know that this trip will not be obvious as, believe it or not: when I tried to book my train ticket yesterday, I got a message that all trains were fully booked. How on earth  am I going to cover the distance (5 hours by train) is a bit of a miracle to me. Fact is that  I have 2 lectures in Taree… the challenge is now: how to get there??

To be continued…

Greetings

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

Rain and wind in Flanders, that is what I pick up over here. Not to worry, people: it is currently no better down under. It seems as if everything in Melbourne wanted to wave me out in the Belgian way: all hands on deck (for the rain gods !) was the motto.

But let me step back in time. After my lecture on Sunday afternoon, a passionate young major of the reserve army approached me with the question, whether I had been to the “Shrine of Remembrance”. On replying, that I intended to do so the following day, he immediately invited me to a private guided tour, which I have accepted with pleasure.

Monday morning progressed in an unexpected way as I was presented a private concert by my hosts. Janet, who has gone through conservatory many years ago, proves to be a gifted singer. Her husband Jim, whose strong accent keeps on stressing his Scottish roots, has a warm, deep voice, which perfectly blends in with the flawless vocals of Janet. In less than no time I was immersed in Celtic sounds: melancholic, lyrical, exciting… I ended up in a different world!

After a light lunch it was time to make a move to the centre. Jim had told me that Melbourne in the most spread out city down under and who am I  to contradict him? At least, the city keeps up the reputation for excellent public transport : tram 67 appeared right on time. The stop where I stepped onto the tram was number 62 . To get to the memorial, I had to get off at stop 19. In other words, between both stops, I had more than sufficient time to read the newspaper from back to front and… from front to back! An good hour later, I got of the tram, still being on the same side of the city as where I am staying. At that stage the opposite side of Melbourne is more than an hour away. OK, the tram may not exactly match up with a high speed train, but even then…

The impressive memorial of Melbourne is of a different nature than the War Memorial in Canberra. Only temporarily exhibitions can be organised here, there is no permanent display of artefacts other than 2 authentic VC crosses and a lot of colours of several regiments. Having said that, I learn that there are big plans to expand this building. It seems that the centennial fever is striking here too.

In case I would describe the way into town as a test for my nerves, the way out proved to be a test in the square! The wind tears unusually hard on my umbrella, which barely succeeds to keep all the downpour away from me. It seems like yesterday, that I was wondering why Australia doesn’t have any windmills. On a night like this, it soon becomes clear that wind turbines would soon prove to be a profitable investment!

Tram after tram arrives, with exception of tram nr 67… would that one have decided to call it a day before retiring into the depot? As I am about the reach the level of desperation and under cooling,  the missing tram appears. Did anyone whistle “attack”? I am firmly convinced that there must have been some secret signal, for the whole crowd pushes forward, in an almost desperate attempt to find shelter for the rain in an overcrowded wagon, ready for the long drive to home and hearth. I always tend to look for a positive note though. In this case it proved to be the opportunity for a chat with a young woman cramped in, just next to me. With an accent that was a dead give away, that she was from Eastern Europe. She told me she left Macedonia some 5 years ago, as even with an accountant degree, she couldn’t get a job. On my question “why Melbourne”, she replied that she had family here, which proved to be a big help to make the immigration process a lot easier.

More than a hour later, I was only too pleased to be in the warm living room of my host family. Dinner was served very quickly, a matter of warming up life and limb… Dinner proved to be some kind of soup, rather tick, with bread and 3 different kinds of bread spread. Soup and bread: you are on a winner with me there.

In the meantime the wind had built up even more, which would make it hard to get some sleep. In the distance a door was hitting the wall with predictable regularity, preventing me from sinking away into a deep sleep. All I can say is that I wasn’t pleased when the alarm clock woke me up, the hands of the clock pointing at 4 am. We needed 45 minutes on the highway to get to Melbourne airport. One keeps on being reminded constantly: the size of Oz is hard to grasp for a Belgian…

After a pleasant flight of about one hour, the Boeing 757 hit the tarmac of Sydney’s airport with a barely perceptible touch. Bob, my new host, who organised tomorrows lecture, was patiently waiting for me. A good fortune that he had forwarded me a very accurate description of himself: look for an egg with glassed and a beard! It soon becomes clear that Bob, must have been very good in his job at some stage. This 78 year old, decided to get a lawyers degree, after a career of a marine engineer. Four years later, he succeeded and even though he might be a bit slower now, I can assure you that his tongue and brains can easily compete in first class still! For those amongst you, who believe I am a smooth talker… I bow to the master!

Meanwhile, the weather evolves from bad to worse. Enough reason for me to sit at my laptop, typing down the story of my journey into a new future. A story, which I hope that is going to be read by people, wherever they may be…

Stormy wishes

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

I have surfaced again! The wonder pills, called Panadol have killed the fever to that extend that the day before yesterday, I was sufficiently recovered to start exploring Ballarat. Keeping in mind that I was still on the path to full recovery, we decided to that by car (not that one could possibly explore any Aussie city by walking anyway). From one day to the other, it dawns on my that Aussie autumns are not as mild as I had them expected to be. On the bright side: I should end up in warmer atmospheres when heading North to Brisbane, where they enjoy a more tropical climate.

I have overslept more than a bit on Thursday… When Mandy was knocking on my door, in order to check whether I was OK, I simply had no idea of time. Informing me that it was 11.30 am; well that was good enough to chase me out of bed at the speed of lightning! Clear enough the fever had taken that much energy from my body that I needed a more than 12 hour sleep to recuperate. Not a beauty sleep, rather a sleep to restore the balance in my body. This journey has been so enriching for me in a mental way… perhaps I have simply ignored my body just that little bit too much?

My restless nature is still searching for a final destination, which I haven’t found so far, although I know for a fact that I am in no way, the same person as the woman I was, when closing the door of Varlet Farm behind me, on February 2^nd, setting my first steps on an unknown path. A decision, with which I am being confronted on daily basis, since the ones at home stubbornly refuse all communication. Even so, nothing is going to withhold me from saying that I have made the right choice. Or am I right, in stating that all people are narrow minded, selfish little creatures? And I am not referring to myself on this occasion… Sure enough, I have chosen for myself. However, I didn’t do that until my children were adults. As they have reached the age to walk their own path, I am doing that too: the only difference being, that I do wish them the very best, something which they don’t grant me. Leaves me behind with the question: who is being selfish in this story…? My door will always be open, theirs remains closed.

Back to my journey… Mandy is being drawn as a magnet to her favourite restaurant: have a guess where we had our lunch today? At least, I can understand her choice: as far as I am concerned, this is by far the best restaurant I have encountered since I started my trip. Pumped up with sufficient calories to see me through the day, we started our exploration. The somewhat  faded-glory of this city is still reflected in many stately buildings. Somehow, there seems to be an imbalance between the city size  and the scale of the buildings, that  are too

 impressive to the streets. I notice that the same mistakes as in Europe are being made here too: wide boulevards, lined with beautiful Victorian architecture style, are here and there being abruptly disrupted by a more recent structure of indefinable style: a concrete box, that contrasts with the sophistication of the rest of the street. Shame that the government allows this to happen. The vision of this young country on the preservation of heritage is in urgent need for continuous training: on very regular base, authentic buildings are being knocked into the ground. Something that amazes me, knowing that Aussies are often drawn to Europe, because of its history. Don’t they realise that they will never build up a history of their own as long as traces of their existence keep on disappearing under a breaker?

Ballarat has a magnificent monument to all Australian ex-prisoners of war soldiers: an endless row of granite panels, on which thousands of names have been engraved. Names that symbolize the unspeakable suffering humanity can bring about. The memorial is connected to a sophisticated water system, revealing a lot of symbolism. This country surely doesn’t lack creativity. I wonder whether their school system plays a part in that?

From there on we went to a building to commemorate the Great war. Mandy lovingly describes it as their own “Menin Gate”…with some imagination, I see the logic behind it. One of the panels, placed here in the early 1920’s, makes immediately clear how far away we are from European mainland. Under the heading “France” , I see the names of Polygon Wood, Zonnebeke and Broodseinde appearing. No reference to Belgium though!

Right behind the gate lies the majestic “Avenue of honour” : a 22 km long perpendicular avenue that stretches itself endlessly. Along this boulevard appear, to this day, 3332 trees (there were originally 3771 but here too, modern society has created some damage). In front of every tree, I spot a small plate with name and rank of a soldier, who many years ago, signed his enlisting papers full of courage, ready to walk to the big adventure. Only to discover soon after that the adventure they ended up in, proved to be of a very different nature than what they anticipated.

Our ride continues for miles along a vast lake. I can barely believe my ears, when Mandy tells me that, only a few years ago, this was a dry plain. This part of Australia had gone through a drought of 10 years, so water became extremely scarce. The endless lake, which now extends itself in front of me, reveals for fickle nature can be down under.

