"Better Days"

Sometimes pictures (print screens of making of footage) say more than words... 

Last weekend, my friends from Visual Okapi and I made a music video for a competition. 

We're not the best cinematographers, but we had a lot of fun!!!

Also the kids loved the absurd fantasy world we created, and some of them grew open like flowers,

that even their parents were surprised to see how fantasy can open children. 

This was the best output of this whole project.

"You need experiences to write about"

Recently I started to watch the HBO-series "Girls". Several months ago, in the cold winter of Prague, someone told me I remind her to one of the 4 characters. Of course I like to know how others perceive me (hello, I am a social being), but I forgot the name she mentioned. Months later, after watching 2 seasons, I still don't know which character I am. I have something from them all... or maybe I don't want to accept how others see me... but that is another story. I want to start this message with one of the main concerns of the main character, a wannabe-writer... You need experiences, great story... to have enough inspiration to write. But... what kind of inspiration do you need?

Today I am pickpocket. Yes, pickpocket. I came back from my work in Ghent, by carpooling, and had to take the metro in the heart of Antwerp to one of the quarters, where I live now, with the two dogs of my cousin. I was reading the "new Twilight"; the Iron Fey Series by Julie Kagawa, when tram/metro 5 came. I put my iPhone (yes, the number 5...) in the pocket of my coat, embarked the tram, and put the tram card to the machine... and then someone told me someone else took my phone. First I didn't realize it, then I ran behind the guy, lost him, cried... took the metro, cried there, people in the tram told me to go to the police station close to my house... When I arrived there, it was closed. Then i started crying. A whole bunch of muslims passed, and the woman stopped, and asked me what was going wrong. I explained, and then the whole family came around me. They were from Kosovo. The boys and the two men brought their aunt and her children back home, "coz it is not safe to let women and children walk alone", and they didn't understand why I was alone. They took care of me, helped me, and brought me to their Pakistani nightshop keeping friend, who let me call the police. The police on the phone sent me to Handel, in Antwerp, which is not the neighbourhood where you want your kids to wander around. It seemed I was in a world with only horny Arabic man.
After 2-3 hours I came back home, and thought about the different emotions.

At some point I was so angry... so disappointed... maybe even racist at some point in my mind... until these warm muslim family from Kosovo came. There were girls, with big black eyes, the young boys were giving their opinion and called foreigners bad... it was funny, seen from one perspective, how a blonde white girl in a trendy coat, and a whole group of muslims, from different ages from 6 until 30, helped me and let me smile, and let me feel back strong.

Maybe I am too tired to tell the magic I felt from this family, even in this hard evening. Maybe I need a short film to show my gratitude how happy I am.

I am a bit sad... of course. I lost a lot of money, also important numbers, notes, (instagram -yes, I am an instagram hipster)... and even messages which inspire me a lot. Recently I wrote someone about passion as stones, and love as the ocean who can erode stones...  I liked that metaphor... but someone stole it from me, and I hope the person who got this message from me yesterday, will send me back.

Sometimes... things are not lost. Even in this world you can find back magic and solidarity from lost times... 

The Smell of my Romance

Last Sunday I attented a "cooking with herbs" workshop in Schoten, Belgium. Since my awareness for healthy (bio)food is growing, I feel the need to learn more about the wonders of nature for our belly. Although the class was more made for cooks or gardeners, I learnt some interesting stuff, and already found inspiration what I will plant in my new garden soon. Every magic starts with a seed... 

During a small walk in the "Herb garden" of the Orangerie in Schoten, our workshopleader introduced us (or me, at least) to Aloysia citrodora (Flemish: Citroen verbena), which is a plant with an amazing smell ever. It makes people relaxed, so ideal for busy bees like me. As in the picture in the bottom, you can see you can put it in hot water.  I always think it is like witchcraft: using herbs to influence emotions and the body. I see all people specialized in herbs as small witches. One year ago, I heard I had some link with the old witch from my village, who lived more than 100 years ago. People came even from other countries to get healed by her. She was a good witch, with "white herb magic". 

People, scientists, say that magic doesn't happen... but knowledge of herbs, cooking and influencing people's emotions when they eat a dish so they are happy... is kind of magic, certainly if you know this knowledge is shared by people from Ancient Greece, India, Maya Empire... Even by food you can make people cry. Apparently, rose water is ideal to let people cry, to let them explode all their hidden feelings and release all the weight. This Aloysia let you relax... that is amazing.

People go back more to the roots, to find themselves back, and go also back to the roots of nature to find cures which they don't find in society. Honestly, the smell of herbs is much more pleasant than smells of cars, hospitals, supermarkets... so I hope to smell this soon every time I come home...

I hope everyone can experience this smell of my new romance... I really do :)

tapas made with fish, apples and herbs + cup of warm water with aloysia leaves

Colors in Stories

                    

Since a couple of weeks I am preparing the production of a music video for the amazing group "Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes". I love this band already for years. Some songs remind me to memories, or persons. Every time I hear 40 Daydream I see myself in one of the most happy and inspiring weeks of my life, waking up early in the day, surrounded by the sound of the jungle of Koh Phangan, a Thai island, singing, doing yoga, writing, touching leaves when I run to supermarkets... I lived like in a Daydream there. So many amazing things happened there to me. Desert Song accompanied me a lot when I was hiking in Argentina. Kisses from Babylon, the first song I heard, was brought to me by a music video. Someone shared it on his facebook, and it appeared on my news feed (viva social media... I guess). I saw the music video... and I was in love with Edward Sharpe and his band, bringing so much music and color in my life. And now... this band gives every film maker the chance to make a music video. The winner gets some money, and becomes the official music video. 

