Children's birthdays - FUN?

My youngest son had his birthday yesterday - and we had, as it should be, a party. 

He himself had planned all meticulous during the last weeks and month and after careful consideration had invited 8 friends. Not the whole class, but only 8. The idea was to make a picnic and go to the park, playing football, running around and eating seated on a blanket on the grass ( not very comfortable in march, but then one goes along with the desires of the jubilant and accommodates accordingly in time...) which in his understanding means a huge chocolate cake WITH Smarties on top, several kilos of the most unhealthy chips possible, a mountain of Haribos and other terrifying stuff, lemonades and, if really not to be avoided, some bread with butter made by loving old mum.

Planning done, I broke my right foot and have to sit in the salon and keep quiet. 

Big disappointment. But then, creativity and play kicked in and my daughter took over, baked a chocolate cake out of one of those boxes you can buy in the supermarkets, they went shopping alone, with my card (!!sweating me at home..) and came back, glowing and happy with their bounty of  sweets and nonsense and  threw themselves into preparations wholeheartedly.

The children arrived, the mothers clustered around my sickbed for a quick chat and the invitees were never again seen in the house, but started to organise to build a camp in the garden - lucky us to have a wonderful sunny spring day - otherwise it would most probably have been a camp under the dinning table with more uncomfortable implications for me sitting right next to it. I think they had great fun and spent the whole afternoon outside in a tiny garden, busy organising their play themselves, solving small conflicts and eating huge amounts of unhealthy stuff - happy to run around, make a lot of noise and only once in a while accommodating to my daughters essays ins becoming a general manager. Though she did pretty well I have to say!!!!

I was musing meanwhile over the fact, that it is so easy to give the children those opportunities and that so many times there are those huge and super expensive parties organised for children, who do then not know how and where to start - and adults taking great care of orchestrating what they should do and play and eat and how and when all this will happen. 

I wonder, if those adults, with rolling eyes and sweating eyebrows, are really doing those parties for their offspring out of fun, or if they do not do it for themselves, having to comply to some unwritten law that children's birthdays are only well lived and well done if everybody afterwards is exhausted, a lot of money poorer and at least sighing with relief that it is all over.

When I was living still in Portugal children's parties were great and I learnt a lot - bear with me for some nostalgic ideas and incentives...

First of of all, the children were invited as individuals, not as a class, as well as siblings and mothers ( and fathers, if they wanted, but it was mainly a mothers thing, with dads popping in and out or if there all sitting at the other end of the room and talking business) - so no problem with the famous babysitting problem with the other children  at home - they simply came too.  Then, it was always at home and if you did not have a big home, you did invite only few kids and their entourage. Were there many people to be expected the weather helped and one went for a picnic in one of the parks and everybody helped with food and drinks. Also it was always clear, that mothers stayed for the party, but could leave with or without the children at any time - after singing and eating the cake, of course - which was always more or less half an hour after the official start of the party, so that everyone was there and the festivities could start. The idea was of spending a comfortable time together, drinking tea, talking about things, having fun while the children had fun themselves and the adults behaving like adults and having fun as well.

Of course there was always one or two children coming over to say hello to mum, show or communicate something important, blow their nose, complain about another kid and/or eat a bit of cake on her lap, but then they left again and everybody was happy and enjoyed themselves. No needs for Mummy to sit on the floor and engage in organising the Lego sessions.. I loved that afternoons, as it was so easy - there was a cake, some bread with butter, tea and lemonade and if we were very lucky, some sweets and chocolates for the children, but more as a decoration than a means to itself. All left relaxed and happy and well fed in soul and body.

I know, things are done today differently, out of lack of time and also inclination? Parents drop of their children at the door with military precision and pick them up impatiently at at the hour which was indicated - doing other things meanwhile the darlings are parked at the party. Do not get me wrong - I DO IT MYSELF!   I DO understand that very well and who am I to accuse anybody - it has just become "normal". Most of us work full time and most of us have several children: a Saturday is not for relaxing but for 1763 things to be done, football for Nr 1, scouts for Nr 3, in between shopping at the Supermarket for the coming week, organising plants for the garden,  if possible the buying the new winter tires, the shopping for shoes for the baby or the present for the godchild's 7th birthday next week, and and and... 

There is simply in our mind no time for pleasure and for a chat and for a sitting down and letting be. I know perfectly well, that I am nostalgic here - I am myself one of those mothers who run around on Saturdays like a headless chicken and try to accommodate all and everybody's needs. 

But is it not a pity, that a child's birthday, a day of joy for parents and siblings and friends, becomes a chore instead of pure bliss and joy and celebration?

Why don't you... (stopped counting)

Indeed,

 

Stop counting: What went wrong, what has not been done, what he/she did wrong, how many kilo's you have gained during the last year, the times you have been kept waiting at the post office, the rain, the traffic in the morning, supermarkets and all the months/years until you will be a pensioner and will start your real life ( ...)  -  all that sort of things which make life as a whole miserable.

 

Start counting: Your blessings, the clouds in the sky, the congratulations you got for your last birthday, the new people you met this year and the month/days/years until your birthday/holidays/move to another country/new stage of your life - and start to prepare for it?

 

Stop thinking about: Money, health and friends.

 

Start thinking about: Friends, health and money.

 

Throw a party when you are down? Best remedy against those depressions creeping up in the small hours of the night: you have something to look forward to!

 

Take things easy?    My doctor told me to do so - quite a difficult task, but intriguing if it works...

 

Change your daily way to work in order to look around you?

 

Make new friends and feel invigorated, grateful and happy for them having come into your life?

 

Plan holidays ONLY for yourself? Admit, we are not used to do that anymore. Seems bliss to me.

 

Buy a new wintercoat? And in an other colour than black or blue? ( I love grey...)

 

Stop whining: Or you are unhappy about something and wail about it and then do all you can to change it, or you just stop wailing and grin and bear it. Nothing more tiresome than someone complaining all the time but not doing anything to change it...

 

Start making plans  about things to be done still this year and what to do next year and what you expect to have achieved in 10 years? Gives a sense of purpose to all uphill struggling in the day to day life...

 

Get on facebook, even if you are already over 30?  Have to think about that. After all we have to take part in the modern information revolution...? Keep up to date with technology is one indicator of being alive. I have not yet become a member, but am actively thinking about it ... (Simply to make this blog more known and see what comes out of it.)

 

Get in touch with The Red Handbag?? I would love to hear from you, yes, you over there. Feedback is welcome. Just send a message to theredhandbag@gmail.com  - super curious about you, my readers...!

 

In praise of a clear desk

Since I started to work again, I am battling against a desk which is overtaken every day by papers, notices and all sorts of things, like used tea mugs, not working pens, a picture of my children, memosticks for shopping lists in the supermarket in the evening  ( you cannot imagine the catastrophe, if there is no Nutella in the house!) and then also urgent files, very urgent files and files which would have been neede to sort out long before I started to work here - all very peacefully waiting with longing eyes - as far as files can have eyes - for being treated and filed and archived.

