On Boston and New York

“Curiosity is, in great and generous minds, the first passion and the last.” 
-Samuel Johnson


Howdy folks,

A few of you have asked me to give a brief recap of my time on the Eastern Seaboard, and while I don't plan on writing down an extensive journey of the trip I took to Boston and New York last week, I may as well give you a few general thoughts. I find it's way more fun to share stories of your travels in person (usually it's a back and forth) so I'll definitely keep this blog limited. If you care to know more (doubtful) just ask, and I'll gladly oblige.

So, Boston and New York. Overall, I had a fantastic time. The highlight was obviously the fact I got to see my dear friends Wannes and Elise again (even if the rendez-vous with the latter was a bit short), but really, the entire trip was great. I had never been to the United States before, and as a European who grew up watching American TV shows and soaking up American culture, I entered Boston with a bunch of stereotypical images in the back of my mind. I'm glad to say most of those turned out to be false.

For one, Americans are ridiculously nice. I understand my strong foreign accent may have something to do with that (I sound quite British, to the hilarity of the people I met last week who refused to believe I was from Belgium), but still, it was incredible to see how open these people were, both in Boston and New York. To give you an example; Elise and I had dinner in Brooklyn with a complete stranger we met less than 10 minutes before entering the restaurant. He even joined us for drinks in the most random nightclub I've ever set foot in afterwards, and after that, we went our separate ways. Just like that. And this is New York, a place where everyone supposedly stares at the ground and minds their own business. The same happened in Boston--people are chatty and just generally helpful and nice.

I only spent roughly 25 hours in NY (and 10 hours on the bus), so I can't in good conscience give a fair assessment on the city. I got to see most of the landmarks I wanted to see, had the best milkshake and hotdog of my life and met up with Elise to go to a kind of modern speak-easy, filled with hipsters and general outcasts. And it was awesome. Brooklyn and Manhattan are so different, and I think I may go back and explore the place a little more at some point in the future. New York is the kind of city I'd love to spend a year just to get a feel for the place, although I'm sure I'd never want to permanently locate.

Boston is more my kind of town, however, and not just because I'm a Red Sox, Celtics and Patriots fan (Fenway and gameday from the Bleacher Bar certainly ranked among my favourite moments of the entire trip). There's a surprising amount of historical buildings to visit, and on our first day Vincent and I did the Freedom Trail, a path that leads you past a ton of landmarks connected to the Revolutionary War. Unfortunately it was raining (it even snowed at some point during our trip, while people in Belgium were getting their tan on) but it was still an incredible experience. The Freedom Trail ends at the Bunker Hill Monument, a massive obelisk commemorating the Battle of Bunker Hill (which was fought at Bree Hill, because). There's a fantastic view over Charlestown and downtown Boston from the top, but there's no elevator (which may be the most un-American thing of all time). We were knackered from doing the trail, but I'm glad we still found the energy to get to the top.

The food was everything we had hoped for, and then some. In general, American food is insanely greasy, salty and sweet, but that didn't stop us from going to town. We were eager to try clam chowder (my personal favourite from the trip) and lobster rolls, along with a bunch of typical fast-food chains we don't get in Europe. It's not shocking to hear Wannes has gained a ton of weight in the few months he's spent there, even if most of it is muscle from hitting the gym 4x per week.

Speaking of, Americans are big. We stayed at a frat house (during pledge week) and those guys must live in the gym (and all have the same hair dresser). All those college movies you watched growing up, with the keggers and ridiculous parties, are all true. We were invited to one of those parties, and while I'll refrain from sharing the details, it was pretty mental.

Boston is kind of awesome. It's not too big, has great public transportation, a ton of green sites and beer that's affordable, compared to some other places. I'm actually kind of jealous Wannes gets to spend a semester there, even if I think four-five months would be enough. Like New York, I'm pretty sure I'd never want to permanently relocate to Boston, even if it means I would get to watch the Red Sox play on a regular basis. And since we couldn't stay to watch the game from Fenway itself (our flight left on Opening Day), we're kind of obliged to go back at some point. 

So, I think that's about it. The trip home was a bit of a disaster and after spending way too much money in the States, I had to go buy a new laptop first day back in order to work as my old one had crashed (goodbye money). Work and normality resumed the day after we got back, even if I was far from ready for it (I still am not). The busiest sports day of the year is fast approaching (May 2, and it's going to be insane) so there will be little time to readjust. But there's plenty to look forward to in the immediate future, and life is fairly good.

Take care guys, and I'll see you soon. 

