On Squirt Guns and the Mating Behaviour of Hippopotami

“Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.” 

“Wrinkles should merely indicate where the smiles have been.” 

-Mark Twain

Hey guys.

The mini-break is over (in fairness, it ended a few days ago and I just couldn't be bothered to write) and with the Commonwealth Games, the Tour de France, World Matchplay darts and the transfer market in full swing, work has been pretty busy. I had a day off today, and for the next few weeks, my schedule will look roughly the same--work for three or four days, have a day off. No more weekends until I go to Belgium, but it won't get crazy heavy either.

I still hope I get to throw some kind of going away-party, but I reckon it'll be more of a drink as I need to take the train to Brussels around noon on the 17th, and I really don't plan on getting hammered the night before. I seriously don't want to miss that connection, and I'm a terrible drunk.

That going away-party/drink could turn out to be fairly useless, anyway. I had five days off last week, and somehow, I didn't manage to set a single date with friends. I've been getting all sorts of apologies in the last two days, and while I appreciate the gesture, it's really not necessary :) I came to this city six months ago, and from the very start, I explained how I understood you all have lives and social circles here, and how I didn't expect you to just throw all of that on its head to accomodate me. I'm just happy I got to see some of you more frequently, and it's kind of saddening to think that's about to change. I'll come back to London, for sure (I still work here), but it'll happen perhaps once every three months or so. We've already established how hard it can be to find time to meet up :) but again, please don't worry. 

It's kind of scary though. One of the reasons it took me so long to write this particular entry is that the last three or four days weren't so great (today was awesome). I've been looking forward to moving back to Belgium for a long time now, but last week I got really, really scared. I miss my friends and having a normal social life, and I'm really glad that'll change on some level, as I'll most likely be moving into an appartment with one of my best friends in September or October. 

But I've put so much distance between myself and the people I care about in the past six years, both literally and figuratively, and right now I can't help but feel like that distance won't go away with me moving to Belgium. It's so logical, and perhaps just the way life works. My best friend used to be Thomas Robberechts, and we haven't spoken in years. The same goes for Thijs Lombaerts, who I used to ride to school with every day. People come and go, and it's not really a cyclical thing. Once they're gone, they usually stay gone. It's why I chose this London adventure in the first place--I had great difficulty accepting that. I've changed a lot in these past six months (or so I keep telling myself), but I'm still really sucky at letting go, or moving on, or whatever you want to call it. 

I don't know. I just fear I may be opening Pandora's Box all over again. Last year was a disaster, and it took me a very long time to come to terms with everything that happened. I've missed home so much, and I really can't deal with the loneliness any longer. I need to go home, and I'm scared I'll turn back into the guy who left. I hate that guy :) and I really don't want to go that path again.

Today was a good day, however, and maybe that's the difference. There were no good days six months ago :) I still lose hope at times, and there are days my mind wanders back to some very dark places. But there's always the next day, and those few rays of hope that come with it. It's a process, really, one step at a time. 

So, how did I spend my time off? The weather has been pretty insane here in London, but  I've been told it was much the same back at home. Heat in London is the worst, as the Tubes don't have airconditioning and there's so many people living in such close quarters. Some kids had the biggest watergun fight I've ever seen just outside the building last week, and I really wish I could have joined in (no gun, and I'm roughly twice as old as the oldest person I saw wielding a pistol). 

I gave a tiny guided tour of London to an elderly German lady who was waiting for her daughter's school trip to end, and that was nice. I just had to see Tower Bridge when it was open, and that's sort of how it started. Failed to set a date for a West End show (Tim Minchin's Matilda, obviously), but it's still on the schedule. Today I went to the Docklands and Canary Wharf, and I checked out the Doctor Who museum and the adjecent shop. Just getting there was expensive, and seriously, that shop is way overpriced. So, naturally, I spent roughly a week's pay in that thing. I now have a very impractical Doctor Who wallet, and I already regret buying it.

I also checked out the Earls Court Tardis, and I thought it was even cooler. Technically it's just an ordinary police box, but still. Right in the centre of an afluent West-London neighbourhood, with thousands of people passing it every day. Honestly, it took the cake for me.

