Oh yes, there’s a kid version too.

The selections don’t happen until a few weeks after the end of Eurovision so I don’t have a preview of this year’s Belgian entrant but I do have last year’s.

The boy that Flanders picked to go to last year’s competition is Oliver Symons. He sings, plays guitar and piano and writes his own songs. Plus he’s a real cutie. Check it out:

The lyrics are in Dutch, obviously, but Oliver also has a version in English right here if you want to know what he’s saying. The translation doesn’t totally do the lyrics justice but it’s pretty close. And if you don’t know, take my word for it, poeticizing something like song lyrics in a language not your own is one of the hardest things to do, in my opinion, as far as translation goes.

Anyway, I love this song. I mean, he’s 15 years old so it’s got it’s share of angsty teen running through it but it’s angsty teen with a gritty edge. It’s like Nickelback but 20 years younger…in Dutch.

Oliver didn’t win Junior Eurovision (although I bet he’d have had a good shot at winning the adult version) but from what I can tell he’s still writing songs and if he ever comes out with a CD I definitely plan on picking it up.

I thought I would be fine with that. I was fine with that, until I saw pictures from the wedding of the daughter of my mom’s best friend. Ironically enough, Carrie was raised much less Jewish than I was. I had a bat-mitzvah and was confirmed while she wasn’t. But she met a Jewish man and they had a Jewish wedding. I think I always made the assumption that I would do the same thing but I guess it never truly hit home that I wouldn’t until I saw pictures from Carrie’s wedding.

We won’t have a ketubah or a chuppah although I can’t say I didn’t make an effort to have CB consider it. But he feels that those things are too religious for his comfort and I respect that (although I did push for the chuppah). Last night CB said he would have no problem breaking the glass at the end of the ceremony and, sadly, all the reasons that he felt fine doing that part of it were probably all the reasons that I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about including this in the ceremony. To me it’s the most meaningless tradition and that’s exactly why he’s willing to do it.

It’s difficult for me to let go of the traditions of my culture, especially when I always pictured myself being married under a chuppah by a rabbi in the same synogogue in the same chapel as my mother and my late grandmother. The god aspect of Judaism obviously holds no value for me, but the traditions…what is Judaism without the traditions? There are so many wonderful stories and holidays and traditions in the Jewish culture and I, like most anyone who was brought up in a traditional Jewish home, appreciate and cherish those traditions and the preservation of them throughout generations, regardless of my lack of religion.

When CB and I discuss certain aspects of the wedding service I am constantly reminded of the traditions that either smack of too much religion for CB or are denied to us by the synagogue because both of us aren’t Jewish. In response to that I’ve started reaching for other things to make the wedding ceremony feel unique or special to me.

Unfortunately several common parts of an American ceremony are already unique or different than a traditional Belgian wedding and I often find myself asking too much of CB as it is.

What to do on the first really nice weekend of the year? Well, today we’re going to a baptism, but yesterday we had a little daytrip to Antwerp. Someone at work had mentioned a market that was held in antwerp centrum every Saturday so that’s where we went. Here’s some of what they had to offer. If you mouse over you’ll even get the Dutch words for some of these items. I figured I might as well make this blog educational on occasion.

Now, here’s the market:

Cheese, cheese and more cheese. So much cheese! But I’ll be damned if you can find any cheddar. We did see provolone though. Mmmm, provolone.

Cured hams, sausages, salamis, smoked meats

Mountains of fresh fruit, especially apples, although there were all sorts of pineapples, kiwis, plums, strawberries, etc.

Bowls and bowls of all sorts of stuffed and marinated olives, green, black, kalamata, spanish…

Dried and candied fruits…remember the beginning scene from Disney’s Aladdin where the street vendor is yelling “Dates! Sugared dates and figs! Sugared dates and pistachiooooos!” Well that’s what this reminded me of…and yes, there really are guys standing up on stools yelling at the crowd.

So many flowers, mostly fresh but some silk too. I’m pretty sure these are silk but they were too vibrant for me to pass up.

After the market we went to the shopping street and the performers were out and doing their thing.

For lunch we went to the Chinese street and had some fantastic dim sum as well as other yummy dishes.

I will eventually be able to speak Dutch fluently (or close enough). I will eventually find some sort of full time work, even if it’s at a packing plant or as a cleaning woman. One day I will achieve my goal of developing curricula for gifted toddlers and preschoolers.

But there is no way to magically ship my family over here to Europe.

