If we took a holiday
Took some time to celebrate
Just one day out of life, it would be, it would be so nice

Last week I was spotted at the movies ... in a bar, a comfy chair, a polling station ... on the floor, under the table, wandering on a parking lot ... everywhere but at work. TRUMPETS! This workaholic didn't show any signs of a cold turkey. My colleagues and the once coveted males were about as far from my mind as Neptune from the sun. They still seem that far and I have been back at work since Monday. Is this the end?

A sudden chill between myself and la douce France, because on Sunday I cried all night over Brussels and - I thought I'd never say this again - Ghent.

Ghent
On the 1st day of my holidays I went to 0110 in Ghent. Understanding and respect should be the cornerstone of our houses, bodies and minds. So on Sunday - for about one hour - I enlarge the crowd of this concert for tolerance with one extra body.
I'm not exactly sure of what I'm doing there. I listen to all music styles, manage to live with my parents and have had boyfriends from all over the world. Christ, I eat, drink and sweat tolerance! Do I really need a semi-rockstar covering me with messages of peace and love and understanding? I share Tom Naegels' opinion that an organisation like this unites the positivos but does not reach out to that part of the electorate that has turned sour as soup that's been heated up one time too many.
I realize I'm not that fond of crowds. The siren song of a bar starts sounding lovelier than the concert. So by 6 pm I find myself in the Vooruit drinking white biological wine and enjoying the company I'm in. I think about the BIO in the wine, then drink some more. I decide next time I'll just go for the regular. Anja and toyboy make me laugh. So does Don - the sarcastic drunk of the bunch.

After dinner we all go home. I go to my temporary flat, which on other days is occupied by two of my friends. Ever since I've left Ghent they have offered me a place to stay in the city whenever they are out of town themselves. This is the first time I want to stay, which must mean I have gotten over my break-up with Ghent 3 years ago. I go to sleep feeling like a cheating woman who is finally reunited with her husband. He has forgiven her and for the first time since what seems ages, they make love.

When I wake up I go jogging. It's raining and it takes discipline to keep my pace, but the soft pain makes me feel awake. I shower and drive to the seaside. I'm planning to have dinner with P because I haven't seen him in ages and he's great company. I prepare a pasta, we drink a bottle of wine and talk about comedy, my doctor and life in general. He carries my first sofa upstairs - 3 floors up! - and I believe I love this guy.

On Tuesday I'm back in Ghent. I meet an actor friend of Anja's and I cash the last money left on my bank account. It will allow me to go see Miami Vice and Thank you for smoking (I relate to tobacco lobbyists though I do not like sigarets). It will also get me through my two days in Brussels.

Brussels
The first stop in Brussels is the Place du Chatelain. I meet up with friends I've known for ages and a new female friend called Cristina. Two single women making plans to conquer the village and find ourselves a local beau. At the same time I realize that it would take this new lover ages to match the love I feel for my old friends. They can look into my eyes and see I'm back to being me, myself and I. Only they know it hasn't always been that way.

We all go home - as for me, I celebrate my 1001th night in a guest room. I read some Atwood and go to sleep. When I wake up everyone is at work. I feel as being on sick leave without being ill. I think about the docter who hasn't called me yet, finish my coffee and drive into town to meet up with Matti. I've missed him, that's all I can think when the elevator doors slide open and he says hello. We order a sandwich at the P&P café and the talk is music.
Have you heard the new Sparklehorse? No, I haven't (I live in a small town and I have run out of money). Did you know I met someone who doesn't like Requiem For An Almost Lady (eyes rolling)? Lee Hazlewood ... the Cirque Royal ... Bonnie Prince Billy, Neko Case and Cat Power.

At 6 pm I am meeting Matti again. This time it's for dinner at the Arcadi, my favourite arabic and mediterrenean snackbar in Brussels. Matti is accompanied by his wife Agnès. She asks whether those are my natural curls. They are. I always wonder why people even come up with the idea that I might have a perm. I am getting a bit suspicious about the image I'm portraying - considering that I voluntarily moved to a small town. I'm trying to read her mind. Does she wonder whether I'm into line dancing? Nooo. Agnès is a fine, sweet lady. She could have been my mother, but she isn't. We finish our couscous, pour down a second glass of wine and off we go to see Ryan Adams.
I love his show. Partly because I am sitting in a vintage beige upholstered chair and can sip on a diet coke. For a minute I fear I'm losing my edge, then I just sing along to Oh My Sweet Carolina and pretend I'm Emmylou Harris. After the concert, Matti and Agnès hurry up to catch the metro. I return home, taking with me one lost soul who needs a 100km ride from Brussels all the way to our hometown. He's the one who got me into the concert in the first place. He won two free tickets. I'm talking about Don. He has been stubbornly spilling his talents over the last 25 years. I like him for this and for his humour and his wit.

Ghent part II
On Friday I return to Ghent.
Anja proposed we go to the opening of the exhibition Beyond Good and Evil at the Dr. Guislainmuseum. There's a lecture, a free entrance and a free reception. This sounds like music to the ears of my wallet. I accept immediately. Though I no longer have the flat keys, I don't worry about where to sleep. I am meeting the doctor, so either I will stay at his place or I will just drive home. Due to the nervousness over our imminent rendez-vous I only manage to drink one glass of wine and hardly touch the appetizers.

I go to his place by 10 pm. He introduces me to Borat. Borat is funny. He plays records and I listen. We talk and I admit to him he scares me because I do not understand what he wants.
Then he asks whether I know Neil Young. I do not think he is being serious and I say "No, I don't". So he introduces me to After The Gold Rush.
But - hey wait a minute - did you? - eum - did you actually BELIEVE me when I said "No, I don't"? Did you!? For that would be the first time, considering that when I said "No" to sex with you, you obviously did NOT believe me - well, allright neither did I. But to believe me when I say I do not know who Neil Young is, is like believing I got beamed up in front of your doorstep straight out of the black hole where I've been living my unintersting live for the last 10 years.

To be honest, I didn't make a point of it on Friday. So this guy thinks I do not know Neil Young? Hahaha. Very funny. Now tell me that you love me. But he doesn't and neither do I. We spend the night together, his arms fit around me like a catsuit. In the morning I have breakfast with a stranger. This is as good as it gets, I think. We have emptied the cup.