It is a constant battle. Until now I win  -  which give me the thought whether this is a battle worth battling?? There are two schools of desks: the ones which are completedly clean and look like coming out of a Interior Decoration Magazine. The others are so chaotic, that one comes into the room and turns on one's heels as it seems completedly useless to look for something. But both models work. Most of us are in the middle of those two extremes.

An empty, shining and very very big and clean desk can mean several things. Or there is someone not in the office at all and it is a showroom in a shop. Or the person concerned is not important, i.e. has nothing to do and fills in a purely decorative existence. Or he/she is so well organised, that we should be very careful and in awe of working with somebody like that: it means, that all is going over the desk, but is treated immediately and nothing lingers and waits until the Day of St. Nobody. So it is a message between real power and real powerlessness and it needs a good eye to see the difference.

The superchaos table might as well be a treacherous thing: Someone is overwhelmed with work and lost in oblivion between piling up dossiers? Or not well organised? Or simply very creative - most often I have noticed, that those, who are working in this creative chaos version always find everything in a matter of minutes and normally have everything stored safely away in their heads as well - The question now is, who is more admirable - the empty or the chaotic table-owners? And where are you?

Remember the feeling, when you were still going to school? Spending "hours" to arrange everything very neatly on your desk before starting to do your homework? It felt like being in charge and control. And it gave pleasure to the task of doing your homework in the best way possible ( ok, there have been many many times, where I just smeared the stuff down and was done with it). But I remember very clearly the pleasure of a well organized and clear desk. Nowadays I see it in the room of my daughter - the time which goes into preparing to make her desk right is sometimes longer than the actual work she has to do.

I take it as a good habit, some sort of concentration thing. A clear desk gives you freedom to act and to decide what to do next. But nothing against a full desk, even if it shouts chaos - sometimes a very creative chaos.

The relativity of time

It is still the beginning of the year - we are not yet officially in spring and cold grey skies are "de rigeur" here in Brussels - but not today. As far as I can see in my environment, last year was somewhat difficult for many of us -  I saw much sorrow and fighting uphill. Let's hope, it will be better  now in 2012. Funnily enough the regular starting of a new year fills me always with hope - and I am by God in the meantime old enough as to know that it is only a randomly choosen date to start the calender and set people at ease. It is better to know what awaits us than not having any frame. Now, in and after the Carneval break, we know, that  there is this heavy workload in school and job before Easter comes up, and then until july it will be smooth rolling over green hills and enjoying the sun and warm days, etc, etc.

When I was a young girl, I always thought my mother peculiar in complaining about how quickly a year passed. Today I say it myself and see the small impatience in the eyes of my own children. What is a week for me today? A wink with an eye. For a 10 year old it is eternity. For me it can feel like eternity if I have some lovely days with my friends in the south of France and come back to Brussels - seems like I have been away much longer and not only 4 days. The quality of our lives has to do with the denseness and relativity of time. A week in my job f.e. passes by in a snip of my fingers. But sometimes an afternoon, where there is no rush and nothing to do, never ends. Time indeed is a "relative" thing.


Remember, when we were children? The summerholidays seemed neverending and nowadays they pass by in a whiff. The time spent in traffic jams feels three times the real 10 minutes, the time destroyed being glued to the television is dripping away like water in your hands. Time cherished being with good friends and in good company makes it seem longer than it actually was. A minute can be an hour in an important moment of your life and years may pass forgotten, because you have nothing to tell for them.

Last september I went to see my mother for her 88th birthday in Bavaria. The days in Munich were dense and full, that it seemed to me that I stayed far longer than 48 hours there. Being congratulated for this special day, she told me amazed with herself, that although she is old in her body and tired, she very often does not feel old. She feels like 18 sometimes and like 123 other times - and both is true. She wonders that her children are now grandparents themselves and that friends who used to be around simply died and leave her alone in a world which gets smaller by the day and faster out there as well every day. And that is true as well.

 It was my first "break" since I had started to work full time and it was therefore something special. I stayed as usual with my dear friend Lilli and went for lunch out into the countryside to visit my mother and the siblings, who had time on their hands to come and celebrate.
We were almost all there, all but one. And it was strange - you feel transported in time and do not at all wonder about it. There we were, sitting all together, talking and chatting away, having fun, the always same old stories being told, the same great bursts of laughter and the same danger of getting on our nerves after more than 2 hours of being together. My younger brother and me are still The Two Little Ones. We both have white hair by now and I have a son who is finishing school in 2012! And I am nearer to 50 now than to 40. But still, The Little Ones we are. I think it is charming - now, at this time of my life I like it to be this way. And the response I gave one of my brothers some time ago, when he told me that I could not possible have any knowledge or idea about a certain subject, as he was 15 years older than me, was : "This is no longer an advantage, I am afraid"! And be both had a great laugh together.
My mother told me when leaving, that the greatest gift for her birthday was to know, that we were still all here.
As I told you: My oldest kid is doing his bac next may, that is, tomorrow. How can it be, that from his birth 17 years ago, until now making his driving licence, has passed so fast? Did he not rush around on his tricycle on the balcony of our small flat in Lisbonne, saying  "I am off to Africa" and me answering, " have a good journey and please do come back!" Last april he was in Africa with his school and did come back as well. The relief.
I am lucky and have friends which I know now for 25 or 30 years: when we meet, it is as if we had just met the other day, not only once a year or once every two years. There have been and are many ups and downs in our lifes, but  here we are and a little bit wiser for it. But the fun and the laughter is the same. This feels like home to me.
Coming back to my dear old mum, she always says in the face of fleeting time, sadness and difficulties: Do not take anything tragic. The only thing that counts is that you and the children are in good health and keep on looking forward....
If that is not timeless advice, I do not know!







It is all true about the time relativity - not in s strict physical sense, but the felt moment ihas another wuality than the non felt and lost.

Autumn

It is really a pity, that I do not have enough leisure for the moment to get all those ideas on paper, respectively getting the post written I would like to talk about. So here just a quick word, so that you do not feel too neglected!

 It is right now the most beautiful time of the year - at least for me: the sky, if it is blue, is really blue and clear, the air is crisp and the trees are getting into a golden light. The days are getting shorter and the nights cooler. You still can have lunch outside in a cafe and get a sunburn, but dinners have to be inside now. People are busy,  but not hectic. The first scent of roasted chestnuts are in the air. Time to start the fire in the chimney and also to start thinking about those Christmas Presents.. not to talk about the cards...! Those of us, who do not have the pictures already selected are in trouble ( I for one...). Every year Christmas comes as a surprise, it seems. Nobody has been seeing it getting up on the horizon latest from the first of september...