I have 2 remaining grandparents: my father’s mother (Gram, 86) and my mother’s father (Grandpa, 83). They are both very important to me and one of my greatest anxieties is that one or both of them will fall ill and I’ll be unable to see them before they pass away.

This is why I found it reasonably upsetting to hear from my mother this morning that my grandpa is in the hospital with cellulitis in his leg.  Cellulitis (for you lazy people that didn’t click on the link) is basically a bacterial infection that occurs when bacteria that are normally on the surface of the skin get into the subcutaneous layers of skin via cracks, cuts, bites, etc. Apparently they’ve put Grandpa on a regimen of IV antibiotics and they’ll send him home in a couple days with some follow up anti biotics as well.  It sounds relatively harmless (compared to the 3rd degree burns and resulting skin grafts he needed on his hands a few years ago and the lung cancer that showed up on the x-ray they took before they did the grafts) right?

Yeah, well, I’ll reiterate that Grandpa is 83. A relatively spry 83, but 83 nonetheless. He’s had a heart attack, skin grafts for severe burns on his hands and he’s short the half a lung they removed to get rid of the cancer I mentioned. He had cellulitis once before while he was recovering from the lung surgery and it was bad enough then that some of his organs were very close to shutting down.

I am feeling very far away from my family today. Pittsburgh is playing in the Superbowl tonight (RAAWWWRRR) and I think if I was there I’d get some chips and dip and go watch the first half with my grandpa.  I wouldn’t even mind if he started yelling “break his fuckin’ leg, tear his arms off” or if he started snoring ten minutes into the game. I would just be happy and thankful to be close enough to spend some time with him.

April can’t come soon enough.

Lately CB has been keeping track of things that come up in conversation that he thinks I should be blogging about. Personally, I think it’s because he wants me to stop mucking around in the off and on depression that I’ve been dealing with for several months now. And while part of me wants to rant and rave and be all “it’s my friggin blog and I’ll do what I want” I do realize that no one is interested in my moping (except maybe me when I’m feeling self indulgent) so I caved and agreed to posting about some things that have been compiled on CB’s list.

One thing that CB came up with entirely on his own (I’ve never even dared to think about blogging about it) is the matter of penises (penii?). More specifically, the difference in attitudes regarding circumcision between the USA and Europe. And there’s the added Judaism aspect that also plays into the whole circumcision thing as well. Last weekend CB allowed…nay, encouraged me, basically, to blog about foreskin (including his…actually, especially his, since his is the only foreskin I’ve ever been up close and personal with).

Sadly, within the past 2 or 3 days there was some sort of blog-splosion all over the A-List Blogger territory (Dooce, DGM, Finslippy etc.) regarding circumcision and blogger/parents’ reactions to it.  I balked at continuing what will likely be a series of 3 or 4 posts that I had decided to dub “Fridays For Skin” because I figured a lot of you out there probably stumbled over the circumcision hoopla just like I did and I didn’t want you to think I had ganked my inspiration from the big guns.

Thing is, CB totally wants me to tell you all about his schlong.  He’s been bugging me all damn week about Fridays For Skin. And if my fiancè wants me to tell all of my readers about the joys of foreskin, that’s what I’m gonna do.

I have to keep my man happy after all.

But anyway, in case I never mentioned it, I knew I was ready to have children about four years ago after nap time in the daycare when I was still working in the 2 year old room.  There was a little girl in the class that year who had asthma and one day towards the end of naptime she woke up coughing so hard and loud that the head teacher asked me to take her to the room across the hall so she didn’t wake the other kids up.  I obliged, no problem, and once we were across the hall the cough got so bad that the little girl started gagging.
Well, the teachers from the room across the hall were a bit neurotic about the cleanliness of their classroom, especially if the damage was wrought by one of our kids, so I went out of my way to try to keep things as orderly and clean as possible.  Therefore, when the little girl coughed so hard that she threw up, I didn’t even think twice before cupping my hands in front of her and catching it.

Yes, I caught vomit in my bare hands.
Vomit from a child.
Vomit from a child that was not mine.

And that’s when I knew I was ready to have children.

Anyway, I guess my point here is that, at least for me, realizations regarding important times in my life are often brought on by strange things.

This morning I finally got my electronic Belgian ID card. Three hundred and sixty six days after I moved to Belgium and now it’s as close to permanent as it can get without actually having citizenship.

