Paris and the Big 3-0

For my 30th birthday, K and I decided to go on a short trip to…Paris: The (Once) Fashion Capital of the World!

I had promised two dear friends of mine that we would go to Paris together when they would come and visit us from New York but then again, when you’re 30, it’s high time you break (some) promises—hehe binuang ra! ;P

K’s first move: Book a hotel.

My first move: Cancel the hotel and book a hoStel. I didn’t want to spend a lot on accommodations and besides, it’s Paris! One wouldn’t expect to do a lot of sleeping in such a spectacular city, heller?!@#% Luckily, K agreed despite the prospect of having to possibly share a room with two other anonymous people. Hmmm…do I sense a backpacker in the making?? Hehe

So off we went to Paris on a 3.5 hour drive a day before my birthday with my 5 euro worth of French (unsaon man kuno pagtranslate ug “singkong tapok” sa Ininglis, beh?). And on our way I was prepping myself for my self-imposed mission: I would take pictures of the ugly parts of Paris. You know when other people would go to other beautiful places and just take photos of the beautiful parts? Well, I wanted to do the complete opposite. I wanted to take pictures of the other side of Paris, the side where people didn’t get to see…the side which they don’t show on “Discovery Travel and Adventure”.

When we arrived at Paris late in the afternoon, we checked into our hostel, which claimed to be one of the most popular hostels in Paris, the 3 Ducks (see photo below), and was located “at the foot of the Eiffel Tower” (their exact words—but puleeez, it ended up being a 2km walk to the Eiffel Tower and for a Filipina, that is a long walk!). I was naively imagining a hostel at the foot of the Eiffel Tower which I was hoping was just photoshopped to appear as if the Eiffel Tower didn’t have a hostel at it’s foot. Duh?



The 3 Ducks http://www.3ducks.fr/en-hostel.php

We got some brochures at the bar and decided to take a tour in the Montmartre District /Mohngh-maahgh-tuh/ (or something like that). We took a metro there to get the “local” feel and ofcourse because we had already found a good parking spot for our car just a block away from our hostel and we didn’t want to lose it.


Paris MRT

NOTE TO SELVES: Should you ever decide to live in Paris in the future, just buy a scooter or better yet a Smart Car (“mini-ca” ba) OR a pedicab, as finding a parking spot in Paris can seem to be as likely as the sun shining in Belgium (ooohhh! That was low! Oops! I’m gonna get in trouble for this! Hehe--JUST KIDDING! ;)


THE MONTMARTRE DISTRICT

An emerging new age tour in Europe is called “New Europe Tours”. And it most certainly doesn’t hurt that these tours are FREE! The tour guides work solely on tips. (www.neweuropetours.eu)

So without further ado, we took the 6pm New Europe “Montmartre” Tour and I will share with you some stories that made me appreciate going on tours and WILL continue to make me go on these type of tours.


THE MOULIN ROUGE




When we went there, the show that was on was called “Feerie”. They said that it was rumored that the Feerie shows would soon be nearing its super-duper-mega last curtain call because another show would be taking its place. Pretty much the evolution of the Moulin Rouge has been dictated by the tips that customers would give. The dancers soon realized that the higher they raised their skirts, the higher their tips went…and eventually, they became smarter and realized, “What if we don’t wear anything underneath??”. And so the tips came pouring in! hehe But ofcourse, the Moulin Rouge of today is very different AND the Moulin Rouge movie is an exaggeration of the real deal…or so I’ve heard. ;)

K and I have decided that when we’re 40 or 50 then we can be ready to watch the Moulin Rouge. Most of the people who were lining up to watch it were in that age bracket anyway. The cheapest ticket was 80 euro and if you wanted to watch the show and have dinner, be prepared to spend 150 euro. The strip bar right across is 20 euro. Take your pick.