The late autumn sun is not as such to convince anyone to stay outdoors for long. At 5 pm, we are safely back home, on the mat in front of the stove, to enjoy the radiant heat. This house offers, as many other Australian houses,  very little protection against the cold. It keeps on amazing me that nothing is being done to prevent the cold from getting in.  While we are enjoying “The English Patient”, all of a sudden, the quiet evening is being disturbed by a tremendous thud. Not to worry: it proves to be possums, falling out of a tree. Their landing resounds through the house. The next phase is a bustle of many feet, to and fro, which makes clear to me that the little sweeties are trying to get away.

Saturday, and that means once more: time to say goodbye. I will always be grateful for all the good care Mandy has given me: a private nurse, that far away from your home country, not everyone has as much luck as I had! The train brings me, without any problems, back to Melbourne, where I have a lecture for the “Historical Society” in the afternoon. First and foremost, I get to my new hosts for the next 2 days. It turns out to be a beautiful home in Carnegie, a suburb of Melbourne. From there we depart for the local bowling club in Oakleigh where the meeting is set to take place. My audience consist of a group of 60 people, all with a very strong interest in the history of the Great War. Some of them have driven a long distance to attend the lecture… this is not Belgium, o no.. no one would drive more than 1.30 hours to attend an event like this!  A relaxing atmosphere, a smooth lecture with a very satisfied audience, organisers radiating with pride… in other words: my day can not go wrong anymore!

Janet and Jim, my new hosts are the very first Aussies I meet, who are so well aware of the environment and the need to protect it. They proudly tell me that they have installed solar panels for the production of electricity as well as to supply them with hot water. Moreover, they drive a hybrid car, which charms me especially because of the silence , no roaring engine to be heard!. The only lack I notice, is double glazing. Apart from that this couple thinks very “green”, something which I have barely encountered in Oz , so far.

Both of them are very enthusiastic musicians: wherever I look, there are instruments to be seen. Jim , a native Scot (and no way he could ever hide that : after 2 words I realise that his accent hasn’t faded in the 40 years he has been living here!) proves to be a gifted cook too, however tonight it is Janet that works away in the kitchen. She offers a delicious meal : lamb (cooked as I hope to be do it as well one day…) , a bunch of vegetable and  -thank God- no rice but potatoes instead. It proves to be a lovely evening, in the company of Helen and Michael, who have joined in. Many aspects of life are being discussed… even Belgian politics!

This morning is reserved for updating my blogs: the Dutch one, being more or less up to date, the English one, on the other hand, is constantly lagging behind. Never had I imagined that so much time was going to be invested in writing. No complains to be heard though:… in a comfortable seat, in front of a fireplace, I do realise that life is not all that bad after all!

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

Time flies, is a common saying that I can easily subscribe to, as those last couple of days have past by in a flash. The day before yesterday I was still in Melbourne, this evening I am spending in Ballarat after a more than pleasant stay in Geelong.

I wonder whether I have gipsy blood running in my vains? Fact is that I am enjoying travelling to the most. Those last couple of months, I have been living out of a suitcase, something which, to my big surprise, I do enjoy. When getting on a bus, a train or a plane, I know that at the other end of the journey, a new adventure is awaiting me.

Let me step back in time. Melbourne has not been able to charm me in the same way as Canbarra has done. Sure enough the city projects a certain grandeur, the majestic buildings are witnessing a grand past but nevertheless, there is something lacking. Hard to describe: perhaps this city is just too big for me? Perhaps too impersonal? Whilst I had the feeling of space and countryside in Canberra, Melbourne is enclosing me just too much…

So I left the city behind without regrets. The feel was one of “Been there, done that, got the T-shirt” so time to move on to the next stage. Not without almost having experienced a heart attack though. Just before leaving Brent’s office, my little notebook decided to give up on me. No sign of life, no matter what I tried. I can assure you that this must approach an “close death” experience: all my contacts are saved in that little device. How on earth am I going to plan the rest of my trip???

Panic has never been a good advisor. An attitude of “ for every problem, there is a solution to be found”, takes you a lot further. In the literally meaning of the word, it means: Geelong. To Flemish standards it would be classified as large. city. Geelong, with some 300.000 inhabitants is situated at a bay with fine sandy beaches. As most cities in the around here, Geelong too has been designed to a grid pattern: large square blocks, cut up by endless roads. Julie was supposed to meet me at the railway station and since we had never met before, I adviced her to look for a giant bright red suitcase. Not as romantic as a red rose but sure enough as efficient. Still we managed to miss each other, walking around in circles until a friendly clerk connected the 2 of us.

Even before I had said “Hello”, I had asked whether there was a pc shop nearby. Top priority was to get my laptop up and running as I do need it badly for my presentations. What a relief to learn that the problem was situated in the battery cable: a new one sorted it out and most of all… restored peace in my heart! Once this had been dealt with, Julie took me for a ride in Geelong, giving me plenty of historical information. She probably doesn’t know how much this meant to me. After this wonderful introduction, she took me to her home : a wonderful house on top of the hill with a breathtaking view across the city. There are worse places on this planet to end up!

Once arrived, I got to know Glenn, Julie’s husband. This cheerful man was more than busy in the kitchen, preparing a meal which would soon prove to be the first “European style” dinner, I was about to enjoy in Oz.  Although the bush telegraph seems to have been very active, informing my new hosts of what food I can eat (and more importantly, what I DON’T eat), I wonder whether they have been informed that I am not the biggest eater on this world. The food he cooked would have been sufficient to feed a whole army section! Porc, baked potatoes, cauliflower with while sauce, pies, parsnip ( a vegetable barely eaten in my home country, but ever so popular here) and – believe it or not- French red wine. This country has thought me to enjoy red wine: no need to get some from the other side of the world, the quality here is so much better!

After a relaxed chat, it proved to be bedtime.  A wonderful room with, seldom seen in Oz, heating. I have already stepped away from the belief that it is always hot in Oz. On the contrary: nights down under prove to be bitterly cold. Something which is only made more prominent by the almost complete lack of double glazing and insulation.

A wonderful warm night sleep, a great breakfast : my batteries are all charged to deliver my talk at Matthew Flinders school.  It meant a happy reunion with some teachers whom had been to Varlet Farm in the previous years. Two very interested groups of youngsters listened to my lectures. What a great feeling to see that the young generation can be fascinated by that bit of history which both our countries have in common. After the talks, I ended up being invited for a lunch with 3 teachers of whom one proved to be an English lady, teaching French in Australia!

Time to say goodbye in order to move to my next appointment. Johnathan stayed with me some 2 years ago. He wanted to return the hospitality he had experienced while visiting the Salient, so I was being invited for a cup of coffee. A chat of 3 hours (with a couple of more coffees) both told us that life isn’t always as easy as it seems. But, to end on a cheerful note: we have both made it to the other side of the tunnel. Now we sit and laugh and share our positive view on the future which lays ahead of us.

Had I been chatting too much that day? Fact is that I had a bit of a sore feeling in my vocal cords. The coach trip from Geelong to Ballarat ( a good hour) was going to be invested in silence, at least that was the plan. It didn’t quite work out, as I established contact with a wonderful lady sitting next to me. Before I realised the bus pulled in the railway station of Ballarat, bringing me to Mandy, whom I had last seen almost 2 years ago. All I knew was that my vocal cords were not going to get any rest at all, once we had met again!  I really needed to look twice, when spotting Mandy from a distance: how on earth she managed is a miracle: she seems to be 5 years younger now compared to 2 years ago!

Her enthusiasm just shines through in the same way as her energy does! Without delay I was taken to a restaurant, which I will gladly grant the label of first  “top class” restaurant I have seen in this country : wonderfully decorated, excellent service, wonderful presentation and a meal which was top of the bill all the way. After this more than satisfying experience, we set off for her home where we were being welcomed by 5 cats and a – let’s say: slightly overweighed- border collie. It has turned out to be an evening of catching up… very long catching up since the clock had gone past 2 am by the time we turned in.

At that stage my legs felt as if they were made of lead, soon to become even heavier. All night long I have been shivering with fever in order to wake up this morning with a throat, which doesn’t allow me to swallow at all. Wrapped in 2 blankets, I am seated on the mat in front of the fireplace, set on maximum, and yet I don’t manage to get warm. After rainfall, the suns starts shining… I can only hope that my sun will start shining really soon.

Shivering regards

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

A lazy Friday it has been: time to work on my blogs as I started to get hopelessly behind. I enjoy the rest in the house, the hospitality of this family, the freedom to do as I please.

