Dear All,
There are still people on this planet, who really care about others. I can only praise myself lucky, having been welcomed by two of them...

Strange how a story sometimes starts up. Jumping back in time: in October last year, I welcomed 2 Kiwis, who literally had no idea of where they were. From the very moment, they walked through my door, we all sensed some connection. That connection grew stronger the following morning, when I learned that Ellie had lost a great uncle on October 12^th ,1917. When I was able to point out to her, where her relative must have been at that time, she was moved to tears. All in all, the contact we had, was very brief, since Murray and Ellie were just passing through the area, nevertheless it was a very intense one. Before they left, both of them assured me that, if I would ever make it down under: there was a bed waiting for me in their house. Little did I know at the time, that less than I year later, I would take them up on that offer....

To my surprise I received a message to stay with them last week? How on earth they knew I was in Christchurch at the time (we hadn’t been communicating at all) was a bit of a mystery to me. The answer was provided by Ellie’s sister: having seen the interview on the local TV, she contacted her sister to find out whether the Charlotte she had seen could be the same, Ellie had been talking about so often? One and one is two... so the next thing was an invitation to stay in Greta Valley: an invitation I have gladly accepted. On hindsight, I can only say that this has been a very special stop in my long journey. The days I have spent at Greta Valley will be treasured as a very warm memory.

Murray used to run a garage but is now retired although there is no way he wants to hear that word. All in all, he proves to be a very active man: working as a volunteer in the local fire brigade, doing the work of a handy man on the local golf course and to top it up: he drives the school bus twice a day. I had barely arrived, as I was invited for a ride along with the school bus. Considering the commitment of Murray in the local school community, I asked him whether they would be interested in hearing the story of the Great War. My offer of a free lecture, once proposed to the head master, was accepted with open hands, so it was organised for me to return the following morning. Once that was sorted out, we started the 50 km long journey to drop off 4 children ( the total number of children at this school is 30). I know I have commented on the landscape on quite a few occasions, so on the risk of repeating myself; I keep on writing on what I see... this journey takes me along steep ravines, rocky coastlines, rolling hills and hidden valleys. As a Fleming, who has seen a large range of different views over the last couple of months, I have to underline that this is the jewel on the crown. “Breathtaking” is the best adjective that comes to my mind.

Once back home, we chat time away. Murray has a very good sense of humour and Ellie seems to be the perfect sounding board. These people are more than just a couple: they are soul mates, who understand each other without words and who have given each other the space to develop as individual human beings.

Next morning, we leave in good time (and good mood) for Greta Valley School. I might well be in good spirits, clear enough my little notebook isn’t! That piece of technology leaves me completely in the lurch. Not to worry: although this school is small and remote, when it comes to technology, it proves to be very up-to-date. In less than no time an alternative laptop is presented and I am all set to go, ready to take these children on a fascinating journey through history;

The time I spend here, teaches me how happy people can be. I enjoy the tranquillity my hosts radiate. As far as I am concerned, many psychologists could learn more than one lesson from people like Ellie and Murray. They read my soul and without judging or condemning, they give me the confidence that one day the sun will shine again on me. Oho, I am ready to bet that some of my readers will jump into the conclusion that I am struggling? Wake up from that dream please: I have found my inner balance, which allows me to feel better from one day to the other. What lies ahead of me is to deal with the practical side of my life and then to move on to develop myself more and more.

On Saturday, I am being invited for a tour of the area, which takes us to a local restaurant in “the middle of nowhere”. This place has been bought by the inventor of ultrasound, an American which I presume to have no financial worries to deal with. Whenever he feels like breaking away, his private helicopter just drops him off here. Each to their own world...

The meal which is presented here, surely classifies as “upmarket kitchen”. I am enjoying a stew, served with gravy based on homemade red wine. A New Zealand version of Belgian stew since we prepared it with brown beer...

Next stop on our journey takes us to a local artist, who has settled in and amongst the hills. From business point of view, there is simply no logic to be found, why someone could even consider to start a business here. Something which has really struck me is the large amount of art galleries: even the smallest village in the country seems to have one. Belgians are focused on food first of all and then perhaps some art: down under, I am left with the impression that it is the other way round. Raymond Herber (www.raymondherber.com ) prefers to work with stainless steel and iron. Blood is thicker than water as Raymond (just like his sister) is a born artist. Being a very rational thinking female, I wonder whether I will ever come to understand the mind of an artist, which doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy his work. In his workplace we discover a horse, made of stainless steel: a magnificent piece of art that is.

Wandering around is his garden (a big pasture in reality) we come across other pieces of art, showing the brain of the man behind these. Raymond was trained as an engineer: several of his constructions are revealing his skills as such. I do prefer the draft-horse though: less technique but that much more feeling

Much too soon my last day in Greta Valley takes a start. Already I know that saying goodbye won’t be easy as I do feel at home here. Am I right in saying that Ellie and Murray don’t look forward to the coming goodbye either? Fact is that they are planning to give me excellent last day and that is how I end up in the Hanmer Springs for the second time: a day in those hot water baths... take it from me that there is not much better than that!

Hanmer Springs is showing itself in a very different way compared to last week. Whereas most shops were closed last week, there is a pleasant crowded atmosphere in the one street of the village this week. Walking to the restaurant, my eyes spot something shiny on the pavement: it proves to be a golden ring with a beautiful diamond. Most likely an engagement ring... I wonder about the poor girl, who will come to realise that she has lost her ring! In an attempt to find the owner, we wonder in the restaurant but no one has inquired there. On to the police station then, to find it is closed, with a note hanging on the door, instructing to use the red phone in case of emergency. According to Murray, this can be classified as an emergency but gosh.... half an hour later; he is still on the phone in order to learn there is no one at the police station (something we already knew after 2 minutes!). So we are kindly being asked to drop off the ring at the police station of the next village, on our way to Christchurch tomorrow morning. Alas, no one to be found there either... The ring is finally going to end up in the police office of Christchurch at some 134 km of the place where it was initially found!

I have been taken back to Jo’s house this morning by Ellie and Murray, who were on their way to court. Plans have been revealed to build a wind farm on the hills behind their village, something which is of great concern to them. Initially I reacted in the way that their fear was not justified (since the windmills will be at a fair distance) but soon I came to learn that there is a lot more involved, other than the disturbance of the views. To start with, there is the issue of erosion: if the plans go ahead, it means that a new road has to be established on these hills. This intervention will inevitably involve some rocks coming down; to eventually end up in the river. Some of these rocks contain sediment that may pollute the river. To build these giant wind mills, thousands of litres of water will be required, water, which is a precious commodity, since on the eastern side of the Alps, the rainfall is (usually ) limited. Fact is that NZ already has several wind farms and that studies have proven the investment cannot be justified when looking at the return. High winds result in a much higher maintenance bill than initially anticipated. Add to that the nuisance of shade and noise and one starts to understand the concern of the local residents. I don’t want to preach the devil’s word, however I do believe that renewable energy is the way to a better future. Something both my hosts agree on: their argument is that solar energy is far more sufficient. The lawsuit is a story of David and Goliath or how people are willing to fight for their ideals.

Just a couple of hours to go before I will on the plane to Auckland... I stand at the threshold of a new life.

Warm wishes

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,
Back to the (home) base after a foray into the world, that is where I am... Don’t get me wrong: I am not referring to a return to Europe. It just refers to the fact that I have returned to Jo and Murray’s home after a trip to Mount Somers.

I spend Monday in an entirely different world: the beehive where Jo works daily. This vibrant lady has just been promoted to head of the news department of the local TV, she has her own show and, op top of that all, she is the editor of a newspaper as well. So I guess there is no need to explain that Jo seems to have an energy level, which puts everyone else’s to shame. We definitely have some things in common, but there is no way I can compete with this lady when it comes to achieving goals. No doubt about it, that I am the better organised one but somehow she compensates that by an extraordinary creative mind, when it gets to the point of coming up with a contingency plan!

Monday morning means that three shows on a row are being taped: the first one to go live one hour later, whilst the two other episodes are for the following days. No time to get nervous really, since I ended up being the first guest in the first show. The presenter, Kineta, clearly knows the tricks as from the very moment the countdown starts; she switches to professional mode and starts with the introduction of the program and the announcement of the guests. So far so good... so the first question came my way. I had barely said 5 words, when the frame, behind the presenter, just dropped to the floor! Enough to make me burst out in laughter! This is a take for the blooper section... up to take 2. Kineta had to repeat the whole introduction, asked me the first question... and I simply started laughing again. I just looked up and I had to start giggling again. So no TV career for me, unless in the blooper department! Take 3 ended up to be the right one, even though the questions were different from those that were supposed to be asked. All in all, it has been a very nice experience, which still makes me smile on hindsight!

Once that was over and done with, a short interview for the news had to be taped followed by another interview by a newspaper journalist. I consider myself highly experienced now...

In the afternoon, I have been picked up by the mayor of Waimakariri in order to present my lecture to the councillors. O that was something, which wasn’t in my planning! Considering it was a small group I was talking to, we did diversify a fair bit: not only World War One history has been covered but the huge difference in agriculture between both our countries was a interesting point of discussion just as well. With a good half an hour delay, I made it back to Christchurch, ready to leave for my next destination. Mount Somers: to Belgian standards, a tiny little village. Despite her more than busy schedule, Jo had agreed to cover part of the way. The deal being that Philip would come to collect me for another hour drive. Surely, the weather tries to convince me never to move to this part of the world: it just rains nonstop and that, in combination with mist, doesn’t turn the drive into a fun one. Philip is British by birth but decided to move to NZ, when realising that he had better job opportunities as a teacher in this country. Although the job comes with a house in the centre of the village, Philip prefers to live in the countryside, so the journey takes me to a cottage nearby a farm, far away from the outside world...It feels quite strange to me to be in such a remote place on earth: no internet connection here, not even connection for a cell phone. My new host has a passion for history, hence the fact that he is filling the long evenings, studying to get his history degree at Massey university. Bonus is that there is nothing that can possibly distract him from his books here.

To my surprise 80 children come to the local school, which is more than I would have expected. This is partly to be explained by the fact that they have the second longest bus ride of the country: one of the children is being picked up at 55 km distance. Not to forget that this boy has already covered 20 km to get to the bus stop. Travelling a 150 km on a daily base to get to school; that can’t be fun!

The schedule was as such, that I was going to talk for about one hour to the 11 year old in the morning and for about the same length of time to the 9 and 10 year old in the afternoon. The teacher worried that I might struggle to keep the attention any longer, where I knew I was going to struggle to get it all said in such a limited time. However, master Philip, had assured me that it was OK to keep on going as long as the children were interested. Well, that proved to be as long as lunchtime. What a great experience that was! Whereas I had dealt with 11 years old before, I had never been put in front of younger children. Even so, it has not turned out to be “a mission impossible” as they too, kept the attention till the bell made clear that the day was over...

Clear enough, I haven’t been sticking to the history of the Great War only. In a rural community as this is, only 2 children out of 20 weren’t from farming backgrounds. Needless to say that they were just as much interested to learn about the difference in farming as well. I will never ever forget that New Zealand farmers are more and more focussing on cattle ( until a couple of years ago, NZ had over 60 million sheep, a number which has now dropped to about 30 million): long before day-break, a herd of calf, had made clear to me that they had been separated from the cows. No alarm clock needed here...

With vocal cords that make in a painful way clear, that chatting for that many hours, isn’t the best of ideas, I return to my home stead in Waikuku Beach. A good 2.30 hours later, I am chatting again whilst enjoying some good wine at the same time.