Café des Deux Moulins,more popularly known as: Amelie Poulin’s cafe





After the Moulin Rouge, Amelie Poulin’s cafe was the next stop of the tour. I couldn’t even call it a quaint, little coffeeshop. It was located in the corner of a steep street and when K and I went back to have a drink there after the tour (just so we can say that we have actually HAD a drink on Amelie’s coffeeshop) there really wasn’t anything spectacular about it, apart from maybe the picture of Amelie hanging on the wall or plastered all over the menu’s.

But at least we could say that we had been there. :)

Little details:The director (or was it the producer) was apparently very fond of this coffeeshop for some reason that he decided that that was the perfect place to shoot part of his movie. So he talked to the owner and ofcourse, the owner was ecstatic. What owner wouldn’t want a movie shown in his café? The owner thought, “Oh, two or three weeks should be okay.”

But then, he soon found out that he was supposed to close his shop for 4 months!

Anyway, he still ended up agreeing and now his café earns him hundreds of thousands every year…thanks to little miss Amelie Poulin.


AU LAPIN AGILE




This ordinary looking night-club was once a favorite spot of struggling artists, one of which came one night, without any money but called on a waitress and ordered food anyway. As the artist was as broke as the ten commandments at that time, he decided to ingeniously sketch the waitress on a piece of table napkin as payment. The waitress, surprisingly, thought this was such a sweet gesture (pfff…women!) that she accepted it and so the artist got away with a free meal. The next day the artist came back and applied the same system. Again it worked and so he came back every day for a month.

After a month, the owner got wind of this and approached the budding artist. He said, “Hey, I can’t just accept table napkins with sketches as payment for your meals! I have to have something more substantial!”.

The artist said, “Okay, if you will promise to continue feeding me I will give you one of my paintings every week with my own promise that someday I WILL become famous and my work will be worth a whole lot more.”

Owner, stopped for a moment and said, “Okay, it’s a deal.”

And so the artist got his free meals in exchange for a couple of paintings. This deal lasted for a couple of years.

In the end, the artist became one of my most admired painters (drumroll please!): Pablo Picasso. Tadah!

And the owner, by then, had a basement full of Picasso paintings which he ofcourse, sold for a hefty sum of money (ummm… just more than a million for each painting) and retired happily ever after in the south of France.

So, the moral of the story is…?


LE BATEAU LAVOIR




This is one of the places where Pablo Picasso studied art together with another now famous artist, Amedeo Modigliani.

One day, as they were leaving their school, one “bystander” said to another (not exact words ;), “You know what , someday, these guys are going to be famous.”

Taking this to heart, the other “bystander” then waited one day for all the students to leave the building, broke in, and stole some paintings.

Picasso was the first at school the next day. When he found out that the paintings were stolen he broke into a fit of rage, breaking glass, semi-tearing down the place, and wound up in tears. Modigliani, Picasso’s biggest rival then, came next, and upon finding Picasso in that state, consoled him and said, “Don’t worry, Pablo. We can always make more paintings.”

Pablo, wiped his tears, and eventually confessed that he was crying because not a single one of his paintings was stolen. Everything that was stolen were works of Modigliani.

he he.


The LOUVRE

I admit, we didn’t really consider going inside the Louvre for the sole reason that we didn’t have enough time. The Louvre, they say, now holds around 35,000 works of art and that would approximately take 6 months to view! With only a day and a half, I seriously didn’t want to spend it inside the museum looking for the Mona Lisa by going to the Sully wing and taking elevator D…or E…then turning left and taking elevator G…or was that F? Then going to the…Whatever!?!@#%

So, the next day, we decided to go Asian and take pictures outside instead! :)




Did I mention that that day was my birthday? The weather was not very pleasant that day but hail couldn’t have stopped us from taking another tour. Remember when I said I would take photos of the ugly parts? Well, here it is…

You’ve seen it. You’ve seen it on tv, you’ve seen it in magazines, you’ve seen it in the pictures we took. In my mission to take photos of the ugly parts of Paris, I failed. Not because I couldn’t, but because there weren’t any. Paris is such a beautiful city, with a very rich history and there is just surprisingly, nothing bad I can say about it. They say Parisians are quite rude and snobbish, but all the locals that we had encountered there were quite okay.

