Robin Hood in Italy?

Went, as part of the Dutch course I am attending, to see Brabanconne, on Wednesday evening. It is a 'feel good' kind of film, not a great one but funny, slightly laughing at the Belgians [ the eternal Flemish v Walloon rivalry] and with a light-hearted script which slopes off into song from time to time. Charming. SNT, the educational group which organises lots of different language courses, plus special interests like photography, funds an annual week's film festival at the Lumiere cinema in town and a visit to one film is part of the Dutch course. Tried to understand the almost impenetrable Dutch dialogue but the French, spoken by the Walloon characters, plus sub-titles in both languages, were a great help.


While standing around waiting for the group to assemble to walk to the cinema some distance away, I was totally amused to spot a flyer labelled Robin Hood. As I was born in Robin Hood country and indeed, lived in Notts for about the first 34 years of my life, I have a certain proprietorial attitude towards this noble outlaw.  The flyer was entitled: Una Leggenda Veneziana: Robin Hood. I didn't recognise many of the cast but yes, there were Marianna, Frate Tuck and Zanni il Piccolo who, just possibly, might be Little John. A magical evening to remember is promised with ironia, gioia and musicalita. In the narrative on the reverse side of the publicity material, I see that Robin is described as 'nacque a Venezia' [born in Venice] and as Principe dei Ladri [Chief of the Robbers] but also as Il Salvatore dei Poveri, the Saviour of the Poor. The show [Lo Spettacolo], by Teatroimmagine will be in the Commedia dell'Arte style. Possibly this production is the result of some Italian course at SNT because its name is on the publicity but there are also the names of L'Incontro [the meeting], a group of 'amici dell'Italia a Bruges' plus 'Teatro Immagine'. I love the idea of the whole thing; so many little Italian eccentricities are endearingly dotty and it is a bonusissimo to find this in Beloved Bruges of all places! The images above show the Italian interpretation and the statue outside Nottingham Castle which depicts the more traditional view of the Outlaw in Lincoln Green who Did Good unto the Poor and frequently did battle with Alan Rickman, the evil Sheriff of Nottingham.

I went to see Brussels Jazz Orchestra on Friday evening not knowing what to expect. Was stunned by the size of the outfit; I don't think ALL the members of the orchestra were on stage but there must have been between 80 and 90 musicians; there were, for instance, at least eight of the listed ten cellists playing. The energy and expertise were impressive and the music, by

Ades, Ravel and Peter Maxwell Davies, was vigorous but [ did you feel a 'but' coming on?] it was just too overwhelmingly loud and not my [conservative] idea of Jazz. The music was described as being between Klassiek and Jazz and the audience certainly loved it. For the first time ever, I left in the interval, feeling a bit of a
Philistine.

The photograph above from the BJO website is chosen, not for its close-up clarity but in an endeavour to suggest the sheer size of the outfit!

The following evening, back to the super Concertgebouw to hear Le Banquet Celeste, unknown to me but impeccably Early Music. The leader of the group, Damian Guillon, is a counter-tenor and he and the guest soprano, Celine Scheen, were delightful. There was Vivaldi and Scarlatti and in the second half came Pergolesi's Stabat Mater which was exquisite. The Pergolesi was recently voted top of the
 favourites list by the audience of Radio Klara pushing aside Bach, the perennial choice.

It was a wonderful performance and my evening was made when I bumped into friends in the interval who also gave me a lift home. Rare treat to be in a car these days and able to escape the longish walk home in the cold and rain. I had done that the previous evening, thoroughly enjoying the Christmas lights and stopping off in the Markt, to buy a Gluhwein. The Markt was crowded but less than normal as sadly, many tourists have cancelled bookings for late November and December because of the Paris attacks and the strong Brussels connection and subsequent four day lock-down there. A friend who rang this week from Wye said the British papers all say how dangerous Belgium is. Such absurdity; it is no more dangerous than the UK and less so than London of course. Bruges in particular always feels so intimate a space and so safe; nothing has changed since the dreadful carnage in Paris.

Many thanks for this lovely photograph sent by my grandson Dan, taken when he was here last weekend. The three of us had been wandering among stalls of the Christmas market and were having a drink of Gluhwein I think, when he spotted an impeccable gentleman walking his equally dazzlingly sartorial dogs in the rain. He quickly photographed them with the ever-ready phone, my efforts with camera being much too slow. The dainty doglets were dressed with superb colour co-ordination and care and were quite unaware of the impact they had on the observer!