Today, I am wearing my other hat: the one of a house-wife. Whilst Jo had an early start, I take Connor for a long walk on the beach. Sure enough I have become his best friend now and guess what: I even managed to wear him out! After that time for some window cleaning, this girl wants to remain active. Next stage is dealing with the laundry and the ironing before treating Connor on a second walk. This dog must be convinced that all Christmas have come at once.

Almost time to say goodbye once more. Tomorrow, I will be leaving for Greta Valley, a village at one hour drive North of Christchurch. On my way to yet another adventure.

But before that, my last night in Waikuku Beach awaits me.

Warm greetings

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Relaxing in bed after a very special day... that is how I start this blog entry.

Again I have moved on: this time to stay with a lady, who proves to have an energy level that puts mine to shame. Over the years I have met thousands of people but sure enough, there is only one like Jo! This vibrant lady, who has so much on her plate already, has surely given me a couple of extra grey hairs (she was planning my lectures in Christchurch but seem to forget to inform me about it!) . Nevertheless, I am the first one to admit that, given the circumstances, she has done a remarkable job. Okay, I had my panic moments when the planning went pear shaped but Jo wouldn’t be Jo if she couldn’t come up with a last minute plan... and I mean: VERY last minute...

After have been made familiar with my new home for the next couple of days, we went for a walk along the beach. Gosh, this is something we can only dream off in Flanders: miles of very fine sandy beaches wide enough to lose thousands of tourists on. One major difference though: apart from a lonely wanderer, there is not a living soul to be spotted. This is heaven on earth for those lucky ones who can walk freely here but just as well for Connor, the dog that Jo adopted from an asylum. There she has been told that this more than lively quadruped has some Border collie breed in his blood. I would bet that he is 50 % greyhound: that dog is faster than an arrow from a bow when collecting the ball, Jo keeps on throwing. No way will someone ever wear out this Duracell bunny! After a good hour of running like wild, he still looks as fresh as from the start: I wish the same could be said of us!

Once home from the walk, we just killed the time chatting away. There was so much to catch up, since it was several years ago when we met for the first time in Flanders. I remember so well that already then, Jo had left a lasting impression on me. With vocal cords on the edge of cracking down, we had to make a move. The Belgian consul in Christchurch was celebrating her 50^th birthday: to mark this milestone in her life, a lot of guests had been invited for a drink in her house. It proves to be a beautiful place, right on the other side of town... so I am in for a (to Belgian standards) long drive.

The house, situated on top of a hill thus having breathtaking views across the bay, suffered from the earthquakes too. The large windows had just exploded, covering the whole place in glass. No one, who has actually gone through this, could ever understand what a devastating effect an earthquake can have. Fact is that I expect my guardian angel to be on duty: only a couple of days before my arrival, there was another shock which was sufficient to make sure that all the frames on the wall were out of balance. The trembling earth is still very much in the headlines here. What struck me is that many elder inhabitants of Christchurch tell me about the buildings, which have disappeared, taking along dear memories too. I have always replied that memories are saved in the heart and not in bricks. Coming from a place on earth, which at some point, was completely wiped off the map, I am convinced that this city will rise from its ashes. However, that might be a small consolation to many locals as it will take many years to rebuild a lively city...

An occasion as yesterday proves to be an ideal way to meet other Belgians. Not that I have an urgent need to catch up with compatriots (if that were the case, I should have stayed in Belgium) but I am eager to learn what has brought them to the other side of the world. The answers can be divided in two camps: some of them followed the love of their lives whilst other were fed up with Belgium and decided to look for a better alternative. Either way, none of them regrets having moved to New Zealand. Even stronger: none of them plans to return ever. Having said that: I did come across one Dutch couple, planning their return to the Netherlands. Their career had come to an end and having no children here, they felt the need to go back to their roots. All in all, the evening has been a very enriching experience for me.

For today, Jo came up with a very last minute plan. The lunch, which was initially scheduled, was to be replaced by a visit to Hanmer Springs. This appears to be a hot spring, where a real spa complex has been built. The “Baden-Baden” in New-Zealand... With outside temperatures of barely 10°C, I couldn’t really fancy the idea of walking around in a swimsuit. Kiwis are just that more hardened than Europeans, who are too spoiled by their heated houses. I was about to change in an icicle before I reached the warm water! Needless to say that Jo and Raylee had great fun when seeing this Belgian shivering. But gosh, it was worth being brave! Once emerged in the warm water, it felt like heaven: 100% enjoyment! The centre has developed several pools with different temperatures, the hottest being over 38°C. This pool had sulphur in it, meaning you wouldn’t choose it for the smell but... it simply beats everything to relax is such hot water. So think of me, enjoying the heat, whilst looking at the Alps, still covered in snow. I felt almost surreal...

Relaxing in that pool, a young couple joined in. I couldn’t prevent myself from hearing their conversation in an accent, I recognised as being European. Since he had jet black hair and matching eyes, my guess this man was Spanish. Dead wrong, as he proved to be Belgian, even Flemish. Having arrived here a good year ago, he fell in love with the country and decided to stay. Sounds familiar to me! In all of my travels, this is the first Belgian, I stumble across by chance... I guess it only confirms the fact that they don’t travel very well.

I really like my bright red swimsuit (a souvenir from Tampa). However, Jo came to “rescue” me from the pool, saying that I looked like a boiled lobster: it had become difficult to tell where the swimsuit stopped and where the skin started! I might not be good with cold but heat: no problem at all!

Something entirely new on my list tomorrow: a studio interview with a local TV and another interview with a newspaper journalist. Knowing that cameras are not my best friend, I warn Jo for the fact this might not work out too well. Waste of time of course, as my confident hostess, claims I will do well. Just do as you’re told, and you’ll be fine... that is the given advice. I already hold my breath!

In the afternoon, I will be collected by the mayor of Waimakariri for a guided tour, before making my way toward Mount Somers. Could it be that one is born with a travelling gen? If so, it must have entered my blood one way or another... I simply enjoy this time of my life more than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams!

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Do not worry: I do not walk on by vanity. The sequel to the title of my blog is… by hackers! Having had one of my gmail accounts hacked whilst I was still in Oz, now my Facebook account has been hacked. Since yesterday, I can no longer access my Varlet Farm account on Facebook (for those amongst you who would like to connect with me again, search for Charlotte Descamps) since some friendly Belgian (my password was changed in Belgium) has hacked my account. Am I really naïve when being shocked by the fact that there are people who clearly do not show respect to others? I guess I am, as my upcoming divorce has made more than clear that people can have two faces…

This computer ignorant has therefore engaged in recovering my account. And although I am the first to admit that I wasn’t born with a built-in technology nodule, I honestly wonder who on earth manages to understand the procedure. Clear enough I don’t as I remain unsuccessful in all my attempts.

Some positive news to be shared too though: today, I have seen the sun. The rain is gone, instead we had a pleasant 14 °C, quite enjoyable on a winter day.

Two appointments in my diary for today: one which might open a door to a new future and one with a former guest of Varlet Farm. Two meetings of completely different calibre, different nature and with totally different people. But both of them left me with a good feeling…

The day came to an end with a lecture in the Papanui RSA club. Since my host was having such high expectations, I really started getting nervous as well. This was definitely not my best presentation ever but nevertheless it was well appreciated. The best compliment was given by someone who does lectures on a regular base. He simply said: you are a natural! Enough to colour my day…

No load of pictures today (even none) but a warm feeling of satisfaction. That is what I want to add to this blog.

Warm regards

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Frustration, frustration.. since once again I am caught I a situation without WIFI which means that I can not update my blogs. That was the case on Sunday but in the meantime,  we are a few days further…

One of the most popular topics for a chat worldwide must be the weather. By now, this has given me sufficient inspiration to publish a novel. The title would have to be “ The drowned land of Canterbury”. Being Belgian, I am entitled to say that I am used to rain. Whatever has been pouring down without any interruption for the last 24 hours, can no longer be described as such though. Never before in my life have I seen a downpour as this. 

Just like Flanders, the Canterbury plains have a layer of clay below the surface. The main difference proves to be the lack of a drainage system. Not that this would have sorted out the problem in the short term. With half the normal amount of rainfall coming down in a couple of days, even with the best possible drainage system, it would still take days to get the fields dry again. 

My host, Kevin, is the deputy mayor of an area called Waimakariri. Just as has been the case in Belgium many years ago, the villages merged, meaning that the present council is now responsible for some 48000 inhabitants, living in an area of about 2200 square km. Comparing that to West Flanders (with its 1.164.000 inhabitants in 3140 square km) it become clear what a large but sparsely populated area this is. Being a deputy mayor in such bad weather conditions is not an enviable position: all day long, Kevin is being contacted by people experiencing problems with flooding. 

It would be sheer madness to go walking in this type of weather, so Kevin takes me for a tour of the area in his car. Rivers, which are normally meandering harmless through the landscape, are instantly transformed into fast-flowing rivers, overflowing their banks everywhere. Cattle and sheep are looking dazed at so much wetness surrounding them: the quadrupeds are facing a long and very wet night…

Something very typical for this area are the shelter belts: pine trees grown as a high hedge. Initially used to break the wind but at the same time providing shelter for the cattle. However, in the given weather conditions, even shelter belts can not fulfil this task : this is a situation of hoping for quick improvement. 

Milk and other agriculture products represent the bulk of NZ’s export: no wonder that investments are being made in this sector. Although, I can not deny that this sometimes leads to strange situations. What to think of a cow tunnel under the main road? Because the flock of a local farmer was gradually increasing in size in combination with the fact that part of his meadows were across a busy road, it was decided to construct a tunnel under the street. Not a matter of providing more safety for the cows of course, more a case of providing an answer to motorist becoming more and more impatient.

Another surprise to me was the size of the irrigations systems : huge installations which can be as long as 2 km! All wheels are individually controlled by a computer because the giant system runs around in a semicircle. Top of the bill is a recently installed system that simply goes over the house! No dirt of that roof ever… but laundry that has to dry in the tumble dryer is the price to be paid. 

Another country, so other laws. On our way, we passed a farm that was divided into building lots, making 25 lots of 5 acres available for hobby farmers. No endless procedures to change the use of the land here: down under one seems to be using common sense in a better way

After having spent 2 night at Kevin and Maree’s house (who eagerly look forward to their first European trip) I end up to visit Murray, who takes me to his sister later in the day. In the company of a sociology professor, I am guaranteed of an evening filled with interesting discussions about society, different culture and… life tout court.

Raylee is a native resident of the devastated city, which Christchurch still is. She takes me on a walking tour through the old town centre: it turns out to become an account of what is already gone and what is still there to be demolished. Tears spring to her eyes when referring to the groundswell of support that came to Christchurch in the weeks after the devastating earthquakes. Since there were no casualties after the first heavy shock in September 2010, the locals were left with a false sense of security. The second big earthquake in February 2011, came as a huge shock. None less than a 185 people died, most of them in 2 towers which had collapsed as a house of cards.

Cranes are working day and night, seven days a week. Entire neighbourhoods are closed to city dwellers with soldiers in place to make sure that no one passes these points unauthorised. 

It is a sad story: the story of a whole city which disappears of the map, taking many precious memories with it. Fortunately, people have a resilience that can not be underestimated. Making sure that businesses could keep on going, a shopping centre made of sea containers, has been built in the centre of town: coloured containers, brought together in a random way, were very artistically converted into shops and coffee shops. Sad to hear that a Brit has put down a complaint because he felt that his idea was stolen. Having started a shop in a container in Great-Britain, he consider to hold the exclusive rights to this concept.  “Run to hell” is the anser the Kiwis have, most rightly, given him…

I can’t believe what I see next: further down the street, I spot a man in a medieval outfit. Intriguing enough for me to approach him in order to find out what he is up to. It appears to be the town crier, proclaiming the news, three to four hours a day.  He adds in a cynical way that his job now mainly exists to announce one or other exhibition in a particular building, followed by the announcement that the building is not accessible until further notice… Black humour… every deals with the tragedy in their own way.

