Learning Can Take Many Forms

  

There is a feeling of freedom, nay abandonment, chez moi as the Dutch lessons finish. Will really miss Sophie, the fab teacher, and my young fellow students who have been delightful. Earlier, I counted the number of different countries from which we came and now am not sure but it was around sixteen I think. We have been able to learn so much from each other in addition to the beginnings of Dutch from Sophie pursuing a mega-task of imparting some of the foundations of her language.  In spite of protestations of intent to keep in touch, undoubtedly we won't, or at least, they won't with me, nor I with them, as we are generations apart. I have come to love and admire them as they pursue their different journeys which chiefly cluster under the heading of Dreams for The Future. Whether they be for their children's better education and lives; their own professional advancement via university/college; jobs, now, to live independently; a restaurant to open, a degree to pursue whatever, they all need to speak Dutch and most pursue this objective with verve! Some, with an admirable and steely determination; others with a slightly less demotic devotion; yet more [but only a few] with a careless and carefree attitude which belies the real need and their possibly vain hope that, somehow, without working too hard, they will end up with some fluency in the language and so Fit In and Get On.

We finished the course, after more exercises and test results, early and then went as a group around a nearby part of Brugge, the beloved Beguinage area, unknown to most of the young students. Sophie led and spoke of course in Dutch so it was learning continued . We wandered round and finished at a restaurant in the Walplein where Hardeep's husband is a chef, for drinks and more chat. A delightful way to complete Level One. We had earlier presented Sophie with a super Passion Flower plant and a bouquet, both of which I had bought earlier [with money collected from the class] and both of which I had to carry/drag to school in my bag-on-wheels earlier. The result after a journey of 30 minutes on foot, was a hot and slightly weary but triumphant, porter!

Some of the party on our perambulations

I have worked quite hard on the course, but the hours necessary to attend, over a four day week, are frankly too much for me now to have the energy to spare for the other stuff I want to do. Important tasks like finding the Archaeological Museum to see if I can locate more about the discovery of the buried remains, and subsequent restoration of Sint Donaas Kathedral or the history of the building where I live which has the intriguing old name of Oud Hof van Smyrna. However, I do want to learn Dutch and hope to find a class for fewer hours a week in the Autumn. Sensibly, all classes stop for the important vacances now and I already have details of a Dutch conversation group which will re-start in September, though I can offer only a tiny basis on which to begin any conversation! Still, got a decent grade to finish, with my lowest mark in speaking; no surprise but private irritation nonetheless!

What else have I done or seen this week? Relatively little overall; a second trip to the chic hairdresser on Gentpoortstraat where the highlights in my hair worked after all my anxiety, but the cut, though superb, is still Too Short [these things matter!] AND the visit was an unbelievable three and a half hours long. There is always an opportunity inside every problem, the Chinese suggest, and the plus for me was finding a fellow traveller there. She had also been Head of a school and had to retire early because of ill health. We swapped e-mail addresses as she was borne off to await the decisions and skill of the Master and I settled down to await my turn as I read the New Statesman. When I eventually reached the cutting stage and the Boss, I took the opportunity to say that no one had spoken to me from the staff when I arrived or during my unexpectedly long wait and that was not good enough. He is the sweetest man and he thanked me but I shall be interested to see if anything alters next time I visit. I have since decided that the real, day to day capo is the stately blonde in shiny clothes who seems to be i/c colouring and reception and it is she who should be training the girls in the minute-to-minute courtesies and practices.

Saturday was Feest in 't Park, in the area round Minnewater to be precise. There is a seemingly endless succession of events in Brugge in the summer months and I now receive the Brugge Stads magazine giving the zommeragenda. [even I can translate that!]. From there I gather news such as the fact that members of the Canal Swimmers' Club can swim in the Langerei canal near me, every weekend from 13.00 to 18.00 in July and August. Must pop down there to view the way bolder swimmers than I, disport themselves so fearlessly. Imagine the temperature of the water, AND the grime!

But thus, from the Brugge Inspraak mag, did I discover that Feest in 't Park, a free 'mondial festival' for young and old, was taking place yesterday, Saturday. Had to go and have a look; marvellous weather and free entrance, and no doubt the wealth of activities on offer, drew thousands. I doubt that there were many tourists there in fact; they might well not have heard of it. Hundreds and hundreds of young local families were there, meeting up with friends, trying out foods, supervising children, loving it all. Prepare ye for an avalanche of pictures; there were some enchanting sights in fact. My favourite bit was the arena where a young authoritative Western man, dressed in black gear and slung around with huge African drum, sticks etc was directing a large circle of youngsters, each with a drum, in the art of making rhythm, African style. The children were incredibly involved, totally and un-self consciously absorbed; a joy to see.

And here, my absolute fav example of concentration from a potential drummer-of-the-future:

And talking of concentration, I snapped this young man engrossed in solving some puzzle while sitting in his stylish transport.

The many activities included various painting opportunities on paper, card, objects, faces, for little ones and bigger ones; mini rock climbing; exploring over solid versions of cartoon objects like the one below: investigations in diverse tents;

Selling stalls were there a-plenty with African, Indian and perhaps Oriental jewellery attracting eager customers and in addition, there were lots of seating and eating areas with many, many stalls selling hot food from all over the globe!

Regional bodies were clearly involved and among the publicity tents I noticed Oxfam [one of the organisers of the event]; Plan Belgie [a charity which I already support in the form of Plan UK, providing help and education in the Third World]; UNICEF; Side-by-side India and numerous other charities. The identity of the organisers explains the worldwide nature of the stalls on offer and all sounds Good but Earnest; the event in fact was stimulating and Fun for the mainly young families there with the implicit message of We Are One World. Oh dear; difficult to explain; sounds so Worthy but impressive to see.

I have looked back at this blog and despite best efforts, CANNOT arrange the photographs as I would like; thus a big space adjacent to the tent where the picture below could go, but won't. SO annoying and any advice, welcome.

I went to the baker's at half past eight this Sunday morning, and was musing, as I walked back, at the reassuring nature of the whole experience, short though it was. First, a queue on the street from the bakery which had been on holiday for a week; a vote of confidence I thought. As I gradually edged forward and was looking at the goodies on offer other than the super breads, a quite new neighbour in my building saw me and remembered who I was though not the name so a short conversation later [in English schoolgirl French and Belgian French] we parted amicably; man who served me, remembered that I have a black Probody bread, sliced and that I live in Woensdagmarkt nearby, and as I waited, homeward-bound, at the zebra crossing, a large car stopped to allow me to walk. Reminded me that this is the norm here and that, as a permanent pedestrian, I really appreciate the courtesy.