After another excellent night sleep (I wonder how many different beds I have been sleeping in since I started my journey?) the day comes too soon. My hostess had suggested that we would go for an early morning walk and that meant getting out of bed , sooner than I have been used to the last couple of weeks. Sure I love walking but long gone are the day that I got out of bed at the crack of dawn. Although the idea of an early start didn’t appeal to me at first, now all I can say is that I am so pleased, I let myself being talked into this. We set off for a short drive, direction Red Hill. At first I thought that “hill” was a bit of an overstatement but soon I came to realise that it did involve a fairly steep climb. Good to get warm as the mornings in are cold. Climbing up, Jacques Dutronc’s song “Il est cinq heures, Paris s’éveille” popped to my mind. With a bit of alterations, it could have applied to this morning too with that difference that one has great views here, big skies and silence which was only  broken by an angry Mack pie, upset over the early disturbance of his territory. Wet grass under my feet, a rainbow in the sky and wind that all of a sudden swept over the top of the hill: what else can one dream off?

Saturday evening was going to show me another aspect of the Australian culture. It was my first (hopefully not my last!) introduction to a party, in this case the 50^th birthday party of a lady who stayed with me last year. The theme being a Venetian evening, meant that everyone was supposed to wear a mask. I have to be honest in saying that it doesn’t make it any easier to talk to someone as often you have no clue whom you are talking too! A practical problem (it is fairly difficult to empty a glass with half of your face covered up) came at my rescue : those masks soon disappeared in all directions! Snacks of all kinds were being served,  many of which I had no idea what they could be made off. Those who know me, will be familiar with my ground rule when it comes to eating: what the eyes don’t like, doesn’t make it to the mouth… Good fortune was the light was dimmed: in other words, the looks didn’t stop me from eating. All in all an Aussie party isn’t all that different from an European one: there is some dancing (but not as much as I had hoped for) and some drinking (and for some: more than I had hoped for!). In Belgian terms, Aussies would be referred to as “not dead from the first drink”.  I got “home” at a civilized hour in order to go to bed,  dreaming of a wonderful evening.

One can not always party, and that I have known! On Sunday my hosts have invited me along for a special activity: picking olives. A friend of theirs has several olive trees which need to be harvested before the severe frost sets in. Neighbours, friends, relatives: anyone who was in for a combination of fun and work, was more than welcome.  Never having seen an olive tree from close by, I had no clue what the procedure was. One bonus: one doesn’t need to present a degree to do the job, a bit of logic thinking and good organising, takes you a long way. The olives are actually not being picked by hand but are literally shaken off the tree by men operating “shakers” . The others were positioning nets, clipping them, unclipping, handpicking the last olives, moving the nets forward and reorganising them around the next group of trees, once a lot had been done. We soon proved to be a good oiled machine, advancing at good speed.  At lunch, the whole group was invited to the farm for a meal which, I swear to God, was the best I have eaten since a very long time. The mushroom soup was beyond superlatives, the lamb was so tender… and having worked: I felt hungry so I did honour to the cook! Drawback of spoiling the group to that extend, was to be seen in the afternoon: we could barely bend over! Another couple of hours of picking, to end up at a table with home made pie… there are worse ways to pass a Sunday!

It had been a long time, since I did such physical work. Having said that, I enjoyed it to the most. It brought back long time memories: where are the days gone to, when we had a large group of locals helping with the harvest of cauliflowers on my home farm? The long table, full of food, the cheerfulness… I had a blast from the past yesterday.

Not the best night sleep has rounded of my stay in Canberra. I honestly wonder whether I will find any better on this planet. Perhaps I will, as many of my Aussie friends keep on saying that I shouldn’t take any decisions as to where to settle, until I have been to New Zealand.

An early flight was awaiting me on Monday morning, taking me away from the city I came to feel so connected to. Chris was so kind to take me to the airport where I could board the plane less than 40 minutes later. At the beginning of my trip, the fact that I arrived less than an hour in advance, would have made me incredibly nervous. In Canberra, it never crossed my mind that I could miss my flight… Is this the Aussie mentality nestling under my skin???

Melbourne has neatly build its airport out of the centre, but not to worry as there is a bus service which takes you right to the main station in some 45 minutes. Once arrived there, it was only a matter of finding the train to Malvern ( a suburb of Melbourne). No problem there too (after all I am an experienced traveller by now) . After a short walk, I arrived at Brent’s office where - thank God- I could leave my suitcase ( which seems to get heavier from one city to the other) behind.  Back on the train again, direction city centre as I was eager to explore what Melbourne has to offer.

Of course I knew that I am biased in my opinion: now that Canberra has stolen my heart, I was having very high expectations of Melbourne. Clear enough that this city not only differs in scale (360.000 inhabitants in Canberra versus 4 million here) but sure enough also in atmosphere. I am writing this blog, sitting on a square, right in front of St Pauls cathedral. Sky scrapers (although not half as high as in Toronto) and old buildings (going back to the 1800’s) are standing side by side. While looking at the cathedral, one could easily dream to be in Europe, when looking across the street, it immediately becomes clear that this is not Europe.

This city claims to have the second most extended network of trams (only to be beaten by Lisbon) in the world. I can only confirm this statement must hold some truth as one can barely take a picture of a historic building, without a tram flying through the image!

And yes, they cater for their tourists here. Not only by offering a square with free WIFI but also by providing a tram which tours around the whole city. This old tram (and I mean: really old) stops at numerous places, giving you the time to explore sightseeing places around. It was my very good intention to do the full tour to start with, then deciding where I would like to spend more time. Not all intentions make it to reality, nor did that one!  After 2 stops I couldn’t resist to get off,  to visit the parliament house. And hurray, since I arrived in perfect time to join a guided tour. What I have learned from that guided tour is that timing is everything in life.  On July 1^st 1851, the state Victoria was born ( previous to this was part of New South Wales) … and just a fortnight later gold was being discovered. The gold rush was a good news show for Victoria as the young state could start off without any financial worries at all. In Dutch, there are several sayings to make clear that someone who is well off, likes to show off as well but I have no clue how that translate into English. I do have an impression though of how it looks in reality. Both the lower and the higher house have been decorated with gold and one has to admit: when sitting on the source of it, it wouldn’t be correct to be tight. A rule, which was very well understood here, since not less that 12 million dollars were invested to make sure one would notice this state produced gold.

At the beginning of the tour, the guide had inquired where his audience came from. Apart form Africa, every continent had it representatives. Our country, being a small nation such as it is, had one single person to defend the colours… In the library, all of a sudden the guide, inquires where the Belgian delegation is hiding and then he points up, saying “Made in Belgium”. A crystal chandelier of a size which is too large to even describe proved to be coming from our tiny little country. No doubt that the firm, Val Saint-Lambert, must have known that money was not an issue, when designing this chandelier. I guess they have lived up to the expectations as the light is now breaking into the room in a ray of thousand colours. Did I suddenly feel  a glance of national pride???

After the tour, it was time to rush back to the railway station as the office of my new host (in Malvern) is a good 45 minutes drive away from his house. The reward he obtains for commuting such a long distance, lays in the fact that his house is situated in one of Australians nature parks. Needless to say that it feels as if I have discovered another part of heaven…

My hostess cooked a delicious meal (I am spoiled rotten in this country!) after which we had a serious discussion on the way the aboriginal inhabitants have been dealt with. I openly admit that I haven’t got sufficient background knowledge to judge really, but having said that, as much I try to understand her arguments, there sure are some I don’t agree with. All I can conclude is that this issue must be such a risky one for any politician that wants to sort it out. Should I recommend some of their Belgian colleagues to come and give some advice????

A sound nights sleep, a good shower and on to the next stage this morning : 2 lectures in a girl’s grammar school. Was it me, or was it them but somehow I had the feeling that they were considering me as coming from Mars… I have had better days, no doubt about it. However, it can not have been all that bad, since I was kindly offered a box of chocolates. My hosts will be pleased… no way I can fit an match box in my suitcase, let alone a box of chocolates!

And that is how far my day has stretched. Finishing my blog page in the centre of Melbourne before embarking for a new exploration of this ever going city.

Best wishes

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

A lazy start yesterday, although that was soon to be changed. Another phone call from Chris to find out whether I had anything planned for the day. Well, not really, so another guided tour was coming my way. Since Chris’ wife needed the family car, we were going to tour around in her sports car. Another new experience to add to the list :  from now on, nothing is going to surprise me anymore. This time we headed for the country side at a good speed (a car likes that proves to have a very sensitive accelerator, the slightest touch and the engine gives full speed ahead!). Where as I have been fortunate enough to see the living version of Skippy the previous day, I have been confronted with the less fortunate congener yesterday : some poor ones which had been hit by cars were laying along the road.


Australia is big, that’s a lesson which I have already taken in. The wide views over the gentle slopes, which prove to be much greener here than in Adelaide, will always stay with me. Those typical gum trees, as solitary guards, waiting to give shelter to one of the few cows  venturing in the pastures. With miles in between, a farm house is to be discovered. Makes me wonder who can survive here… No Australian farmer will ever be able to charm me, that is for sure! I still haven’t figured out whether it is the intention to turn me into “Aussie Charlotte” but sure enough efforts are being put in to offer me as much of the local taste as possible. No chocolate but beer was the next experience on the list. I ended up in a local pub, drinking Aussie beer (although Belgian I am not a beer drinker. Having said that, I might change my opinion after my first taster!) in and amongst a whole bunch of local Aussies. Large screens were projecting horse races and a rugby game simultaneously. Gambling seems to be the second nature of many Australians. Needless to say that horse races are a number one for these people. Rugby plays a big part in  society here too : youngsters play it from a very early age. United as Oz may be, this doesn’t apply to rugby : 3 different types of the same game… Wonder if one of my next outing would be a lesson in rugby???