So... since two weeks, my friends from Visual Okapi and I are brainstorming. I will not tell too much... just that I love the whole preproduction, even I am so busy doing 4 other jobs. 
You get so creativity, and also get inspired so much others who join you in this process. Today I met someone from Visual Okapi I only know his name. He is going to be one of the cinematographers. He sent me as preparation a video, called "Holi" and it is amazing. The colors are so inspiring. Such movies, such moments... give reasons, colors... why you want to invest all your time and energy in dreams and passions, although you've 4 other jobs. 

I was a bit sad last week, because I heard I failed an exam, which keeps me away from calling me a graduate. I don't know why I fail for this one, while in the last 6-7 years I passed exams which were 100 times more difficult. I try already for 3 years (6 exam attempts) to get over this last subject, but I don't succeed. It  absorbs all the colors from your environment. 
I know I am not motivated for the subject: it is Macro-econimics, telling how you can put whole economy of government, consumers... in formula. Maybe I don't like this whole capitalism... because I feel, or I want this, I grow more into ecology and sustainability.  
But I am also a human, who has to survive, and find a decent job so I can pay bills. I cannot live forever in Neverland. In the end of this fairytale Wendy flies back home to become adult. It is good to have passions and colors in life, but you also need a white canvas, structure and responsibility in your life, I feel. In Belgium, being a academic undergraduate is not enough...
... so I don't know what to do after my internship, which will end in October. I think I am afraid. 

But maybe fear is a good thing. Or maybe not. Who says... 

When this person of Visual Okapi and I went to the forest behind my house to do some location scouting for the video, I witnessed how a big tree fall down. The gardener was cutting down two trees, because he was going to plant a whole row of  garden trees for a fence, and these two old trees would drink all their necessary water to grow. It was impressive. One hour later I explained the camera guy that one part of the forest was more wild, because we didn't come there, because of the tragedy that happened there. "Now I witnessed how powerful the fall of a tree is..." I murmured, "I understand why people can get killed if they get this on their head."Still it is a mystery. I saw the tree falling, and it went so slow... that I wondered every person could step out of the wrong direction...

... or even if time goes slow... can you not step out the wrong way? 

Maybe I shouldn't bother about a diploma I don't care about. Maybe I lose my life by thinking too much about regrets and fears... than enjoying the colors around me. 

Later they burnt the trees. The smog went to the forest. It was spooky... and beautiful. 

Grandmother's Consciousness about Food

Yesterday, in Ghent, my new 2nd home where I work as graphic assistant for the next weeks,  I attended the lecture "The Future of Our Food" by Vandana Shiva, followed by words from Jeroen Olieslaeghers and Thierry Kesteloot, to end with a note how we can change our own habits to leave this world a better place. It was all about seeds, monocultures in the food but also in the mind, biogenetics and privatisation of seeds (and knowledge). It was not the evening that changed my whole life, but there were interesting quotes I want to share. 

Vandana Shiva, source: wikipedia 

Who is Vandana Shiva?

This lady was the reason of my presence; I didn't give too much attention to the subject. Apart from the fact she is a scientist and an activist, I know she is an ecofeminist. I'll copy another thing from wikipedia to give a clear definition (although researchers say there is no clear definition): "Ecofeminists connects the exploitations and domination of women with that of the environment, and argues that there is a connection between women and nature that comes from their shared history of oppression by a patriarchal Western society." Several years ago I bumped into this concept, and I have tried to read more it, because gender studies and environment both interest me a lot, and inspire me for many stories. I had hoped Vandana would tell more about ecofeminism, but there were not so many words about the role of women in "the food from our future". I wanted to ask it, but there was no time for more than 3 questions... 

The biggest reference to the role of "women" in (re)connecting the human with nature, healthy (bio-)food... was made by one of the panel speakers, who told us that when his grandmother prepared a meal, it was for 3 hours of socializing. She was very consciousness about the food, and gave it a lot of love, because it would reproduce a lot of love. Now we don't have time anymore to invest in healthy life and food. He called us we don't need a "new consciousness", but have to go back to the "consciousness of the grandmother". I liked this quote. It reminded me to the philosophy around Ayahuascu, the Russian mythology of Baba Yaga... In the womb of Grandmothers, mothers Earth, Mother Ocean... we are all born, and there we probably all will end. I like this metaphor... to go back to the grandmother, to reconnect back with healthy life. 

"Monocultures in food creates monocultures in the mind"
The whole lecture started with the fact that when Vandana was picked up from the Belgian airport she remarked all our corn had the same height. In India, she said, they have different heights. It is true. In many countries you only can find "beautiful", "perfect" vegetables, fruits... Tomatoes are thrown away if they are not red and shiny. People invest a lot of money in genetics... to create "the perfect food"... but what is the perfect food? Vandana critisized the fact (ok, here we have some ecofeminism) that all scientists of multinationals -which she calls technicians, not scientists- try to control nature, try to control life... but that it does not really bring the world, us all... to a better place. "Everything has to be engineered, to look like a machine." 
We spread everywhere pesticides. 
And all because of money. 
We measure yield/ha, not health/ha. 
Money, power and control destroys the earth, because it let us all forget we're all connected. We should live next to each other, horizontal, not trying to have control over each other, living vertical. 

Seeds and deeds
Of course words are only seeds. Most people are already aware of what is going on with our health, food, environment... but the next step, maybe the most difficult, is to take action. It can be everything. Just planting sunflower seeds on every ugly piece of ground you find. Planting fruit trees and share the fruits with your neighbourhood. Buy bio-food in supermarkets, because they are the big players in our whole food circuit. The demand of the client decides what they will offer. If you only buy in nature shops, you'll not affect super markets. You've to know the tricks to win the game. Even in power and there are many weak points. It is up to find them and go for it. 

In the end of the lecture, they all gave us seeds to plant somewhere to grow bio-tomatoes, and a small booklet about the "law of seed", which is about privatization. I'll try to read it soon, and give some review about it. First I am going to plant some seeds ;)

Chipszak Boy

Een arm, dik allochtoon jongetje, 7jaar, krijgt van zijn arme ouders elke dag een zak chips mee als lunch. Zijn toekomst ziet er grijskleurig uit totdat hij op een dag een oude man ontmoet die chipszakken van de straat en vuilnisbakken plukt, en besluit deze te volgen.  

