The yearly visit

Waiting room full of new moms and newborns. And soon-to-be-moms. And me.

Finally, my turn.

(skip details)

Doc : So you want to have children? I see here you said so last year. And ..no plans yet?

Me: well, yes. And no.

Doc : (in a very sweet voice) You know that as of 30 your fertility seriously decreases, and it takes another plunge downwards around 35, which is..(checks my file) ah, within one year. In my own experience, couples over 30 take about a year or more to get pregnant – if it all works out allright. So I’ll be honest with you: if you want children, and especially more than one, no, there is not that much time left.

Me: (nodding, smiling) Mhmh. Right. (as if I didn’t know all that already).

Outside again. On my bike, going very fast downhill. Sometimes the ice cold wind is a welcome excuse for watery eyes. And thank god for the Dutch goodies waiting for me at home.

Dutch delicacies

P and I just got back from a little get-away in the Netherlands. Arnhem, Nijmegen, the Veluwe, and lots of rain. But it was great to pay another visit to our neighbours in the north. The friendliness of the people, the cleanliness of simply everything, the car-free city centres, the cheap grocery shopping, the cool clothes shops, the coziness of the pubs and restaurants…It all adds up to a place I love visiting.

And then I haven’t mentioned the food yet. For years Belgians have looked down upon the “Dutch cuisine” – don’t ask me why. All I can say, is that every time I go North, I spoil myself endlessly with
- saté saus (a sauce made of peanuts),
- stroopwafels (fresh waffles filled with sugar syrup),
- apple pie (it’s their staple food),
- pancakes (there’s a “pannenkoekenhuis” with at least 30 varieties in even the smallest town),
- snert ( a thick pea soup with pieces of smoked sausage),
- Fries suikerbrood ( bread with loads of sugar and cinnamon in it),
- vla ( a kind of light pudding),
- hagelslag (very small pieces of chocolate or coloured sugar that you can sprinkle on anything you like), - and last but not least : poffertjes (best described as tiny, puffy pancakes, served with butter and sugar).


The list of jummy foods gets significantly longer at this time of year, because then the Dutch celebrate “Sinterklaas” (the original version of Santa Claus). So think: pepernoten, kruidnoten, gevulde speculaas, taai-taai (all different kinds of biscuits full of winter spices such as cinnamon,) , letters van banket (flaky letter-shaped pastry filled with allmond paste), etcetera, etcetera.

So it should be no surprise the P and I came back with as much food as our tiny fridge and kitchen can contain. We imported a bit of Holland into Brussels – and I think that it’s safe to say that, by the end of this week, nothing will be left of it. Eet smakelijk!

Autumn leaves

Brain zaps

Twinge, snap, zap goes the brain
Making me even more insane
Don’t worry, just a side effect
Go on and try to neglect
Feeling like you’re coming down with flu?
Ah, side effect too
Being nauseous and dizzy
Also part of this cold turkey
This is the reward for feeling better again
Blowing up your last smile and “zen”
Checking if you’re really up to it
Want to stop? Here, another crying fit
Think you can do without?
Fine, here’s some anger – feel free to shout
Aah, what a shame – you forgot
You’re too weak, are you not?

Move over, Ladurée

So you thought you had to go to Paris for the best macarons, hm? Wrong! THE Best Ever, without any doubt, are to be found five minutes from my doorstep (as if having the best cupcakes just around the corner wasn’t enough).


Fabrice Collignon is the man who does all the magic. He has worked as a “patissier” in several multiple-Michelin-star restaurants in Paris, New York, etc., before settling down right here in Brussels. The macarons are homemade on a daily basis, and they melt in your mouth before you can say “whoa, what was THAT?!” Seriously, Ladurée tastes like rubber compared to these. Like an angle peeing on your tongue – or so the Dutch saying goes.

And then I haven’t told you anything yet about his heavenly, and very beautiful, cakes. Or the biscuits. Or the pralines. Just go check it out for yourselves. And don’t shoot the messenger for that extra pound you gained after just one visit.

Saturday

Friends, cupcakes, hamburgers, baby-cuddling, and a working computer. Can't complain. Time to go to bed. A good night's sleep would be nice to complete the list.

There goes the neighbourhood (or not)

Big-city life is always surprising. One minute you're enjoying a lazy evening in front of the TV, next minute you realize that all the screaming you hear is actually not on TV, but in your street.

Our street is quiet. Okay, we have the homeless shelter right around the corner - but honestly, those guys are quite alright. Apart from the dozens of empty beer cans they leave behind. So this evening, when I heard a woman scream her lungs out (and after I realized it was not the background noice of the TV), I opened the window to see what was going on. Early Halloween celebrations? Not likely, but you never know with all the expats around here.
The commotion was right in front of the fanciest building of the whole block - huge lofts, and a galery for fashion photos. A screaming woman was being dragged out by two men. She was putting up quite a fight as well. She re-entered the building. Same scenario a few seconds later. Screaming on the top of her voice, and being dragged out by two men, pushing and shoving going on in all directions.

After watching this a couple of minutes, I decided I had enough of this little drama. I pulled my boots on, and went outside, ready to confront the bunch of trouble makers. Or this had to stop, or I would call the police. (yes, I know, maybe a bit reckless - but spectator sports have never been my thing).

So there I went, tough little N in boots, straight into the action.

Ah, what else but a love affair could've caused all this havoc? A woman disturbed the fancy vernisage because a man she loves was there with another woman. Apparently, she also slapped him in the face, and threw a few wine glasses around.

Anyway - something in all of this made me very happy (besides the fact that the bastard got slapped in the face :-). I was not the only neighbour who decided to not just stand by and watch. 2 others showed up (ok, granted, they were guys twice my size), and 2 more made it into their doorway. The 2 guys were daddies and had sleeping babies at home. The neighbour with the cute doggie was alarmed by foresaid doggie, and also came to have a look. Neighbour number four was, of course, our old next door lady who simply needs to know everything that's going on in our street.

So ha, our tiny neighbourhood just gave a good kick in the butt of some prejudices about city-life.