Had I been to a local market yet? No? Well, direction market it was. Don’t expect the European type of market as a market here, believe it or not, is organised indoors. Aussies have a social life outdoors but do their shopping indoors. The large variety of fruits and vegetables draws the attention straight away, no doubt that the choice here is a lot wider. Wonder whether the melting pot of cultures is to be “blamed” for this. A shop with nothing but nuts of spices… those would struggle to survive in our country. However, in a country where the sun shines more than one reckons to be possible, I would have expected outdoor markets. Those Aussies, they keep on surprising me!

To round off the day with on a cultural note, I was taken to the National Gallery. The most impressive of pieces of art, coming from a wide area, are being put on display here. Some of these masterpieces make it clear straight away, that I should have tried my luck as an artist (although I am the first one to admit that I haven’t got a single artistic gen in my body): hanging up an empty frame is something even I would have managed! Chris soon realised that modern art isn’t really my cup of tea, so we moved on to one of the rooms where impressionism was being shown. John Glover, a name to remember for me. The exploration was topped up with some Aboriginal art and some masterpieces from India (beautiful cloths). Time to go after that…

It is just wonderful to be offered the taste of a country on a golden plate. Hospitality isn’t a hollow word down under : no need to give me more proof of that.

Goodnight all

charlotte

A quiet day yesterday: not that there was nothing to talk about… on the contrary : my day was packed leaving me with no time to write it all down. I am not a Duracell bunny : no nightly writing after a day to behold.

The day started in an Aussie way,  in other words : relaxed. Till a phone call broke the morning rest : one of my guests, whom I have welcomed twice over the years, was wondering how much I had seen of Canberra so far. Clear enough not sufficient, so I ended up being offered a guided tour impromptu . Some offers are just “too nice to refuse” and surely this one classified as such. In less than no time I was being collected. Believe it or not but Chris, whom has been living in Canberra since many years, did not even know of the existence of this suburb. Just down the road, a entirely new development is being built : suburbs are growing at the speed of daylight. Whilst the “old” city of Canberra (having said that: “old” does have another dimension here) has been designed by an architect on demand of the government, the more recent area’s are being designed by developers. Europe in a reversed way: old cities with narrow streets and new suburbs with more spacious roads. The Aussie version is : an old city with very large roads and new suburbs with small roads. It only confirms on universal rule : for developers every  square inch counts!

The new Parliament House was the point of destination. Only in use since 1988, this massive building can still be referred to as new. If it has been the intention to tell the world that Australia is a young nation which is growing rapidly, I can only say that the architect has met the challenge in a brilliant way. The first impression is overwhelming: walking into a huge room with numerous pillars, covered with pink marble, refering to the gum trees, with their soft pink and grey colours. Even though this is a modern building with white walls and a lot of incoming light, it still has a warm atmosphere. For a split second, it strikes out that the architect has succeeded in catching the Aussie world within the walls of this room. The second hall proves to be enormous is size, with the most beautiful wooden floor I have ever seen: inviting me to start dancing straight away. It shines in a breathtaking way… This room is dominated by a massive tapestry (20m X 9 m), based on a painting by Arthur Boyd. On this very spot, Flemish tapestry is losing it status of “large”. This blows me away…

Australia is a melting pot of different cultures but even more so, it is the country of intense colours; I can’t deny being impressed by the beauty. Blue has a different dimension to it, red is not as harsh as I what I am used to: it almost feels fragile, whilst yellow is so bright that one needs to put on sun glasses (which reminds me of the fact that, after 2 weeks in Oz, I am convinced that Aussies are being born with sun glasses on their nose or head!). The colours are splashing of this tapestry, vibrant as the country itself!

The senate and the house of representatives have a very European style, except for the green and the red being much softer. I have been given a decent lesson on Australian politics, which has left me with the believe that all politicians are the same, regardless which nationality is indicated on their passports. Alike their antipodes, the average Aussie doesn’t seem to be too impressed by the ladies and gentlemen who occupy those seats. Another similarity : as in Europe, coalitions seem to change from time to time.

Not everything what is being discussed by politicians should be heard : even that has been incorporated in the design of this building. A centrally located fountain should prevent that someone is listening in whilst the authority figures are having an informal chat. ( “Watergate” was the word that jumped to my mind)

Enough about politics : the next stop was one to refuel the inner person, which took us to a restaurant in the old city centre. Eating has never been one of my priorities (nor will it ever be), in other words : I don’t want to waste too much time on it. A sandwich in a restaurant where men in suit and tie, blend in between those in jogging and sneakers. Again that cosy mix. It has drawn my intention that one can not really sin against the dress code in this country : youngsters in shorts and low cut tops, people in daily city wear and others, in a coat and bonnet : one sees it all in the same street. Clear enough a population with such different roots has a different thermostat as well : what proves to be cold for one, seems to be summer weather for the other. Should be acceptable and clear enough that is the case in Canberra.

What’s the action a commanding officer undertakes when he wants to capture a city? Lesson learned in the Great War : move to the higher ground to have the overview. With no intentions to invade Canberra (other than as an anxious tourist), we went up Mount Ainslie. The view from the top is stunning : it becomes clear how stretched out this city is but at the same time it shows the amount of green in the centre. We had a leisurely drive up to the top. Wandering around we bumped into an acquaintance of Chris, grasping for breath. That brave man had run up to the top and just to make sure his condition wouldn't slip away, he added a number of push-ups. It doesn’t take that much to impress a Belgian… should I have told him that?

Later in the day, I have been guided through the embassy section of the city. Apparently every country had been asked to build their embassy in the style of the homeland. When hearing that, I couldn’t do anything else but panic : how on earth can Belgium represent its soul in a building? I won’t be able to provide the answer to that question for the good reason that the Belgian embassy is a well kept secret… we didn’t manage to find it. Some of the countries understood only too well what was expected (India, Thailand) while others clearly didn’t. Our neighbouring countries can go for the top on that list : France and Germany… not a single French or German would recognise their own embassy!

Enough of bricks and concrete, we move on to fauna and flora. True nature lovers will know that autumn isn’t really the best time of year to admire flowers. Even without blooming flowers the botanic garden is well worth the visit. Don’t question me for names : my hard drive is already overloaded. What I do remember is the name of a grey and red bird (kind of an oversized parakeet) : Galahs, hundreds of them to be seen.

Meanwhile Chris had learned that there was still a gap in my introduction to this country. Where have all those kangaroos gone to? And then I ended up, having a guide with a mission : I was going to see my first roo that very same day! It pays to be persistent : after a very short drive and an even shorter walk, I stood in front of the hopping national symbol of this country. Fact is that the puzzled kangaroo looked at me with the same amazement as I did. Funny creatures : a small head, ears which seem to be continuously in move, a spine which goes from bend over to straight upwards in a fraction of a second… The more I looked, the more there were to be spotted : small, tall, hopping around, laying down… Hard to believe that barely 3 minutes away from the town centre, wildlife is to be found in it’s natural habitat. Canberra is being referred to as the bush capital: I’ve seen living proof of that.

I was neatly being escorted to the front door by my gallant guide, promising that there is a lot more to be discovered and that he would happily guide me around again. Who am I to complain? Gratitude and joy, these are the feelings which I experience now.

Time to change into a different outfit since I was invited for an evening meal by a major and his wife. A typical Australian meal: what would that be like? The start proved to be very Spanish as we were greeted with sangria. I am still doubting whether the entrée was a soup or not (it could be either by the looks) . Fact is that it contained fish which was ever so nice but…spicy! Wow, that put my mouth on fire. First lesson learned : Aussie kitchen is different from the European one, the influence of the neighbouring countries can not be denied.  The main dish was beef (slightly similar to Flemish stew) , served with rice, a dish with vegetables and a dish with (again spicy) potatoes. My hostess was kind enough to warn me, so I stayed miles away from the potatoes. Safe the best for last, no doubt about it. The dessert proved to be heavenly : a crème with lemon. Out of this world!

Before I realised it, the clock pointed at midnight. Time to head "home". A beautiful day, full of warmth, friendship and laughter. Another day to confirm that booking this trip was the best decision I have ever made.

Good night,

charlotte

Dear all,

I am more or less recovered from the shock of yesterday, although it is not  out of my system yet. I just need a few days to digest and then I will be ready to beat the world again (at least that is what I hope.)

