it's over!

so....


my year in namur is over. the most dreaded thing of 2006 is done. Well, almost. I still have to get my grades that are awful, and pick a few more things up from my studio.



It's been a good year though. Ignoring the fact that I was dragged here against my will, from the basement on the hill, i can't complain. People here have been really nice to me, which was nice since I left my belgian elementary school on a bad note 8 years ago. they accepted me right from the start. I'm really thankful for that.


I'm really going to miss my studio. I adored living by myself. I could do whatever the frick i wanted to. Ok, the most hard core thing i ever did was stay up till 3 AM reading mormon blogs...
I could have solo dance parties and talk to myself (shut up, you KNOW you've done it too) and no one would care, not even my neighbors, who were drunk half the time.

gosh, i'm really going to miss that place. even if i slept with a knife under my pillow half the time...



but i'm also really glad that my Namur Chapter is over. Let's be honest: I was really out of place there. and i really didn't have a social life, cuz i didn't speak the language well enough.


(oh, and I'm also glad I don't have to worry about drunk hobo's ringing my doorbell at unreasonable hours of the night :-))

Lunch conversation

I was sitting outside a classroom with 2 other people, waiting for a Dutch Stylistics exam to start. (this conversation was in french)

L: I love dutch. I think it's the prettiest language I've heard.

V: You kidding me??!! I hate that language! I think it's the ugliest thing I've heard! Then I think German is prettier!

Me: *cough* *cough*

V: Well, I'm not referring directly to you. You speak fluent English. So you're saved.

.....aaaagghhhh......

Vespa Man

Being the responsible college students that we are, some friends, Mi, AS, Ma and I, decided to buy an ice cream, and eat it on the steps of the St. Loup Cathedral. All was peaceful, when this rather odd looking man approaches us, and starts speaking to us in broken dutch, even though he is Walloon. He apparently has a weak for the Cathedral, and decides to explain his Stone Love to us, all in Flemish.My friend Ma (In french, this is):Ma: We are french speaking, you know (I'm glad she decided to keep my true identity on the down-low).Man: Well, i figured so much, but i like to practice my Flemish! The St. Loup cathedral, my young friends, is one of the most amazing cathedrals around. Seriously! You guys should go to Mass just to enjoy this wonderful cathedral! It really is a shame you don't go to Mass. You should do that more often. Cuz let me guess: You are all baptised in the Catholic Church?US: start looking at each other, wondering if we should text someone to see if they have a ninja they can send us.Man: See! I'm so right! Man, I have such great knowledge of humans!At this point, a woman in a green dress, in her 40's or 50's approaches us, and starts talking to Man. I didn't really quite catch what was being said, since a lot of Belgian French was being thrown in. Mainly, she told him to quit bothering the young people (that would be us) with his crazy talk. She asks Man what his name is and he replies with Arthur.While Green Dress Woman talks to us, and Arthur yells something in French/Italian down the street to the boss of this small Italian restaurant. Truth be told, he was just speaking french, but adding an Italian accent. The only thing i got was that AC Milan made it to the finals of the champion's league.Arthur turns himself back to Green Dress Woman and much to our entertainment they yell at each other, none of which i can repeat, or would want to repeat even if i understood them. Meanwhile, Mi, AS, Ma and I turn to each other, and wonder if this is Candid Camera. Discretely we start to peek around the cathedral, just to see if there is a huge black object that shouldn't be there.Well, Green Dress Woman leaves, and Arthur starts telling us his life story, including his Life Wisdom. He starts telling us about how both of his sons are convicted felons, their crimes ranging from downloading illegal music to stealing cars.His years as a young man follow, including a detailed description about his hair, and how he would let it fly in the wind on his vespa.Arthur: You guys know what a vespa is, right?Arthur: Well, you know what guys, my name isn't really Arthur. It's Frank.Us: Really now?Arthur: Yeah, let me show you my ID card. (and indeed, it is Frank)Arthur/Frank/Vespa Man: Yes, it's very important to have your ID card with you. You need it if you want to buy a Vespa.You know what a vespa is??some more talkVespa Man: Man, I love young people like you guys! you're so friendly, willing to talk to strangers.Us: eeeigh...Vespa Man: What are your ages anyway? What do you do??Us: We're studying Germanic Languages, and he (pointing to Mi) is studying to be a vet.Vespa Man: Oh! that's great! I love young people like you guys! You guys should buy a vespa!You know what a vespa is?After confirming for a 3rd time that we know what a vespa is, he continues with his ramblings, of which i can only pick up on a few things, and one of them was this:Vespa Man:....and those *%$#%* ^&*-^$!##!^** FLEMISH!!!!Good thing I had no problem keeping my mouth shut.Luckily his cellphone rang (all of us a bit surprised that he has social contact), and after rambling a bit more, he sets off to go do whatever.I want thank Mi, AS and Ma that they kept my somewhat controversial identity secret to Vespa Man.