In my next short movie, called CHIPSZAK BOY, which I am writing now, and I want to film in rainy February or March, in the poor neighbourhoods of Belgium, I will tell a story about a poor, fat immigrant child who only has one chip bag for lunch and doesn't have many friends. His whole future seems full of grey clouds, until he notices an old man collecting chip bags from street and garbage bins...

In this short I want to address the problem that poor people often forget the most important case: good nutrition. I got aware of this problem, when a close friend, living in Brussels, and working with immigrants, told me about "the chipszak for lunch" phenomena in the poor streets of my capital. 

During my first travel outside Europe -when I was 18 years old- a local friend and I visited Durbuy Square in Nepal. I talked (or yes, my local friend had to translate) with street children. They told me they lived in the neighbourhood of the airport, and always came to this touristy place to find food. I gave a small girl, wearing no pants, cookies, but I wished I had brought her to a place, with healthy food. It was cheap for me to give cookies... or lazy... while I had time (and money) to invest in healthy food for these kids for maybe a whole week. These kids let a print in my head...

street children from Nepal, August 2007

I will go for cold, hard reality shots. Of course there will be a bit happiness, even if it is only hidden in the smile of a character. Happiness is everywhere. It is sometimes hard to find... even the most perfect person has dark moments. Some days ago I decided to polish the nails of my left hand dark, and keep the other blank. Someone asked me if I did this with a purpose. it is to remind me that every person has dark and good moments, and dark and good features...  It is important to be aware of both...

... not to learn more about you, but also to understand that every person you'll meet is fighting his own battle, has his good and dark days... and that one moment, one story... shouldn't be his or her only impression in your life... I try this, and I hope some people on the other side of the line will tolerate my dark days, and not only want to see my light moments and smile. 

I only show my dark nails to people I really trust...  but that is another story.

I like of course my blank, white nails more... and with this hand I will write the script. 

The Chipsbag also will be a dark symbol for malnutrition of body and soul... but also will have a good side... in the story. Stay tuned ;)

The Masks of Thailand

1. Elin Dahlstrom was a redhaired, tall Swedish girl, with a face in the shape of a heart, traveling for already three months in South and East-Asia. She was 22 years old, almost 23, and had a diploma in economics on her name. On a bed on the 67th floor of the Sky Hotel in Bangkok, she sat next Oren, a guy from Israel, she met one month earlier on a mountain in Nepal. Suddenly he started to caress her arms, took her hand and kissed the palm. She loves this.
2. “What is your favorite movie?” she asked, to kill the tention. 
3. “Into the Wild,” he replied. 
4. She already knew this. 
5. “Whatʼs yours?” he asked, when he bended over her. 
6. She closed her eyes, and felt his lips on her face and neck. She kept talking. “Into the Wild also... mmm... Breakfast Club, mmm, yes, there, mmm, oh yes, Panʼs Labyrinth... and Amélie Poulain... and mmm... oh yes, of course, the Princess Bride... The Virgin Suicides... Motorcycle Diaries... Mmm...” 
7. He stopped, laughing. “That is a long list.” 
8. “Iʼll send you the list later,” she said, when she looked in his dark eyes. 
9. “Youʼre such a nerd,” he said, before he gave her a kiss. 
10. “I love the most Casablanca,” Elin said. 
11. “Why?” 
12. “It is so sad, and at the same moment... so beautiful...” She sat back... “that Ingrid Bergman and Humprey Bogart let each other go in the end.” She did not say that. She could not say this.
13. 
    
14. Around 6oclock in the morning she sat, wrapped in the linen of her bed, behind the window and looked to the Apocalyps, when Orenʼs snoring was the hymn of her loneliness. She had never seen such a weird sunrise. Bangkok was covered by smog and brown light. She had the feeling she was looking in the future, but she knew she was in the presence... the scary, arty and at the same moment so beautiful presence. She went back to bed, her skin against his skin, and listened to his breath. She wished this song was not made by swans. He was going to Krabi already today, when she was going to meet a friend in the North of Thailand. He invited her to find him afterwards, but she had a bad feeling about this separation, because she knew in ten days heʼll fly back to Israel.
15. It is weird to miss already someone, or something, when he is still present in the presence. She missed him already. It. Him. She did not know. It happened before that she was together with friends, family or lovers, but did not feel happy, but reckless, and sometimes she wondered what was wrong with her. 
16. One day, she promised herself, she would write a song about her emptiness.
17. If she only had the voice of Adele, these feelings would make her so rich as the emperor of Japan.
18. 
    
19. Around 9oclock she goes to the 78th floor. He stayed in bed, because he was a guest of her, and hadnʼt paid for it. The buffet was mountainous: a culinary world travel. As a real explorer she traveled in Japan, Italy, Thailand, France, and even Pancakeworld. She ate too much, she knew. Mini waffles, mini pancakes, mini tuna sandwich, mini maki -she had no idea that there were even mini versions of sushi, while she thought the portions were already so small-, mini vegetarian lasagne, mini vegetable salad, mini portion noodles with egg, mini toast with all different kinds of marmelade, mini chocolat croissants, normal bananaʼs... One hour she lost half of the calories back on the 67th floor.
20. 
    
21. Around 11oclock she and Oren looked to the view on the roof. They did not talk too each other. They just looked to the skyscrapers of Thailand. During the taxi drive to Khao San they did not talk, but looked each other through their window to the many streetfood vendors, gross buildings and the restants of the floodings. 
22. On Khao San they hugged each other.
23. “Iʼll see you over a week in Krabi,” he said. 
24. “Yes,” she said. They hugged each other, and then Oren walked away from this story. Elin wished that this was just a sad moment in their love adventure, as in every movie, and that they will have a happy reunion in Krabi, but when he walked away, something stayed. She could feel it.
25. 
    
