And more happy moments on campus

Happy moments on campus

Taking the iPod commercials a bit too far

Yesterday I was walking across campus (Holy cow!!) when I saw a scrawny kid in faux-skinny jeans (Note to self: be on the lookout for those) busting some moves while listening to his ipod. While he was making a double 360° turn I noticed some crocheted head-gear that somewhat resembled a yamaka in Christmas Colors.

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 :-))

Of Cornet de Pates and Ellen

so today i saw the king of Belgium and the duke of Luxembourg.

3 feaking times.

funny that it was me. i would have gladly passed the opportunity to someone else.

Why do people care so much about a monarchy? I mean, it's not like seeing The Whites Boy Alive live or something. :-)

Walloons really seem to care more about the monarchy then the Flemish. When I was sitting in Dutch grammar this morning, we could occasionally hear "Vive le roi!" coming from the street.

but hey...I respect people's choice. If people enjoy being royalty watchers, they have every right to do so. If only my tax money didn't go to paying for the Royal's diaper expenses...

anyway, so there was this little folkloristic play that the locals put on for the King and Co (and also for the general public, but we go to stand in the muddy grass). There were some people that dressed up in medieval clothing. There were some men in, what I guess was a True-Namuroise Native Dress, and then some (I think) honor students of the FUNDP. Oh, and there was also a little fanfare, and the youngest member was (I swear) 83, along with a color guard. No, the youngest member of the color guard wasn't 83, but it came pretty close. Oh, and by color guard I mean 5 people with flags.

then, when I was trying to make my back to my studio, I was stopped by the police, because the King and Co were making their way into the City Hall. Behind police lines were about 100 little Walloon children waving Luxembourg and Belgian Flags.

so, since there was no way of escaping the folklore, i decided to participate and I got a Cornet de Pates (I know there is supposed to be an accent on the 'a', but I'm typing on an qwerty, and I'm too lazy to figure it out). See, i think a CdP is the coolest thing in the world. I didn't know this existed until i moved to Namur. But seriously, the idea of eating pasta on the go, out of a paper cup that one puts in the microwave for a few minutes just blows my mind! now THAT'S what i call culture and folklore!
I might try and introduce this at BYU. Maybe i can get ellie to join...

anyway, the rest of my day was pretty boring. I went to A's house in Namur to work on our dutch project, along with the 3rd member of our group M. We/I got a lot done.

I seriously loathe group projects with a fiery passion of a thousand suns.

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??