The Opera in Munich in early octoberlight

But back to Autumn - I do not know, why I love it, but I do, always have. It is also the ideal time for city traveling, visiting friends and going to museums to see the just opened new exhibitions. Have a stroll and look through the galleries and then also through the shops.  In an ideal world, we would all have enough time to stroll more and see more beautiful things around us. I cannot say it often enough, how important it is for the soul, to see and do beautiful things. Beauty is essential for a happy life.


And to be a bit mondaine: the nicest thing is that one starts again to get dressed as one should be. Elegance is coming back and with it the feeling of wanting to be well groomed and in a good mood is essential. So off ou drag yourself to the hairdresser and get those boots you have been contemplating already for the last 6 weeks.
And not to start about scent again...

Oh, I really need some more time to write some posts...

Women and Tears

You will wonder what a weird title this is - it came to me - as always I have the best ideas in the early morning - when I had to get up today. Loads of checklists in my head and then, this popped up at 6.30, to be exact. Not that I felt tearful - more tired and in need for another 2 hours of undisturbed sleep perhaps, but otherwise in good mood and form. Having started to work again has done wonders to my "Morale".

But back to the essentiels on tearful women.
First, it is important to know that we women have only two ways of crying - or out of sheer misery, helplessness and compassion  - or, out of pure rage and the bloody feeling of being powerless.
There is a third, very rare way: crying as manipulation - but beware, this is a high art, not to be mastered easily and highly dangerous to employ - it is indeed very difficult to look beautiful when you cry and the effect of smeared mascara all over your cheeks may not help you in your quest. It is wise to be aware that at least after 17 a tearswollen face is not attractive.

One more and important thing to be aware of is also, that men in general do not know how to behave when a woman is crying. If a child cries, it is easy -  men start to utter bearlike sounds and we females get motherly feelings, go down on our knees and try to consolate the little person. If a child is miserable, we react immideately - child -tears-compassion: in a second,  the reaction is on. Not to be confused with the almost icy reaction towards a tantrum in the supermarket...

If a woman is crying, male mankind normally gets very unconfortable. It is more than rare to find a grown adult male, who is capable of staying put, stay calm and quiet and who does not instinctively  try to inhibit the female counterpart of letting liters of salty water flowing down his shirt.
The normal reaction is bewilderment, uneasiness and  an urge to flee the premises.
Another reaction is the famous angry shut-down to business mentality: stop it, nobody is impressed by this show. Both things are the wrong reaction, messieurs.
Ideal would be to endure it while it lasts and then move on to some nice other topic, giving the wet producer the feeling, that it is ok and we do not talk about this any longer. Believe me, there is a lot of relief to be found for both sides in this attitude.

But back to female tears. I think we are lucky - having this legal way of letting of steam, which otherwise would end up in suicide or manslaughter - depending which kind of tears you are on.

It is common knowledge that having a good cry is one of the best therapeutic things to indulge in, cheap and feasible whereever you are. Best alone for a real therapeutic effect, or only in very good and beloved company. Place and time do count as well. A good place could be in your car, at the parking of the supermarket or shopping malls - nobody looks at you there, and you are not completedly alone. Or your bed - but this is dangerous, as it can be a long session, especially during the little hours of the night, where the mind is randomly picking horrors and fears and indulge in them. But one advantage: a foolproof way of falling asleep - a little cry and hop, off you go into Morpheus´arms like a baby.

All that said: too much crying makes your eyes wrinkled and baggy - so please try to remember, that laughing is much better for you, your face and your environment. Anyway - both are so close, that it is always much more fun to laugh. Even in the worst circumstances.

Traffic in Brussels - Impressions

The other day I had to rush home after work, to relieve my poor old dogs -  they had been staying alone at home for the whole day and I  was fearing the worst - at least for my curtains and perhaps even for the carpet in the living room...

So, off I dashed and guess, what happened to me: Traffic Jams all over the place.
There were no traffic lights - apparently the whole "European Quartier" had no electricity... So, please, imagine  a rush hour + roundabouts+buses+pedestrians+drivers of different nationalities all together trying to get out of this mess and to go home to their respektive dogs, cats, children, ovens or shops.

No police far and near and up and down to be seen. We were all on our own.

It felt like being in a huge malstrom  - you simply cannot move in any direction and have to wait until, centimeter by centimeter, you can gain territory and then take all your courage to speed into the smallest little spaces available for you and your car: Furious looks from all parties. Resignated frowns. Some start to toooooooooooot. One feels like killing the innocent neighbour - who turns out to press so near to your car, that you are indeed in danger of getting scratched - and he hears loud beat music and smokes in his car. Indignation starts to mount its ugly head.
I feel transported back to my times in countries far far away, where 6 files of cars instead of 3 was a normal situation, but not as stressful as this, as everybody was driving according to the "rules" and the traffic eventually moved.

Here we have the famous clash of civilisations -  north versus south, east versus west ( please not the political correctness in this statement),  young versus old and lawabiding against entrepreneurial styles of driving. Oh God. It was hell.
It took me almost an hour with a quick run through fury, impatience, resignation, dumb acceptance and the rare flickering of sportive search for an oportunity and muchmuch patience to get home after all, but I did it - expecting the worst. But the children had arrived before me and there was no catastrophe. Clever dogs - all the stress for nothing!

An Ode to La Rentrée

Voilà, c´est la rentrée! Back to school!

Life is getting back to normal.

The children started school two days ago and are happy to be busy, seeing their friends again. The lovely fresh and clean folders and books with their names on them are not yet mutilated by bored graphic training during the lessons and  they are reliefed - to be honest - to have some more structure in their lifes.
Nothing more boring than endless days of holidays without programmes and duties for them.
(We, on the other hand, now being oldies and without illusions any longer, love endless "idle" days - the luxury of sitting in your salon and just looking stupid in the air... Not so the young. And they are right.)

After this very wet summer, it looks like we shall have a very wet autumn as well  - so goodbye to the hopes for a lovely and cosy Indian Summer with high temperatures during golden Septemberdays and the twilight pleasure of getting your cardigans out to put them over the lovely linendress in the afternoon. Finally we can start to dress more like grown ups again - so difficult in t-shirts and shorts to look respectable.

For me this slow change in  temperature, light and quality of air is one of the great pleasures of the approaching autumn.


Indeed, september and october are some of my favourite months - the summer/holiday feeling swings over in the happy forecast of things to come, of cooler days, the first fire in the open fire place,  putting another woolblanket over your bed and storing away those summersandals. You willl think of changing your handbag from the white summer one back to the - in my case - green - autumn one. Out go the corals, whites and bright blues in your wardrobe, in come the soft greys, the first dark greens and  you will have to inspect your socks and stockings. This also is the time to have a look through your silk scarfs and accessoires...
And book a date with your favourite hairdresser to get the glory on your head back into the best possible condition after all that beach and bleach in the sun! For the very conscious, a dive into facials, pedicures and manicures is de rigeur. We other mortals go and have a look at the first collections of  lipsticks at MAC and Maybelline.