26. She turned her back to it, and discovered the backpackerʼs hub of Thailand. She bought new clothes, fresh fruit juice, and looked to all the tanned people around her, a bit jealous. When she looked up from a folder with bus tickets to Chang Mai in a local travel office, she hold her breath, because she recognized an old travel mate. 
27. “Oh... my ... god... Gary?” 
28. He laughed. It was two months ago since they have said goodbye in Jasailmer. That is in India. They had done there together a camel safari. She will never forget the nights under the starry sky, the moaning of the camels who sound like the Sandpeople of Star Wars, the beatles who made mini snowmen from sand, and also the farting of the same Sandpeople. Gary was a blonde guy from England, who reminded her to his golden retriever whose pictures he keep in his green wallet. His dogʼs name is Fluffy, which she thinks is a weird name for a golden retriever. 
29. “What a small world,” she said.
30.  “This morning,” he said, “I saw on facebook you arrived in Bangkok, and reacted, but obviously you did not have been on the internet yet. It is really a coincidence we met each other on street in such a big city.” 
31. “Not when this street is Koh San,” said the young brownhaired tall guy next to him. He had a black eye, was really tanned, and wear only a color ful bermuda pants which did not cover the black spots on his belly. Gary introduced her to his American friend Marco. They met each other in Cambodja. After a small awkward silence, Gary invited her to lunch with them. They ate street food -of course, that is what tourists do in Thailand. Gary told her about Laos, Cambodja and Vietnam, compared Khao San with the old part of Bejing and about his future travel plans. Mostly of the time Marco was the center in the story. He was really a caricature. He is a schizophrenic guy who wants to save the world, wants to save whales and wants to build a city in Asia, “with monkeys, elephants, aliens and LEGOland.” He drank beer on street and burped loud to passengers. When we cashed money out of the ATM, he asked so loud that everybody in Khao San it could hear how much 10000 bath was. It is much. He asks tourists if they have marihuana and scares buddhist monks by jumping on them and asking them on a very loud and rude way if they could bless him with their holiness.
32. 
    
33. They went to the river banks, where they walked over some sandbags which holds the last water of the floodings of the last weeks which had dominated the households of many Thai people, and sat on a bench, saying nothing. Marco had sometimes blackouts. Last night, Gary had to find him in the tourism police. Nobody knew what was happened to him... He woke up, somewhere, with bruises and wounds, and no money. That is why they went to the ATM.
34. 
    
35. In the evening they decided to go to a pingpong show. In a dark corner of the city, where the lights were blue, and the air smoky, and where Elin imagined a whole maffia film, the two young guys and she looked how Thai girls danced totally not so enthusiastic on a small stage, with some pales, took off their underwear and nitted it around their legs, which Elin thought was a good idea to keep your underpants instead of loosing them somewhere in the wrinkles of your bed linen. The girls blew ping pong balls in soup bowls and even took razors out of their feminity. Elin looked to the audience. Old couples, soldiers, business man, young guys, girl friends... everybody wanted to see it. Elin wondered if people go to Thailand with the same reason she did. She had has always associated Thailand with sex, bestial desires, sex tourism, lady boys, lady bars and hookers. This country of spicy food, spicy lingerie and spicy remarks awakened some fire in her, and she imagined herself dancing on that stage, everybody looking to her. She went to this trip of 6months in Asia to become someone else, she only can be in her dreams, to have the freedom, and then she wonders how much freedom the Thai pingpong girls had. But...there are different kinds of freedom...
36. One of the acts was the whole kamasutra by an old Thai man, and a young girl. Elin missed Oren at that moment, although she was between two hansome guys. She wondered she missed him, or it. No, if it was “it”, then she should have seduced one of her two companions. She missed him. The idea of him. She smiled when she remembered her promising him a list of movies. When the guys paid the bill of the drinks, Elin asked one of the girls behind the bar how long they had to practice to do these tricks. 
37. “To train our muscles... one week maybe,” a girl replied. 
38. “Do youʼve muscles there?” Elin asked surprised. 
39. “Yes, of course,” the girl said. 
40. Elin blushed. “So... How long do you need to train the razors trick?” 
41. “That's bit longer... maybe... one month.”
42. “Does it hurt to train this trick?” 
43. “No, of course not,” the girl said. 
44. 
    
45. After this show they went in the gay district of Preetochai. Marco had a déjà-vu, and Gary and Elin were teasing him he was maybe there last night. Elin convinced them to enter a gay bar, “because I also joined you to the pingpong show”. Gary put his arm around her shoulders, and pretended that she was his girlfriend, but that did not stop the lady boys in their attempts to get him and Marco in their bed. Also the audience was diverse. Soldiers, tanned Russians with fake blonde hair, and... men who looked like her father. 
46. “Normal”, that is how they call these man. 
47. Gary got disgusted (“I donʼt want to be bangcocked,” he said afterwards), certainly after Marco was touching the fake boobs of a ladyboy. They decided to go to the cocktailbar on the 83th floor of the hotel. The three young people took the free welcome drinks of the lounge, and looked to the ocean of different colors and lights, when Elin was zipping her cocktail.
48. 
    
49. The next day she bought a Iphone. She went to Petchbury Road, and saw everywhere Thai hipsters, with glasses, ipods and short skirts. She became jealous, because they all looked gorgeous. Hello, this is New York, but with pad thai instead of donuts, and ice tea in stead of hot coffee. Elin always wanted to live in New York, and become one of the women of Sex and the City, where she should have amazing romances with coffeebars, clothing shops, and different men. She could see also a life her as an urban girl. 
50. She passed the big Christmas tree at Platinum Shopping Mall, people collecting money for the victims of the floodings, wondering Thai people are also celebrating Christian holidays, and turned into the big IT paradise, called the Pantip. There was no charm in this building, but there was a big supply of electronics. It looked like a bowl with too many fishes. She bought her iPhone, and then she started to parade, as one of the trendy Thai girls, she called her mother, ordered coffee in Star Bucks and shined in the dirty Bangkok. She wrote a mail to everyone, in fact to Oren - the rest did not matter- that they all could contact her on a Thai number.
51. 
    