Would I be suffering from the after-effects of a shock (sounds almost as if I have survived an earthquake)? This morning my power meter was definitely stuck on “refuel” : I didn’t want to get out of bed, nor did I feel like doing anything at all. Laziness is a bad advisor as it only results in the fact that one starts worrying even more. So : get into action, girl, that is a remedy that always works

What do to do if you want to shoot in action in someone else's house?? Looking for work is the logical answer to that question.. And so, my eye fell on a laundry basket, which in no uncertain terms made it clear that the measure was full (in this case: the laundry basket). Stacey told me that I was free to use their laundry machine, whenever I wanted to, but my dear hostess, to whom technology has no secrets ( while she assumes that this applies to everyone!), forgot to explain how to operate it. Opening the door, filling the machine, doesn’t present to much of a problem. But what comes next? Even Christmas (the family cat), who usually ignores me point blank,  came to check on me as if she wanted to warn me for the disaster that was about to happen. Sure enough the last thing I wanted to achieve was clothes, reduced to half the size, on the line. Well, I am happy to say that my self-confidence (when it comes to operating buttons on a machine) has received an enormous boost. As with public transport : I now feel to be in control of all situations . This reads that I can handle silk, wool, cotton without any hesitations

Autumn in Canberra: there are worse seasons on earth. The sun puts in an effort, a breath of wind and dry air: the ideal formula for quick drying and that is what laundry does.

Just before noon I was picked up by someone called Tony, who took me to the university for the third age (not that I have any intention to subscribe as yet ). Along the way he picked up another 2 people: a 87 - year old and a 90-year-old: brisk men, still eager to learn. Made me feel a teenager! Especially Bill,  was a very interesting conversation partner. At the outbreak of the war, he had signed up as intrepid young  man to the call of duty (as a volunteer of course). Soon came to conclude that the army wasn’t not really his thing, so moved on to the Air Force. Like any young man, he was chasing the dream for a career as a top gun Tom Cruise. Many are called but few are chosen: Bill discovered soon enough. Not the fast fighter planes were to become his world, but the much more cumbersome bombers. After an intensive 2 years training , he received the title of pilot, which meant that he was to drop his part of the “load” over Germany. When I asked how many flights he had done, he replied innumerable. Learning that I came from Belgium, he told me: I often flown above you. Correction please: over my mother yes, as I was not yet in production!

On one of the flights there was a bomb stuck in the system what constituted a real danger when landing. On the flight back to England, he undertook frantic efforts to loosen the absurdity and according to him, he finally  managed when Glen Miller’s plane was in the area  (haven’t I have heard that story before???). As a result of health problems after the war, Bill lost all opportunities to become a commercial pilot. Instead of conquering the skies, Bill became an accountant: as a career change, I guess that can count.

This afternoon was just a taster for me: so that I would know what I am expected to do next week. Thank you, it worked perfectly to reduce my confidence (killed instantly the boost it had experienced in morning!) The lecturer, Barry…( I didn’t get his surname) had been active in the media world in a previous life. Apart from that he had also written speeches for many politicians, so needless to say that he knew the ropes, something he did demonstrate there with a natural ease. He proved to be a very entertaining speaker presenting a fascinating talk on Galipolli in combination with an impressive power point (having all latest features included). I will be sweating next week… that already I know.

Back home (that is how it feels like)  I wanted to do some ironing. So far I have been nothing but impressed by Australian houses but now I realize there is one large shortage…Where can I plug in please? No plugs to be found. Copper must be incredibly expensive here, or : Aussies just don’t iron their clothes???

Pizza to put the day to an end, a lovely chat and then: yes, definitely some blogging…

Best wishes,

Dear All,
A day as many others: at least for my hosts, as both of them were back to work again today. It seems an eternity to me since I have experienced that pressure on my shoulders. Too bad that, what seems to be an eternity, doesn’t last an eternity.

So this was the first morning for me to wake up in a house that was completely deserted, except for that dog and the cat. The dog has wisely decided that there was human life in the guest room (oh yes, since the youngest son of the family has returned from a few days of camp, I dropped ranking on the spot: Skipper shifted to the bed of his master) and that this person could act perfectly as a back-up option. For a moment, I thought this house was haunted, when noticing that the door of my room (which is a bit twisted so it doesn’t close a 100%) very quietly opened. It was the small, little brad sneaking in. Since his food made him flourish in width rather than height, I couldn’t spot him. It was only when 2 hairy paws appeared on the edge of my bed, that I knew I wasn’t going to write a ghost story tonight…..

After I had savoured my breakfast (and I must admit : Australian bread is delicious), I was ready to go. Life can be so simple… unfortunately that isn’t always the case though. I had barely left the house, to come to the conclusion I couldn’t lock the front door. Sure enough I had a key but no manual. Which ever direction I turned the key (remembering that in the US you have to turn the key in the opposite direction from what we are used to in Europe), nothing worked. All my efforts had the same effect: the door opened swiftly! On to plan B : all houses have screen doors as well, which, believe it or not, have a lock as well. Where to find the logic behind that, I guess my hosts will have to explain it to me. To be complete: I have to mention that this screen doors have a metal grid ( small enough to make sure that no human being can get through). However, I still haven’t figured out why this door has a lock too. Would it be designed for those Belgians, who don’t manage to operate the first lock???

The bus today, offered a free “speedy Gonzales” experience : the driver had decided to honour the name of the bus (rapid red: what’s in a name?) by giving the accelerator an extra hit. No doubt about it that a record has been killed today! No need to worry about police: alike kangaroos, they seem to be hard to spot. This surely presents the biggest difference with Washington, where the streets were colouring blue with police…definitely not the case here but amazingly enough there seems to be hardly any crime here. Canberra is considered to be a very safe city

When walking through this city: one can not deny that it exudes wealth. With exception of a couple of streets, where it is visible that money is tight, I was left with the feeling that money is the last of all concerns. Clear enough, Australia is obviously a big country, where one would expect to come across differences. I guess that Adelaide and Canberra are prove of this. When walking the streets, glitzy Audi’s and Mercedes cars are to be seen all the time, sure enough that wasn’t the case in Adelaide. I was quite amazed to hear that there is no compulsory MOT check is some states : in other words, as long as the engine runs, one is allowed to drive that car. Would this the be the explanation for the fact that I barely see any garages around here?

The most produced car here is a “Holden”.  Since I didn’t seem to succeed to mock their national pride on 4 wheels in the traffic, Hugh (my host in Adelaide), pointed some out to me. Hello… their Holdens are Opel cars with a different emblem. When looking at the fleet: one soon spots the difference with the US: no big vans or jeeps here, but much more European styled cars. 

Once arrived in Canberra, I just jumped on another bus (after all, I am experienced by now) to head to the AWM (since I don’t overeat, there is no need to work away any extra pounds by walking the distance). I just wanted to visit the WWI exhibition more in depth as I still find it a fascinating world. 

And of course, I am keen to find out how in what way different guides present the history of the Great War to their audience, so I decided to listen in to a guide at work in this section. If ones believes in coincidence : what about this one… In the first group, a man stepped forward asking the guide if she knew anything on Hill 60. She replied in a very honest way that she had no specific knowledge and then turned to the group, in a jokingly way, asking if anyone in the group might be able to help. To me, that is an opportunity not to be missed of course, so it ended up that I was acting as a guide in the WWI section of the AWM!  If I would be offered this as a job: I tell you something, I would grab it with both hands! I really had to bite my tongue or the 90 minutes which are allotted to a guide to cover all of the AWM, would have been filled in with the history of WWI only!

In the afternoon, I chatted with someone who was looking at rearranging the WW I exhibition room (in the next couple of years this part of the AWM is going to be completely refurbished). To me, this was the signal to make clear that the role played by the Diggers in the Salient is not being covered as it should. Ninety percent of the coverage is on the Somme area whilst only a scant of 10 percent is dedicated to the Salient. So I keep on repeating ad nauseam, that the Battle of Broodseinde, the biggest success during the Battle of Passchendaele and a very Anzac achievement, is not even being mentioned here!

I guess that over the years, I have proven the fact that being talkative can help you forward in life. And that is no different here : in less than no time I was taken to the catacombs to be introduced to the head of all the guides. Apparently the bush telegraph ( in Belgian that would described as the “gossip machine”) had already done its work, since the man already knew of the fact that a Flemish guide had enchanted his audience. Fact is that I have been invited to talk to the guides this coming Wednesday. I wonder where the bureaucrat is Brussels is now, as that lady of the National Office of tourism claimed that a single person couldn’t achieve anything. At least all the guides of the AWM will know the story of the Salient in more depth. I wonder to how many visitors that will be passed on to???

On the return journey, the bus seemed to have lost all its speed. Oh yes, another nice difference with Europe : in all bus stops, there is a sign, saying that the given times on the time table are approximate times: ie “timing in the Australian way. I love it!

I almost had to find my way back home in darkness : with no nuclear plants in this country, it means that there are not half as many street lights as I am used to. I could see myself walking with my little flashlight : the only missing part was a sign “stray Belgian” to make the picture complete. 