My trip would even render a hardcore Bedouin jealous… Off I go again, on my way to my next hosts: Michael and Lesley welcome me with great warmth in their beautiful home. I soon come to learn that Michael has planned to fill my days in a useful way as I am taken to meet two history professors at Canterbury university. A visit which ends up to be so much more than a pure history lesson: these people have given me advice, of which I know it will determine my future a great deal. To be continued…

Bedtime for me: with loads of new impressions stored in my mind, I know it will be a relaxing sleep.

Best wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Time seems to be flying by faster and faster, at least that is how I am experiencing it right now. My short stop in Dunedin is one which I will remember for a long time, mainly because I have found the right balance between work and leisure.

Even before setting foot on the ground in Dunedin, I had a picture in my mind of the place. Many Kiwis had told me that this is the city where the Scottish feel is still strongly present. Indeed, in one way or another, this city feels very European.

A strong tailwind results in the fact that my coffee grinder (domestic flights are all handled with relatively small aircraft)  lands some 10 minutes earlier than planned. And that means that my new host, Sean, is nowhere to be found. Not that this presents any problem since I was already chatting time away . Sean must have realised from the very First minute that I am not exactly a shy person.

We head for Sean’s house, driving through a beautiful green landscape, where I will spend the next 3 nights. I did got the morning free to update my blogs but as you see, I did not succeed… I have barely finished replying my mail, when it is time to hit the road again. First to the local TV studio as they had asked for an interview with the Belgian visitor. It ends up being the fastest recorded interview ever, not in the studio but in the nearby railway station, where a brass plaque on the wall reminds of Passchendaele. The plaques (one on either side) were initially installed on a locomotive but later on ended up on the wall of the railway station. The second one is to be seen in Christchurch.

Then becomes a matter of running, walking and running to make it in time to the cinema where a film about a  Maori pilgrimage was shown. I have already mentioned that the indigenous population of this island has integrated in a much better way than in Australia. I assume that the film was produced to make clear that the Maori culture has also determined the image of this country. It brings the story of a group of Maori children from the Northern Island on a pilgrimage to the Southern Island, walking in the steps of their forebears. Along the way, the group stops at several places where their ancestors had also halted on their forced journey South. I am most likely the only European in the theatre (which is sold out), so perhaps I look through different eyes. Somehow, I feel uncomfortable as some parts come across as if they want to throw a sense of guilt on “the angry white man”. “Political correctness in a fashion word today… does this film fit under this umbrella???

On Thursday, I had my first “college” experience waiting for me. Another lesson learned for me: check where the light switches are! Halfway through my lecture, the lights suddenly switched on, resulting in the fact that the laser beam is no longer visible. Since no one seems to know where to find the switch to turn the light off, I have to continue without the use of the laser. Somewhat different from the usual talk…The group was smaller than expected (about 15 in total) but that was compensated by the attention with which my lecture was followed.

After my talk, Don McKay was introduced to me. In a way, his path resembles mine a bit: from a farm to becoming a historian (with that difference that he has a university degree). He takes me to the local army museum, where I get to see a lot of WW II artefacts. Our next stop is a local pub, where I am being presented a local beer. Another reason why Dunedin has more of a European feel to it:  there is a brewery and … a chocolate factory bang in the middle of town. The amber beer actually goes down very well. Having said that, I am pleased that I only asked for a half a pint. Had I gone for the full pint, I would have ended up being a singing Belgian!

On Friday, an interview with the national radio was scheduled, followed by a visit to a local artist who makes brooches of bullets and pieces of brass. Can you imagine my surprise when recognising the cards on the table, showing the design? In 2007, NZ head of Defence in London stayed at my place, asking me to distribute those cards amongst my Kiwi guests. And now I am here, meeting a most charming man with whom I would have loved to chat for a longer time. No time to be wasted though: my next stop is the Otago museum. A flying visit this is but long enough to make clear to me that an art-loving soldier had brought back to the homeland, a wide range of Egyptian art pieces, including 2 mummies!

Just enough time for changing outfit: minutes later, this lady in red is ready for a lecture in the local library. The talk is being organised by the Settlers museum but since the building is still in refurbishment, it has been moved to the library. No one has any idea of the number of  people that will attend but it soon becomes clear there isn’t sufficient space to seat the more than 100 interested ones showing up. Sean had informed me that a talk here never lasts longer than one hour… well, that is as good as asking for the impossible to happen. So my start was a warning followed by a joke and the promise that I would not return in the near future. Good enough to get the group on my side immediately. It has turned out to be a beautiful evening, followed by a chat with many of the audience afterwards. To that extend that we were kindly asked to leave the room because they wanted to close. A lovely dinner is a local restaurant put a very nice capstone on this visit. Thanks everyone!

Another ungodly start yesterday: I am already closing my suitcase at 5 am. On to the airport then where Sean waved my out on my way to my new adventure, one that has brought me to Christchurch.

John and Olive… what a wonderful reunion with loyal guests of Varlet Farm. First stop is a restaurant to enjoy a very filling breakfast, after which we head down to the coast. The journey takes me along breathtaking landscapes. Every tourist has to agree with me: this is nature at its best: hills, a beautiful coast line with idyllic villages dotted in between… this is what New Zealand has to offer, topped up with warm hospitality.

Exhausted I retreat to my room. Just before sleep gets me in its grip, I realise that I have just learned what it really means to live life to the fullest.

Warm regards

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

No better environment to write a blog than an airport: so here I am again. After a very short night, constantly interrupted by heavy rain on the tin roof, I am once again waiting for a flight. Heading for Dunedin this time…

On my journey, it has become clear to me that kiwi hospitality is more than a step higher than in any other country. The plan was to spend the night in a hotel since I need to be at the airport by 6 am. Well that didn’t happen. As soon as John and Elizabeth learned that I had returned to Wellington, I received an invitation to stay with them again. On top of that, Elizabeth was so kind to take me to the airport too. This is a country with 2 faces: on the one hand side, there is the more than relaxed atmosphere but I stand in amazement when hearing that every week, the eldest daughter is getting out of bed at 5 am to play water polo! As there is only one swimming pool in town, which is suitable for this sport, school teams are booking their training ungodly early in the morning. This young lady is playing water polo at 6 am in the morning, going to school after that in order to finish the day with a hockey training. Her mother proves to be equally active: either she goes walking for an hour or on a day as today (with heavy rain) she kills time with swimming.

Fact is that the school culture, where sports fills a much bigger part of the curriculum,  appears to bear fruit. If the newspapers got it right, NZ currently holds the highest number of Olympic medals per capita. So it pays to get up early in the morning: that is the conclusion I draw.

Today’s flight will bring me to Dunedin, the second last stop on my planned route. As Dunedin is a relatively small city (120.000 inhabitants of whom 20.000 students) , I have only planned a 3 day stop. Busy days by the sound of it, as I have two scheduled lectures: one in the Otago University and the second one in the library. The Settlers  museum, who is organising the second lecture, could not host my talk, due to major refurbishments.

A new challenge here: it will be my very first talk in an university auditorium. Having said that, the auditoriums of some of the museums I have lectured in, are most likely not inferior than the one I will be presenting in tomorrow…

Meanwhile, I have safe and well arrived in Dunedin. A strong tail wind brings me here 10 minutes before the official timing. This city has the reputation of being a bit of Scotland down under. Never having been to Scotland, I have no grounds to compare. All I see are endless pastures where countless heads of cattle are grazing in the most scenic landscape. Milk and butter are main products in NZ export. As I understand, almost the whole quota ends up being bought by China. Is it this high demand which keep the prices relatively high? With a price of 65 cents for a litre milk, it sits above the Belgian price. Or do I have that wrong?  I learn that farmers would love to increase their live stock. However, New Zealand shows to be a very conscious country on environmental issues ( gradually that shows in the building regulations as well) hence the fact hat no more licences for more cattle are being handed out. As far as I am concerned : a very courageous decision of the government. They look on long term instead of going for the quick gain.

Being picked up by a stranger surely has its charms… Except for a name, I have no information on my new host. The best attitude is to wait till someone steps forward to me. Sean soon appears in order to bring me to his home, where I will be staying the next couple of days. Not much time to sit and relax though since I am being expected for a TV interview this afternoon. Already I start sweating: as talkative as I might be, a camera still has that paralysing effect on me. I can only hope that this will become an experience of which I will be able to think off in a pleasant way in the years to come. One thing is for certain: this journey is one that I couldn’t have dreamt of in my wildest dreams!

Rainy greetings

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Travelling teaches you to look at the world through different eyes, that is for sure. When leaving Belgium behind, I took that uneasy feeling with me: the gnawing insecurity, which constantly reminded me that I had left a safe haven behind in order to walk in a dark night to an uncertain future.

Months later, I understand that there are times in everyone’s life,  when one just have to overcome the fear to jump. In that respect, my choice to explore the world, was the best decision I have ever made. Even though I have no idea which direction my life will move to: the fear is gone, I am now convinced that one door has closed but another will open for me.

The past few days, I have spent with a mixed Belgian-British couple. Just before arriving there, I had a little taster of the local mentality. The plan was for me to take the train to Featherston where David was going to collect me from the railway station. Already I know that I would be able to write a book on the Australian trains… perhaps I might add a small chapter on NZ trains?  What about  a train not departing because of a problem to connect the locomotive to the carriages. The various attempts left me with a “ brown suspicion” that they did their very best to lull us to sleep. One gentle bump after the other… till finally 15 minutes later, we were ready to depart. The 4.25 train from Wellington is the first one in the evening and proves to be completely full. Jenny, the train conductor ( a cheerful lady, born of Dutch parents, who came to NZ at a young age) approached a grandmother, travelling with her 4 year old grandson, to ask if the little boy could sit in the hall as there was an elderly lady with no seat. To my utter surprise, the grandmother responded very agitated and refused  point blank to take the little boy on her lap or to seat him in the hallway (which I am sure he would have loved since there were more children in the corridor). I immediately volunteered to give up my seat but in the meantime the problem had been solved by a mother who had no problem to take her toddler on her lap. What’s wrong with society, I wonder. Life doesn’t always go over a path of roses… However, with a bit of good will from everyone, the world could be so much nicer.

Once arrived in Featherston, I was to discover to discover the beautiful house, where I will be staying for the next four days. Strangely enough I could almost feel the “Flemish” touch that had decorated this place as soon as I walked in. Moments later, Patsy arrived home and from then on there was nothing that was going to stop us : we literally chatted till our vocal cards were raw! For Patsy, I prove to be the first Belgian visitor she sees ever since she left the country some good three years ago. Needless to say that she wouldn’t let go of the opportunity to communicate in her mother tongue. I soon learn that this couple is living proof of the fact that fairy tales sometimes do become reality.  They met each other while Patsy visited New Zealand… a meeting that would change her life for ever after since they are now happily married. This young woman left everything behind in Belgium in order to discover her piece of paradise down under. The happy look in her eyes tells me that she has taken the right decision for sure!

Featherston and Greyston are quiet villages, settled in the most picturesque landscape. However quiet these villages end up to be during weekdays, they turn into a busy hive during the weekend as a lot of city people venture out here in search of that authentic feeling, that is still hanging around here. The economical crisis has hit here too as I spot a number of shops to rent as well as an unusual second hand shops. And guess what I find in one of those… LP’s from Bouwdewijn de Groot (Belgian singer), Rob de Nijs (Dutch) , Gilbert Bécaud (French) and Nana Mouskouri (Greek) .. a piece of long time gone European culture.