We wait eagerly for the september and october issues of our favourite fashion magazines, just to be sure, that orange and red this fall/winter is the colour to sport. Lucky the ones who have a Red Handbag!

Careful consideration is required for boots and coats - right  now the perfect time to go shopping, as the collections are just in  freshly arrived and choice in models and sizes (just think of shoes in  size 40 - gone in a moment!) is still vast. The other  good opportunity to shop for those items are the sales in january - quite a clever move, if you are more on the classic side.

Once again we study the programmes of the opera  and concerts coming up until Christmas. There are some treats coming up... And the idea to go to the cinema is not longer prompted by the need of aircondition, but by the genuine desire to see the latest Woody Allen, or if you prefer more darkish thoughts, the last Lars von Trier movie.

In September, also the first cocktails show up pretty soon, followed by belated birthday parties and perfumed by the genuine desire to see ones friends again  - everybody is tanned and happy to be back.
Until Christmas now time will fly.
Start to think about presents and Christmas Cards now - especially if you have not yet a picture of your dear ones in the box...! On our fridge, the Christmas list is hanging since yesterday - together with the new busschedule and timestables for school.

In the end,  for me the "year" starts in september - not in january.
My life goes from summerholidays to summerholidays - linked to the schoolrhythms and the two big changes in the year - winter to spring in march/april and then summer to autumn in september/october.
I could forgo happily the 6 weeks from the first of january until the 15th of february. Most dreaded time of the year.

In memory of Loriot

You all know our pugs. The reason why I have always adored pugs is, or unfortunately has been, the responsibility of Vico von Buelow, alias "Loriot". If the german language has ever had a congenial satirist and humoristic artist, then it was him - the greatest german humourist, if one can say so and if something like that in Germany is possible. His death at the age of 88 is a great loss to all of us.

It was him who said, that, roughly translated, "A life without pugs is possible, but not desirable".
He is, of course, right.

To show you what I mean I have included here 3 youtube films - spoken in german by Loriot himself and starring his own pugs. Unfortunately the spoken text is very important to get a grip of the films - sorry for those of you, who do not speak german. For all the others: have fun!

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kV27_jIIw4  "Der wilde Waldmops"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hh5R6dFgEsA&feature=related "Moepse am Nordpol"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hh5R6dFgEsA&feature=related "Moepse auf dem Mond"

Bed and Breakfast in Brussels

Brussels is a city full of hotels and accomodations - of all  sorts of colours. But if you ever have felt not at ease in a hotel in Brussels and craved for the luxury and privacy of some more unique settings - especially concerning quiet, green surroundings and a wonderful breakfast, than I would highly recommend you to book into "La Villa".

I got the address from friends and, as we all know, the best publicity is always mouth to mouth - at least you know whom to blame, if the place is not up to your expectations!  And the word is true - a friend of my friend is my friend as well - I have been welcomed as an old friend and felt at home the moment I entered the beautiful garden - this house is a jewel, lovingly renovated and comfortably settled in the middle of one of the lesser known, very green parts of Brussels. Not in the tourist area, but not far neither. You have even a private parking lot - if you need a car - otherwise you just hop into the Tram or a little bit further on in the Metro and dash off to all destinations of your choice in Brussels. The Best of two worlds - a quiet villa in a quiet and green garden, very kind hosts, good food, even better talk and a lovely comfortable room. As there is only one room to be rented out, it has a very private atmosphere - you get your key and have your own little sitting room with a TV, books and magazines. Breakfast is served here, or, if the weather allows it, in the garden - the top of luxury being to be acquainted personally with Mesdames Les Poules, whose eggs you are eating in the morning. They are called Marina and Samatha.

But best is, to let Nicolas speak for himself and describe their home and the idea behind.

"Petrus, mon compagnon, et moi avons ouvert une chambre d'hôte dans notre maison il y a exactement un an. Au départ, c'était à vrai dire plutôt mon projet: mes enfants ayant pris leur envol depuis quelque temps, j'avais l'impression qu'un certain silence pesait parfois un peu trop sur notre grande "villa", comme on l'appelle dans le quartier.
L'idée d'ouvrir une chambre à des hôtes de passage est alors venue assez naturellement; nous aimons chacun le contact, nous avons tous les deux un emploi du temps relativement souple et la maison et son jardin fraichement rénovés ne demandaient qu'à être partagés. Pour ma part, je pense aussi que ce projet plongeait ses racines dans des souvenirs d'enfance liés à l'hôtel que tenaient mes grands parents au bord de la Lesse. Un endroit aujourd'hui disparu qui me paraissait ,enfant, immense et extraordinaire. Un lieu associé à tant d'émotions et de sensations que je ne peux m'empêcher parfois d'y penser sans un peu de nostalgie je l'avoue....

Au bout d'une année, le plaisir de bien recevoir, de partager avec nos nombreux hôtes de petits ou de grands moments d'échanges mais aussi de préparer de savoureux ( j'espère!) petits déjeuners est resté intact. Il faut dire que nous nous sommes limités à une seule chambre, autant pour pouvoir procurer un accueil qualitatif et personnalisé que pour ne pas nous sentir nous-même débordés. Une garantie en quelque sorte de rester dans une certaine forme de disponibilité et surtout de plaisir ce qui est essentiel. Qui plus est, nous avons aussi fait quelques belles rencontres, la dernière en date étant celle notre chère "bloggeuse", Jola pour ne pas la nommer. En deux mots, arrivés à l'heure de l'évaluation que nous nous étions fixée au bout d'un an, la réponse s'impose d'elle-même: on continue !"

Nicolas & Petrus

Karrenberg, 64
1170 Bruxelles

http://www.lavillabrussels.com/

Nicolas and Petrus have opened this little jewel just some short while ago - so it is still a secret, told by one friend to another. Strongly recommended!!
All pictures by Nicolas.

My day in London - "Cultural Exploits"

One of the big advantages of living in Brussels is the fact that you are in the middle of Europe - it takes just 1,5 h to go by train to Paris and a little 2 h to go by train to London. Beat that!

So, off I went with the Eurostar: you can be in London  just in time for the opening of shops and museums in a wink - and with the time difference you have even gained a full hour - leaving here at 8 am makes you arriving in London at 9 am.

My dear friend Fiona picked me up and we started with a coffee in the British Library - now rebuilt in another place than the original - I liked it inside better than outside; the space and structure inside is very good architecture indeed, the outside disappoints with a lack of ingenuity ( after all, this is a place for thought, no?) and some feeling of "homely schoolyard".

I was introduced to the London Bus System - always good to learn something new: very easy, once you get a grip - I am now a converted user of buses - you see so much more and get a feeling for the huge dimensions of this huge and beautiful city!