52. On one of the virgin white beds in her room she explored the virtual space of her Iphone. She jumped from one bed to another, took funny faces in the mirror of the most fancy bathroom she saw in months (she had paid a 3nights in a 4star hotel, as an early christmas present for her), looked to Bangkok on her feet, looked to her Iphone, abled the internet on her phone, checked her mailbox, and did not find anything. There.
53. She knew that it was easy to fade away into the nothing, in the big emptiness, in the big grey mass, in the brown smog, and she could dress herself in Louis Vuitton, parade with an iPhone, drink fancy coffee made with beans plucked by poor Ethiopian people... but it does not matter if you know youʼll sleep alone in your room.
54. 
    
55. In the early afternoon, Gary and Marco waited for her in the entrance of the hotel. Marco was drinking another welcome drink he plucked from the reception, and they told her they want to find some costumes for the Full Moon New Yearʼs Party, the center of Wonderland, where there are no limits. With her iPhone -and she liked it to organise this search on this way, and that she was doing it, because then she felt like a Charlotte from Sex and the City- she took them to costume shops. When they tried durian - according to the Thai the king of the fruits- they wondered which costume Elin should wear. They decide she should be a classy film star like Marilyn Monroe. Elin loved this idea. After the fruit break, they wandered around in Chinatown, with the ducks, shark teeth, tous, flowers and rubbish, and in the labyrinth of the shops near Pretchbury Road, but they did not find the masks and costumes they wanted to wear.
56. 
    
57. That evening she took the bus to Chiang Mai. She saw the astonishing White Temple, did Elephant Ride, a Jungle trekking, Bamboo Rafting, and this all with a good friend, but even in the heart of the jungle, where only the waves of the sounds of frogs could reach her iphone, she tried to check her mailbox.
58. 
    
59. When she arrived in Krabi, alone, she had no clue in which hostel Oren slept. She even didnʼt know if he still was in Krabi. She explored the beaches, looked to the sun, but she did not find them. She drunk more coffee, ate icecreams, did sea kayaking, and found the time to read 4 books she planned to read for ages. She got finally tanned. When she was finishing a book, she got a message. It was from her Gary and Marco. They were also in Krabi. They met each other in her favorite coffee salon. They convinced her to take tomorrow a bus and boat to Koh Phangan. 
60. “Why should I go to that island?” Elin asked. 
61. “You know why,” Gary said and he winked. “People go with a reason to Thailand, and especially to the Full Moon Parties.” 
62. They do. For many persons Thailand is Wonderland, where people can be rich, crazy, or a trendy urban girl. And Marco was the Mad Hatter. When Gary went running on the beach, Marco told her that two nights ago he had again a black out. 
63. "You totally don't remember anything?" she asked. 
64. "No... by the way do you want to marry me?"
65. She laughed. "You're sooo mad. But... I have to say no. I am in love with someone else."
66. He touched his heart as if Elin just had broken it. With too much drama of course. 
67. “Who?” he asked, after the drama was over. 
68. “A guy.” 
69. “Really?” he asked on a sarcastic way. 
70. She concentrated on her coffeecup, licked the last bit of her spoon and wondered how you call that in English. The last bit of coffee in a cup. Rubbish? Left over? A memory? 
71. “I was hoping for a girl,” Marco said. “That should be hot... you know... to be married with a lesbian.” 
72. Elin frowned her eyebrows. 
73. “So... where is Prince Charming?” he asked. 
74. “I donʼt know. I hoped he was here.” She told him about the last month of that life. 
75. “He sounds like the love of your life,” Marco said. 
76. Elin bite on her under lip. “I donʼt know if all these amazing things really happened.” 
77. “How?” he asked not understanding. 
78. “All the happiness in the past does not feel real, after he left me, and ignores me. I donʼt even know why he ignores me. Sometimes I feel it is all in my head... and what does it matter? It is over... Maybe... I know... He moves on.” 
79. “Why should he do that?” 
80. “Because there is no future for us. I am from Sweden. He is from Israel,” she said. When she said this, she wished they had found their costumes for the Full Moon Party. Then she wondered how he would react if he would read in the news she was a famous person, like Marilyn Monroe, or another classy actress. Should he return to her if she was hot, popular, beautiful, rich? “The past is so flexible,” she said, “ that everything could have happened. Memories fade away, and even get their own life. Maybe I just imagined all this love, and nothing happened, or maybe he does not exist. No, I know it was real. There are pictures, but if they are lost, it is just in my mind.” She grinned. “It is funny.” 
81. “What is funny?” “
82. In the presence it does not feel epic, you know, the whole romance. Only when it is gone, it becomes a sad fairytalish big romance. It is just all in my head. My sick head.” 
83. “You say this to the right person,” he said dry. 
84. “Sorry... but youʼre not so sick... or in fact, weʼre all sick. Every human.” 
85. “Why do you think you are sick?” he asked. 
86. She smiled. “I am sick, because I always whine, first because I know it is going to finish, and afterwards because it is finished.” 
87. “Youʼre not sick. Youʼre normal, very human, maybe a bit too emotional and too analytical,” he said. “I am sick.” He paused. “Maybe he is schizophrenic,” he said. 
88. She laughed. “Why should he be schizophrenic?”
89. “Probably -in these dark nights- I meet the most amazing girls, and then I got a black out, and donʼt remember them. So maybe there are some girls waiting for a call,” he continued. 
90. She looked up. 
91. “Or maybe I pretend I am schizophrenic.” 
92. "Why should you pretend you're schizophrenic?"
93. Marco winked. "It is past, over... isn't it?"
94. He stood up from the beach chair.
95. Then he left Elin to talk with some Thai girls on the beach. 
96. Ofer never wrote back. He just disappeared... 
97. Elin ordered more ice tea. Thatʼs what people drink in Thailand.