Disaster, o disaster , on Sunday morning as one arm of my glasses just slated. Without them I am as blind as a bat when it comes to reading. No optician in the village, so I need to try my luck in Wellington. The first optician, gives me a very worried look before informing me that it will take at least one week to have my glasses fixed. Given the fact, that I am leaving for Dunedin tomorrow, this is not really an option. Next shop, same story which leaves me ultimately with no other option but to buy a new frame. Not a blessing for my budget as I soon discover that frames are a lot more expensive than in Europe. However there is some blessing in disguise, since I find a frame with exactly the same dimensions, allowing me to recycle my lenses. This lady can read again without any problem!

Meanwhile I am staying overnight in Wellington in order to catch the plane early in the morning. Although, hearing the news this morning, in which was announced a volcanic eruption in the northern island and that this was going to affect air traffic, I started having doubts. Fortunately, I am heading South, so hopefully the ash cloud will not interfere.

So many times, I have left a place with the feeling that I will return sooner or later. Not different here… Wellington has a special charm, which is tempting me. Without any fixed schedule, I have no clue whether I will ever settle here . However a voice deep down inside tells me that Wellington will surely welcome me with open arms…

Warm greetings

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Hello All,

Late at night… however, I hope to be able to share some of my impressions with you.

After having stayed with numerous host families, I am still being touched by the warmth of all those people, who welcome me into their house.  Having been on the other side, as hostess of Varlet Farm for many  years, I finally understand what my guests meant when saying that I provided “ a home away from home”. After months of travelling, I have been fortunate enough to experience this on many occasions. Am I born under a lucky star to find myself exposed to that many positive experiences?

On Saturday afternoon, I am being expected in the local RSA of Masterton. I have been introduced to a mixed group of people, all of them bitten by the history bug. No official lecture is scheduled here: instead, I have a lovely chat with all this people after which I am being guided in their own small museum, that proves to be a labour of love.

Paul and Angela are real animal lovers: Two dogs and three cats are part of the family. Where as I would describe myself much more as a dog person, I often end up getting the attention of the cats. In this case a British Blue (which wasn’t blue at all but did have the typical flat nose) decided that I would make good company during the night : to that extend that she woke me up, snoring next to me ear, to convince me of her choice in the middle of the night!

Hm, being a guest surely offers some advantages. On Sunday, I had been invited to a guided tour in Peter Jackson’s  (yes the one of “The lord of the rings”!) collection of WW I planes. My host couldn’t believe his ears, when learning that I was to be taken around by a guide. Fact is that I have been able to render at least one Kiwi happy, since my guide didn’t mind that my host joined in. To Paul this was the cave of Ali Baba! The collection of planes on display is beyond belief: 3 authentic WWI  planes, nicely on a row, next to a long row of rebuilt ones, all with an original engine. Just to blow me over completely, the guide announced that all of these planes were still flying. I don’t know whether I must have looked with too much disbelief on my face but fact is that 2 of these old machines were pushed out of the hangar, in order to take off only minutes later. This journey has been a long succession of highlights, but I guess this experience scores really high on my scale!

Every now and then one has to relax, so it is essential to reserve some time for that too. In this case my spare time was nicely filled in by an invitation to attend a birthday party. Jack, who has gone a long way to build up my Wellington schedule, turned 65, good enough reason for a true party. However, they do even better since Jack’s wife  gets to 65 just a week later: in other words, I am in for a double party! And that is how I end up, as a single Belgian, in and amongst a group of celebrating Kiwis. Or wasn’t I?  At some point a lady walked towards me, addressing me very friendly with “ Hoe maak je het ? “ (how do you do?) . Loes, a Dutch lady had followed the love of her life as far as the other side of the world. Born in Brunsem, she learned to know a very different world here. No doubt, she liked what she saw, since 40 years down the road, she is still here.

When one is feeling fine, saying goodbye isn’t fun. That was no different on Monday : I regret having to leave Paul and Angela’s house, on my way to my next destination.  Wairarapa College had shown some interest in my lectures and has been so considerate to invite the students of some private schools as well. So instead of presenting my lecture three times to different schools, I end up doing one lecture for three schools. My vocal cords are grateful to them!

After a lunch stop with Loes and John, we head to Featherston. The road winds through a landscape that could serve as backdrop in a movie. I simply can not describe the different shades of green. And don’t I just have to agree with my NZ hosts, telling me there are more sheep than people in this country:  the number of wool producers, I have seen here, undoubtedly surpasses the entire Belgian arsenal.

Arriving in Featherston: priority number one is to get rid of that big red suitcase before I have to head to my next appointment, which is a lecture in Anzac Hall. This historic building was for so many Kiwis the place where they had their last dance. Thousands of young men have dreamed of the big adventure that awaited them. A few months later, that dream tuned out to be their worst nightmare.

In a young country, where there are few historic buildings, it would be such a shame not to cherish this piece of preserved history.  Considering that the centenary of the Great War is approaching quickly, I can only hope that the NZ government will recognise the importance of Anzac Hall in such a way that they will assure that this jewel on the crown is being preserved for future generations.

It seems like I keep repeating myself: the hospitality of this country is unlimited. In the evening, over a glass of excellent Sauvignon Blanc (and that alone is good enough reason for me to consider immigration!), we reflect over the day. Not only do Adrienne and Don offer me wonderful accommodation but, more importantly, a listening ear and a lot of advice. I feel so fortunate that fate has brought me this way.

Time is putting the days like pearls on a string: the cord of my journey is one, which is determined by the many impressions and experiences I have encountered. I will wear it for the rest of my life as a symbol of the total transformation my life has gone through.  Meeting people, that is the mainspring of my existence… needless to say that travelling provided the ideal platform for this.

Today, I am being introduced to Marcus who is about to pick up a job at the Auckland War Memorial Museum. A driven man with a vision and a palpable enthusiasm to fulfil his job to the best of his ability. When saying goodbye, it crosses my mind, how lucky a man he is: his career has been given an unexpected twist, which gives him the chance to develop himself to the most. It doesn’t take long to make the link to my own life: perhaps I am, just like Marcus, on the eve of a new direction in my life? 

Although New Zealand is a lot smaller than Oz, it is still a lot bigger than Belgium. Is that why it doesn’t even amaze me any more when Don tells me, it takes more than one hour to drive to his office. The winding road we follow, runs along steep cliffs on one side and deep ravines on the other. Too bad the clouds are hanging so low, making it impossible to take any pictures. When my host tells me that he likes to hit the accelerator, it brings a smile to my face: my brother used to drive a rally car, so when it comes to speed, I am used to something!

Back in Wellington, I am heading to the Ministry of Heritage and Culture since I have a lecture scheduled for the historians working there, reason enough to render me nervous. Well known names such as Glyn Harper, John Crawford and Ian McGibbon are in the audience: all of them being experts in military history. Lecturing to such an audience always sets me sharp: I just want to prove that I know my stuff too!

Yesterday, I ended up in a new family: Elizabeth and John and their 2 lovely teenage daughters, who undoubtedly deserve an award for most active girls in the region: hockey, polo, ballet… they do it all! Fact is that I need to start up a database with all the names of the families which have hosted me over the last 6 months… quite a long list that will end up to be.

A very early start this morning, since I have a lecture in a school in Lower Hutt. A teacher, with the unusual name Corone, collects me in order to take me to this private school.  A beautiful building, a disciplined public and grateful teachers: enough for me to leave for Wellington again with a very happy feeling.

Every now and then, I reflect on the past. Two years ago I had no travel experience at all; I knew nothing of that great world surrounding me. My journey has not only proven to be one of many miles, more than that, it has become a journey of emotions. Everyone, who has been in a similar situation, will recognise that it is not all that simple to leave everything behind. It is not all that easy to close the door behind you, knowing only too well that it will never open again. It is quite frightening to come to the realization that suddenly you end up being all alone in the world. Of course I have my children but as long as they can not see that life is more than just black or white, I have to sit back patiently. I can still feel the uncertainty weighing on my shoulders, when realising that from now on, I have to guarantee my  own future. At the age of 53 and with no degree, I am very much aware of the fact that the path, I have chosen to walk on, will not always prove to be a smooth one.

For those amongst you, who doubt what life has to offer , I have only one advice: follow your heart.  My heart told me that I was dying of loneliness. And no, I have no alternative (although the gossip in the village was that I have someone waiting for me in every country) but I ended up being trapped in a situation, where I had nothing more to lose: either I died a little more from day to day … or ventured to leap from the cliffs, hoping that I could swim by the time I hit the water. I am going for option nr 2 and can now whole heartedly say that I have no regrets.

Enough talk for now. Soon I will take the bus (always a fun exercise to find out which one) to return to the family I am staying with. Provided I can get online, I will upload this story, hoping it can captivate you… Charlotte’s story is one of many episodes!

Warm greetings,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

After a far too early start of the day, I have made it without any problems to Wellington. However, for a while I wasn’t too sure about a safe arrival. Whilst the flight was an uneventful one, the landing didn’t really classify as such.  Or better said: the  descending towards the airport could be described as “different”. At some stage, it felt as if we were all seated in a huge rocking chair: moving from left to right. As far as I am concerned, this was the strongest turbulence, I have ever experienced. Great fun, since I am convinced that the pilots would like to get home safely. In other words: they will do whatever they can to bring us safely to our destination. The actual landing was one for the textbooks: we barely sensed the plane hitting the tarmac.  The pilots of Air New Zealand have proven to be worth of their wings!

A new city, a new contact and a completely new environment: all ingredients for a fascinating day. I was being collected by my host for the next couple of days, who very courteously offered me a breakfast  (the biscuit  I had been given on the plane was just about adequate to keep me alive). I have no idea whether the weather gods are trying their very best to remind me of Belgium but fact is that rain has been following me since days. On top of that, Wellington lives up to it’s nickname: Windy Wellington… from now on, I don’t doubt for a split second whether this name is justified. Considering the fact that it is not particularly fun to walk in the rain, I was being offered a guided tour by car.  The start of the tour took me to Mount Victoria (the name Victoria is prominent everywhere in the English speaking world). Whilst I declared that Belgians are used to something when it comes to dealing with strong winds,  I can openly say that I will not be so convincing next time! Reaching the top of the hill, I was just short of being blown off.  An ice-cold Southern wind was blowing more fiercely than anything I have ever experienced… leaving my opinion on Flemish winds to be reviewed!  Nevertheless, it was more than worth the effort to come this way: the view on Wellington from here is just phenomenal. Unlike Auckland, this city is of a much compacter lay-out. Water has been an always present feature during my trip in the Southern hemisphere, so here too, the ocean is to be seen at all times. Where as the airport (which has the reputation being one of the most difficult ones to land throughout the world, due to the high winds) stretches out on one side, the harbour and the city are neatly encapsulated in front of us. Our journey continues with a  guided tour in the city centre in order to head towards Eastbourne, where one gets to see Wellington from a completely different perspective.

The day comes to an end with a delicious dinner and a very long chat with my new hosts: Zane and Penny.

Yesterday morning, I was expected for an informal chat with a number of historians. No doubt about it that their knowledge on the involvement  of New-Zealand forces is much larger than mine. However, I have practical knowledge on the Salient, linked to the past we share.

A gab of one hour and a half before my next meeting, just allows me to have a stroll to the old St-Paul’s cathedral, the very first one I have ever seen, which has completely been built of wood. The building dates from 1860 but has been extended several times throughout time. The craftsmanship which has been invested here is simply stunning: it must impress every visitor, taking the time to explore this jewel of architecture. Being talkative as I am, I doesn’t take me long to establish contact with the conservator of this cathedral (which is no longer being used as such): a private guided tour is the icing on the cake!