Paris, admittedly, was not really one of THE places on my “to visit” list but I would definitely go back there in a heartbeat. To The Louvre, Rodin, and Picasso museums—See you next time!

Oh! Oh! And I would even go back just for these little morsels of heaven:


The Paris Macarons http://gridskipper.com/archives/entries/061/61929.php


When we drove back to Belgium I had a very surprising surprise party waiting for me. Being away from home will never be easy, but that day, K (together with our conspiring friends!?!@$%), made it all better. I would like to thank all of you again for making me welcome 30 with a bang... World, here I come!!! *wink*

Turning 30

Last week, I went to visit a friend from London who is originally from Taiwan. Her 13 year old daughter didn’t have any classes that week so she joined in on the “Girls’ Afternooon”.

In our many interesting conversations, her daughter had her fair share. In one instance, she exclaimed, “Oh my god! When we moved here to Belgium I couldn’t believe that I saw a blackboard in my new school! I mean, hello?? Who uses blackboards these days?”

Me: “Ummm…well, we do. As far as I know, we still use it back home. I mean, in my time, we used it and I don’t think I’m THAT old. What did you use in London?”

Daughter, “A smartboard.”, she said matter-of-factly.

I just had a blank look on my face. And for a moment, it took me back to the time when my bestfriend mentioned that she wanted to own a KINDLE and my first thought was, “What is a kindle?”.

Turning 30.

The first time I realized I was getting "old" was more than a decade ago, back when I was still in college. I was watching MTV Classics and all of a sudden I saw “Come As You Are” by Nirvana being played. I couldn’t believe my eyes (and ears)! It was just Nirvana! It wasn’t Michael Jackson, or Cyndi Lauper, or Boy George… You know, those 80’s groups. It was Nirvana!?@#%

And then it dawned upon me -- Nirvana began in the late 80s and “Nevermind” was the first cassette tape that I had proudly bought with my own money. They were supposed to be on MTV classics and I was getting old-ER. =)

Turning 30.

A lot of things have happened in my life. Some good, some bad, some wonderful, some terrible, some vague, and some I know will just stick with me for the rest of my life--or until I get amnesia.

I joined this social travelling organization a couple of days ago (www.couchsurfing.org) and one of the questions that I had to fill out was: What is one amazing thing you've seen/done?

Immediately, I began to write about diving and seeing sea turtles (awesome!) and mountain climbing with amazing views… For the most part of my life, sports have played a very essential role. I have never considered myself athletic but for some reason, I just like sports and I just want to be good at what I do. I HAVE to be--the competitive nature in me, but the thing is, I more often than not compete against myself. Ofcourse, I can be picky. I don’t like sissy sports but I will not expound on what I find to be sissy sports as I do not want to offend anyone in this essay. Sports have always made me feel alive and free and content. It gives me a natural high. But the sport that will always hold a special place in my heart is football.

Football. The greatest sport in the world. But as time passes, other sports have squeezed their way into my heart. Through the years, some sports that I have engaged in and have actually liked and have committed to are:

1. Football (since highschool) and Futsal (since college)
2. Swimming (since grade school)
3. Rollerblading (since highschool)
4. Skimboarding (post college)
5. Surfing (post college)
6. Adventure racing (post college), though I never really did enjoy biking for the sole reason that it made my thighs too big. Hey, I am still entitled to vanity.
7. Mountaineering (since college)
8. Wall & Rock climbing (since college)
9. Bouldering (just recently)
10. Ultimate Frisbee (since college)
11. Kayaking (since college)
12. Longboarding (since 2 years ago but it was just for a couple of times and I loved it =)
13. Snowboarding (just recently)
14. Scuba Diving (since 2 years ago)
15. English Boxing (for a year now)

And I will stop at 15 because admittedly, I can be a bit obsessive compulsive and right now, if it’s not multiples of 5 then it’ll make me feel strange. Freaky, I know.