Death is part of the cycle

"Death exists, not as the opposite but as part of life"

By living our lives, we nurture death. True as this might be,

it was only one of the truths we had to learn. (...) 

No truth can cure the sadness 

we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no

strength, no kindness, can cure that sorrow. All we can do is 

see that sadness through to the end and learn something

from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next

sadness that comes to us without warning. Hearing the waves

at night, listening to the sound of the wind, day after day I

focused on these thoughts of mine. Knapsack on my back, 

sand in my hair, I moved farther and farther west...

-Norwegian Wood, Murakami-

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When a tree has been felled,

you can see whole his story.

His joy, his pain, his anger, his dreams...

Life is like a cycle,

things come, things go...

Memories are whispers of leaves

fading away into nothing...

Who am I,

wandering around in the forest,

following shadows I don't know,

teasing the leaves under my soles... ?

Memories are dandelions in the air,

the wind of the mind blows it in every direction... 

But there are two things which I always find,

on every trip in the forest, during every dance in the flower field,

the rose, and you.

I love them both...

the rose for one day, because then nature comes,

and you forever, because some things are stronger than our human nature.

lust for blood, lust for life

on the set of the music video,
production 7-8 September, Belgium

It has been a while ago that I wrote something. Since Saturday, in fact earlier, I am very busy. Last weekend I directed (the cinematography) for a music video, expected to be released around New Year. It was maybe my most ambitious project, and it was the first big project of Visual Okapi a gathering of young people from and around Leuven, who are interested in film. At the moment we're working on more projects. It is now more a hobby than work; 

Stories are my blood, and films are my veins. 

Creating work which finds beauty in ugliness, 

breaks stereotypes and taboos, and connects, is my way 

to become immortal, to have a life I love.  

In the meantime I started to work in the communication department of the Filmfestival of Gent. I did a lot of graphic work in the last days, so I am practicing my Photoshop and Indesign skills.
It is really interesting to see how a big filmfestival works, behind the screens. We expect many famous Belgian people, and even Hollywood stars, like Joseph-Gordon Levitt. I hope that one day I will be the special guest on a big film festival, but that will not be for the next months; Visual Okapi, work, and renovations demand all my time. I hope to start writing soon a short film. Every day I bicycle 24kms for my work, and during bicycling, when I work out, I always get great ideas, and "have time" to develop them. I also can be very creative in decorating my house.

After the 7 weeks I'll work for the Filmfestival, I'll leave Belgium, even Europe, for another 3 weeks.
Thailand is the first destination, where I want to visit my cousin, get more advanced in diving, another fear of me, and learn to film underwater, and continue writing the novel "The Baobabs from Madagascar". I started to write pieces of this novel, two years ago in Thailand, and I think I have to go back to get in the mood, in these two weeks in Thailand. Also... almost two years ago I made a promise to return in November to Bangkok. And... oooh, there are so many reasons to go to Thailand. My old roommate from the film school also lives there and expects me. On my way home I'll make another stop in another country, where I haven't been, to visit another friend from my old film school.

Last, I am also about to finish my term as Financial Control Commissioner for West; I have to check the financial report these days. For the same organisation I am also doing skype meetings to apply for a grant to organize a seminar next September about cultural dialogue.

Many things to do... Of course there is also time for my close friends and family. This weekend I will join one of my best friends to a weekend trip. My parents host a language student, since this week, for 4 months, in my old room. He's from Walloon, the French part of Belgium. I met him yesterday, after work.

I felt asleep on the coach of the living room of my mother, while watching "About Schmidt". The first hour I saw, was really moving. Mr Schmidt, played by Jack Nicholson, is a man who seems to have lost his lust for life a long time ago. His dreams just disappeared during his career as insurance worker. I have many dreams...

...

and I achieve them, so only the most difficult stay...  Still... this blood in me, these stories, are my life energy. If I would ever loose the lust to write, I know I am not alive anymore...

So... that is why I work so hard now in the film world. I don't want to end up like Schmidt.
I don't want to end up one day of my retirement party, write a letter to my Tanzanian foster child and wonder where I lost my dreams...

Icarus and Daedalus - or regrets of dying people

Some days ago a trainer of the Leadership Summer School forwarded this article. She told me it didn't contain the biggest wisdom, and it not written by a potential Nobel prize winner... but it is some article to remind us to things we don't do too often, and later will regret. 

In this article you can read the top 5 regrets of dying people. I'll write them over:

1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
2. I wish I hadn't worked so hard.
3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.
4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

I realized that I have regret because I try to express my feelings, stay in touch, try to live a life true to myself, go for dreams and ambitions... 

People think often I am the most blessed and happy girl I ever meet. After a great self-reflecting period in New Zealand, where I had great WWOOF-experiences, hitchhiked and hiked on my own... people thought I was a hippie, who is not in touch anymore with the reality, and that how higher you fly, how deeper you can fall. 
Some people, even friends from Belgium, saw me as a small female modern version of Icarus, trying to reach the sun, and thereby melting his wings, so he felt dead... I was a bit surprised that people saw my world travel as a trip in Wonderland, where life just freezes, and you don't think about reality. Traveling for me is also hard. I am not always happy. 
I feel bad because other people think I am going the wrong way. I work hard to please everybody. I don't express my feelings, because if you express you're in love, or happy, people ignore you or put you back on earth, saying "you're an Icarus"... I think I only am good in staying in touch with friends, but honestly I wished I had more contact with the half of the people, and had not so much contact with some other people... Also it does not help if some people do not reply back, "because it is in his or her nature, culture"... Staying in touch can not come from one side. Then you better can talk to a wall. Or write a blog... 