I’ve lived in Belgium for an entire year.  In that time I’ve learned enough Dutch to understand most conversations without needing translation*, I can speak well enough to function day to day barring the need for fluent, conversational interaction, I’ve taken two masters level psychology classes (hopefully I’ll pass them), I’ve gained a kitten, some new family and the most important thing of all, a fiancee.
There have been so many festivities lately that nothing special or significant marked my first year in Belgium and I’m absolutely okay with that**. Today felt no different than any other day when I caught the bus from immigrant hell (which is quite lovely on Saturdays now, thanks to appointments) back to the city center, got a coffee, walked around and took what was probably my final stroll through the Kerstmarkt for the year.
It felt like any other day as I got off the #3 bus and began walking down our street.  On my way I saw Felix*** a neighborhood cat that looks almost exactly like Rex only smaller and without the little mustache.  The first few times I saw Felix I actually freaked, thinking Rex had gotten out until I noticed the cat’s nose was pink, not black.  Anyway, Felix rendezvoused with Fat Cat, a tabby and white tom that I see occasionally as well and the two ran across the playground of the elementary school on our street.  At the last minute I decided to go to the bakkery for some croissants and I glimpsed Ghost Cat running crossing the other end of the alley that brings you out right next to the local baker.

And that’s when I realized that I knew and identified the local street cats as well as, if not better than, most of our neighbors.  And while that definitely reveals the extent of my non-social nature, it also made me feel like I was going home.

Not the house, not back to CB. No, I was going home. Where things are not perfect but they’re familiar; where I’ve cried oceans but laughed more than I ever have in my adult life; where things are often difficult but when it’s all said and done the reward is worth more than gold.

People always ask if we plan on staying here or moving to America and we really don’t know how to answer.  For now, living in Belgium is what makes the most sense.  In a few years that might change but we just can’t be sure. But what I became sure of today was that for as long as we are living in Belgium, from now on I’ll finally be able to call it home.

* This is in ideal conditions, mind you. If excessive dialect or speed or both are being used, or if I can’t see the person then I struggle a lot more.
** I’m not sure that I’m okay with the fact that my last name has yet to be on many of the Christmas cards sent to us, or worse, my name is cramped into the margin of the envelope because the person addressing it obviously forgot I existed. Although an upshot is that I’ll feel better taking CB’s last  name (a practice which isn’t done in much of Europe) because it’s not like most of his acquaintances and family have bothered to learn mine (obviously his parents and sister know it though).
*** All cat names are figments of my overactive imagination. I have no idea if the owners even bother to name their cats, I just gave you the names I call them in my head.

But rather than bog you down with my succession of red-tape induced ass pains, I’ll give you a taste of my latest music obsession, The Editors.  I actually heard them for the first time in a café back in January when we took a trip to Amsterdam.  Recently I had CB put their albums on my ipod and that’s what I’m usually listening to on my way to and from Antwerp. Enjoy!

SMokers Outside the Hospital Doors – The Editors

Pull the blindfold down
So your eyes can’t see
Now run as fast as you can
Through this field of trees

Say goodbye to everyone
You have ever known
You are not gonna see them ever again

I can’t shake this feeling I’ve got
My dirty hands, have I been in the wars?
The saddest thing that I’d ever seen
Were smokers outside the hospital doors

Someone turn me around
Can I start this again?

How can we wear our smiles
With our mouths wide shut
‘Cause you stopped us from singin’

I can’t shake this feeling I’ve got
My dirty hands, have I been in the wars?
The saddest thing that I’d ever seen
Were smokers outside the hospital doors

Someone turn me around
Can I start this again?
Now someone turn us around
Can we start this again?

We’ve all been changed
From what we were
Our broken parts
Left smashed off the floor

I can’t believe you
If I can’t hear you
I can’t believe you
If I can’t hear you

We’ve all been changed
From what we were
Our broken parts
Smashed off the floor

We’ve all been changed
From what we were
Our broken parts
Smashed off the floor

Someone turn me around
(We’ve all been changed from what we were)
Can I start this again?
(Our broken parts smashed off the floor)
Now someone turn us around
(We’ve all been changed from what we were)
Can we start this again?
(Our broken parts smashed off the floor)

Here is Alphabeat, a pop band out of Copenhagen that has been gaining in popularity here since somewhere around June. When I posted this song on Plurk the other day I found out that it apparently has yet to hit the US radiowaves. Well, now I’m giving you the opportunity to be on top of the latest pop trend. Take a look at their hit single “Fascination”:

Fascination Alphabeat

Easy living,
killed the young dudes,
in the high boots.
Teenage,
in the pace age,
that’s when love burns,
now it’s your turn.