So I wanted to write about my amazing experiences (even if the question stated to just give one [1]) and I did start to… but suddenly, I was struck by a single flashback. Something that I experienced a long time ago and it was one of the most ordinary of experiences but for some reason, it felt so extraordinary to me. And so I wrote about it and I will also share it with you…

ONE AMAZING THING I’VE SEEN/DONE

One afternoon I was skimboarding on a long stretch of beach back home. I was happy to have had the beach all to myself. Finally, dusk started settling in and the sky just burst into mesmerizing hues of pink, purple, orange, red, and blue.

I laid down on the shore with my board and just admired the awesomeness of it all.

Suddenly, I saw fireworks at a distance near the mountains. Fireworks have always amazed me, just like bubbles, rainbows, sunrises and moonrises; the simple yet beautiful things in life.

And at that moment, by myself and with silence only broken by the lapping of the gentle waves on the shore, I knew I was happy...that life was good and that I have been doing what I loved doing.

For some reason, that moment just stuck with me. For some reason, for me that moment was amazing...

Turning 30.

I have always felt that life is too short and there are just so many things that I want to do. Too many sports that I still want to try. Too many things that I still need to learn. Too many books that I still want to read. Too many stuff that I still want to Google. Too many stories that I still want to write. Too many places that I still want to visit. Too many people that I still want to help. Too many families that are still suffering from poverty. Too many animals facing extinction. Too many individuals not caring about the environment. Too many friends and relatives that I haven’t given enough hugs and attention to. Too many moments in my brothers’ and sister’s lives that I miss. Too many conversations that I still haven’t had with my mama and my papa. Too many memories that I still want to share with my partner. Too many… TOO many.

Turning 30? I can only hope that I will still live twice as long to be able to do even half of the things that I still want to do (not to mention have the energy for it!).

Turning 30. Life gets shorter when you turn 30...

Philippine Postal System Trauma

Yesterday my post office nightmare came to an end. After 7 months, I can finally sleep soundly at night.

7 months earlier...

7 months ago was my birthday. Being in a long distance relationship has never been easy (nor cheap) but K and I have tried to make the most out of it. I had wanted to celebrate the day of my birth with him but since he couldn’t come over yet, he sent me a great present and wrote me a wonderful note instead.

The present was (can I write about it?? Hehe) a personalized “pull” (in Filipino: “sweater” ra diay) with a fabulous drawing (since K is quite a talented artist) and a pair of boxing gloves, to name a few. I was so excited to receive it (as I had begun to get hooked to boxing at that time) and when I got the notice from the post office I immediately went there to claim it.

Long story short, they asked me to pay a P3,500 tax for my BIRTHDAY PRESENT (half the price of the present) and so in not so ladylike terms I sorta told them to take a long walk over a short pier, dive headfirst, and never resurface. They didn’t even allow me to read the “birthday card” inside! Grrrr…

That marked the end of my post office days—or so I thought. A month after I asked them to send it back, the package still had not reached the sender. So I had to take a trip to the post all over again—this after having consulted 3 lawyer friends of mine. Seriously.

In the end, they told me they had sent it on January 12 and that I should just wait for it. They even showed me their books indicating such.

And so we waited…and waited…K came over to the PH to spend the holidays…he came back to BE…we waited some more…and waited still…I packed my bags and moved to Belgium and we waited again… winter went, spring came, and summer is almost here…well, I guess you get the picture.

But alas! The other day we got a note from the post informing us that an international package was waiting for us. More specifically, a return to sender package. We really hoped for the best and expected the worst. I will not begin to narrate the horror postal stories my trainees had shared with me.

I was finally able to open my present yesterday. Amazingly, everything was there (what a disappointment! ;). Now I hold the hopes of so many others who have been waiting for their mail (e.g. K’s aunt who sent a parcel to Mexico from Belgium in 2007). That package give people like me hope…and so much more. There is a God.

From now on we really ought to take the term SNAIL MAIL to heart.