On the rooftops of Namur

**DISCLAIMER: Blogger hates it when I upload pictures. I apologise if the layout is a bit funny.**

It may be known to some that I'm living in the old part of Namur, where
most of the houses date back from 1400 to 1800 AD.
henceforth, all the houses seem to be intertwined with each other by means of roofs. It's true, I already have my escape route planned out in case the stairs ever catch fire.

so here's the view i have from my kitchen:

A couple of months after I had moved in I discovered a Tupperware bowl and a sponge on my side of the roof. Since I didn't recall doing anything that involved a sponge and a bowl the night before, i discretely thew the domestic items to the other roof, seeing it probably belonged to the neighbors anyway.
The sponge seemed to have disintegrated during the winter, or is currently being used in a birds' nest. Plastic, especially the Tupperware kind, doesn't decompose as fast as we would like, and thus it remained the whole fall and winter on my roof, catching all the raindrops and other nasty stuff that falls from the sky.

It hasn't rained in a month, which explains why it's dry.

Over the course of the winter months, I found other random things on the roof, none of them which belong to me. Unless I turn into some kind of Roof-Rubbish werewolf at night, I have no clue how they got there:

Plastic to keep your meat in and home-made cigarettes

Also, a couple of weeks ago, a whole bunch of girls were sitting on the lower part of the roof. I hope you won't feel too heartbroken when i tell you i have no pictures of that.

When I came back from Antwerp after Easter Break, I discovered a kitchen knife on the roof. Now, I'm not afraid of Tupperware, but when i find unidentified sharp objects in my proximity, i tend to get a little worried. I don't know if someone threw it there from the street, or if some of my neighbors had a picknick on the roof, but it's still a little freakish. And no, there were no blood/cheese stains on it.

I ended up moving knife away from my roof:

And apparently my neighbors/serial killers aren't the only ones that leave their junk on my roof. Mother Nature is in it too! I found half the Mediterranean ocean on top of this partition that separates my roof and my neighbor's roof.

Well, I don't mind that. It's kind of nice, truth be told.

So yes.

I wish there was a way to photograph smell

this morning, i left my studio bright and early, to get some school supplies. my Ins-and-Outs syllabus exploded yesterday, and since there is not way to fix it, i decided that it was time to add yet another binder to the collection.

so i was walking through the old streets of namur, to the Club store, when it occurred to me. The streets smelled like burned toast and coffee.

i nearly died and went to heaven.

You will never believe what happend to me

Actually you will. but this still rocked my world.
Last night, around 4 AM, when I was dreaming about a big yellow spider (according to Dreammoods.com it means that have a fear or an inability to make a decision or take action. The spider means that I feel like an outsider in some situations. Or that I may want to keep my distance and stay away from an alluring and tempting situation. The spider is also symbolic of feminine power. Alternatively, a spider may refer to a powerful force protecting me against my self-destructive behavior), when I heard a human voice. There is a guy who lives here, who talks way too loud on his cellphone when he is climbing the stairs to his studio, so I didn't make much of it. I just thought he was incredibly rude. But, when he announced"C'est moi!!" on the top of his lungs, I knew that it wasn't a friendly cellphone chat. And when he started singing, I quickly realised he was completely hammered. Serenading the whole house, he struggles to make it up the stairs to the second floor where I have my studio, where Drunk Man decides it's the perfect time to look for his keys. Then he notices that there is a couch in the middle of the hall. (don't ask why, I live in a student ville) and decides to make himself comfortable, while singing the same couple of lines over and over again. Now, if I were to speak fluent french, I would be able to tell you what song it was, but because of all the slurring and pauses, I am unable to find the lyrics at this moment. Maybe my fellow Wallonian classmates will be able to help me.

Anyway, he then decides to start the beastly climb to his studio, one the 3rd floor. Climbs back down a couple of times, mutters something like "incroiable", makes some key jiggling sounds (still singing, bien sur) and finally manages to open the door to his studio, slamming the door shut. I think he crashed right into his bed, cuz I didn't hear anything anymore.
Except Ellen who was wide awake (probably with the rest of the house), who was, shame on her, thinking about what a great post this would make. Luckily, I managed to fall back asleep half an hour later.
But, all in all, this story has a happy ending:

• Drunk Man is a happy drunk. We always prefer happy drunks over aggressive drunks


• He didn't hurl in the corridor. Or at least, I don't think so. I didn't hear any gagging noises and I'm not smelling anything nasty.


• He didn't ring my doorbell or try to break into my studio, which happened to my dad once when he was a student.Luckily, Drunk Man only had eye for his music-career.

But man! That dude has to have some hangover! Seriously, why would you go through so much trouble to totally make a fool of yourself, AND blow out your kidneys at the same time? I kind of want to join some uber-conservative women's organization against alcohol. Seriously, where do kids learn to drink like that?

You know, he still owns me for that hour of lost sleep. Maybe I should blast some music with a heavy beat. Or Xiu Xiu perhaps??