Fascination
Fascination
It’s just the way we feel.

Fascination
Fascination
It’s just the way we feel. (yeah)

We love this exaltation (woh-oh, o-o-oh)
We want the new temptations (woh-oh, o-o-oh)
It’s like a revelation (woh-oh, o-o-oh)
We live on fascination

Passion,
is our passion,
in the moonlight,
on a joy ride.
Easy living,
killed the young dudes,
in the high boots. (oh yeah)

Fascination
Fascination
It’s just the way we feel (come on).

We love this exaltation (woh oh, o-o-oh)
We want the new temptations (woh oh, o-o-oh)
It’s like a revelation (woh oh, o-o-oh)
We live on fascination.

The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
The word is on your lips – say the word
Fas-ci-na-tion!

We love this exaltation (woh-oh, o-o-oh)
We want the new temptations (woh-oh, o-o-oh)
It’s like a revelation (woh-oh, o-o-oh)
We live on fascination (o-oh…)

Say the word now (fa-sci-nation)
Say the word
Come on say the word now (fa-sci-nation)
Come on (fa-sci-nation)

Now, I’m not typically the pop loving type, but this is just so catchy, I love it. And the guy singer? Isn’t he just adorable?? I would totally have posters of him up in my room if I was single and like, 5 years younger. So anyway, yeah, click on that link up above if you want to learn more about the band. Hope you enjoyed the music!

CB and I had tickets to see Alanis Morisette (SQUEEEEE, jump up and down and do the happy dance) in concert at Lokeren this Sunday during the Lokerse Feesten*. Cabanasis lives in Lokeren,coincidentally, so the plan was originally to use a car from Cambio(the local car sharing company that CB is a member of), drive to Lokeren early, visit Cabanasis and the new baby, rock out to Alanis and then head home so I could get some sleep before my test today.

Of course that’s not exactly what happened.

Right as we were heading out the door CB went to get his Cambio card from his wallet and discovered that he had lost it at some point after the last time we used it, which was our trip to Zulte around 3 weeks ago. We hunted for it but to no avail so we cancelled the reservation and decided to take the train instead. CB called his sister and asked if we could visit later in the week on our way back from Antwerp (I might have a job for September…I’ll let you know after the recruitment session) and she said that was fine. We caught the train from Gent to Lokeren and made our way to the venue. The bummer about taking the train was that the last one to Gent left at 11:36, which meant we’d see the opening act in full but we’d be cutting the Alanis part short. I won’t say I wasn’t dissapointed about that, especially when the train ran late and we ended up sitting on the platform till the concert was over anyway, but some things can’t be helped and I did get to see one of my all time favorite singers live, so it’s all good.

What wasn’t good was that we didn’t get into Gent until 1 in the morning and after waiting on the bus, we didn’t get to sleep until around 2. I can’t say that that didn’t effect my performance on my exam (which was not so good, but not as bad as I thoguht either) where I kept confusing new vocabulary words for old ones from past levels. For instance, one word I had to define was overtuigen, which means “to convince” and I confused it with getuigen, which means “witnesses”. Once I get one definiton in my head, even if I know it’s wrong,I can’t think around it to find another definition.

But this is not about my floundering through the twisted world of the Dutch language. This is about the concert last night. I mentioned the opening act, and that was Buffalo Tom. Do any of you remember Buffalo Tom? The only thing their name does for me is bring back fond memories of My So Called Life. I really didn’t, nor did I ever, like Buffalo Tom. The lead singer doesn’t have a very good voice and he screams too much. The bassist actually has a much nicer sound, in my opinion. And, as it turns out, I only know two of their songs and one of those was only from watching reruns of My So Called Life. Does anyone remember that show?

It was so good and got no credit.