But then we went of to a real treat - please, go there, if you have time: The "Sir John Soane´s Museum" Lincoln´s Field nr.13., try www.soane.org  for more information.

I wonder, if all the students, trying to become successful bread-earners do have a notion of the jewel situated around the corner of the LSE?
A humble selfmade man, becoming a great architect and collector created here one of the most amazing monuments to human willpower and creativity. 

I was stunned indeed. What energy and knowledge of a lifetime to be found here - paradise for the art interested indeed.

The wow factor of the "Picture Room" with its hidden pictures, the world famous Hogarths series "A Rake´s Progress" and some wonderful Canalettos; not to talk of the 12 Piranesi I counted. Curiosities as the tomb of poor old lap-dog Fanny seen from the "Monk´s Parlour" and the description of  an opening-reception given by Soanes to celebrate his aquisition of an egyptian sarcophagus are fascinating. What a mind and what determination....

The house itself is a jewel of Regency architecture with one of the loveliest staircases I have hitherto seen in a townhouse. The staff was very kind, given to the constant flow of visitors they must have the patience of saints to explain and transmit their passion for this house and its collection day after day. Entrance is free and a nice lady at the entrance keeps the queue in good humor - there are only a restricted number of visitors to be admitted, very sensible thought I find, not only because of the damage possible, but also for the visitor to get a feeling for the place.

Next stop was Somerset house.
Had never been there and it felt on the first entrance in the courtyard like entering a huge filmset - please forgive this secularistic allusion. Lovely second impression was to see all the children playing in the fountains in the full afternoon sun - happy shrieks and bustling laughter made the place alive with a carefree feeling of holidays.

We came to have a look at the Courtauld Gallery Collection, which I had never seen but had read and heard about a lot. Not to forget the interesting minor fact that Anthony Blunt, one of the Cambridge Spies spent much time and thought in and on this collection...

Prepare for happiness - it is a small but very fine collection indeed.

Some of the most famous pictures of the world are to be seen and and enjoyed, starting with some Rubens ( especially one of his very rare landscapes!!!),  a Goya, "Mont St. Victoire" in some variations by Cézanne, some of the most famous Manets, the famous little early Picasso blue child with a dove, van Gogh and Gauguin,  one sad and beautiful Modigliani, french early 20th century painting, some Blaue Reiter ( even a Werefkin!!)  - in short: GO AND VISIT.
Can´t be too much insisted on. www.courtauld.ac.uk

What gives me great consolation in a sense of relief and hope is to see how many people of all backgrounds, ages, colours and intentions are taking advantage of the possibilities offered to them to enjoy beautiful things, to see and contemplate some of the greatest works of art in the world: There were loads of people in the British Library to see the Magna Carta, quite a queue for the excentric Soanse´s House, an intense crowd for  Somerset House. This is really a gift to mankind.
I just wished most people were better dressed... Well, one cannot have it all.

The Pleasure of being alone at home

Please, do not get me wrong: I love my children dearly.

But since some 48 h I am alone at home. Something which has not happened during the whole of my last 20 years in my life, really. And I must admit, that it is - until now -  very very nice.

There is still quite a lot os household chores to do in the aftermath of the family leaving for holidays, but this can wait - because, when things are done, they stay done. Not like the eternal repetition of cleaning a kitchen, bathroom or bedroom and within 15 minutes, there is again the milk spilled, wet dogpats on the floor, the chairs pulled out, the garbage open, etc - just in the kitchen.

Now, for the last 48 hours, nothing has changed when I have left a room. The sofa is "normal" and not "deranged" - even the carpet looks clean, and I did the vacuumstuff only yesterday in the morning! No need to do it today. The bathroom is perfect, no open toothpastes, no hairbrushes and no dirty clothes on the floor. In the boys rooms, the lights are out and no clothes on the floors neither.

I am NOT cooking. No noodles and no pans; the fridge has been cleaned yesterday and fruit has been bought. I schlepped home several liters of water for ironing, cleaning products and new supplies of loo paper. The dishwasher is almost empty. And I am thinking, what I shall have for dinner tonight: some soup? Or just a jogurt? Unfortunately there are still some reservoirs of chocolat in special places - dangerous, especially in the evening: I will have to eat it rapidly, so it is out of my way.
But: no cooking! No noodles! No pizza!

New is also the luxury of not having to talk or to listen. I ponder around and hear music, if I want to talk to other human beings, I take the telephone and can call - nobody comes in to ask what is for dinner or where the scissors are, and nobody watches "How I met your mother" in 24 decibel. It is quiet. Well, almost, as the dogs are with me and keep me company - they sleep most of the time and there is happy snoring to be heard through the whole house. Yesterday afternoon I was lying reading on the sofa ( DURING THE DAY!) with dogs snoring next to me on the floor. Now tell me, is this luxury or not?

Today I will attack the ironing. And then perhaps mown the lawn - when it does not rain. In the evening, I will watch a film, which I like - no dead bodies, no blood, no Simpsons and no news. I hesitate between "Il Gattopardo" by Visconti, or "All about Eve" by Mankiewicz. My population here would just shout - No.... not that!
No, I will even not watch the news: I cannot help the US getting out of debt and am not interested, if there has been another busaccident with 23 dead in Bangladesh ( hopefully there has been no such thing..)
I go on a diet for news and television! Wonderful. But fullblast Mozart concertos for Klarinette and perhaps later a little bit of Bach, H-moll Messe - to start practising for the new choir season.

I do not go to bed at 21.00, but at midnight. Very unusual, me pondering around. And I sleep tight and well. SO, there is a future!!!

Tomorrow there will be a dinnerparty at a friends house, with all the lonely rangers who are still in town - will be fun. And on thursday I go to a museum of my choice. Perhaps I will even write a post about it?!

Most probably in 2 days time I will have a crisis and miss the children terribly. I will go into their clean rooms and have a sinking heart. After all it is so much more fun having the house full of shouting teenagers, rock music and ABBA blasts, and some movement in the now so well-behaving rooms. And a bursting fridge. Some dirty socks on the stairs. And someone to chat to. And somebody to laugh with.

Still, almost 8 days of "conditional leave for housewifes and moms". Terribly wonderful!

About re-reading old favourites

I have the theory that good literature is to be re-read every decade in one´s life. A really good book will surprise you every time you read it and will give you food for thought and pleasure which have been undetected hitherfore.

For example take Leo Tolstoy.

You read "Anna Karenina"  for the first time in your teens and it is long and neverending and the lovestory really really tiring - what is all the fuss about? Mystery.
Then you read it in your late 20ies and get a grasp on the beautiful writing and the perfect locations, the great rhythm of the narration.
In your 30ies you start to get some more understanding for Anna, as you realize that her marriage is definitively not the right thing - or is her husband right, after all?
In your 40ies you start to think, if she really could not have managed all together more satisfying and better? You start to reflect on your self - what would you do in such circumstances??Mhh?
I am not yet in my 50ies, so there are some years to go until I will discover another question on the subject, but discover it I will.

