Looking back.

Funny old week, early part spent grappling with the mysteries of the Dutch tongue, for the last written test of this Level. I am still dumb in Dutch but the written is progressing sloooowly. This was relieved by a trip to the Lumiere to see Suffragettes which I much enjoyed. It reminded me forcefully of the poverty and deprivation of working class life a hundred years ago, endured as inevitable by my parents and grandparents. And it caused me yet again, to mourn the lack of interest in political voting by many, many young women today. Young men too no doubt, but the women's vote was won at such great cost by the bravery, foresight and endurance of the relatively few. Upper class suffragettes were chiefly regarded as a dotty embarrassment; working class girls were regarded as insane and morally unrespectable. Both layers experienced considerable societal disdain and exclusion and were treated as traitors by the police and Government. An enjoyable coda to the film was the long list of countries with the dates when each allowed the vote for women. The two most memorable were Switzerland, 1971 and Saudi Arabia 2015.

But, chiefly my mind has been on more superficial things, like illuminations! I love the 'trees' at the skating rink in the Markt and the way the real trees in Simon Stevinplein are graced with light. The Christmas market is a selling opportunity primarily but the expense and imagination involved in decking the already beautiful streets of Brugge with light, is breathtaking and imaginative. Apart from the occasional Gluhwein, I have bought nothing from the many little chalet/stalls but to walk through and among the crowds, experience the fun of so many and see the lights and sights, gives a very real sense of involvement and shared pleasure. It almost seeps in through the skin, and I return home, smiling.

 



On Friday morning, returning from a scalping by a master cutter on Gentpoortstraat to whom I had patiently and unsuccessfully explained again, exactly what 'trim' meant, I saw quite a sight. Next to the Vismarkt sat a man clad entirely in white, at a little round cloth-covered table on which sat an old-fashioned red telephone into which he was talking. There was no card of explanation nor begging bowl so he wasn't a first cousin of the living statues so beloved of tourists everywhere. Shortly after the picture below was taken, a fluttering, twittering flock of Japanese tourists descended delightedly on him, kissing him, stroking his cheek, taking off his hat and ruffling his hair while taking innumerable selfies and other photos. He seemed very happy indeed with the warm attention; his smile grew broader and his conversation into the red phone, more animated. It mattered not that the phone was unconnected. Passers-by were smiling and a grey morning was lifted.
 

 

Almost inadvertently, today I visited the Ice Sculptures near the Station. There was a long wait for a bus, Sundays being leisurely here, bus-wise, and so I took the opportunity to cross the few metres of cobblestones to go and look at Snow and Ice. Apparently forty artists have been involved in its creation, even more impressive given that the temperature is -5 Celsius. 300 tonnes of ice and 400 tonnes of snow were used to make the display and I have not the imagination to begin to understand how it was all accomplished. The thermal wooden tent, as it were, was full of excited families and even the ice bar in the middle of the coldest trail ever, had crowds around it. I hit a slack time I think as I only queued to enter for about then minutes and ....

 

then possibly achieved the fastest observer status as I sped through, desperate to exit for a large coffee in the station. It was seriously cold. The exhibition was and is, impressive.... but difficult to photograph! I have reduced the size of the two pics here as they look so unspeakably lurid though I don't think the original sculptures did! To be fair, my photographs don't do them justice. The time I spent in ice-gazing was so short that I was especially pleased that I now have my ID card and am old. These two attractive features reduced the entrance fee considerably, rather more in line with the time I spent in refrigerated viewing.

But I have been looking back also over earlier days after a significant death in the family a few days ago. It is good to live, as children do, in the here-and-now but memories, when stirred, also offer joys and reassurance as well as regret and pleasure. I have spoken to people, some of whom I hadn't spoken to for several years; distant relatives and near, reminiscing and laughing, sighing and reflecting, swapping memories redolent of the past with added resolutions to stay in future touch. But soon enough, the ripples on the water will widen and vanish, and the memories will be put back in store for occasional private reflection again.

So no blog for a few weeks; back, earlier than intended, to the UK on December 15th for the funeral and nearly three weeks in Britain, without my computer. I won't be going Ipad-less into that good night but don't think I can blog on that!