I'll try and put down a bit of practical information for my return the next time. I'll have two days off after I get back home before I start work, and as luck would have it, my parents will be leaving on their holiday the day after I return. So yeah, I'm leaving London because I miss everyone back at home, and I'll be spending my first two weeks back on my own. Because duh.

Lastly, I need to end this entry on a sad note. A couple of days ago it was brought to my attention that one of my favourite teachers had died, and I had no idea. His name was Willy Wuyts, and he taught me Dutch and Drama for two years at the Don Bosco Institute in Haacht (I also think he sat in during some of our Latin classes, but I'm not sure). He was already quite old when I was at that school, and he looked like a freaking rockstar, with his suits, leather coats, long grey hair and fancy sports car. He was everyone's favourite teacher and an incredible writer (he actually won several really big awards, something most of us never knew I guess), but what I'll remember most was his insane ability to come up with the most creative punishments imaginable.

My favourite anecdote will always be the time when he made David Pons give a 10 minute oral presentation on the mating behaviour of the male hippopotamus. David was forced to write a two-page paper on "Why he felt the need to utter the sounds a horny, deranged giraffe makes" during the first lesson of the day (Drama), and I don't remember what he did in the afternoon (during Dutch), but it was ultimately changed to an essay and oral presentation the next day. As a 13-year-old, you simply can't imagine how funny it was to hear an elderly teacher tell a classmate he would be forced to spend the entire evening researching hippopotami (hippopotamuses?) and how they court females.

Mr Wuyts unexpectedly died earlier this year, and while it would have been nearly impossible for me to attend his funeral, I would have moved heaven and earth to at least try. Thanks for everything, Mr Wuyts. You're one of the few people who had a much bigger impact on me than they will ever realise. I'll leave you with an excerpt of the elegy, written by one of his former colleagues (Dutch):

"Het zal er niet meer van komen, Willy. Maar mag ik jou dan toch nog één dingetje vragen?

Als ik op een avond alweer voor een leeg blad zit, worstelend om de juiste woorden of invalshoeken te vinden, wil je dan – alsjeblief – stilletjes op mijn schouder komen zitten en me die juiste tips in mijn oor fluisteren die anders nog zeker uit jouw gouden pen waren gevloeid."

-Herman Moons

Song of the Day: Edith Piaf - La Vie En Rose

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFzViYkZAz4

On Time Off and Physical Limitations

“Never say goodbye, because goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting.” 
-J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


A bit of a shorter entry today, just to keep you guys in the loop. I really don't have very much to talk about--working pretty much non-stop until yesterday. I just started a bit of a mini-break, having five consecutive days off. The World Cup is over, but I've been running most of our Tour de France coverage and the British Open is about to start (that's golf, fyi). So yeah, we're staying busy :) Premier League action starts in little over a month I think, and the transfer window is heating up, so along with Test cricket and the Tour, I guess that's most of what I do these days.

So, five days off. I need to get some laundry done and I'm in dire need of a haircut (I currently have a neck beard. I do not look good with a neck beard), but I do plan on spending most of my time exploring London and doing some of the things I've yet to do. West End shows, that kind of stuff. I'd love to check out the National Gallery as well, and go to Greenwich Park (and the Meridian Line. Duh). 

I got a bit frustrated today, and I'm sorry if you caught that. A friend of mine noticed how certain things seem to keep happening around me some time back, and I'm starting to think she's right. I was on my way to the supermarket today and when I rounded the corner at White City Station, there was a bloody cyclist lying in the middle of the road with some people gathered around him. Hit-and-run, and he was in pretty bad shape. The police arrived within minutes, followed closely by an ambulance, so in the end, I did very little other than check his breathing and put pressure on a nasty head wound. His collar bone was gone and his knee looked bad, but the biggest issue were a lack of responsiveness or consciousness and a ton of lacerations (and the head wound, obviously). It's pretty hot in London right now and he was riding his 2.000 pound bike without a helmet or a shirt, which is basically asking for trouble.