Or, take "War and Peace" - not the old kitschy filmthing with Audrey Hepburn - although she looks great, especially in the famous first train scene. No wonder Mel Ferrer fell for her. You need at least 2 weeks of holidays to read this epic novel - and a good stomach too.

But the book is so much more filled than a film can ever be - there are only some very few great and geniuslike films made out of books - believe me, the older you are, the more you get out of  good literature...

This is perhaps the greatest of pleasures in re-reading the old classics: one digs deeper and deeper into the "message" of the book, discovers new things every time and the surprise to re-discover an old aquaintance always full of new facets is as wonderful as re-discovering an old friend as full of surprises, even after 35 years of knowing each other.

It is like Looking at Art - the more you know about what you look at, the more you can see.
The same principle applies to reading.

I make a manifesto here ( I love to make manifestos!) for reading and re-reading. It is not essential to read always the latest newest books - sometimes it is fun, but often those bestsellers of the moment do not stand the test of time. You read them once and that was it. The urge for re-reading is minimal.

But the cumulus of pleasure is to find someone you like and respect and who can embark with you on a lengthy discussion/conversation/exchange/contemplation about the whys and why nots in a book you both know well enough to saviour this exchange. But who has time for good conversation nowadays?
Rare pleasure indeed and one of the very great ones.

Writing Letters and Emails

What is the difference between an email and a letter? It is time. Who takes the time to write proper letters today?
Remember in Jane Austen´s "Pride and Prejudice", as Lizzie gets finally two mislead letters of her sister and her aunt, very discret, tells her to take an hour to read them, she would in the meantime go for a walk. Time indeed.

I for all communicate nowadays much more via email than via letter - which the other day struck me as a pity. I am not even a great telephone person.
I used to write quite a lot and used to keep letters I liked and cherished. I still do, but the letters nowadays are so few, that it is always a great delight to receive a proper one. A mail you do not receive neither keep in the same way - it is, in the best of cases, stored away in a folder and then you forget about it. Nor do you re-read a mail so many times as you would a letter...  also very dificult to take a mail with you in your handbag. A printed version is so un-chic.There is no element of the sensual touch of paper and the joy of going to the letterbox and finding a nice envelope..

I do regret, that I have thrown away letters, which today I would have loved to read again - in my older age I would perhaps have detected things in those letters, I did not see when I was young. But alas, as many of us move around the world and the need to let things go and behind, we have thrown out many letters.
So, for me it will be difficult to be retraced in letters and in my correspondence, should the need arise to write my biography in the year 2145!

But there is still a bastion of writing, quite alive: Christmas Cards. Still the anticipation of Christmas is mostly the expectation and wait for the yearly flood of Christmas Cards - I do confess, it is for me personally the best part of Christmas - you just jump to the postbox every morning, curious to see who has written and how to their children look now, what their news are and if all is well. It is also a means of keeping in touch on a yearly basis - helps so much then to call, if you should happen to  be in Milano and have over the last 20 years not met, but have had every year that  faithful Christmas Card with Children, Parents and Dogs - great way of keeping in touch and great way of not inhibiting getting in touch again.
(Ok, I admit, it is a bit weird, writing about Christmas Cards in the middle of summer, but beware, Christmas is round the corner!)

I still write letters - but more to the older generation than to the younger. Which is a pity. If the young do not get letters, they do not have to learn to reply and a whole culture is getting lost in the process. I am always delighted, if a godchild writes to thank for a parcel which arrived for a birthday or any other occasion. But many godchildren do not even thank any longer for the gifts. Nor do they take care of their old aunts... My children are not better than others, it is always a fight to get them writing.

I vow to get back to letter writing - also as it is a very calming affair to do - you think differently if you write a letter. It is more fun, more joy and also more respect than a mail, it seems to me. So, here I go: will write more letters!!

Last but not least: get that handwriting of yours exercised again.

The Pleasure of Throwing Things Out

It has been for ages one of my foolproof vademecums in troubled times: I start to tidy up, sort things out, clean the bathrooms thouroughly, have a sharp look at my lipstick collection,  start to colour code  my clothes. Some mechanic, intellectually effortless "doing".

So, you could say, the more my house and flat looks taken care of, the more troubles I have?  Not necessary - because then people who live in clean empty lofts would have no problems at all, which is not true. "Weeding" is for me a great way of pondering about my own thoughts, having me-time and doing something almost mechanically, which afterwards shows an immediate result.
 And on top of it much better than ironing, when you see what you have done after 2 hours sweating in the cellar.
It gives me satisfaction to see, that I can change something in my life for the better - even if it is only the cupboard of glasses or the bedsheets - but you have an immediate satifying result; it is therapeutic, looking at things and saying goodbye to them.
Making room for new stuff, indeniably. But why not?

If you keep things/life/cooking/car/etc. too static, it all gets very dusty and liveless. Concerning our possessions, it is the most obvious part. Unless you have such a big house, that you simply close one suite of and start to fill another one - good old times, when space was no question - then you are in trouble.

But nowadays, as most of us live a  life of 150 squaremeters in the maximum, we have to control the weeds and gather impulses by weeding out a lot of the stuff we accumulate over the years.
Nothing better for that than the life of a diplomat - you have to change houses every 3 to 4 years - it makes you weed like crazy!

The most difficult move I had here in Brussels - we had stayed in a house for 5 years and with it the feeling grew, that this would have been THE house for our family. Unfortunately it was not meant to be and we had to, in the true sense of the word, uproot again. All the stuff which had agglomerated during 5 years, with 4 children and 2 dogs and a lot of space and a huge garden, you cannot imagine.

Now I am more vigilant, not  to letting my Self get my roots too deep in a rented house - and I weed and weed and weed.

The same applies for clothes: we use so little of our wardrobe, hang on to so much stuff, we never ever will wear again - why hanging on to it? Let it go.

Loads of books do appear in our house, hard for me to get rid of them. But I have started to pass them on to others - the school library or friends -  at least no need to keep the paperbacks you will not read a second time.

What is nicer than on a rainy sunday make a cleear over in the kitchen cupboards - taking stock and doing some shopping in your own house? Amazing, what sometimes comes back to the light of day - f.e. tins with tonic water which expired in april 2008. Or a friend found out, that she will not be in need of buying plastic folders until 2056.

Weeding out childrens stuff is important too - they do not play there, if they rooms are too crowded. Very educational for them and on top of it very good situation for talking to your children too - no eyecontact and concentrated sieving of legos and playmobil can bring much interesting information out of an otherwise quiet child.
They have too much stuff anyway and are as happy as we are, to pass things on and get rid of them. Provided it is not the most beloved teddybear, Tom.