On to the next meeting: the National Archives, where I will be guided by one of the 10 historians, currently working there. Graham explains to me the kind of information, that can be obtained from the archives and how they can play an essential part for families, searching for information on their relatives, who fought in the Great War. At present, it proves to be a bit of a maze since all the files of soldiers, who fought in the second world war as well, are stored elsewhere. On top of that they are facing a tremendous challenge: all battalion diaries are still to be catalogued: a task, which will keep them occupied for many more months to come!

A quick stop at the residence of my hosts gives me the opportunity to freshen up a bit, before heading back to town. A lecture for the Wellington RSA branch is on my schedule. My talk is running very smoothly despite the fact that my remote control, decides to give up on me that very moment. Having faced all kinds of problems on my journey, this set-back is not going to stop me. More than an hour and a half later, I am being approached by several people, expressing their gratitude. Several of them are in the stage of planning a trip to the Western Front: my talk has only increased their appetite even more.

On our return: Penny surprises us with a lovely dinner: the ideal moment of the day to catch up. Asking my host for honest feedback on my presentation, he tells me that I have a spelling error in my power point (shame on me!): one which I should have noticed myself, a long time ago. Added to that, he tells me that he was impressed by the unique viewpoint  of my talk and… the passion with which I bring the story. He advices me to pick up a pen and to get started writing the book, I have in mind…This chat makes me doubt where I will eventually find a new future: should I decide to retire into a room to write or should I pick up the job on the cruise ship, sharing my knowledge with that many people? In all honesty… I haven’t decided yet, which path to choose.

An early start today, since my host has to attend a meeting. We enjoy our breakfast in a local coffee shop, after which I tend to my mail (at long last I have found a place that offers WIFI, one does stand a bigger chance to find a clover, I believe!)  At 11 am, I have a meeting with a group of historians, focussing on the commemoration events for 2014-2018. Many questions are coming my way but since I was not properly informed, what this meeting was about beforehand, there are a number of questions I can not provide an answer for.

A couple of hours later... I have just visited the Beehive, the new parliaments house: an example of modern architecture, which doesn’t impress me too much though. The round shape makes me reflect that efficiency wasn’t really a priority in the 1960 ‘s. The guided tour, which I can heartily recommend to everyone, was being spiced by a New-Zealand lady, who was testing the patience and the knowledge of the guide continuously. A test he passed with flying colours!

Right now, I am sitting in the railway station and guess what… no WIFI here either. So I continue to write this blog in a word document, hoping to be able to upload it later on tonight.

Wellington has left a very positive impression on me: a very clean and easy to navigate city. The compact size of the city results in the fact that basically everything is within walking distance. In this cosy beehive, one sees a large diversity of people walking by. It does catch my attention that Maoris are very well integrated in society.

As you can see, I didn’t manage to up-date my blog yesterday. Neil, whom I met at the railway station in Masterton, took me directly to the archives, where my audience was already waiting for me. To my very pleasant surprise, I catch up with some of my former guests at Varlet Farm, some of them having driven for more than one and a half hours to meet me. I renders me quiet…

After some confusion about where I will spend the night, I end up with a young couple, that welcomes me in a very warm way into their family. Day after day, newspapers are reporting on whatever goes wrong in this world. The warmth, friendship, hospitality that people offer to each other doesn’t make it in the written press. If I were a journalist, this is the message, I would like to share: believe in the good of human beings!

Warm wishes

Charlotte

Dear all,

This is a report written in a hotel room, close to Auckland’s Airport: I have an early flight to catch to Wellington tomorrow morning.

My first stop yesterday was in the largest high school in the Southern hemisphere. No explanation needed to convince me of the fact  that this school was of a more than average size: none less than 3000 youngsters fill these classrooms, all of them neatly in uniform since that doesn’t differ from Australian schools. This school had given me a 2 hours timing, which is sheer luxury since it allows me to set the frame of the Great War before starting up the real story. For these youngsters, it is not only a story set back far in time, on top of that it is a story a long way away from their world. Nothing of this stops their attention though: for nearly 2 hours they are focussed for 200 %. Despite the size of these schools, I do notice that these schools are sticking to a fairly strict discipline, what is rather unusual in the Southern hemisphere.

It would be unfair to claim that lecturing is a hard job… so a light lunch is more than adequate for us (mmm,  delicious bread over here!) before we set off to our next appointment : a high school of a much smaller scope. Since these youngsters will be visiting the Western Front next year, I am assured of an interested audience. A cosy chat with teenagers of whom several step forward to thank me personally. Nothing can compensate the warm feeling I get when experiencing sincere gratitude.

Clear enough I am not the only Belgian who has headed to NZ: I spent yesterday evening with a mixed Belgian-New-Zealand couple. Lode thoughtful asked me what I preferred for dinner.  Three guesses? Steak and fries of course, that is a dead giveaway! Being Belgian, he has a true electric fryer, the first one I have seen for months. Our Belgian farmers swear by their blue-white cattle when it comes to producing a juicy steak. No breed like that around here but nevertheless the meat melts in your mouth. Don’t ask me for the secret: all I can say is that, when it comes to flavour and tenderness, no doubt about it, this meat beats the Belgian steak easily.

Yesterday I saw the largest school, today I witnessed the largest traffic jam! Having left in plenty of time to cover the distance, it took us more than 1.45 hours time to arrive at our destination… we could have cycled the distance in that time! The purpose of our trip was a private high school on the other side of town, one of architectural extremes. On the one hand side, there was the historic central building, beautifully restored, shining in all it’s grandeur,  surrounded by the most modern school buildings, I have seen so far. To my surprise the class consisted almost entirely of Asian students, which made me doubt whether I would be able to capture their attention. It very soon dawned on me that these youngsters were especially interested in obtaining facts and data… well, I have provided them with lots of it. Some of the students have made that many notes during my lecture, that they will be busy for quite a while, absorbing all the information.

After a coffee stop at Sandi’s mother (whom could almost be mistaken to be Sandi’s elder sister: she looks stunning!) I finally arrive at my hotel:  a more than pleasant surprise this is. Although it would not fit under the heading “luxurious accommodation”, this place offers me a bedroom, a separate kitchen and a bathroom for a ridiculously small price. A winner as far as I am concerned.

It will be a short and lonely evening for me: short because tomorrow, my day starts at 4.30 am in the morning and lonely since this will be the first night since months that I am not staying with a host family. On the bright side: plenty of time to blog, which I hope you all enjoy!

I would be very happy to hear what you think of my blog. If you would like to ventilate your opinion: please send me an e-mail or sign the guestbook (gastenboek) on my blog. With my limited knowledge of technology, I had not even noticed that some had already left a comment there. Where as I have not responded to those reactions, I promise to keep an eye on it now: so rest assured, I will reply!

Eager to learn your opinions, I draw to and end, sending you all my warmest regards

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Here we go again: just another stop in an airport. I have written  several times that this is a habitat where I feel fine, although I would hasten to add that Brisbane Airport will leave me with a less positive impression.

Is it because of the fact that I am on an international flight, that there is no self check-in? Just when I finally have the feel of these machines? The only way to get a boarding pass proves to be queue in a very long line, which only shortens agonizingly slow.

Once I reached the head of the row, the clerk wants to know every detail of my itinerary. Oops, that information is buried in my carry on luggage… much to my happiness I manage to dig up the requested document, proof that I am not an illegal traveller who surreptitiously tries to get on board. Next point of discussion: my little blue suitcase, which has by now been around half on the globe without any problems, is considered to be too heavy. Air New Zealand has reduced the maximum weight to 7 kg. I know I am in trouble when deposing my favourite travel kit on the scale… the gauge of the scale sweeps unceremoniously to 11 kg. No chance to get away with this: so in front of a long queue of people, I have to re-arrange my luggage ending up with a bunch of paper work in a plastic bag. My Flemish logic tells me that I am still carrying the same amount of weight though.

It is with a sad feeling that I bear goodbye to my hosts. Even the kookaburras have said goodbye to me: with a thundering laughter in my ears, I leave the country which from the very start, left a deep impression on me. The past three months have been marvellous, a revelation all the way, a discovery which has given me some wisdom. I say a very sincere “Thank you” to my many Australian hosts. I have experienced your hospitality as the strongest asset of this rough country. Having tasted it so many times, I already feel I need to return for more…

My stay in Oz was rounded off with a dinner, to which a friend of the family had been invited as well. An evening full of pranks and jokes, since both Charles and Elizabeth have a more than adequate dose of Australian humour. I have to admit, that although I have been exposed to this peculiar humour for several months now, I still don’t manage to keep pace with it. It makes me conclude that my Belgian sense of humour is open to improvement!

On my journey through beautiful Australia, I have met many remarkable people. Sure enough my last host family fits in that category too. I do share Charles’s passion for the Great War, albeit from a different viewpoint. He is an artist (in Oz, I have met more people with a creative mind than anywhere else in the world), who, armed with a camera, tries to capture this part of history to save it for future generations. A number of his pictures are to he seen on his website  http://www.centenaryofWW1.com

Where as I have the gift to bring the message across with words, he surely knows how to capture his audience with images. Am I allowed to say that I do envy his gift?

Meantime, a couple of more days have gone by. I honestly struggle to upkeep both my blogs since time just flies away. Sandi, has picked me up at the airport and after a short walk on one of the 36 volcanoes on which Auckland is built, she took me to my new hosts: a family I have never met before but I had that instant connection with them. Chris and Georgina have welcomed me with open arms: to make me feel part of the family, they had even organised a dinner party that evening with other members of the Passchendaele Society. I ended up, being seated next to Mike, a (scattered) professor, who proved to be a very pleasant table companion. A man with an incredible knowledge, although being a kiwi, he was extremely modest. My first evening in this country is overwhelming. The many Aussies, who predicted that I might get hooked on their “extra” state (as they teasingly refer to NZ) could be right: the start is very promising indeed.

Yesterday was a day of concentration. A select audience was going to attend my lecture in the Auckland War Memorial Museum. For some unknown reason, I am struggling with nerves more than I have ever done before. Not a major problem as long as they don’t undermine my self-confidence. I started quite hesitantly but once I got the feel, I soon landed on my feet and delivered a good talk. The knowledge that this lecture was being filmed must have played a part as well: I just don’t feel confident in front of a camera.

After my presentation, I ended up being approached by several people, who wanted to express how much they had enjoyed the talk. Just a couple of days before I did my talk, Glyn Harper (one of NZ best known historians) presented a talk here. Hearing that from the audience that they had enjoyed my lecture as much as Glyn’s… I can not deny that I felt a bit of pride raising to the surface. I have not forgotten where I came from nor where I want to move to: in other words, I still have a long way to go!

After the lecture, I was guided by the curator of the museum. A very friendly, knowledgeable lady, who spoke with great feeing about the relationship between both our countries.

July 21^st: Belgium’s National Day…Where else but in a Belgian beer café can one go for a meal when being in Auckland? Although Belgian, I am not a beer drinker: whilst my hosts were enjoying the Belgian beers, I was supporting their economy by drinking Pinot Gris (it doesn’t always have to be Sauvignon Blanc). Since I can not deny my roots, I have eaten French fries on quite a few occasions during my trip. No where on the planet have I found our national pride prepared like here: just to die for. And I am not even mentioning the home made mayonnaise!