To round the day off, I have been very active in another field. My hosts are very involved in the starting up of a new charity organisation, called “soldier on” (http://soldieron.org.au/) to help wounded soldiers (that large group, which never makes the statistics and ends up being gradually forgotten). A very noble goal, although I would have expected this to be the job of the defence department. That is true to a certain extend but there is so much red tape (why does that sound so familiar to me???), so some victims simply never get all the help they need. All evening long, we have been packing wrist bands to send them to the many people who have decided to support this charity. I am sure many more will follow as orders are coming in all the time. 

Looking at my life: it seems to be my fate to be am connected to a war, albeit it is a much more recent one in this case. Where are the days, that the Great War was being referred to as “ the war to end all wars”?  Marco Borsato ( a very famous Dutch singer) has the answer with his song : dreams are deceiving…


Well, I surely hope that mine are not!
Charlotte

copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,
If you think the title confirms that I have lost my heart to this country, that’s only half the truth…

This morning I decided that the time had come to start exploring that big outside world by means of public transport.  Let me start with asking to banish one image from your mind : forget “Neighbours”  (the Australian soap that was ever so popular donkey’s years ago), as it is a myth that every Aussie’s house is surrounded by 2 acres of ground. My grandfather (way back in the early 60ties) would have said:  that is tele, don’t believe a word of what they show! He was very right if you compare the “neighbours ‘s set” with the reality in Canberra.

To my amazement, I found out that Aussies live in (what I what describe as) modest size houses (which is a bit odd to me considering that there is probably less than 1 inhabitant per square km in this country! (not giving account for the kangaroos of course)). This lay-out was a conscious choice by the government to preserve as much as possible that “bush” feeling of the town, much open space has been created between the residential areas but relatively little in the districts themselves. I can understand the advantages and disadvantages of this system: there is indeed plenty of open space between the suburbs and Canberra (where Kangaroos are supposedly still merrily hopping around, although not when this Belgian is in town as I still haven’t mocked 1 yet!): giving this city a wonderful sense of (spatial) freedom.

I wonder whether the founder of Canberra went to Washington to get some inspiration as the connection between the AWM and Parliament, looks suspiciously like the green lung in Washington. When mentioning that however, I am immediately being corrected that this was done on purpose : just to make sure that those, who decide whether or not Australia is going to get involved in another war, would see from their office window, what the outcome of their decision might turn out to be. The AWM brings a peace message in a very efficient way.

At 11 am, (no early mornings for me here but late (writing) evenings), I was ready for step 1 : waiting for the local bus. Lesson number 1: you must know what direction the city is in (and don’t trust on the sun as that one is hanging in the wrong corner!); Lesson number 2: one shouldn’t forget that drivers here use the unexpected side of the road and lesson number 3: do not expect a bus driver will just stop like that. The message is that you have to wave as if you want to put in a bet with “two up” (see April 25^th)! Imagine the challenge for this country girl to end up on the right bus? Luckily my grey cells can shift to action in the event of a contingency and being female : yes I can multi-task! A sprint across the road (not to forget that these roads are almost the size of Belgian highways) at a speed which would even leave Usain Bolt in amazement, and hop… I got on the right bus.

I have often admitted that timing is not my strong point : more and more do I suspect to have Australian blood in my veins. “A fifteen minute drive and you’ll be in the centre”, that was the message Stacey gave me. About half an hour would have been closer to reality (yet again prove that a km here represents a different distance than back in Belgium). No traffic jams (something Aussies here don’t know) and no market square (that is something Aussies don’t know either): so Canberra, here I am ready to investigate. First challenge: where can I get hold of a city map as I have no intention of ending up between kangaroos (which don’t seem to have that much of a reputation : apparently they can kick really bad).

On a moment like that it dawns that the view is not disturbed by hundreds of signs… nice, one would say , if it weren’t that the other extreme (hardly a sign to be seen) isn’t particularly hopeful for a Belgian which has gone astray.  After a few attempts in all directions (and the friendly help of an Asian student), I managed to obtain this valuable document : a city map with all the sights. Speaking of Asian students : the streets look “yellow” here, filled in with Japanese students. Apparently a degree from an Australian university has an extra value. Needless to that that the local Universities don’t complain over the stream of yens coming in!

So, off I go with a swift step, looking out for a church that was touted as a tourist attraction. For the very first time, I was confronted that not everything here is big : what so firmly was being referred to as a church, would barely be listed as a chapel in Europe. Still, it was a very pleasant walk to find this little gem.

Then on to parliament (my calf muscles will have known) but at the last minute, I changed my mind and decided to head to the AWM, with no intention to visit the museum but to have a look at all the monuments along the (long) road to the museum. After that I was heading back to the city centre : no fitness exercises for me today, I have had my fair share of it already!

Once in the centre, I had a walk through the shopping mall (this could have been the US or Canada, it all looks very much alike), after which I was looking for a terrace. Doing so, I stumbled across some type of a speaker’s corner, where a young man, full of blood and thunder, declared that Jesus brought the word to us that everyone should listen to. Oh yes, his words were primarily ones of doom and gloom but what fascinated me what that I have would never have expected to hear this religious chatter down under. Nice to watch and it even got better when a  (rather tipsy … even that is to be found anywhere on this planet) woman started to shout back, giving us a speaker’s corner in the square. When walking on, a young couple walked up to me. It is now that I can refer to the title of my blog: almost totally converted! I have never had the ambition to enter a monastery but despite that, I seem to act like a magnet to missionaries. One of the Evangelical Church in Tampa, followed by Mormons, some variation of a Catholic church in Washington and now the ‘real thing ‘ in Canberra. Almost an hour and a half later (until I damn nearly missed my bus) that young man was still trying to convince me. I expect the next attempt will be to talk me into Buddhism?

I have been taken out for a meal by my hosts and friends of theirs to a typical “old” Australian inn. After the “Australian type” of a short drive (when will I ever get used to those long distances????) we arrived at, what can only be described as a brand new restaurant. Gone all the romantic stuff , it is now as modern as it gets. No problem to me… the food and the company were really nice and that is what makes the difference!

Back home there was another one, who had a great time. The furry angora ball, Skippy (and that is a dog, not a kangaroo) had compensated for his loneliness by eating the chocolate tablet that I had bought this afternoon, resulting in the fact that this white Maltese suddenly turned into a different race (quite brown). A bedroom artfully covered with a mountain of paper: the capstone of yet another wonderful day…

Best wishes,

charlotte

copyright :Charlotte Descamps 2012

An off-day while you’re travelling: would that be possible?  Well, the answer to that is :YES! Not that Canberra or the Aussies disappoint me ; surely not. The extreme laid back outlook on life is something I actually enjoy more and more as time goes by. What really bothers me is the modern technology.

Where are the days gone, when pen and paper used to suffice to write everything down? What a huge step forward it meant to move on to typewriters. But really, we were reaching the top, once pc’s started to colour our lives. This is where I should stop … as the last step, now proves not to live up to that expectation.

Instead of venturing out to explore the world on Thursday, I decided to devote my day to start up my English blog. Having started up a Dutch blog four days previously, I was ready to award myself the label of “experience”. So far for the good news as the survival instinct of my English blog lasted no more than 4 hours! In all my enthusiasm I had had started to inform my friends all over the world that they could finally (at long last) follow my adventures when reading my blog. The only result was : a very long list of incoming messages to inform me that my blog was NOT accessible. Only one person in the whole of Oz was pleased with that message : it has to be the local hairdresser who will have to deal in a very professional way with my gray hair, acquired out of frustration (I didn’t get these because of my age as I do feel younger every day!).

So I was frantically searching for a solution. One may as well ask me to calculate pi to 15 decimals : with my lack of computer knowledge, I knew I wasn’t going to find the answer. What has a woman to throw in the fight, when she doesn’t see a solution?... yes, charm (not that I stood first in line when it was handed out). Posting a message of despair and disbelief seemed to be my best shot… and it worked! I soon received a reply in which was explained that my blog (because it was written in English) had been blocked since it had been regarded as spam. Yeah, hello… would anyone bother to read half a page please? It would soon become clear that I don’t earn that “spam sticker”. All of that left me with more gray hairs and teeth gritted, waiting for the ban to be lifted. Since you are all reading about my frustrations, it confirms that sometimes, it pays off to play the poor sod. So far for Thursday…

The rule says that after a down, inevitably an upwards motion has to follow . And yes, I did have a wonderful day yesterday. My hosts took me to the Australian War Memorial. Sure enough, anyone taking me to a museum on World War One makes my days. When that museum proves to be top of the bill, nothing can be bettered for me. What a wonderful place to discover! Neatly in proportion with the country: big. Although I have to add that it is big in a different way than eg U.S. Kansas City WWI museum. Despite it’s size, the AWM still has an intimate character. And, entirely to the Australian spirit, the Australian involvement in different battles is nowhere being elevated to heroism. Here, they are great in humility.