I regret many things. It is funny that even you're aware of your regrets, it is daily fight. Even if you do things you would regret otherwise, sometimes you don't do them, and you regret. Every day there is something that I regret. It is a small monster feeding with fears, expectations and tears. And sometimes it explodes inside you, so you implode. That is maybe even worse than exploding. People think you're crazy when you're angry, or cry on the middle of the street, but it is more healthier and normal than if I would put a smile, and just absorb everything. I am a human, not a robot. Of course I have feelings. I shouldn't be afraid to express themselves.

The Dalai Lama said that to have great love and great achievements in life, you need to take great risks.
In our society it looks like expressing your true feelings, to live a true life to yourself, to find other values important than money (and working too hard)... is taking a big risk; people will think you're weird, or crazy, or insane... or an Icarus...

... but these people trying to live their true life, express their feelings, stay in touch with friends, work, but not too hard, and let themselves be happier, are not Icarus. They are the Daedalus in that same Greek legend, flying in the middle, between earth and sun, trying to be grounded, but also reaching for freedom and destinations in life. 

I hope one days people will accept the Daedelus-types more than the King Minos with the Golden Hand-people of the society. I wouldn't feel regret for things that are good for people... 

I think I would be then less frustrated... because now I feel like Daedalus, before he invented the wings, and took a flight, but in his period when he had to work, almost like a prisoner, for King Minos of Crete, and build a labyrinth for monsters like the Minotaur... causes I don't support... but I feel trapped in my own work...

The Curse from the Maya's

Another "old note" about my travels in Central-America, April, 13- May, 3 2011
I was going to visit my friend Sarah, who was doing an internship in Honduras for 4 months, and together we would take a diving course... Trust me... the most crazy story - THE CURSE FROM THE MAYA- happens in the end...


April, 13th-April, 17th: Guatemala... or guatever
The first task was to get ASAP out of Guatemala City. I arrived there in the late evening, and it was not really my desire to explore the night life, certainly because a lot of people warned me that the only thing to do there is to get robbed. Or worse. So I took a taxi to Antigua. My hostel -A Place to Stay (5a Calle poniente 42- callejon landivar)- was really a warm big house, owned by Raul and Fernando. In my room I met Beta, a talented photographer of Bariloche. This sweet girl invited me to join her the next morning (too early maybe, but worth it!) to the aguas calientes. Later, we walked together in Antigua, a really cosy town, drinked mojito in a nice bar called Frida (after Frida Kahlo). I love the colors, the cobbles and the sun of this small town!  In the afternoon we signed up to join a small expedition to the summit of the Pacaja volcano. I was disappointed I didn't see lava, but I was happy as a small child when I could melt marshmellows there in the fire. Also the heat in a cave was... unbearable! Descending the volcano was quite... difficult, due to the twilight and the pyroclastic sand. There was so much dust that my nose started to produce black... uh... stuff. The day after Beta, two friends from Israel and I went to an outlook post -cerro de la cruz-. I read in a lonely planet's edition of the nineties that it was the place to be to be robbed, but due to the tourism police it's now quite a relative safe place (or what you can call "safe" in Guatemala). In the afternoon Beta and I spent our time in the market, talking with small kids, doing photoshoots... and admiring the handicrafts. And dancing with the ladies from the handicraft shop haha. Beta  makes great pictures. She has a great photograph I will later about. It is just so touching... She worked in Haïti, after the big disaster...

The third day I went alone to Lake Atitlan. I took a shuttle, where I met nurses from Spain. We hired a small boat and visited Santiago, the hippie town San Pedro and San Juan. In the last we visited a community of weavers. Of course, we used the tuc-tuc once, to experience it. In the way back to home, I met a French guy who lost his group of friends. I helped him to find his friends in Antigua, and discovered with them the night life of Antigua. The last day in Antigua was the first day of Semana Santa (week before Eastern). All the men are dressed in purple clothes (mental note: look up the meaning of it), and they made alfombras (covers made of flowers, vegetables... some of them are really beautiful) on the cobbled streets. Raul warned me for the kids. Especially during Semana Santa there are a lot of robbers, mostly kids. Antigua became a little bit too overcrowded, so it was really time to move to... Honduras!

April, 18th: The shuttle Antigua-Copan

I know that Central-America is ... more... than the other countries I already visited. The corruption is quite obvious. When Suha, a girl from the shuttle, wanted to enter Honduras (you have to cross 2 borders (and pay -"of course"- in both immigrantion offices. I want to thank again Richard to lend me some money, because atm I didn't have any money there, and there was no atm... oops)... but ok, when Suha wanted to enter Honduras, the immigration officer noticed that she was in honduras during the coup in 2009, but has no stamp that proofed that she left the country. She could go to a small office, where they showed her a list of terrorists. She said that she only had 100 quetzales (10 euros), but that was ok to let her go. Money solves everything here. If you are a tourist. Everyone has a gun, or a machete. Really. In the first days i was really nervous because of all the weapons you saw, but after some days you get used to. If you want to protect something, you don't have to think the police is going to help you. Hello, for a salary of only 200 dollars? No, the only thing they do is to suck money out of the tourists. So, are you safe, is the next expected question? no... yes... it's difficult to say. I was heading to Copan, a real drug town. I heard that 80% of all the drug trade from Colombia to USA goes through Honduras, and 20% of this 80% goes through Copan. So it's a real drug town... but protected by the drug lords. If you don't mess with them, you are relative safe. they also protect the tourists, because they don't want all the paperwork, international attention... I heard stories about poor people stealing from tourists... who suddenly disappeared. So you don't have to be afraid of the drug dealers, more from the real desperate people here.

April, 18th-24th: Copan and surroundings

  Finally it was time for the big reunion with Sarah. We talked, talked... talked. About everything. I met her friends -from the local drug dealers to the rich archeologists-. She showed me Copan, La Pintada - a village where they made special dolls, and Sarah and I met the kids Brenda , Lily and their friends who became our photographers and hairdressers... real nice kids!  