Today has been a quiet day: a lazy morning followed by a visit to Helen Pollock, whose artwork was put on display in the Memorial Museum Passchendaele 1917 in 2007. I was so lovely to catch up with Helen again, even more so since we are like minded spirits.  A few years ago she too had to take drastic decisions. In Helen I found a kindred spirit, who knows what it means having to live with a curtailed freedom…

The day came to an end with a private tour of the Navy Museum. A new revelation to me, which soon makes me realise how little (and that is putting it mildly) I know of NZ history. The museum is small but nevertheless fascinating:  I could easily have spent a couple of extra hours in there. As so very often on this trip, I am lacking time. If only I could stop the clock: there are countless times that I would have used my powers!

And now it’s really bedtime for me. Two lectures in schools on my schedule for tomorrow… no rest for the wicked!

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

High and dry in the dark night on my way to Brisbane, that is where I am right now…

The past few days just flew by, days which will have left a lasting impression on me. I find it hard to find the words to describe the warmth which Jo and John have given me. Over 10 years ago, when they came to Varlet Farm for the very first time, we did connect immediately and although the contact diluted a bit over the years, that same feeling was there again from the very minute I arrived. That is the beauty of friendship, a minute or a 10 years… it doesn’t really make a difference, one can pick up the thread immediately.

Monday morning… that means that another working weeks started up for my hosts. So for me that meant I was going to be alone during the day. One thing I have learned in the recent months is the knowledge that “being alone” is not the same as “feeling  lonely”. I have learned to appreciate the silence that surrounds me, although I do realise just as well that the hunger to meet people will never be far away.

Having spent several hours of writing (I am sure I can compete with an office lady, diligently attacking her paperwork), I decided to fill the afternoon with a walk. Without a map, I means that I need to concentrate on anchor points, in order to know where I am. No church spires here, which help you orientating yourselves. Instead, loads of trees but they all look very much alike!

A brisk walk took me to the golf course and that proved to be a double blessing: social contact on top of the beautiful nature! From my hostess, I had learned that there was a botanical garden nearby but not being able to find a sign, I just walked up to an avid golfer to ask for directions. A more than surprised look followed by a torrent of words and I ended up being a bit wiser again: there proved to be a small zoo as well…

“Small” surely does justice to my description of the zoo. Although I would refer to it as a hidden gem having a nice part of rainforest bang in the middle.  As to the amount of animals, let me remain diplomatic by saying that it wasn’t overwhelming but that was nicely balanced out by 3 living teddy bears, which one could approach from close by. Needless to say that I had no intention of missing out on a beautiful picture of a koala. More than half an hour later, I was willing to claim that they all had been given a training “how to turn away from the camera”! It took me endlessly to get the picture below and then to say that they don’t even move fast!

No kangaroos, no monkeys ( the cages were being renewed) but a whole bunch of colourful birds, one louder than the other. Definitely worth the visit!

Retracing my steps, I ended up at the golf course again: a man in his early forties was putting, with almost military precision, one ball after the other. Enough to arouse my curiosity of course. In the chat that followed, I learned that he was a professional golf player from Melbourne, who had come to Rockhampton to participate in a tournament, a trip of more than 2000 km. Wondering how one can play golf every day, he replied that this was the only way to success. Well, no career as a golfer for me! Hitting a ball for hours on a day to get the “feel” . Having been born with a chronic lack of patience: the perfect outset on the road to disaster! Where as golf is listed as an elite sport in our country, it appears to be a popular pastime for the average Australian. The Mike Tyson’s are scarce in this world… I soon learn that the average pro doesn’t dream of big money. Having a meagre income is widely being compensated by the many trips to distant destinations. Hm, that is the part of golf I do like!

On Tuesday, I was in for a new challenge. A relative of my hosts proves to be an avid fisherman. Once a successful lawyer, today he is one of the purest natural man, I have ever met. I have been invited to join in for a day of whiting fishing, which means that I return yet again towards the coast: a very different part of coast however. Being befriended with the owner of the pastures behind the coastal line, Jef has the keys to open all the locks on the gates, giving us access to endless meadows. I feel as if I am stepping in the scenery of “The Thorn Birds”  (remember the series with Richard Chamberlain, more than 25 years ago…) . The four times four makes it’s way over muddy paths, at times barely visible. At some point a mob of roos appeared out of the blue right in front of us: happily hopping around as if they hadn’t even noticed the car.  I wonder whether experienced reporters of nature documentaries would still feel the same adrenaline rush as I did on that very moment???

After more than half an hour of ploughing through the mud, we finally reached our destination: a pristine beach of more than 20 km length, with not a living soul to be spotted for hours around. The grey skies impaired visibility but I can assure you that this must be as close as one can get to earthly paradise! The nets are dragged out of the car and Jef with his friend (whom we picked up just before heading for the beach), wade in the water. I should have had my picture taken: luckily there was no one else to be seen as with my oversized shorts, T-shirt and jacket (in trendy colours!) and a hat to make the image complete, I know that I would have drawn the attention… John and Jo had insisted that I did use the sunscreen even when I replied that the sun was currently hiding in the US. They pointed out that the UV radiation is nowhere on this planet any higher than in Oz , something which results in an unusually high number of skin cancers. Whilst the men are dragging the net in a semi-circular move, I am convinced that my milky white legs have deterred every fish within a radius of 500 meters…Except for a stingray the catch is not of the type to feed the hungry: only 6 whiting end up in the eski. The stingray is one of the kind that killed, Steve Irwin, known as the crocodile man, quite a few years ago. He survived playing around with deadly crocodile to die as a result of an attack of a stingray. Bad luck was his deal on that day since the spine hit him in the heart, causing instant death.

Thoroughly wet, we headed back to the beach house, where Jef filleted the whiting, handing it over to me with the necessary cooking instructions. Am I wrong in assuming that he doesn’t trust my grey cells too much? Just before he bids farewell, I am being instructed to tell Jo to give him a ring to learn the recipe directly from him. All I can say is that Jef, hadn’t he been a lawyer, could easily have gone for a career as a cook: his recipe is one of the highest order… the whiting simply melts in the mouth. Barely 6 hours after their unfortunate end in a net on the beach, they caress my taste buds with a flavour, which I will probably never experience again.

The last day in Oz is one filled with some sadness. The realisation that I am about to leave this friendly country behind, is throwing me back in time. Less than 7 months ago, I stood at the beginning of this adventure, which undoubtedly will have a permanent effect on the rest of my life. Some lessons are just not being thought at school… Let it be clear that those are the ones, which will stay with me forever.

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

For those amongst you, who believe that a long journey as mine proves to be, leads from one highlight to another: let me puncture that dream. On the other hand: who am I do to so, when realising that I am all, except for the role model of the average tourist.

My exploration is rather a journey in search of the values of the society in which I find myself. Visiting sites is not really my thing as after all, in most cases, an image is presented to you, which does not even radiate the real spirit of a country. Give me the real world please…

All I can say is that the real world surprises me most of the time. Jo, my hostess, showed me around their beautiful house and then enthroned me to her “secret” room: a room where all her creativity comes to life. Walking into it, I spotted all kinds of different fabrics, feathers, tulle and god knows what else. It soon dawns on me that Jo has a very special hobby: in her spare times, she designs hats. I become speechless (and that means something to those of you who know me) when she shows me some of the work she has made. Why is someone which such a creative mind, trapped in an office job? That is the question that springs to my mind. Today, Jo is selling hats throughout the world, just have a look at her website on www.etsy.com/lillianlovehats . This lady fills me with awe.

Gosh, I do enjoy my stay here, even though the weather is trying it’s very best to remind me of the Belgian summer: in other words, it rains! Not that it makes much of a difference to me: with exception of the sporting event of yesterday, all the rest happens indoors.

As reported, my first stop yesterday took me to the local sport grounds, where the son of my hosts is a member of the Australian Rules team. Even after a 3 months stay in Oz, I have to confess that I still don’t master the rules. Somehow, the intention is to get the elliptical ball between the posts on the other side. Only 10 meters may be bridged holding the ball in the hands after that it has to be passed on either kicking or hitting it with the fist (no throwing allowed). Other than that, it seems that everything is allowed above the belt. Last nights downpour had recreated the field in a real quagmire, making the game resemble some artistic form of water ballet at times but ultimately, the kids had great fun. The fact that they lost the match brilliantly didn’t even seem to make much of a difference.

Time for a quick lunch before making our way to the coast. We were expected at a housewarming party, a social event with the necessary drinks and the inevitable barbecue. I get the taste of this country more and more… and not only though the sausages! A long journey back (very unlikely that we would have covered the distance to Brussels for such a meeting!) and time to go to bed wondering whether I am in for another warm night… last night the temperature didn’t even drop below 20 °C! And then to say that Jo had brought me an extra blanket: having read that I had struggled with the cold nights in Australia, she just wanted to assure that this wasn’t going to be the case in Rockhampton. Not a chance to feel cold here, not in a million years!

This morning we were expected at the neighbours for a breakfast. Rain, rain, rain but the temperature remains high, so we all sit on the terrace. It turns out to be a fascination meeting with several neighbours, although I am soon to learn that this word has a slightly different interpretation here: one couple lives some 300 km away. They prove to be farmers, who used to grew watermelons but ever since that market collapsed, they switched to growing cotton. Sitting at the breakfast table I learn that they are spending a week in their ‘town house” before returning to the farm. But even then, they don’t live on the property: their home is in on the edge of the settlement where as they have managers living on the premises. Ok, this is something one doesn’t learn in a tourist brochure!

Meanwhile, we are back home. It will be a calm afternoon, enjoying a quiet Sunday. This morning Darcy, (the son of the family) departed on a school trip to Sydney, which is being described as economical education. The youngsters will be visiting the stock market and Chinatown. I can not even imagine that Flemish youngsters would be flying 1400 km for this purpose! When will I come to understand that distance is measured in a different way here???

A little bouncer… Yesterday, I received an e-mail, pointing my attention to a newspaper article on Varlet Farm, which had appeared on a forum. I can not deny being unpleasantly surprised over the fact that a journalist, who takes himself seriously, doesn’t even seem to see the need to talk to all parties involved. It wouldn’t be difficult at all for me to rectify some on the information provided in the article. Having said that: if people prefer to gossip, who am I to deny that pleasure to them? Professionalism seems to be word that doesn’t mean to much to this journalist. It surely covers a wide area (or perhaps not? ), doesn’t it???

Warm greetings,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

I have left rainy Brisbane behind me, on my way to my next destination. For the umpteenth time, I find myself in an airport, a habitat where I really feel at home. That teenage dream of mine, of becoming a stewardess one day, wasn’t all that crazy after all, since I feel at my very best amid the busy squirming, that is to characteristic of an airport.

Oho, this will be something else: the plane, waiting on the tarmac, looks like a relic from a distant past, almost like an oversized coffee grinder.  In reality, this is the Aussie equivalent of a bus. Given the fact that the distances here are that much greater, it was a matter of searching the right way of transport… which means coffee grinders for “short” distances!

