Never disappoint your audience: rule one of lasting success

And if you must, do everything to fake you really care about your audience (video: Georges Michael parody). Dedicated to a former local friend who was forced to fake who she really was too. Would you renounce your true nature or beliefs for cash?

Not available on Twitter, Facebook or WordPress

“Sure”, my dearest family members just told me over the phone, “feel free to use the pictures of Reinhartstein castle, the family reunion trip to the Robertville lake & dam and every shot you took during our three day weekend. But not on Twitter, Facebook or WordPress.” Since they managed to get their face on virtually all shots worth posting, I have to leave you with these rather generic images, pictures that hardly manage to evoke the atmosphere in eastern Belgium last weekend.

Privacy, it’s a weird issue, isn’t it? “Personal photo blogging is like leaving your home front door wide open while shouting “just drive in”: you lose all control”, my brother mentioned ever so polite. “Twitter? That’s like texting to the whole world. Facebook? Did you ever check how some of these ‘500-friend’ users handle their accounts?” Oh well, enjoy these first generic shots How do you feel about online privacy?

Reach out and touch an Antwerp local

I’d love to meet you. Don’t run now: it’s all quite simple and I’d like to explain.

When I started this blog way back in 2006 I basically jumped on the blogging bandwagon because “all my friends were doing it”: it seemed a natural and easy way to share a small part of my life. Although I spent virtually all of my free time with my diving buddies in those days, I actually met several expats (notably from the US and NZ)  living in Antwerp through blogging – empathic people who invited me into their homes and who became acquaintances. Unfortunately most expats have an embedded social expiry date by nature. 2007 turned into a pivotal year: no longer being able to dive after an injury, my longstanding close diving friendships faded surprisingly fast, with my last family members moving out of Antwerp in 2008.

A US expat once elaborately explained how hard it was to bond with locals in Antwerp, being a new face in town. But trust me, at times it’s just as complex for many who were born in this place. Dutch speaking Belgians have a reputation to keep their distance, with an Antwerp urban setting anno 2009 further complicating building new social contacts with relative strangers. While it’s great knowing I have some close friends and family to share my most personal emotions with, meeting some of the Antwerp inhabitants who actually read this blog could be a delightful experience. I’ve met amazing people through blogging and I’d love to repeat the experience.

So if you’ve been reading this blog and feel we might put a smile on each other’s face, don’t hesitate: reach out and touch an empathic Antwerp local. There’s no need to rush   Contact information can be found at “about the author”.

Antwerp left bank in spring: a trip down memory lane

After what must have been the coldest winter in twenty years, Antwerp is currently enjoying 12h of blazing sunshine each day since early this week. Café terraces are packed, tourists have already invaded every open air seat in the historic downtown, so I recently called my partner, inquiring if he felt like going for a long walk. Since the two of us had survived a five month winter, it was time to pick up the pieces, make new plans and check out mutual expectations. Antwerp left bank felt like the perfect location: being just across the 500m/y wide river in front of my door, it’s a place holding precious memories of long, warm summers spent on its beach, having ice-creams while leisurely walking the ancient, green riverside promenade towards the old marina.

The moment I stepped out of the subway car after a ride deep below the river, something felt different though, as if Antwerp left-bank had profoundly changed. I’d known this place since childhood, so it took me a while to figure out what was happening.  You see, left bank has been a place of fun and laughter ever since I walked its shores, holding the hand of my dad as a toddler.  Left bank meant ice creams, endless walks through its never ending forests and parks, relaxed afternoons spent at its open-air pool, watching the ocean liners pass by on their way to distant continents. But there was always laugher way back then, and now there wasn’t.

Upon returning we decided to take the old scenic route along the river, featuring locations that held precious memories for the both of us. As we watched a group of teenagers enjoy their first BBQ of the season and noticed how boat owners were preparing their vessels for the upcoming season, we both somehow failed to engage in that “we’re having fun” type of conversation that had always been the hallmark of any Antwerp left bank visit.

Sitting on my peaceful Antwerp balcony today, in blazing sunshine while enjoying lunch, I wonder: where did we lose the laughter? [photos: Antwerp left bank, March 17, 2009]

The day I stopped running from the ghosts trying to silence me

Yes folks, I’m back. I know, I only just claimed I needed a sabbatical, but after some elaborate legal consultations (always handy to have a lawyer in the family) I realized I should stop running from the ghosts trying to silence me. I’m a Belgian citizen expressing my free speech rights (articles 19 and 25, Belgian constitution), without breaking any laws that might limit that universal EU privilege (art. 10).
[image: Belgian military staff on the job looking here  for...boobs]

Exposing the abuses carried out by government personnel by posting legally obtained images, showing gross misbehavior by members of the [censorship] is no press offense, nor does it entail any punishable crime such as libel. Posting pictures of said abuse while satirically commenting on those pictures is no criminal offense.

OK, now we got that cleared up, I’ve got an urgent message for the Belgian .gov and  [censorship] ‘readers’ who have been stalking me: I won’t post your disgraceful pictures. I won’t.  Being a small time blogger with only 500 visitors a day, well, it’s just not worth the effort. I have however acted like a real Belgian patriot: when my home country is under attack by the disgraceful behavior of those who have sworn to defend it, it’s time to call superman my friendly newspaper editor. Your shameful pictures are currently being processed by an expert legal team. It may be prudent and wise to check the national headlines any day soon.