On the half hour, guided tours start up:  a perfect opportunity to meet colleagues from down under. The task is to give a taster of all wars, this country has been involved in, in a spell of time of 90 minutes. Sure enough I would never get hired to work here as I struggle badly enough to stick to that time limit when talking on World War One only! I don’t have a shatter of a doubt that our guide would perform very well if she would decide to run a marathon : never before have I gone at a faster trot through a museum. Don’t get me wrong: she did a brilliant job as she actually achieved the impossible ( plus leaving me and the others in our group, with the desire to return to absorb it all in our own time . In other words: mission accomplished!)

However, when stepping into my field of knowledge, I could not stop myself from (let me describe it as ) “update” some of her knowledge. Claiming that the lions on the AWM had actually been removed from the present Menin Gate? Oops… someone forgot that the Menin Gate was only built from 1923 onwards? Stating that the first gas attacks took place in Pozières in 1916? Ho, ho… never heard of the gas attacks between Sint Juliaan and Steenstraete in 1915?? I must say that she was a very conscious lady, really interested to learn. When I told here that I am giving lectures on the WW I, she immediately asked me whether I would be willing to lecture to all the guides of the AWM. A invitation which I have accepted with pleasure. I can already bet on it, that all the guides will know me by the time I leave Canberra as this is a place where I will be spending a lot of time!

Education in another country is always a topic of conversation to me. It is just fascinating to see how different countries deal with their youth. The system here, very alike the UK, is based on creating many opportunities for youngsters. Here, the young ones are getting a change to develop several skills : singing, drama, music are part of the curriculum of high school. Discipline on the other hand seems to be another matter. Well, one has to say that the Diggers, which were sent to the Western Front did not exactly excel in their discipline either…

Not sure what will be on my program today ( Saturday morning in the meantime) … Three times hurray: this city has a very efficient public transport system with buses going into the centre every fifteen minutes.  Rest assured that this lady is ready to venture out looking for the first Kangaroo and God knows what else!

Greetings from Canberra, where fall can almost be compared to a Belgian summer’s day!

Charlotte

copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Sometimes the human brain proves to be just as good (if not to say even better) than modern technology. Sure enough, I had set my alarm on my cell phone, as 4 am is an ungodly hour to raise in the morning. Waking up at 3.55 am, before that annoying buzz was sent into this world,  I felt a lot younger straight away. After all, my little cells had proven that they are still very active, even when I am supposed to be on holiday!

Quick move out of bed, short stop in the bathroom, in order to put the latest given advice into reality : put on different layers to make sure that you can deal with all weather conditions today. Easier said than done, since my trousers, which usually fit me perfectly, decided there wasn’t enough room to squeeze in an additional 3 T-shirts. However, I had no intention of spending the time shivering away : the button on my trousers had to give in. At least now I can claim that I have qualified to dress up as an Australian!

For those who believe (as I did) that Belgians can go all excited over some event (most likely a cycling race), I have to admit that there is a lesson to be learned from our Aussie friends. Never have I experienced such an enthusiasm (if that is the correct word) as I sensed here on their Anzac Day. Long before dawn, half of Canberra’s population, with large crowds of visitors added to it, was already on the move to the Australian War Memorial. Never seen anything like it. Ok, I knew they were a bit crazy about this day but seriously , this is not what I expected it to be like. Aussies may have the reputation to be laid back (read: an attitude of "do not worry, we'll get there") however: when it comes to organizing their big day, they clearly know the ropes. The enormous crowd, that kept swelling, was piloted without significant problems to a sitting or standing position. Believe it or not, but a man suddenly feels very humble: in the darkness, with only flickering stars, among thousands of people ... I was speechless (and certainly not because it was early days)

The ceremony went like a well oiled machine, without much bombastic talk, though I caught a captain later in the day, who claimed there was a too strong religious influence. This day is being organised especially for the soldiers: politicians or religious representatives better keep low profile

At 7.30 am we went with our select group to the Australian War Memorial, for what I can only describe as: a more than filling breakfast. Tasting a selection of Aussie cuisine (which I can pretty much appreciate) being seated under the wings of a huge bomber: that is quite something! After breakfast, my exuberant (but ever so lovely) hostess insisted that I gave a lecture, just off the cuff. When I protested, claiming that the other attendees were there to enjoy breakfast, that argument was decisively swept aside and Stacey would not be Stacey, if she did not get things her way. Without hesitation, she ventured from one table to another with the message that the guests, as an extra bonus to their breakfast, would have the opportunity to listen to an authentic story of the battlefields of World War One. Ok, great, that left me with no escape… at such moments, I can only be grateful to have been born with a “talkative “ nature. Sure enough, addressing to a group doesn’t really present a problem to me but still: I found this a decent challenge. Fortunately, that little devil in me (or should I write:

the Flemish lion?) woke up… they will not tame me.

In retrospect, I must confess that I have enjoyed this unique experience…and that seemed to be the case for my audience as well, since I was approached by several people to thank me when leaving the AWM. It left me with a feeling, which I will cherish for ever after for sure.

Next stop: the home of Australia’s best-selling author, Bryce Courtenay. What a charming man. Almost 80, but with a mind that many 20-year old would envy. He told me that people should follow their dreams as that is exactly what he did. He claimed to have been born at the lowest level, so he learned all about life at a very young age. Fact is that he has moved forward in an almost unbelievable way: not only is Bryce a living legend as a writer, I would say that, as a person, he impresses even more. In all of my life, I have rarely met anyone, who is so “open minded” towards other people. A truly wonderful man!

After this visit, we went back to the Australian War Memorial to attend the parade of people who are linked, in one way or another, to the military. An example of “ how to make a large group of soldiers present a flawless parade” was exhibited here: navy, army and air force; they sure know how to meet the expectations! After countless groups of veterans, cadets and so on, the ceremony was closed by as many countless official dignitaries, all laying a wreath. Give me the ordinary soldier, even while some units that marched past, gave us the impression that the move of their arms simulated a wave (some type of Mexican wave, albeit that this was NOT intended) than a uniform scope. One Air Force group was somehow out of step, which resulted in the fact that my neighbour elicited the comment “Ah, but we’ll forgive them because on their planes, they can not practice their drill”. What ever this group may have been missing in accuracy when it came to marching, was neatly put right with an impressive flight of “ jets, just above our heads and the memorial, deafening us with a thunderous roar. They can be proud: those men in their light blue uniforms!

Where as I thought that by then my day could not get any better any more: there was still a crescendo part to be added, for a far as that was possible of course. Stacey, Chuck, Desiree and Jeff were taking me to a bar with an adjoining square where the Aussies were playing a game, called "two up". One day a year, gambling at “ two up” is legal in this country and, gosh, I will have known that! People gather around, with a couple of handlers (good looking chaps with an akubra, a typical Australian hat) though this is absolutely not a ceremony, you know! Far from it. The principle is that everyone waves a note of 5, 10, 20 or even more and calls out as loud as possible : 5 or 10 heads or 5 on tails. Really, I assure you, this is something that no words can describe, you must have experienced it to have a feel what it is like. The men in the middle of the circle take the money and walk around to find an opponent, whose is willing to bet the same value on the opposite . If I say 5 on heads, they seek someone who puts 5 on tails. The money is handed over to the opponent who bets tails to hold till the result is known, who simply makes eye contact with you. Then there are 3 Australian pennies, placed on a wooden plank, and a bystander is invited to literally throw the coins in the air. Needless to say that the men in the centre very well understand the art to whip the public. The next stage is stating very explicitly who wins (2 hands on bump for tails) and then the money is handed to the winner. The whole system is based on honesty of the players and believe it or not, even with quite a few beers in the clothes, Aussies are still dead honest. And yes, I ventured my luck: in no time, I shouted out just as hard as everyone else ... I can confirm that a lot of truth in proverbs: "happy in the game, unlucky in love" ... well, I made 250% profits!

I look back on a day I will not ever forget:  early in the morning, I saw modest Australia; during the ceremony at 10 am, I got to know lively Australia in order to experience a warm, overwhelming and exuberant Australia for the rest of the day! I was almost tempted to book myself a trip to down under for Anzac Day next year! (Oops, I should  have gambled a little longer, perhaps I would have been able to afford a new trip J)

Regards,
Charlotte

copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012




ccWoordenboek

Despite all good intentions to start up a blog straight away, I do realise that a month has gone by before I actually got round to it. I guess this means that I have a fair amount of catching up work to do and that those, whom are keen to learn what I have been up to the last month, will have a fair amount of reading to do.  Once you are fully filled in on the last month, I do promise to keep on informing you on a much more regular base. So here we go..