Yesterday, I have been able to experience what loyalty means in the mind of a dog. Since my hostess had to catch an early flight, I had been asked whether I would be willing to take care of little Ted, meaning that I had to take him on his daily walk at 7 am in the morning. No major problem to me, since this walking woollen ball has decided to consider me as part of the family after my stay of 8 days. Full of enthusiasm, I get out of bed at 6.45 am convinced as I am that someone is waiting for me.  The magic word “walking” didn’t go past unnoticed: Ted started to dance wildly, ready to get rid of his energy (and a full bladder) in the coming hour. To play on safe, I put him on a leash, one of those flexible things, which gives him the freedom to explore the world in a range of 10 meters. The distance between the house and the woodland was being covered with the necessary amount of pee stops, before we retreat in the tranquillity of the green, far away from civilization. So far for the planning of the trip… or should I say MY planning. Once Ted had gone for a number two, he had his mind set on returning home to check whether his mom hadn’t returned yet. Well, no matter how stubborn a little poodle can prove to be, I for one, had not got out of bed for a walk of barely a 100 meters. Right now, I only wish that I had put his little face on film!  Bad luck for him as he clearly hadn’t realised that Belgian stubbornness outperforms him with a couple of sizes! I simply lifted the little one and turned him a 180 °C, saying “This is the way we will go!” Was it my voice or the fact he had been turned around??? Fact is that his logic soon made him realise who was on the winning side. For the past few days, I have often been walking in this forest although I was always being led by my hostess where as now I had to find my own way in this maze of paths and roads… With a very reluctant little dog, staying 2 meters behind me, I hit the road. After a few miles, Ted started to like it : he came just next to me with a wagging tale, making clear that this was good fun. The last couple of miles, Ted actually took over the lead, guiding me home, proving his sense of direction might just be that little bit better than mine!  Where as we had set of on this walk in a atmosphere of mistrust (at least from his side!), we returned as sworn comrades. A lesson to be learned: put trust in your partner, give him/her time and space to prove that they know what they are doing and believe that the intentions to do the right thing are pure as they can be!

For the rest of the day, I keep myself occupied, answering e-mails. When I sent the message to all my guests, informing them of the fact that I was leaving Varlet Farm, I had never suspected what a storm of reactions that would cause. In a few weeks time, I received over 400 e-mails… months later, I am still trying to catch up with everyone.

The morning walk must have suited Ted very well: at 4 o’clock, he approaches me, almost begging for another walk. At that time the rain is coming down heavier than I have ever seen before… let it be clear that not all the rainwater is being splashed over Belgium!

Had someone ever told me that, one day, I would be walking a dog in a downpour, somewhere in a wood in Brisbane… I know what I would have said at the time!

Never say never… that is what I stick to from now on… A very wet poodle (who has no objection) and as far as I am concerned, ditto feet, that is what I remember of this walk, just as as well as the feeling that everything is possible, on the condition that you are willing to put in an effort to meet the challenge.

High and dry, above the clouds, that is where I am now. Bad luck for  me, since the plane is barely half full, there is  no one in the seat next to me. Not to worry, in a good half an hours time, I will get to Rockhampton, my destination for today. I will keep you posted!

Half a day later… The reunion with John and Jo (after 10 years!) was more than cordial. This country has something to offer to it’ s visitors: a hospitality which is so sincere that it is rare to be found in these hectic times, we all live in. Leaving Australia behind next week, I am wondering whether New Zealand will be able to surpass this warm and hospitable feeling…

The day was rounded of with a fundraising meal for the club of lifeguards (it made John smile, asking if they were the equivalent of Bay Watch). In reality this club does a lot more; it organises events for children, it makes them aware of the dangers of the ocean, it trains youngsters to be fit and encourages them to take up some responsibility. The meal proved to be excellent, as was the company. In other words : an evening not to be forgotten.

This very moment, I am sitting on the patio (8.30 am), enjoying the view over Rockhampton (approximately 70000 inhabitants). Cloudy skies but that can not be a worry: the temperatures are close to 20 °C! And that is what they call winter over here!

Time to shoot off as I am invited to attend a match of Australian Rules. Since the son of my hosts is an avid player, I will get an opportunity to see from close by what this sport means. The huge hole in my culture, when it comes to sports, will thus end up being a little bit smaller…

Summer greetings from Rockhampton

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

This has got to be the first Flemish holiday, I am celebrating a long way from home. In all honesty, if it weren’t for the fact that there was a reference to it on facebook, I wouldn’t even have known. Somehow it amazes me that, barely half a year after I left the country, I have lost the bond with the homeland. I don’t feel the desire to remain informed on Belgian politics ( when it comes to politics, it seems to be very much alike in every country) and whilst I do enjoy, receiving  news from the area I used to live, I am not really eager to learn about what is going on in daily life over there. In all fairness, I do enjoy to receive reactions to my blog from anywhere in the world…

No doubt about it that this is the quietest week I have enjoyed in the last 5 months. Holidays, written out in capital letters! Relaxing all the way! I had been warned that it would take me several weeks to kick off of the hectic life I used to live. I can only agree with that statement. Fact is that I have been living without doing any hard physical work for months now (doing dishes does not meet that description). In the early stages of my trip, my hands were often tickled to be active, it almost felt as if I was suffering from withdrawal symptoms. The hardest part however, was to adjust mentally to the changed situation. Only since this week, do I feel that my mind is truly free. I can now enjoy doing nothing without hearing that little devils voice in my head addressing to me reproachfully… I am now sufficiently hardened to make all choices, no longer feeling guilty by the reaction of the outside world. Sorry folks, I am definitely past that stage now. 

The calm before the storm, that is how I would describe this week. Although, a flight to Rockhampton on Friday, can not be described as a storm. It will get a lot busier for me when flying to Auckland, New Zealand, next week Friday as I do have a wonderful busy program awaiting me there and that sure is something I look forward to. Twiddling my thumbs is nothing for me really. 

How many times have I been told that travelling broadens the view? Having been a layman in this field for all of my life, I guess I can now claim that I have earned my spurs. Earlier tonight, the first line of a poem by Shakespeare, came to my mind

This above all: to thine own self be true 

This will be my motto from now on. I finally found my balance; it feels as if I have been reborn in this earthly life. Yesterday, one of my contacts mentioned that Edith Piaf’s song “Non, je ne regrette rien” was his motto. I’ll stick to that one as well from now on!

Phew, a blog without travel impressions this time. Rather one with impressions of the soul and believe me when saying these feelings are anchored in my heart.

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Sunday evening (for me anyway): time to put an end to a wonderful weekend.

The last couple of days have mainly been filled in with walking and talking. Having spent considerable time at the coast it was about time that I got to some healthy forest air. Needless to say that I praise myself lucky with the knowledge that my hosting family lives just opposite a small forest.

Twice a day, my hostess and myself , accompanied by little Ted ( an apricot poodle, who turns everyone around his little paw, so to speak) wonder off for a refreshing walk. And although the forest doesn’t seem to be the habitat of many animals, I have seen some exotic birds here:  the latest addition to the row was a bird with a bright green jacket on… The kookaburras were very diligent yesterday: one laughter after another echoed through the forest. One simply can not but start laughing when you hear this special cry.

And spoken of birds: my hostess really has a very special gift when it comes to dealing with animals. She told me that 2 butcher birds had become so tame that every morning they came tapping against the kitchen window until they ended up being fed. Well this morning, I was able to witness that with my own eyes. Tap tap against the window is the sign for Meredith to walk outside to hand feed these birds. How on earth she managed to get them used to her presence so very close to them is still a miracle to me!

Yesterday morning I was invited to pick up some local colour as Meredith invited me to come along to a local farmer’s market. In the centre of Brisbane??? In the end it proves to be a major fruit and vegetable market , with only 2 real farmers selling their produce directly. This is clearly not an European market: the rich palette of flavours is being surpassed by the diversity of the many stalls. From Greek to Japanese, with Korean French, German, Thai, Indian, Italian, Indonesian.. it is all to be found within a 100 meters. The morning feels like a warm Belgian summer day. Theoretically, I missed summer this year, having flown from the Canadian spring to the Australian winter, but in reality I have experienced more sunny days than those who stayed behind.

In the afternoon, I really felt the need to roll my sleeves up, having been lazy for far too long. So I ended up washing my hostess car… a skill I might risk to loose! As there was a little crack in the hose, the car wasn’t the only one getting wet. Not that this represents any problem: in less than half an hour, my trousers are dry again. Sure enough this is the type of weather I could get used to! Since my shoes prove to be rather soaked, I decided to leave them outside, trusting that the sun would be kind enough to get those dry too.

Saturday evening, Charles and Meredith had invited me to join them to the theatre. The play that was on, combined drama with dance and was situated in New York of the twenties. Oh yes, why not? An extra dose of culture, surely won’t hurt me. The play started rather hectic, sometimes difficult to follow, but the story came gradually to life in what proved to be a very intense performance. Dance and drama, combined with truly sublime mimicry, were very nicely intertwined. My only problem was that I failed to understand some of the puns, which were clearly funny, according to the reaction of the audience. I still have a very long way to go when it comes to refining my knowledge of the English language, that is the lesson learned that evening.

Those of you who know me, will realise that there is one thing you can not expect of me: don ‘t drop me in a group of people, expecting that I will remain silent! Of course, I kept quiet during the show, but I got into a very animated conversation with the couple sitting just next to me. As it happened the husband was bitten by the WW I bug as well, and hearing that I was giving lectures on the subject, he immediately asked whether I would be willing to present a talk to his organisation during the coming weeks. My hostess, who overheard the conversation, jokingly said: “ You would sell coals to Newcastle!” to which I laughingly replied “No, what about chocolate to Belgians!”.

When walking back to the car, I am surprised over the fact that the temperatures are still that high, which is rather unusual here. The answer is to be found in the fact that clouds were acting as a blanket, preventing the heat to escape. Well that was something new to me: clouds in the sky in Brisbane… I had already start to believe that no one knew what that word meant over here.

A cup of hot chocolate sets me off to bed for a good night sleep, the tune of the show still being played in my head. But a very different tune wakes me up well after midnight: a tremendous downpour, rattling on the roof as a heavy machine gun. Immediately, it comes to my mind that I had left my shoes outside… oops, they are destined to become to additional small buckets. The last thing I want to do is to disturb the sleep of my hosts and then it is too late to contain the damage anyway. I might as well pour the water out of my shoes in the morning…

Guess what was my first task in the morning??? I rush outside to find my shoes in perfect condition. Silly me!  These roofs are coming a long distance in front of walls as an extra protection against the summer sun. No reason to panic at all! I should have taken the lesson already:  in Oz there hardly ever seems to be a reason for a panic!

My Australian adventure is almost coming to an end: in 2 weeks time I will be flying to New Zealand, where I will be spending another month. Very occasionally, some news from the world I left behind, is being sent to me. It turns out that there are still people over there, who are convinced that one day, I will be heading back home with my tail in between my legs. Keep on dreaming (and/or gossiping) people, but this lady is not coming back, that already I can assure you. I have left behind a world, which has so very often limited me in so many ways. I know that some describe me as silly, while others will think of me as a dreamer, and still other will list me somewhere in between those extremes. All I can say is that I feel liberated and that my inquisitive nature is finally getting a chance to develop itself. It might be 35 years too late but doesn’t the saying go “Better late than never”?  I still have so many plans and dreams. Too bad this could not be done with the support of my family but that won’t stop me from fighting to get forward in life. There is still a very long road ahead of me… one which I am eager to explore!

Warm greetings,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Life is a rollercoaster and that’s no different when you travel. Or perhaps it is: in that way it all goes even faster. Those past months have really flown by in a flash. The journey I have been on has left a warm glow flowing through me, giving me inner peace and confidence. But even then, every now and then, one is confronted with a lesser day. That is the case when you realise that, someone whom  you have trusted blindly for over 30 years, plants a knife in your back, in an attempt to ruin your life. The day on which you learn that bitterness drives people beyond their moral standards. I am long past the point of having pity, though the fact remains that it hurts to come to a closure in such a bitter way.