So, I’m going back to blogging about what really matters: my cat.  And if that cat is found dead one day, I’ll get you, you sick b*stards.

Gay equals $0, straight equals $400,000

It’s a sunny day in Antwerp, Belgium, but I’m outraged. Like you may or may not know: I’m gay, living in a committed relationship with my male partner (who I only wish I’d see more often these days: he has a place of his own and his life has become hectic). Belgium is one of those rare countries offering its gay citizens full equal rights: gay marriage, gay adoption, legal protection against bigotry, along with a tolerant, liberal population without the classic overwhelming “it’s a sin” Christian religious attitude. Sure, we have right-wing bigotry and migrant Muslim intolerance towards gay citizens, but in general, most people adhere to the live and let live attitude.

Unfortunately, my parents broke that “in general” rule. While long having accepted my male partner, they recently decided that my late grandfather’s 300,000 euro ($400,000) house, a part of my expected future inheritance and originally for sale, “could serve best” as the home of my straight brother, since they totally adored watching his ever growing family live near their suburban home. To make it all legal, they came up with a waterproof  “he’s renting it” construction, but let’s face it: my granddad’s house won’t be sold anytime soon. Upon confronting my folks with this unequal treatment, my father smiled and claimed he was convinced I felt just fine in my (rented) historic downtown home, totally ignoring reality: I’ve had it with downtown living and long to return to green suburbia. I didn’t push to get to the bottom of it all, my parents had made a very clear, not to be discussed choice.

So here I am, still somewhat stunned, wondering how to react when being invited by my charming ’straight’ brother to check out his new home and enjoy the company of his (quite adorable) family, as if nothing had changed.  You know, this hurts, watching how my parents made clear they prefer having their grandchildren close, even if it means basically ignoring the needs of their gay son.

Like a gay friend of mine used to say: “no matter how many laws, no matter how much tolerance, we will often remain second class citizens”.  This “second class citizen” was last visited by his parents 8y ago, although I do visit them every month at their place.

[Update: I got a message from a fellow blogger urging me to post more upbeat, more 'positively entertaining' write-ups.  With countless great summer pictures/memories I'm quite able to follow that road, but when reality bites I feel the need to blog about that reality. Upbeat,  'positively entertaining' write-up coming up.  But I grew up in the green suburbia and had intended to return there now that I'm 'all grown up'. The incident above will make that virtually impossible.  Update 2: "what made you happiest all these years", my partner asked me, "the houses you lived in or the people who cared about you?".  Guess I'm OK now."]

Halloween: the non-commercial Belgian All Saints version

While the Anglo-Saxon world is busy enjoying its totally commercialized fun version of Halloween (US sales: $4.96 billion in 2006 according to Wikipedia), Belgium (along with many non-English speaking EU countries) is solemnly commemorating those who passed away, one day later on All Saints day, a Christian holiday that is universally observed, in spite of the fact that this originally Catholic country has been predominantly secularized.

When I was a child, Halloween was totally non-existent, and basically it still is. Belgium hasn’t fallen yet for the pressures to commercialize this originally Celtic pagan feast, so this weekend (when all stores are closed) I will be remembering my loved ones who passed away, along the traditions that now span over ten centuries (All Saints’ Day became fixed on 1st November in 835, and All Souls’ Day on 2nd November, circa 998).

In Poland, the Czech Republic, Sweden, Finland, Slovenia, Slovakia, Lithuania, Croatia, Austria, Romania, Hungary and parts of Germany, the tradition is to light candles and visit the graves of deceased relatives. In Belgium, France, Hungary, Italy, Malta, Portugal and Spain people bring flowers to the graves of dead relatives.

And that’s exactly what I will be doing: bring flowers to the graves of our loved ones who passed away. Both my SO and myself lost a close relative in tragic road accidents: he lost his sister, I lost my brother’s wife. Visiting their graves is a yearly confrontation with our own mortality, a moment when so many memories and mixed emotions simply engulf me. Frances was only 25 yo when she died in tragic circumstances during that summer of 2000, soon after her marriage to my brother and just months after giving birth.  It’s been eight years, but editing this picture (I removed the family name) still brought tears to my eyes.

So no, I won’t be on some silly Halloween party, I will be mourning someone who brought so much joy to my life and is no longer here.

Please hold

As I’m preparing for my departure to Turkey,
I’m temporarily taking a short break from posting.

You can use the search box at the right hand
side to browse all the posts you missed before.

Please check any plane crashes while
I’m not online and do visit later – thanks

[I'm staying here:]

Update: Sunday Sept 21 from the lobby of the outstandıng Bodrum, Turkey, WOW resort:
thanks for stayıng ın touch. I’m typıng thıs short update on the keyboard of a Turkısh PC,
just to let you know we’re having a great tıme while exploring the numerous sıtes, soakıng
up the blazing sun and generally havıng the tıme of our lıves. Already 800 stunnıng ımages
and countıng, so please check back wıthın a week! Update Sept 26: back home tomorrow.

Protected: But what does he really look like?

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