Turkey; the country not the Christmas

Lovely, just great, to be back home again; such a pleasure to enter the apartment last Thursday Nov 12th after the journey back from Antalya. Unlike the rest of the holiday group it took me longer to return. An overnighter in London where I found a modest but really good hotel near Paddington, traditional area for the weary traveller, dipping in and out of the metropolis. The price was reasonable for London and the breakfast was extravagantly generous; the one drawback was no lift and I was on the top floor. I was so tired on arrival that when I realised, I had a mini-strop and fell back [this is a first!] on my great age. Really could not have carried the small case up three flights. Result! Charming Chinese boy on reception took it up for me thus enabling me to retain enough energy to go out to the nearby Mughals, an Indian restaurant on London Road where I ate food fit for a nabob.

I just loved Turkey with all its differences and must go back. As other people's holiday stories and photographs are always, as a matter of principle, best avoided, I will only foist two pics on you; both taken on a memorable balloon flight above Cappadocia.

To the left, sunrise over Cappadocia and below, dozens of balloons blooming in the Cappadocian sky-garden. Both were unforgettable sights and the flowering of the numerous hot air balloons reminded one that the man-made visual spectacles which occur without an aesthetic intention can be superb in their choreography and impact.

More than one third of our travelling group did not take up this hot air invitation; perhaps the 4.30 alarm call was too much; perhaps the thought of ascending to 1500 metres with no parachute or engine or joystick as it were, was uncomfortable. Whatever, those who did go up, perhaps with limited imaginations, or carefully controlled fears, were repaid a hundredfold for their mid-night efforts. One of the best bits was to be in the wicker basket below the huge balloon as it landed, ever so carefully, on the back of a truck! Impressive or what?!

It is about a week since I rhapsodised above about balloons and alarm calls and I have just not finished this post. Cannot believe my tardiness but somehow I have been either too tired or too busy. Dutch klas test for me on the Monday after my return as I had missed  an exam because of Turkey. Another tomorrow for us all so must spend precious time learning irregular perfect participles. And I now know that I have become sloooooow in the memorising department. Sat next to Arieta last week, a super Albanian girl who defies all the Western stereotypes about her country; she is slender, beautiful, happily married with a toddler and a baby girl due to emerge in April; clever; conscientious; kind. My complaint about her is that she learns new grammar effortlessly thus pointing up my deficiencies which I am reluctant to accept. I forgive her as she is so delightful and thoughtful. Meanwhile my Monday must be spent largely in whipping the brain into activity. Cheering note is that this sort of language-learning is Good For The Aged Brain, [ I read it somewhere] though it doesn't feel like that!!

I noticed with a shock as I approached the Crowne Plaza hotel earlier this week, that its large terrace of smart black and red tables and chairs had disappeared. Concerned enquiry elicited the news that by City diktat, all terraces in the centre must go by November 15th. Astounding but true as I gradually observed in the Markt, at Tom Pouce in the Burg etc. All stripped of their inviting terraces, many under awnings. The Christmas Market has opened this weekend and certainly space is needed in the Markt for the dozens of little shed-like structures housing commercial enterprises selling cheese, Gluhwein, beer, sweetmeats, sausages and so on. My middle grandson and his girl are here this weekend and we were exploring yesterday in spite of cold and rain. The Gluhwein was great and I was astonished to discover a new little ice rink in the Markt, almost at the foot of the Belfort tower. There are stalls filling Simon Stevinplein too and, as yet unexplored, a display of ice sculptures in front of the station I hear. This is my first time here in the Christmas season and it looks great fun.
To the right, an example of the ice sculpture show, this year entitled Land of the Hobbits with over 40 artists involved. As I mentioned, as yet unvisited by me, but the fact that the ambient temperature is kept at -5 Celsius, does not invite. The Ice Sculpture Festival is obviously timed to coincide with the Christmas Market but appears to be completely separate from it. It is, I hear, really, really popular so I will be braving the temperature, despite aged disinclination, to explore!


Dan, Emily and I went to see the Michelangelo in Onze Lieve Vrouw, at Dan's request. I was delighted and intrigued that a 21 year old, not, I think, especially into art, should suggest that. Turns out it is thanks to the George Clooney film, Monuments Man, in which the Bruges Madonna and Child featured as stolen by the Nazis etc. Great, and also yet another tick in the G. Clooney box though presumably he didn't write the script! Nice too for me to be able to swan into the museums here, free of charge now that I have my ID card. Definitely each time I produce my card, there is a tiny frisson of satisfaction at this state of affairs.

Just this moment, Sunday 21st November, have seen through the glass door to the terrace; it is covered with snow I think. The square in front of the building is just wet with sniw on top of some cars but definitely the terrace on the third floor has visible snow cloaking it. And it's still November. I heard somewhere it was to be a hard winter!