We also visit the maya ruins of Copan. They call it "versailles of the maya world". It was really impressive. Sarah, her friend and I went in the very early morning, so there was not so many people, and the mist makes it more mysterious.  

memories from Copan, Honduras April '11

 Sarah has also to work, so if I was not playing the lonely girl hanging on the bar, I hooked up with Suha, and guys I met in the shuttle, or other guys I met in Suha's hostel. With Suha, I visited the Macaw Mountain, drunk beer in the bar of the German guy Thomas, or just walked. Sarah and I also went to papa chango, the local disco, with her colleagues... Also a visit to the river with Americans (where I almost get killed by thousand mosquitoes), eating the amazing carrot pie, visiting a finca (sort of coffee farm)... made this week remarkable. Finca El Cisne was really a nice day... but I burnt my nose there (what causes some problems later), with a big lunch (me encata pastelito de platano con frijoles y fresco de tomarindo!!!), the occasion to admire an amazing view whilst horse back driving... Did I already tell you that I love banana trees?  

I also visited the hot springs, where I gave myself a mud treatment. I think the mud is from volcanic origin, but I am not really 100 % sure. 

April, 25th-30th: Utila, pirates of the caribbean 

- or the PADI open water diving course

In La Ceiba we met Jonas, Sarah's brother, who traveled before in Nicaragua. There we took the boat to Utila, a caribbean island. The atmosphere is really different than in Copan, or somewhere else. I think that Jonas' comparison of this place with the fisher's village from the movie Forrest Gump is really appropriate. There  are a bunch of old guys. Once I talked with them... I immediately felt in love with the 70y old black Thomas. He was really cute. And very witty. 

He asked my age. I said "22", more often, because he always said: "So... 52... " I gave up. 

Then he asked me from which country I am. I said, like I was starring in some Southern American soap, with an accent: "I am from Belgium, sir, where they make the best beer in the world."

"Oh, that explains why you look so good for someone who is 52," Thomas said. 

I laughed. I like the Caribbean way of living... 

We also took diving courses in parrot's diving center. . Niv Silberman was our instructor. In the beginning I was a little bit scared. Underwater breathing is so weird. I know how it feels to be Darth Vader for sure! You also have to do some exercices, as to take your regulator (you breath through this thing) out of your mouth and exhale. I really thought: "no waaaaaaay. I am here... under water, hello? I am not planning to swallow the whole ocean"... but after some peptalk of the instructor and some other master divers (you've open water divers- advanced divers- master divers- assistant instructors- instructors...) I finally decide to go for it, so now...I am a certified open water diver. Bruce Willis Ruins All Movies. And that kind of things have now a double meaning for me. Open water diving is really exciting (apart from the fact that you know that you can swallow whole oceans, get decompression sickness, have to deal with the pressure, have limited time... and blablabla), you see a world you never saw before. I am not passionated, but I plan to do more dives... (and please... without sharks!!!). In the last evening, we celebrated our certificate with our new friends -the really funny couple Petra & Paul, and Ida- and went to Treetonic (or something... one of the hottests bars in the world, according to lonely planet... and in fact, it's really cool. You've to see it with your own eyes! the whole bar is a masterpiece!!) 

April, 30th- May 3rd: the horrible journey

 I already told you that I burnt my nose. Yeah, apart from that, I also moved out on the boat after diving (I miscalculated the weight of my tank. In the water you are kind of weightless... buoyancy blababla) and got a nice wound. The joke that I was bitten by a whale shark. That's one of the reasons why Niv always will remember me, Sarah said. Ok... I had some wounds... in the last days I got blisters everywhere, and kind of pimples... who all changed in wounds with yellow crusts. Also some liquid came from my wound. And in that condition I left Utila for Belgium. I really planned to see the docter asap when I was in Belgium... but ... I seemed cursed. The bus from La Ceiba to Guatemala City broke down in Copan, before the closure of the border. Fortunately -after I almost cried that I really had to be in Guatemala for my flight- they "found" a shuttle. I arrived earlier in Guatemala City than I expected, so I had to look for a hostel, because the airport opens at 4am, not earlier. So, I had to trust the taxidriver (who asked too much money) to bring me to an appropriate hostel... I paid quite a lot for the quality I got... but it was in the only safe quarter of the city. And that's the most important. Also my wounds didn't disappear, but more appeared. In the airport of Guatemala I heard that I was not in the database of the passengers, so i had to look for some people with a laptop to find my e-ticket, write every detail in my notebook and with the help of an old Canadian guy I forced the lady of the desk to give my ticket. I was in the database, but the line of my flight Guatemala-Miami was not complete. So finally... I got in Miami... where I heard that the flight has been delayed for another 20 hours. Great! I should see back my luggage in Brussels. Read: my first aid kid. So, I looked in the whole airport for a pharmacy... and the bloody Americans wanted to bring me to a hospital, where I should wait at least 4-6 hours before I can see a doctor. I preferred to sleep in a proper bed and went to my hotel (iberia paid of course, it's not my fault the staff delayed the flight). When the gay behind the desk saw my wounds on my leg (I showed him to explain that I need the first aid kit of the hotel), he almost fainted. In Madrid I looked for a doctor, who told me to go to the hospital in Belgium. He thought that I had a disease. In Belgium -30 hours later than expected- I went straight to the doctor (after my mother really got almost a heart attack by seeing my face) and he told me that I had impetigo. In the hospital I stayed for 3 days in an isolated room (the disease is very contagious... sorry fellow passengers!!!). I really hate baxters... and it's so weird to take a shower with a baxter, iron thing... and I didn't know that there was somethign as isobetadine soap. After 10 days treatment of antibiotics I am a very healthy girl, working on her master thesis about "sustainable management in national parks in Belgium", and dreaming about her world travel within 4 months.

from the world,

with love

wendy