(Photo's of the trip can be found here. It's mostly Fenway, I'm afraid)

Song of the Day: A Fenway classic.
Neil Diamond - Sweet Caroline
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NsLyI1_R01M

On Lists and Relatives

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

-Simone and Garfunkel

Hey guys;

Originally, this entry had been planned as some kind of pre-Boston feature. I was planning on making two lists (the subject of said entry), one on fantastic one-liners that ended a film (a discussion we had last week in a bar, think Gone With The Wind's "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" or Das Leben Der Anderen's "Nein, es ist fur mich," which was my personal favourite) followed by a list of things I absolutely want to see in Boston and New York (which I may still put in this entry, providing I actually go to NY, which is somewhat a mistery). If anything, this entry may serve as a clear lesson to myself: Procrastination is a bad thing.  Because I had planned to write this entry for weeks, and I wa sort of looking forward to it.

And then my grandfather died.

Now, some perspective is in order. My mother has been married and divorced three times on the record, and along with those three marriages, she's had two long-term partners. I've never once blamed my mother for anything. She's an incredible woman who has spent the bulk of her life caring for a large family which was subject to change. My mother did everything she could to make sure me and my syblings would never want for anything, no matter what it took. As I was the oldest, we never really connected. She was working or taking care of the kids, and I was on my own more often than not. We never really connected, and I'm okay with that. I love my mother, and I have nothing but respect for her and what she did for my and my brothers and sisters.

But, as a result of those marriages and long-lasting relationships, I have quite an extended family. Vake, as I used to call him, was my sister's grandfather, the father of my mother's second husband. I hadn't seen him in years, just twice since he had a stroke some 10 years ago. We weren't related, but like Herman, his son and my sister's dad, he took care of me for years. He was always kind to me when I was still a child. There's no logical reason for any of that. I was not his grandson. I was just this little kid, who happened to be Maitë's brother, and he took care of me regardless. He was kind, and when my mum divorced his son, we lost all contact. And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry we saw each other just twice after all of that went down. 

He died yesterday. He went to play a game of petanque, returned home, sat down at the table, told Moeke he wasn't feeling to good and dropped dead, right there at the table. I was at work when my mother called me to let my know, and I just didn't know what to think. I informed my boss to let them know I might have to cancel a shift due to the funeral, and that was that. I just didn't know. And then I sat down and cried. Maybe for a good 10 minutes, while I tried to eat, I cried and then I was okay. Except I really wasn't. I finished work, went out to have a drink and tried to pretend everything was fine, but it really wasn't. I just couldn't believe Vake was dead, even if he had suffered a stroke a good 10 years ago and had been hanging by a thread ever since. 

Just last week, I was talking to my dad (my real dad) and told him how I wanted to meet up with my mum's second husband, Herman. He had always been so nice to me, treated me like his own son. Compared to others, he was so gentle and just so great. Looking bad on it, I'm almost sorry he never had the chance to really raise me, have been there in my teens. A part of me even wonders how I would have turned out. He was just so unselfish, and so kind. And when he and my mother split up, we never spoke again. I told my real dad I wanted to call him, meet up with him and thank him for everything he did, tell him how much I appreciated it. And three days later, I was calling him to wish him my condoleances on the death of his father. Three days later, I'm the one consoling him. 

I've spent the last several years traveling. Ever since I turned 18, I've spent a good chunk of my time abroad, either teaching surfing or trying to start a new life. During that span, I ruined the only healthy relationship I ever had with a woman, alienated my syblings and built a dam between me and my friends. I know I f*cked up--hell, I remind myself every day. At the time, I thought I was making all the right choices, because millenials are idiots and I'm a prime example. I've since somewhat turned my life around, gotten a decent job and have actually maintained regular contact with the people closest to me. But no matter how you spin it, I've been a bad sybling. A bad brother, a bad son and a bad friend. I've always known this and taken it as a necessary evil. But now, I suddenly realise I've been a bad grandson as well.

This isn't the first grandparent I've lost, nor the closest. I've lost blood relatives before, and it hurt like crap. But perhaps at the time I wasn't old enough to realise what it meant. And maybe now I am. Because this man did everything he could to make sure I was safe, and now he's dead. This man spent so much time looking out for me and keeping me safe, and now he's dead. And like Dominic and my great-grandmother, he died not knowing exactly what he meant to me. And I'm not okay with that. 

I'm really sorry. I'll try and update this blog ahead of Boston and New York to give y'all some kind of update on what I'm looking forward to, something positive for a change. But right now, I just can't. 

Take care, and if you're someone close to me, please understand how much I love you. I really do, even if I don't always show it. 

Song of the Day: Ween - Buenas Tardes Amigo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uv-gT9lNa1g