Anyway, Buffalo Tom made a few faux pas in speaking to the crowd. You know, jokes about bad weather, calling Canada the 51st state (the bassist must’ve realized that Europe would not find that attitude funny cause he apologized right after the song that followed that comment), but the worst one of all was at the very end when the lead singer shouted, “I heard Antwerp can sing louder than all of Holland combined!”
And everyone just sort of looked blank cause we weren’t in Antwerp…we were in Lokeren. So then he starts blundering about being close to Antwerp and the announcer says “Lokeren…we’re in Lokeren” over the loudspeaker. And the lead singer says,”Well, that guy is saying something in Flemish that I don’t understand, but anyway…yeah!” And he starts the last song. So here’s to you Buffalo Tom, here’s one of the two songs you have that I like:

Late At Night
I close my door at night
But they get in all right
And she turns on the light
I held her hands so tight
‘Cause words don’t come out right
And she sees things at night
Me, I’m closer to the door
I don’t get scared no more
But I don’t know the score
If I could hold them in my hand
I’d make them understand
I’m not a haunted mind
I’m not a thoughtless kind
If I could put them in a jar
I know they wouldn’t scar
I’d do it if I could
I hope you know I would
I close my door at night
But she gets in all right
So I turn on the light
I held her hand too tight
Too hard to make it right
So I could sleep at night
If I could hold them in my hand
I’d make them understand
I’m not a haunted mind
I’m not a thoughtless kind
If I could put them in a jar
I know they wouldn’t scar
I’d do it if I could
I hope you know I would
I’d do it if I could
I hope you know I would
I’d do it if I could
I hope you know I would
I’d do it if I could
I hope you know I would
I’d do it if I could
I hope you know I would

Obviously I liked Alanis much better than the other guys. Not only did she open with one of my favorite songs, Uninvited, but she still sounds fantastic. She mixed a few of her new songs with the glut of amazing older ones from her prior albums and she obviously still loves her music, just from the look on her face while she was singing.

I friggin love Alanis Morisette. I’ve been listening to her since I was 12 or 13 and I’ve owned every one of her albums at some point in time. I love her lyrics and her original sound. I love that she has never sold out or changed her image like some of the other singers I used to like (damn you Sheryl Crow, Liz Phair and Jewel…especially Jewel…what she did is so much more than selling out…it was selling out on a Stepford Wives magnitude). I love that she doesn’t fake tan, dye her hair, dress skimpily or act like a total slut. Everything she has is because of her talent and she is brimming with that.

So even though we didn’t get to stay for the whole thing, I was so so excited and happy that we got to see her live, in the flesh for even 45 minutes.

Uninvited

Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me
Like any hot blooded woman
I have simply wanted an object to crave
But you’re not allowed
You’re uninvited
An unfortunate slight

Must be strangely exciting
To watch the stoic squirm
Must be somewhat heartening
To watch shepard meet shepard
But you’re not allowed
You’re uninvited
An unfortunate slight

Like any uncharted territory
I must seem greatly intriguing
You speak of my love like
You have experienced like mine before
But this is not allowed
You’re uninvited
An unfortunate slight

I don’t think you unworthy
I need a moment to deliberate

Right about the time I moved to Belgium I began reading a blog-zine called The Sneeze and that’s where I discovered Cloud Cult, an incredibly interesting group of musicians and visual artists that are pioneering a “Green band” culture in which they tour as green as possible and go out of their way to be green in their production studio, Earthology, which was fonded by Craig Minowa, the founder of Cloud Cult.

There is another bit of back story that is very significant for the song I’m going to share with you today. Craig and his wife Connie had a son, Kaidin, who died suddenly and unexpectedly at the age of two. After their son’s death Craig isolated himself in their farmhouse in Minnesota and began writing the music that ultimately became “They Live on the Sun,” Cloud Cult’s first nationally released album. You can read more about the evolution of Cloud Cult on their website. For now though, I’d like to share the song When Water Comes to Life with you. I was touched when I heard, not only the opening music for the song, but also the hopeful and comforting lyrics written by Minowa.

When Water Comes to Life – Cloud Cult

and when the angels come
they’ll cut you down the middle
to see if you’re still there
to see if you’re still there

and underneath your ribs
they’ll find the heart shaped locket
an old photograph of you in daddy’s arms

and then they’ll sew you closed
and give you back to the water
from where we’re all born
from where we’re all born

and you’ll feed the ghosts
and you’ll feed the living
you’ll be a stranger
and you’ll a friend

you’ll be the leper
and you’ll be the healer
you’ll be the hero
and the tragedy

and when they sew you closed
they’ll give you back to the water
from where we’re all born
from where we’re all born

and when they burn your body
all thats left is sand crystals
two tiny handfuls
all the rest is water, water, water

all you need to know
is you were born of water
you are made of water
you are living water, water, water

all you need to know
is you were born of water
you are made of water
you are living water, water, water

all you need to know
is you were born of water
you are made of water
you are living water, water, water

fyi- this is NOT the official video, it’s just an interpretation but it was the best recording I could find