Thank you post office. You didn’t fail me after all. ;P

Two Filipina Spies and One Paranoid Schizophrenic

As I was walking towards town to meet up with K for lunch today after school (hmmm…come to think of it, it was more like limping actually due to my newly sprained ankle which I acquired while playing football the other day) I saw two naturally brown-skinned girls walking in front of me. On instinct, I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Normally, I pride myself on having good “gay-dar” but apparently, it only works for sniffing out gay people. In distinguishing a Filipino from a Malaysian, Indonesian, or Thai, I find myself to be quite incapacitated. As I was eavesdropping, I heard the word “tayo” which means “us” in Tagalog, our national language. I eagerly listened some more. *wink*

The other day, during drinks after Ultimate training I asked my teammates what the national language in Belgium is. They said it was Dutch, French, and German. In a country with over 170 languages but only one national language, which is Filipino, it is a bit hard for me to comprehend that this country has 3 national languages. Although we have 2 official languages which are Filipino and English (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Languages_of_the_Philippines).

So anyway, the two were walking and apparently, I ended up limping faster than they were walking coz I was able to catch up with them. We ended up walking side by side, which I found rather weird. The girl to the far right looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. The other girl was busy talking about this girl she didn’t like and I immediately detected the distinct Visayan accent speaking in Tagalog.

Without hesitating, I asked the two of them, “Magkaklase kayo?” (Are you two classmates?)—as they were speaking in Tagalog. The girl to the right replied, “Hindi, ako level one pa lang siya level 2 na. Ikaw?” (No, I’m still in level one and she’s already in level 2, and you?)

I told her I was in level 2.

Her next reaction startled me a bit: “Eh bago ka pa lang dito diba? Level 2 kana pala!” (But you’re still new here and you’re already in level two!)

I just stretched my lips apart in an attempt to show my teeth and fake a smile all the while thinking, “Umm…Have we met before? Do I know you?? How do you know that I’m still new here???”. Then I had all these weird thoughts racing through my head…Do they have a Filipino internal database here that I don’t know of? A has never mentioned that to me. How could this girl have known??

It was a bit creepy. Yeah, Filipinos are naturally friendly but how in the world…?? To distract myself I just asked the other girl in my dialect this time, “Taga asa ka?” (Where are you from?)

“Cebu”, she replied, “Ikaw?”. I smiled and said, “Dumaguete”.

“Ah, kabalo diay ka mu-Cebuano!” (Oh! So you know how to speak Cebuano!)

Me (mentally): Duh?? (see above dialogue)

But like I always tell K, Filipinos are everywhere in the world. I wouldn’t even be surprised if I go to Antarctica and meet one. We are just EVERYWHERE.

So well, when we reached the crossing we said our casual goodbyes and parted ways. I bet they will immediately update their database when they get to their headquarters:

Name: Jacki 00678121
Classification: Level 2--Het Perspectief
Location: Gent, Belgium
Origin: Negros Oriental, Philippines

Wrong move, Jacki. Wrong move.

Tropical Girl vs The Cold

If I were to list down my stressors among the top notchers would have to be: The Cold.

For a tropical girl, it was already a major stressor for me in our offices and buildings in the Philippines. I really do have a very low tolerance level for the cold. I would set the air-conditioning at 22 or 23 (Celsius), anything lower than that was not only cold, but REALLY COLD for me. Now, in a country with four seasons and global warming wreaking havoc all around, the cold does not get to be funny at all. But in times when you feel that you have hit rock bottom, it can be comforting to know that you can bank on love to keep you warm (haha—cheesy! But true… ;)


A funny anecdote on warmth and cultural differences:

I remember the first time I came to visit BE. It was during the summer and the first thing we did was to leave my things in our hotel in Amsterdam, which was were my plane landed. Amsterdam: where legal weed, space cakes and prostitutes are so commercialized BUT still worth a try--the latter one I wasn’t able to try though. Hehe (just kidding!)

In the hotel lobby, I saw a nice painting mounted on the wall and below it was a wide-white metal object that I had also seen in photos of K’s room prior to my visit. I exclaimed my admiration for the painting and then touched the big metal bars and uttered, “This is nice. It’s like the one you have in your room noh… what is it??”