The Importance of having Books in the House

I do admit, that I always am curious if I come in a not yet known abode - I want to see, how people live, what is important to them. For me books are a good indicator of the possibilietes for friendship with me - even if this sounds horribly posh and snobbish.

But let books do the talking - they show so much more about a person, than the person would perhaps sometimes let show about herself.

There are homes with out any books - very strange.
There are houses full of books, which are very obviously there only for decoration purposes - dangerous grounds.... To be avoided.
There are houses with overflow with books - very interesting - just keep a view on the themes: All New Age stuff is questionable also.
There are houses where you have a full library, but the Shakespeare goes on the meter and you have all the complete Goethe there, looking very untouched - seems a competition to prove, that one has read it all. But does one have understood what is going on in the books?

And then, finally, there are houses, where books cohabit with human beings - those are the most comfortable homes and make me want to settle and have a good talk through the library... talk to an open mind and a whole world opens up....There is nothing more fertile and engaging than talking to someone about his reads and preferences in books. It opens  new views and makes us curious to learn. Many a good read would have eloped, if the talk had not been before the discovery.

I myself love books and have an indulgence about them - never can stop buying them and they come to my house more or less on their own. I could not imagine not reading. I do not like to read on the computer - like to have the sensual touch and smell of a good book in my hands. Settle down, like a dog, in your favourite armchair and go on a journey.
I also am very suspect of films made out of books - sometimes, very rarely, it is a success - but more often not and the imagination of the figures gets spoiled. Which is a pity..
Worst example for bad film on a good and interesting book: Umberto Eco: In the name of the rose. The book is an erudite thriller, full of details and psychological insights. The film is simply crap.
Best film on a book: Visconti´s "Il Gattopardo". I can watch it time after time and everytime you discover something new. Same qualitiy in the BBC´s "Pride and Prejudice" from 1994 ( not only because of Colin Firth!!) - makes you want to read the book again and again.

One thing more: I have always had the idea of reading, if possible, the books in their original language. My favourite reading language is english - far before german or any other language. I would have loved to read Tolstoy in russian, old dream of mine, but I fear this will not be possible any longer. Some things in life we do not achieve. Tolstoy and Puschkin in english translations are better than in german - this I can tell from own experience.

Reading is simply wonderful. I try to instill it on my children - hope I will succeed. They start with Asterix and Obelix, go on to Tintin  and end with Harry Potter at the start or their teenage years. And then all is possible.
Once the love of reading is installed, it is not easily to be killed any longer - a treasure in our life, which nobody ever can take away from you.

Why Gardening is Good for You

There are obvious reasons for gardening. One of them is, basically, that mankind has done it for the last 4000 years, just think about the hanging gardens of Babylon, the waterlily paintings in the pyramids, herbgardens in medieval monasteries, the gardens in Versailles and the recent roofgardens in New York.

Gardening is an occupation, which gives you many a good reason to do it.

First of all you are out in the fresh air. Then you get your hands into the soil, which is a deeply satisfying feeling. Just remember playing as a child in the mud and the joy of getting more and more dirty, which then ended in the complete abandonment of mudbattles between siblings or jumping into rainwater puddles until getting totally mudded up and wet. I did it as a child and have seen it all over the world - most beautiful perhaps in India, the day the Monsoon started. I think this is a very deep down human feeling of playing and joying around. Working in the garden, using your own hands, is getting very near there. It is satisfying.
Then there is the joy of achievement: After a day of planting and weeding you see what you have done. It is a good workout as well - no need to pay huge amounts of money to be tortured in a badly smelling gym with 450 other people sweating senselessly around yourself - just work a day in the garden and I bet you feel muscles you never thought you had in your possession. If you are lucky and dressed to the game, you can get a lovely tan for free too on such a day in the garden, working.

But there are two bigger lessons to be learnt in gardening.
First, nothing is ever finished - therefore the Camus saying, that we have to imagine Sisiphos being a happy man, has some truth in it ( hello to all mothers and housewifes: you have just cleaned the kitchenfloor and the dog comes with wet feet from outside.. or the beds are freshly made and you have children jumping happily in them, with the wellies on? Sounds familiar, no? Or just finished a meal, kitchen is done and some people come in and start again to eat out of the fridge?? Well, let us pretend, that we think, good old Sisiphos was a happy man).
But back to gardening.
The second, perhaps even more important lesson is: Patience.
You only can work so and so much on a garden - and it does really not make any difference at all, if you go there every half hour to control whether and where your flowers have grown or not. A daily round in your garden is a very good exercise in anticipation and patience - apart from being a deep pleasure -  but the fact is, it just does not help to grow it more quickly, if you want it to grow more quickly. Just not possible - so you are back on your basic feeling: wait and see.

This feeling is a valuable lesson for all things in life: If you want something to badly, it will not work out in this way. Applies also to children, to love, to friendships, to cooking and to buying houses.

You will say, that you do not have a garden, not even a terrasse? You fear not to have any knowledge about plants, nor a "green finger"? Well, no reason not to start in a little way your own gardening experiences. Believe me, plants are much harder to kill than you think. And there is always one species which will  be ideal for you. I, for instance, kill orchids very easily. But my Basilikum loves me to bits: it grows and grows and grows. Even if you have no confidence in treating your plants well, just give it a try. You just need a bit of interest in the thing.
Buy yourself a gardenia - smelling so wonderful! - for your bathroom, some nice herbs for your kitchen sill and a good pot of  azaleeas for your salon. There you have a good and almost foolproof start. And if there is a terrace, then just get some buxus and some tomatoplants; or some roses - if they are well tended, they can thrive in a pot as well. I have two boxes of white geraniums on my terrace and they need little attention (just water and pruning the old flowers off) and flower all over the summer, without me doing nothing.

No need to have much space for gardening, you can start in a small way - and it is as satisfying as anything in the world. Believe me, it makes you a better person as well.

Becoming a favourite colour: BLUE

For almost 30 years I have not worn blue - apart from the rare jeans. Now, in my older days I come back to this pristine and so suitable colour - it is much softer than black and so chic, if not used in the ways of a school uniform or blue-blazer- grey-trousers-allround.  I always thought the latter one so boring for a one after 19years old - concerning the chaps.
But a dark blue dress of Diane Fürstenberg is another story! Or mixing black and blue, or prussian blue and brown. Just start to think different about The Blue(s) and a whole new world opens ( as if it would be always so easy?!)

On Luxury

It seems hedonistic to write about Luxury - in the sense of a Louis Vuitton bag and some Manolo shoes, it is also boring. Better to buy Vogue or Harper´s Bazaar for that.
True and real luxury is something quite different and elusive - difficult to recognize and once learned and tasted, never forgotten. It is a certain flair; an attitude; a being-in-the-knowing; quite secret sometimes; never ostentatious. Not to be bought with money - definitely. Sorry for the Beckham Family...
True and deep-going luxury is something very different and has indeed nothing to do with money - or at least after a certain level, it is not any longer possible to buy it with money - you can throw so much cash at it as you like, if you do not know how it looks and feels, you will never find it.