Anyway, I checked whether he was responsive and when he wasn't I checked for breathing. Once that was done I did very little other than keep pressure on the head wound and wait for the ambulance to arrive. Once I got home (so much for the supermarket) I got really upset because, like I said, this always seems to happen to me. But then again, I'd rather have it happen to me, perhaps. At least I trained to be a lifeguard. It'd be nice not having to put that particular skillset to good use all the time, but really, everyone should have some basic lifesaving skills. Someone please get that on a school curriculum.

That's probably the most exciting thing that happened this week. I played football (the American version) at Putney with some friends, and that was awesome. I hadn't gone full-speed since the thigh-injury that got me to quit football when I was in my first year of university, and it was just so much fun to be playing again. I was terrible, dropped two open passes ( a button and out-route), but I also caught two TD's and threw one myself on a 20-yard corner route. Only gave up two catches all day, and Team Europe comfortably beat Team USA/AUS, so go us! 

The next day I was more sore than I've ever been in my life, and it lasted for days. Which confirms two things: I'm getting old, and I am really not in football shape. I've been working out quite a bit since I got to London (though June-July was a disaster, I only got to go to the gym twice in six weeks), but it's really not the same as sprinting and cutting. London's great for running though, so I'm trying to do a bit of that on a regular basis now (I hate running. It's so dull). Once I get back to Belgium I need to find myself a swimming pool. Swimming is way more fun than running.

The apartment search might turn out to be way easier than expected, so that's nice. I really need to figure out how to get my stuff back in Belgium (FedEx might be an option at this point), but I'm on a holiday right now, so there's plenty of time. 

I guess that's it for now. I'll make sure to write a thorough update once my mini-break is over (you know, because I'm actually doing stuff worthy of writing about), although I wouldn't be expecting too much if I were you.

Have a good one guys, and I'll see you all real soon.



Song of the Day: Some badass rock-'n-roll. The Peoples Temple-Keeper (Of Souls)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiVNyxWw_64

And one more, because this **** is groovy: Crystal Stilts: Shake the Shackles
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPiuynEpq1g

On Announcements and Coming Full Circle

“Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.”
“If, then, I were asked for the most important advice I could give, that which I considered to be the most useful to the men of our century, I should simply say: in the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you.” 
-Leo Tolstoy


I don't really know how to start this entry. I've been meaning to write all of this down for months, and I've probably written this blog a thousand times already. And yet, now that I'm actually typing, it's somehow hard to piece it all together. It's life's greatest irony--things always sound so much better in our heads.

When I made the decision to leave my home some nine months ago, I was in a bad place. 2013 had been a rough year for me, and I was stuck in a dead-end job I hated, living a life I hated. I could see my entire future mapped out in front of me, and it was dreary. I was lost, and I needed to find myself again. I spent months looking for reasons to stay, and to my great shame, I couldn't find any. Yes, there was family, and there were friends. Yet somehow, it didn't feel like it was enough. I was angry with myself for thinking that way, and I felt like the most ungrateful piece of sh*t in the world. 

But after months of deliberation, I realised none of it mattered. Not my reasoning or my motivation, and not even the causes for my predicament. I just needed a fresh start. I was losing myself quickly, and something needed to be done. People always tell you to follow your dreams, and the best I could come up with was a move to a great city I'd always loved--London.

Moving scared the crap out of me. Not the actual move, and all of the worries that come with it. I was so scared I was making the wrong decision, choosing the wrong path. People like to tell you nothing is final, and even the gravest of mistakes can be undone. In reality, that often isn't the case. I talked things through with my dad for hours, and in the end, we concluded this was something I needed to do. I wasn't the man I wanted to be, as grotesque as that may sound. But I felt like I needed saving. So I switched careers, told everyone I was leaving and convinced myself it was all for the best. A new life, in a new place.

I think it took me two entries into this blog to correct that vision. London has been quite the experience, but from day one, it didn't feel as permanent as I had told myself (and everyone around me) it would be. There's no such thing as a new life.

Two months ago I went back to Belgium for the first time. It was a total, unmitigated disaster, and when I got back to London I was an emotional wreck. I was about halfway through my tennancy agreement, but in truth, I had already been thinking about my next destination for a while.