Believe it or not but I left Belgium on February 2nd in order to travel to the UK, where I have presented several lectures on the Great War. The London, Essex and Worcestershire branch had invited me, as well as Sandwich technical school. Even though I will never become rich whilst lecturing, it will be very hard to find something else to do which leaves me with the same feeling of satisfaction. Lecturing is fascinating, fun as each and every time it challenges me to push my boundaries in order to capture the audience. What a great opportunity this is to visit a country, to connect with friends… I have been moved when learning that some of my guests had driven more than 1.30 hours ( to Belgians that means a hell of a distance !) to attend my lecture. I have been deeply touched by the fact that some guests surprised me by attending a lecture. All in all, I was left with a feeling that I was close to royalty even! One lesson I have learned during these 3 weeks : my plan to move to the UK in the near future will most likely become reality. This country feels like home to me.. Having said that: should I come across an interesting job whilst travelling, I might just decide to stick where the opportunity arises. Right now it feels as the world is my oyster, ready to be discovered.

Back to Belgium on February 23^rd, I left again on the 26^th, this time catching a plane to Bratislava.  Fact is that I have never won the lottery, in other words : I will have to work to provide bread on the shelf (even if that is the only thing I eat!). In October last year, I had applied for a job as a program director (PD) on a cruise ship. Since I didn’t receive any reaction, I just assumed that I was “too old” to be considered, so I started planning my trip around the world. All those years, I have had the desire to see the big outside world : the best option to actually do it, was in between leaving Varlet Farm and picking up a new job. Not having any idea where the wind will blow me, at least I wanted to assure that I wouldn’t have to die with regrets.

In January, this year, I received a letter from Grand Circle Lines (GCL) , the firm where I applied for the job, asking me to forward my CV at new. The next thing that happened was an invitation for a job day in Brussels on January 17^th.  Believe it or not, but for this Flemish girl (or should I write : woman?) this was the first time I actually travelled to the centre of Brussels. At that stage I could say that I had been to London more frequently than to our own capital. A group of 18 people showed up, of which a small number were selected. Needless to  say that I was only too pleased to be one of them. In the one on one discussion with the representatives ( a one on four it was in reality) , the only doubt they expressed was  : “Will you be able to work in a team? We sense that you are a strong leader but in order to work for us, you have to work in a team”. I have replied that I have been part of a team of 4, in the board  of the Passchendaele Society 1917 since 2004 . I told them that I am a team player on the condition that they put 4 different personalities together as then you get to a situation that one pushes the other forward, which builds a strong team.

So off to Bratislava to embark on the river Aria, a beautiful cruise ship. The first 3 days  were spent to inform us of the values of the GCL and to give us a chance to meet our future colleagues (on the condition we made it through the training of course). From day one, it was specified that this wasn’t a fun ride, which is only logical to me : after all GCL are the ones paying our wages, so clear enough to expect a service in return. One lesson was learned very quickly: an American firm makes clear that they expect their employees to perform.  An attitude which I can only subscribe to since I have been on the other side, having run my own business. After 3 days we set sail for Vienna. From then on, it was a matter of working hard: absorbing information, learning how to take constructive feedback,  pushing forward your own boundaries all the time.  Stressful yes, but at the same time challenging and I am always in for a challenge. We started with a group of 31 of which 12 have been sent of board along the training. Words can not express how pleased I was to be one of the “survivors”. I am leaving behind financial security but at least I have the guarantee there is a job waiting for me.

Fact is that I was actually asked to pick up the job the week after the training, something which wasn’t possible at all, since I barely had one day to pack my suitcase for what I hope will turn out to be a trip of a lifetime.

Returning to Belgium on the evening of March 12^th, I departed for Brussels in the early evening of March 13^th… I am sure I must hold the world record for packing a suitcase for a 6 months trip in about 45 minutes time. Yet, I am happy to say that, so far, I haven’t come to conclude that I am missing vital items. Besides I am not flying to Timbuktu : I am sure there will be shops where I will eventually end up.

Tampa, here I come : that is what I was thinking on my way across the Atlantic ocean. I made it in without any problems but… my suitcase did not!  What a great start of a trip, worn out, feeling slightly sick, jet lagged, wondering around on an airport where my bright red suitcase had been sent to. At least I had some moral support, as there was one more gentleman who knew exactly how I felt (apart from the cold) since his suitcase was somewhere else than where it was supposed to be.

Lesson number one when flying from a tiny country to a larger one :keep in mind that distances are longer to get from a to b. I am not the first one to conclude that, as a matter of fact I am pretty sure that many more Europeans will find that out the way I did. Lesson number two : forget about public transport… Eventually I found a shuttle service as the Hilton hotel where I was staying did not bother to send a shuttle all the way to the airport. Was I pleased to be the first one in the shuttle van as my Belgian logic read that as being delivered quickly to the hotel (give me a bed please, I have been on the go for more than 22 hours!). Wrong guess… it felt as if I had ended up in a bad comedy since the van kept on driving from the front part of the airport to the rear side and back to the front  and so on…. It took him about 1 hour to fill up the van: one long hour to test my patience! Finally I made to the hotel : first one in the shuttle, last one out. A very friendly and efficient check in and I could hit the sack.

It took me a good 2 days to overcome the jetlag : stress, lack of sleep, sore throat, long flight in combination with the fact that I am no longer 21, I have paid the price for that.

Up to the seminar then : with my limited experience of one seminar, I was eager to go for a second one. What a tremendous difference with Victoria, the year before. To start with : all lecturers were well established and published professors. Where does that leave me?  It made me realise that my backgrounds were so very different from all the rest however, I have to fight with the weapons I have . Where could I make the difference? Well, after all I was the only one who actually lived on a battlefield. All the others could talk about it, I lived it. As soon as I looked at the situation from this viewpoint, I knew that I had something to tell. And yes, I did survive…

Florida, that is the synonym for “sun “ to us  and I haven’t been disappointed. Perhaps I have been a bit overwhelmed as the step from 7 °C in Belgium to 33 °C in Tampa was quite a big one. Well for once in my life I could get a tan, that is what I was thinking of. No tan to get during the 2 days of the seminar though :rather than that it meant a serious risk of a cold as I am still convinced that the airco system only has two settings : on or off. And “on” it was, turning the room into a fridge where a sweater and a jacket were essential to prevent death by freezing!

Looking on hindsight onto the path I have chosen so far, it almost feels as surrealistic. A farmer’s daughter, without a degree, travelling the world to give lectures. All I know is that is has been a breath of fresh air to me to start living, to find challenges and to meet those challenges. If this doesn’t line up with the path, I was expected to walk, resulting in the fact that many people declare me crazy on the spot: I can only say that they have a bigger problem than I have. Of course I will never forget my roots and sure enough I hope that the day will come, on which I will be able to talk in an adult way with those I have left behind. As far as I am concerned, I wish happiness to everyone, so whether or not that day will come, depends on them alone. Life is simply too short to spend it in a treadmill that suffocates you little by little.

While Belgium is picking up the first smell of spring, Florida remains a big step ahead. Temperatures crossing 30°C without a problem :that means hot to a Belgian! However this wouldn’t be the US if this would cause a problem: air-conditioning is working non stop. The only part missing is how to control it more efficiently. Clear enough energy doesn’t cost as much here as back home.

It goes without saying that it is unfair to judge a whole country on the small impression you get when visiting. Having said that, when walking around, it soon becomes clear that this country has a huge problem with overweighed people. I don’t mean a but chubby but seriously obese. Not that it surprises me that much. When going to a restaurant, I soon realised that ordering a children’s dish is the only way to avoid being presented a plate with a meal that can keep me going for 3 days.

Americans are friendly, no one can doubt that, wherever you go, people are keen to help you, answering questions, provide information. It is heart-warming to experience that much human warmth in a country where material things play such a big part as well. Still there are people around, who realise that human warmth is more important than anything else. At this stage, I can not think of this country as one I would like to live in but on the other hand, if I would decide to do so, I know I would be welcomed with open arms…

Nevertheless, I get the constant feeling the city is missing “soul. The streets are laid out in a grid system. Even though 4 lanes seems to be the norm, they struggle to deal with the huge amount of traffic. Fact is that Americans don’t walk… the funny looks I got when declaring I was going to walk to a  museum about 4 miles away, made that very clear to me. There is probably not a single other society on the planet which is as car orientated as this one.

Well, some clichés are there to be confirmed : the US is a country where everything is big. You won’t hear me discuss that one. When walking to a place I believed to be a botanical garden, I soon came to realise that it was a theme park where they welcomed between 40000 and 50000 visitors a day. Say that to a Belgian theme park and their shares will rocket up in value!

After 4 days in the Hilton hotel, I thought it was time to see a bit of the  “ real” society, so I booked myself a B&B , decorated in Amish style. The contrast between the hotel and the B&B setting, couldn’t have been any bigger. However, what the rooms were lacking in modern comfort was more than compensated by the wonderful hosts , Carolyn and Larry.  I booked this B&B for 8 days … days during I started having problems with a life of having nothing to do. I am sure that I must have been the most crazy guest they have ever welcomed since I ended up  cleaning windows, washing the car, cleaning the pool… so what about that for a true taste of American life? When checking out after 8 days, I knew that I had made new friends. All I hope for is that our paths will cross again one day.

copyright :Charlotte Descamps 2012