Down under, there is a saying “Bad luck, it comes in three’s”, translated into Dutch that becomes “No two without three”.  Blow number two, I had as well, so I wonder what is to follow next. Internet is a great medium, when used wisely. However, it can become a lethal weapon if standards of decency are being shamelessly thrown overboard. Without pretending that I am a saint, I dare say that I have always been honest with people and I have always given my trust easily. My vision is that every human being has a basic goodness, it is only a matter to let that positive part of people develop further. Innocent until proven guilty… as I see it. Am I naïve to stick to this attitude?  After what I read on the internet yesterday (and that is of direct concern to myself) I can only say that my faith in people has been hit badly. This trip of several months, proves to be a psychology lesson for me. What is currently going on, will not break me, oh no. It just gives me an extra layer of protective skin to prevent that I am struck again.

But hey, it is not all doom and gloom. On Monday, I was planning to update my blogs (this must sound familiar to you). No lack of inspiration but a constant struggle for time results that I am always behind with my English blog. Lacking time doesn’t seem to be my privilege since my hostess was just as frantically trying to get her project (knitting a sweater for her elderly father) finished before the cold weather would set in. Hello? Cold in Queensland? No Belgian believes that one when feeling the mid winter sun, under the cloudless sky. One advice I can give to all Queensland visitors to the Western front: schedule your visit for July or August. A Belgian summer might with some luck surpass your winter days…

Full of good intentions, I switched on my laptop while Jill lets the needles tap in a steady rhythm. Until the first coffee break: the perfect opportunity to set all the problems of this planet. And since there are quite a few to deal with, Monday has flown by before we realised. My blogs were not updated and that sweater… well that might turn out to be a gift for next winter!

Sure enough I can not stay in Brisbane without having tasted the atmosphere of the city. On Tuesday, it is decided that the time has come to boost my knowledge. The plan is to catch the city ferry on the Brisbane river. Those catamarans, which have an astonishing speed and agility, can be regarded as our local city busses. The captain doesn’t have to convince me of his skills: it almost feels as I have ended up in a Hollywood production as this vessel is going at an unbelievable speed from one side of the river to the other. After many wandering tours in other Australian cities, it strikes me immediately, that this society is far less “mixed”. Everyone seems to be Australian. Have I finally found the city with the purest grade of Aussie culture???

We enjoy the view along the riverbanks: stately homes, each with their own mooring for a boat. Although the size of most houses here is larger than what I have seen so far, it is still below the Belgian average. In all my travels, I have learned that in our tiny little country, houses are large, whereas much more modest houses are being built in countries where space limitation are not an issue. Would the saying that Belgians are born with a brick in their stomach hold some truth?

Once ashore, we start exploring Brisbane on foot. Amazingly enough, there is a small section of rainforest to be discovered right in the city centre. No way that can be compared with a Belgian forest, that is pretty clear. Venturing further, we end up is some type of walking and shopping centre: green, spacious, beautiful flowers in bright colours: a Belgian summer doesn’t do any better than this. On our stroll, we pass a little ice cream seller. Although I try to keep away from sweets, I am sure that one sin won’t kill me. Addressing to him, I ask whether it is possible to obtain an vanilla- chocolate ice cream. All I get is a puzzled look and a “no sorry”…Why not hokey-pokey, ma’am? A what??? Okay, occasionally I do step out of my nutrition comfort zone.. The next thing I know is that I am holding a yellowish ice cream, ready to be put to the taste test. Don’t even ask me what it is made off… just take my advice: if you ever get a chance to eat this, say YES to it!

Eating ice cream does leave on thirsty. So the next stop ends up to be a coffee shop. The ubiquitous ibises literally land on nose-length distance, ready to steal some food away. Jill decides to surprise me with a carrot cake, a more than pleasant surprise! Forget about the calories, we decide that we will walk those off in no time. Later, Steven comes up with a better alternative : why not go for a career as a belly dancer…

Our little exploration is completed when Steven gallantly comes to pick us up to return back home. At that moment, Brisbane turns into a traffic chaos, however, somehow it all keeps on flowing.

Once back home, the whole family gathers for dinner. This is one of the very few places where dinner is eaten together:  a quiet moment in the day, during which everyone share his experiences of the day with the others. For a split moment, I am being thrown back in time, though it feels like ages ago since I sat at a table with my family. The strongest memory is that I was not even welcome at the table… A marriage ending up in a divorce: that doesn’t happen from one day to the other…

Meanwhile, it is Wednesday morning. I have just arrived at the house of my new hosts for the next couple of days. A totally different environment, though all in all, I have moved less than 10 km. This house is situated in an oasis of green; it seems we are far away from the civilized world, though this is only an illusion.  I have no idea what awaits me the next days. That too is travelling: looking at the world, with an open mind, and at the opportunities this great world has to offer.  And this is a lesson I have learnt: I take the chance to step from one adventure to another…

Best wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

It seems like the weather wants to make clear that it sympathizes with me: a drizzly day in Sydney, lines up with my mind not being set in a “sunny” mode. Strange, that a place which I have explored a lot less than the previous cities I have been to, still appeals so strongly to me. Or should I correct that? It is not the hive, which Sydney appears to be, but rather the wonderful coastline, which has caught me. Although I would never have considered myself to be a “beach person”, I must openly admit that walking along the beaches, has changed me. The many surfers, who after a wild ride at the head of the waves, submerge repeatedly; the atmosphere of young mothers with paddling toddlers; the silence that briefly follows the breaking waves… it all left a deep impression on me.

Going back in time: after my lecture in the Ashfield RSL, I was introduced to Alan, who is very much involved in the maintaining of a fortress at North Head. Looking through European eyes, I can immediately say that the traditional view that word invoked in me, is not correct: do not expect a site with thick walls or ceiling… Though heavily armed ceilings were to be seen, be it below the surface. Fact is that Alan had invited me for a private visit to the tunnels and that is something I don’t need to be asked twice. On Thursday morning, my host Peter and myself, headed for Manly. We ended up in a different world: a group of 10 volunteers, coming from near and far ( 3 hours drive!) is gathering there every Thursday, in order to restore military vehicles and equipment. These men, from whom metalwork does not present any insurmountable problem, have a mission: the preservation of heritage, which, if it weren’t for their dedicated work, would be lost forever. The doyen of the group (aged 91) manages to flawlessly re-create missing parts. It makes me wonder how many young men would be able to imitate him…

After an introduction to the whole group, we set off for a guided tour of the tunnels, which eventually lead to the position of a 9-inch gun. From the mid 30’s, 2 of these guns, in combination with several 6-inch batteries, were being  installed in order to protect the East coast of Australia against potential intruders (fearing an attack from Russia or Japan, a fear which proved to be founded eventually). The intention was that this strategically positioned guns, would overleap each other sufficiently to ensure a proper defence. A good example of Australian optimism since the range of 26 km from the big guns, was not enough to assure a conclusive defence. The first stop is a room with 2 huge generators (not the original ones but of the same type) and a control panel, which covers an entire wall. Seeing this takes me back in time:  I have seen a very similar setup in the fortress of Mutzig (Alsace area, France) many years ago. Roy, a very lively man in his seventies, is confronting a more than decent challenge to restore this panel. That will undoubtedly be a “labour of love”. We then decent deeper to end up in a very narrow tunnel, where water is flowing continuously in 2 small channels, since we seem to sit just above a wellspring. After a good walk in a second tunnel (the total distance is approximately 300 meters), we arrive at the storage end of the projectiles. Strange logic has been applied when building this part of the fort: where as the hall where the generators where installed, was built with extremely tick walls and an expansion space between those walls and the ones of the tunnels, those between the cartridge supply and the shell storage, prove to be extremely thin… An ingenious system  allows to move to 385 pound heavy shells to an almost prehistoric version of a lift chain. When proceeding to the surface, we end up being guided to the original gun position. Too bad that the jewel on the crown is missing but nevertheless , this sites is more than worth a visit.

Following the fascinating tour, we end up being invited for lunch: right in line with the spirit of this place. A barbecue had been rolled out (this piece of equipment is as essential as a washing machine in a typical Aussie family!) and the chef in charge, gets to work. Shortly after that, the smell of freshly baked sausages draws us to the makeshift kitchen. It will be a lunch, which I will not easily forget. No bells and whistles here, but conversations with interesting people, who each have a fascinating life story. No tourist brochure can offer a more exiting program than this!

In the afternoon, we are guided by Roy, a former soldier, who has lost his heart and soul to guns. We are being led from one shed to another, where I find myself going from one surprise to another. Several WW II guns have been restored into a pristine condition. I am fascinated to learn that a second world war anti aircraft gun was connected to a very early type of computer, which calculated the expected course of the plane, allowing the gun sufficient time to aim where the plane was expected to fly. Amazing information this is! Next to the guns, a huge searchlight holds a prime position. An album with pictures, revealing the condition the searchlight was found in, makes clear how much labour has been invested in the restoration. My respect for these people grows with the minute…The day comes to an end with a very warm goodbye and an open invitation to visit them again, should my future ever bring me back to Sydney. Alan, Roy and friends: rest assured that I have made a note of this!

Returning to Dee Why, Peter takes the opportunity to bring me to a lookout over the endless ocean. It is here that I get to know, Aussie hospitality from the other side, although I don’t realise that at the moment itself.

Once back in my headquarters, I offer my host to iron his shirts, while he attends a business appointment. In the course of the evening, I experience a prickling sensation and an itching feeling on my back. Worried about what’s going on, I ask my host to check it out and then it becomes clear that a tick had chosen me as a suitable host…The little nonentity had clung between my shoulder blades, with the clear intention to remain where it was! It took a major operation to remove the uninvited guest. Peter just laughed, saying: you haven’t been to Australia if you haven’t been bitten by a tick!

The last few days have been so enjoyable; having the Australian sun as an ally on my walks. Again, I end up with the strong believe that this is a place which I am unlikely to ever forget. As uncertain as my future still is, there is a little voice in me, telling that I will be back…

On Sunday morning Tim was ever so kind to take me to the airport. I will certainly miss his dry British humour, just as I expect him to miss the ironed shirts in his wardrobe.  As Tim has planned a day of sailing, I arrive at the airport at good time No problem at all, since I feel ever so relaxed at airports. The self check-in system holds no secrets for me anymore although on this occasion, I end up being confronted with a practical problem: when putting my big red suitcase on the scale, it soon becomes clear that it exceeds the maximum weight restrictions. So this one, ends up, re-arranging suitcases in the middle of the departure hall. Luck is on my side: if someone would weigh my little blue suitcase, the scale would soon make clear that my 10 kg might be slightly underestimated…

My flight was scheduled to depart at 11.05 am, boarding at 10.45 am. Sitting next to an American, I tell him that by now, I am sure to have been confronted with everything that can possibly go wrong. At least, that is how I thought about it until then. Meanwhile, I know better…As we were expecting to board, the intercom system announces that all computers are down and that the boarding will have to be done manually. To cut a long story short: we finally board on the plane, which is not moving an inch for over an hour. Ultimately, with over 2.30 hours of delay, the flight departs. In Belgium, we have a very popular ad by the national railway company saying “by train, you would already have been there!”. You know what.. sometimes, this ad does hold some truth!

Being collected by Jill and Steven, my new hosts, I am immediately being treated to a trip in the outskirts of Brisbane. No sandy beaches here. Instead there is a kilometres long coastline, which anticipates muddy terrain. Morton Bay appears to be of enormous magnitude, and since the access to the bay is gradually bogged down, there is no swell to be observed on the water. On the Belgian coast, we have to deal with the seagulls, here one has the ibis to live with. Fact is that this bird will never be granted a beauty price, although they would do very well in an arrogance contest…

In the evening, we enjoy the reunion, reminisce and discuss all aspects of Australian society. I feel so privileged that I get a chance to broaden my horizons this way. When withdrawing to my room, it becomes so clear to me how restricted my world has been, until now…

Best wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012