Don't get me wrong, I love this city. And I absolutely love my job. But I never particularly enjoyed the life I have here. It's not that things weren't what I was expecting. But looking around me, I realised that on some level I was still doing what I've always done: Run away. And as time passed, I noticed a change in me. For the first time in 25 years, I realised I have no idea what the future looks like. But I know what I want it to look like. And this isn't it.

So I talked with my dad, and told him I was considering coming home. And my old man, in all his wisdom, gave me the exact same advice he gave me the day we decided it was best I would come to London. He told me to follow my gut, because whatever it was I decided on, all he wanted was for me to be happy. 

And then a funny thing happened. I had three options: 1) Stay, 2) Sign for an additional six months and see what Christmas is like down here or 3) Come home in August. And as I started to look for reasons to stay, all I could think of were reasons to come home. Hundreds of them. The very reasons I couldn't see six months prior, when I decided on a move to the Big Smoke.

So yeah, my parents have already known this for quite some time, but consider this my official announcement: I'm coming home. If I convinced you this move would be permament six months ago and this announcement upsets you in any way--I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, and I truly didn't think this would happen when I boarded the bus that brought me here.

I don't know if I'm a different person from the one that moved here in February, but I think I am. Moving to London wasn't a mistake, or I don't see it that way at least. Sure, it cost me a lot of money, but that's just money. I couldn't care less. But these past six months have taught me a lot, and they've made me see the world in a different light. More importantly, they've made me realise what it is I want out of life. And no, we can't always get what we want. But the least we can do is try, and in my case, I know I don't want my future to play out in this place. I'm done running away.

Moving back is going to be a major nuisance. I already moved to this place in two tries, so I have far too much stuff to move in one go. I may also have sort of bought a ton of books while I was here, so I literally have no idea what to do (my father is suggesting I rent a car and drive home. First time left-handed shifting and driving on the wrong side of the motorway in the heart of London? No thanks). If anyone is still looking for a guided tour of London, I'd be happy to oblige, providing you travel to London with room to spare in your luggage. 

You also better be fast. My tennancy agreement runs out on the 17th of August, and I've already taken time off work to facilitate a move.

This isn't the end of my London experience, however. I still work for a company based here (yes, I found a way to keep that job) and in order to keep my British papers in order, I'll still have to spend quite a bit of time here, so there'll be plenty of time for beer and fun with any colleagues or London-based friends reading this. Except of course Elise, who is moving to New York. Which probably means I can't store any of my leftover stuff at your place until I come back to London for the first time. Any of the books I can't fit in my luggage are yours by the way, if you'll have them.

I plan on enjoying my last month in London, and see as much of the city as possible before I go. London is far too big to experience in a month, or a year, or even a lifetime. But it doesn't hurt to try. That said, I can't even begin to explain how much I am looking forward to coming home.  And yeah, I fully realise that's the exact opposite of what I said during the final two months before I came here, or the first few months I spent as a citizen of the United Kingdom. But we've come a long way since then. 

When I left for this place I was lost, going through some very hard times and in dire need of a change. And I found myself here. Even if that's all I've accomplished in the last six months, it was worth it. We have a choice between the life we have and the life we want, and life is far too short to choose the former. The life I have here isn't all that great, and the life I had back at home before wasn't either. But you know what? The next one will be different.

As for this blog, it was always meant to be a way for me to stay in touch with my friends and family, so I guess I won't be needing it any longer. I'm going home, and for the first time in ages, I understand what that means. Gianni is no longer In Transit. Then again, the vast majority of my readership is somehow American, with the United Kingdom coming in second and you Belgians only managing a measly third (for shame). So we'll see how it goes.

Goddamnit, this is not the kind of announcement I had intended to write. Better in your head, you know. You're all still very welcome here in London, if you ever feel like getting away for a day or two. UK readers--obviously I'm not leaving without a bang, and I'd love to see as much of you as possible over the course of these next five weeks. 

So yeah, I guess that's it for now. Let me leave you with a famous Londoner: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1A_rF0SKj6g#t=387


Song of the Day: I know I've already put this up on my Facebook wall, and I don't care. It's SO good. 
James Blake - Retrograde
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XClvMMxBg1k