While trying to keep a straight face, K replied, “It’s a heater.”

For a split second I looked at him and then spat out a laugh which turned out to be a succession of giggles (like I am always prone to doing). It would have been embarrassing for me but really, I cannot imagine a house in my country having a heater (Baguio maybe??)…just like I cannot imagine a house in Belgium having air-conditioning. In the movies they don’t really say: “Oh, what a lovely heater you have.” or “This is our heater. Don’t you think it’s just lovely?” Hence, I never knew what a heater looked like…until that day.

For sure, I will never mistake a heater for anything else ever again and I will always have one funny heater incident tucked under my belt.

--End of Anecdote.


On a serious note, I am faced with the reality that the cold will always be a part of my life from now on. More often than not, it is something the sun cannot even beat into submission. I will have to constantly battle it and struggle with it. They say keep your friends close; your enemies closer.

The cold is my enemy. The cold is my friend.

LEVEL 2: 500 Euros and The Wackos (from the Huis van het Nederlands)

And so I begin with another chapter in the Huis van het Nederlands series.

We started our class last Monday. Immediately, when I entered the room (I was late during the first day, as usual. Haay...some things never change!) a booming voice was reverberating and it was coming from a Mexican looking guy (okay, booming and reverberating might be a bit of an exaggeration…let me just say then that it was quite "AUDIBLE”). I didn’t mind at first and thought, “Well, it’s just Day 1. Some people can just be like that; Don’t Judge, Jacki. First impressions don’t normally last. Things will be okay for your next two months of classes.”

I sat beside A, my Italian classmate from Niveau 1, together with D, the Russian Mafia (just kidding!). Ofcourse, on Day 1 you are supposed to bring money for the book that is to be used for that semester. Being the me that I am, I forgot to bring cash and well…they didn’t accept Mastercard. Hehe So the forgetful ones were given the chance to pay the next day and those that weren’t as forgetful paid for the textbook: 18 euro.

The trainer went around to collect money from the rich and the paupers were left to stare off into space or for those who were interested, indulge in the casual “What is your name?” and “Where are you from?” conversation with their seatmates.

Now for the juicy part:

When our trainer reached the guy who was talking loudly when I came inside the room, he made a big sweeping gesture to take out his wallet from his back pocket and took out the only bill he might have had there…yep! You guessed it right! 500 euros.

500 EUROS?!?!?! WTF? In Belgium, 500 euros can get me and K Ryanair (plane) tickets to almost half of the Schengen countries. 500 euros in the Philippines is worth a 2 week stay in the island of Malapascua WITH MEALS. So, what I’m getting at, is that 500 euros, moreover, a 500 EURO BILL, is a lot of money…and it is also something that is quite rare here and that you don’t get to see much of. And to pay for just an 18 euro book and ask for 478 euros change (whoops! 482 ;P ) is quite silly. The trainer then said that she didn’t have change (ofcourse!) and told the guy, well let’s call him “500 euros”, that he can pay the next day, when he'd have change. The trainer then stepped out to get the books from the secretariat.

When the trainer came back with the books she distributed it to the people who were not forgetful and sane enough to pay the adequate amount. When 500 euros didn’t get a book he bellowed (and this time I am not exaggerating): “Howboutmybook? Wherzmybook??”. He apparently had a not so coherent French-Algerian accent.

The trainer, a bit appalled by his outburst, tried to calmy say, “You will get your book tomorrow when you pay.”

“ButIhavemoney! Whydon’tyougiveme abook?!”, while saying this 500 euros took out again his…tadah! 500 euros! Waving it in the air like a national flag.

“I don’t have change so I will give you the book tomorrow when you give me a smaller amount.”, the trainer patiently explained.

“ButIhavemoney!”, 500 euros insisted, “Okay, I’llgiveyoumymoney, yougivemethebook, andthenyou givemethechangetomorrow.”