And one advantage: It cannot be taken away easily from someone who knows what I am talking about.

Sounds a bit like the fox and the green grapes, you will say - she has no cash, but knows about Luxury, ha ha ha. But: Indeed, I do.

And now there will be no sermon about how happy we should be to have running water in our bathrooms and heating in winter. Closely viewed, those appliances were the summit of luxury still 80 years ago - only the super-rich could afford the personal and the means to supply generously feline wellbeing in their homes. Just remember all those american heiresses who in the 1920ies married into tremendously cold english castles and whose everlasting heritage is the installation of bathrooms and central heating? THIS was a clash of Luxuries indeed: paid  decoration hermits in the park against neverending hot water. Just read Edith Sitwell.

No, real real luxury is something more discreet. And reckless, careless. Sometimes almost haughty. The "not necessity" - only possible for the one who has had everything and can decline, out of knowing and not out of need to proof something.

As it transpires more and more, time is also becoming rapidly a great a luxury - during the last 50 years the fad was, not to have time, i.e. to be important, powerful and jetsetty. This is no longer the case.
People invite again to their homes, do their cooking themselves, some even know the chicken they cook by name. Reading a story to your children yourself instead of a nanny is luxury. To drink wine only, when it is a good one, is another. Drinking champagne for the whole meal. Having fresh flowers in the house. Fresh flowers in the bathroom. A window in the bathroom. Playing an instrument. Painting. A room for oneself. A good piece of soap. Friends. The luxury of having true and everlasting friendships....  Marrying from home, not in a hotel or rented castle is luxury pure. Eating good chocolate, whenever it comes in your way. The feeling of loving and being loved. A good exhibition, with wonderful works of Art - to walk leisurely through it, best in good company, and have a chat about life and its beauty. A good and perfect fitting pair of shoes. The ideal lipstick, which makes you feel 1000 pounds/minute. A good scent. A warm bathroom. Freshly ironed bedlinnen. A place to live, which is home. Space. Quiet. A bedroom facing east, to have the sun in the morning. Coffee and a cigarette with a friend in a lovely café in the beautiful streets of our towns. An old joke shared for 20 years, which still makes you smile. A book read 10000 times, known by heart and still a pleasure to take it in your hands. Travelling by train in an almost empty carriage. Silence. Working in the garden. Waiting for 5 minutes before getting out of bed in the morning. Sitting under an old tree, drinking good tea. Laughing and conversing with friends. Old and young. Sitting in the park with a friend and watching the children play. Walking a dog.
Freedom to do what one would love to do. Looking stupid in the air. Old whisky. A fountain pen. Getting a letter. Looking at old fotographs. Having memories which make you smile....

Time to think.

I could go on and on. But my point is to prove, that real luxury is not dependent on money.
But money is NICE. Ok. Nevertheless..

On Beauty

Beauty is a fleeting thing. But without beauty we could not exist. Developping and educating a feeling and knowledge of beauty is a lifetime of learning - and it is such a blessing that we always change, subtely, our point of view. This means, we are alive and do move on.

Sometimes when I wander through a city and see in which appaling environments people have to live - often they do not really "choose" to live in a desolate part of the town - I feel sad. How should the young know what is beautiful and what not? You will say, that this is a luxury problem I am talking about. I don´t think so. We are much more affected than we could imagine by our surroundings.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder - ok, right. So, what Gaugin thought beautiful must not be the same thing as Elvis Preslec thought,  or Mother Theresa, if you get what I mean.
But then "the eye" can be educated, should be refined and developped. The one who has never seen beautiful things, can recognize them all the same if he has the chance to see them. Look just at all those horribly bad dressed people who wander in silence through a museum like the Louvre in Paris. It is amazing, the need for beauty.

Most probably I am too old fashioned and grew up in an environment, which was much  influenced by a multicultural background and some generations of people living with beautiful things. I was taught to look at a lightning and at the stars, to describe what colours the trees had and how to feel a room - so that it was livable, comfortable, a "home" in the best sense of the world. I have relentlessly tried to recreate a beautiful home whereever I was. It is my first love and enduring passion. In an ideal world mine would be the beautiful house in the country...

When we stayed for a short while in India, I was so impressed by the beauty of the people in the streets. What an affluence of beauty I have seen there, nature just totally and regardless throwing beauty around. There is so much beauty and how sad, that it was so often not appreciated, taken for granted.
The same I could say, for example, of the light in Portugal - Lisbonne is a delightful city, with a wonderful light and has one of the most beautiful city centers one can imagine. But then the houses are so often not taken care of - the beauty is there, but not seen, not appreciated?

Is the concept of beauty a question of having the time to stay and stare, to let it be impressed on our mind?

Beauty in people has much to do how they look out of their eyes. Intelligence and benevolence is always beautiful, as is wisdom and calm of heart and mind. The quest for beauty in having a slim figure is only a fad in comparison with this sort of beauty.

A garden is beautiful - wilderness as well as the french garden with its boxhedges and controlled figures. Flowers are always beautiful and rarely flowers of different colours do clash, when they are not meddled with. Who wants blue tulips anyway? The natural is always beautiful, more so if the natural is tamed in a way that we do not see on the first glimpse.

A small child is beautiful - the Kindchenschema, yes I know, big head, big eyes - but then it is the grace of uninhibited and unconsciencious movement, of curiousity and calm in little eyes who sometimes look as they have all the wisdom in the world.

I wonder why there is this necessity to destroy beauty? Pulling down a perfect good house, which needs some elbowgrease and paint to live again and breath, and instead to build something which is agressively and not human? A big black closed cube, without a soul to be seen, uninviting, supermodern (I have nothing against modern!!!!) - the people living there as a mere accessory to the place? Building houses with bathrooms without a window and only 1 squaremeter, kitchens without a window? Hello?? Who can live there??

We all search for beauty, it is in our genetic makeup. If we adorn ourselves, put make up on, cook a nice looking dish, hang that pictures or print on the wall and chose with a lot of care the curtains for the guest bathroom, clean/polish that car and work in the garden - we actively want things to be beautiful. This need of beauty is inherent, but it dies, if not nourished. Often people, who live in horrid surroundings simply stop to care - and stop to care for themselves too.

I ask you, whether you are conscious of that? And do you do it?

I plead for giving beauty a much much bigger part in our lifes. After all, we only have to look at nature, each year it renews itself and each year the blossoms on the trees are breathtaking, like a promise of better times ahead. The cherry tree blooms not "why" but "in spite of".

I feel quite melancholic about that.