All 10 of us, the students of level 2 with our new mini-United Nations group with a representative each from: Ecuador, Bulgaria, Italy, Russia, two from Iraq, Albania, Thailand, Turkey, and me, the Philippines…all 10 of us began looking at each other and was united by one single thought: “What the hell is wrong with this guy???”.

In the end, the trainer won and he put his 500 euros back in his wallet.

Whew! The days went on and the wacko continued being a wackjob and in some instances, his wacko-ness seemed to contaminate the other people in the group. Unfortunately, the trainer didn't seem to be helping any either. So just today, after one week of agony, D and I asked to be moved to the morning class. Bah, we made up some "valid" excuse. Some people you just couldn’t stand. I think this new one is better (except for the fact that S is there--ajajajajajaja)… I KNOW it's gonna be better. I can just feel it... *wink*

14 degrees and Let the Sun Shine In!

When I was back home K would always tell me that I take our climate for granted too much especially when I complain about the heat. And each time I would tell him that I never take it for granted, I love the heat, it just happened to be too warm and beachless in Manila.

I usually ask people what they prefer, a warm sunny day or an overcast sky that is not so warm. Most would prefer the latter, which I never understood really; I have always preferred the former. Without any doubt, I am a warm-blooded, beach loving, sun-burning tropical girl.

But like what my bestfriend said, she sure hopes she doesn't fall in love with a man from Antarctica because for sure she will follow him there. And that is what has happened to me (though not from Antarctica! Whew! ;). I don't regret it ofcourse, I accept whatever challenges come our way because I am old enough to know that you can't have it all...and that following your heart is NEVER not worth it (cheesy! ;).

There are things in life that don't go the way you had planned it, hence: The future is no longer what it used to be. It's the thought that family and friends are just there, no matter what timezone or distance they may be in ,who make you feel loved and supported that gets you through the tough times in life. For that, I will always be grateful.

Despite all the grayness, today gave me some joy. For the first time I dressed up in a tropical outfit not because I was in denial this time but because it was really warmer today! In class, I had even regretted not having worn a sleeveless shirt because the 3/4 see thru blouse seemed warmer what with the heater on in our room. What amazed me even more was that on the way home I didn't even have to wear my jacket, just a shawl over my neck and my sleeves still rolled up.

What excited me was the sight of people everywhere. It's amazing how a simple increase in temperature can bring the people out of their caves or wherever it is they're from. That sight gave me a momentary bout of happiness: hip-hoppers and rockers skateboarding in the skatepark, weirdos juggling on some side of the grassy park, students clustered and just studying, kiddies playing soccer or throwing disks, another group of what looked like college students playing some hi-tech game of "Siatong", friends bringing cases of beer (Yes, you read it right: CASES) to consume while sitting on the grass, and many more.

I say I am amazed by this because I just got so used to walking in the park alone towards our flat and meeting only one of two joggers or dog-walkers walking along the almost deserted park which is one of the biggest I've seen in Gent.

Today was an exception. Today was 14 degrees and today I actually SAW a lot of people in our park. The South Park or what they call the "Zuid Park". When I got home I immediately called A, who was in his room, and asked if he wanted to go to the park. It was the first acceptably "warm" day since I got here. I'd like to say he was as excited as I was. We immediately "packed" our stuff: he with his guitar and portable speakers and I with my frisbee disc, laptop (for music since I wasn't able to charge my ipod) and my multi-colored sarong. Yes, we were just going to the park but I was too excited and felt as if we were going to the beach. I was seriously tempted to bring my soccer ball and wear shorts too but thought it was too much ;P All that was lacking was "song hits", but then again, you can't have it all. We did have cans of beer though. What is a great Belgian climate without authentic Belgian beer after all?

Today was a good day. It was most certainly better than yesterday and the days before. The exceptional things a slight change in temperature can do.

To my family and friends, thank you for being there. To the sun, thank you for shining today and for keeping us warm. You might be busy heating up the rest of the world but it is now that I need you the most...and you delivered.

You are undoubtedly a natural high. You make my day...ofcourse, K too. ;P

Dikke knuffel (Big hugs),

Jacki