On Wednesday night, as I was cycling home to Kanne over the Muizenberg, with a wooded slope downwards on my right hand, a grassy side on my left and the black night sky above me, I suddenly saw a tiny bright clear green light among the grass, the size of a dot, the same colour as many electrical devices use.
At such a peculiarity I stopped and turned around to find it. Rather than discovering a mobile phone or similar, I realised it was actually a strange sort of fly. Disconnecting the rear light of my bicycle, I used it to examine the creature as best as possible under red light. It was about the size of a wasp, with clearly defined scales running over its body, and the last three of these on his tummy side were fluorescent green. It was hard to make out the animal very well under the light, particularly as it was clutching to the grass; it stuck to its station throughout, even when I touched it with my bicycle light. Unable to look at it any better, I continued my journey, but I did notice two further fluorescent green lights among the foliage when I went. I think it may be mating season for this insect, though, and the fluorescent arse serves as a sort of beacon to attract others. Alternatively, this particular insect was just resting and apparently so retarded he did not realise you’re easily noticeable if your arse glows in the dark and you’re in the nip.
On a different note, I’ve managed to acquire some pictures of the Pleinweekend in May, in other words the trip to Drenthe. I’ll include a very few of them here; there’s lots more but I had to make a selection, and I picked those which pictured the mood best as well as featuring myself. My own pictures still haven’t developed; as it’s an old, analogue, camera, I still need to shoot a few more photos to fill up the roll. There are photos of a partridge, though. I know you’re all waiting in anticipation for those.
I'm sure it was that way.
Tea
Touring the canals of Drenthe.
Group photo
Also, the cabinet has fallen! Let’s hope for swift elections so we can put right that bloody mess we’re currently left with. Force the eejits of LPF out, for a start. And get a more socially-minded government.
30.6.06
23.6.06
Ghelrelant
Last Monday I made a trip north together with my dad to visit my grandfather, who lives in a home for the elderly in Wezep, in the northern tip of the fair province of Guelders. We travelled to Zwolle by train (actually in Overijssel) where we hired bicycles so we could travel the distance to Wezep in a more entertaining way. After crossing the IJssel (at that point the border between Overijssel and Guelders) by ferry, we travelled to Hattem, a cosy old town (perhaps too cosy) that actually is a city, but with its size would only qualify as a village nowadays.
There was a fair bit of its history still present, including the fierce and, err, in this case horny lion of Guelders proudly displayed on many coats-of-arms on various buildings. A city gate survived, but it was in a terrible state, having been renovated in the 19th century by the Cuypers family, whose views on medieval architecture disagreed entirely with those of medieval people. They thought it great to give the gate tall spires that did nothing to boost its defensive strength. Two roads away from there, we stumbled across the remains of the castle of Hattem, founded by Reinald IV and completed somewhere in 1408-9, and destroyed by the French during their 1672 invasion. Paradoxically, the destruction of the place had probably saved it from total annihilation by Cuypers and scions, and the small sally gate and remaining tower were absolutely charming. In fact, in an emotional moment I even hugged the gate when I discovered it was named after general Daendels, who apparently wooed his wife there. Not that anyone still knows who Daendels was. *sigh*
On the way back from Wezep to Zwolle we made a further detour, in stead heading north, cycling through the rich agricultural plain where innumerable small canals make their way to the horizon. Apparently there had been some late cold in this region, as many birds had rather young chicks, which is very late in the season.
I spotted a great crested grebe, who turned out to have about three chicks on her back, as they are known to do. We halted for a bit to observe her, when, all of a sudden, the alarmed grebe dived – with chicks still on her back! A few seconds later, one of the chicks popped up, much like a barrel after a shipwreck, and then another came, twenty cm away from the first. The mother appeared perhaps two metres distant from them, one of the chicks somewhat miraculously still being proudly seated on her back. That was certainly an odd thing to behold.
There was a fair bit of its history still present, including the fierce and, err, in this case horny lion of Guelders proudly displayed on many coats-of-arms on various buildings. A city gate survived, but it was in a terrible state, having been renovated in the 19th century by the Cuypers family, whose views on medieval architecture disagreed entirely with those of medieval people. They thought it great to give the gate tall spires that did nothing to boost its defensive strength. Two roads away from there, we stumbled across the remains of the castle of Hattem, founded by Reinald IV and completed somewhere in 1408-9, and destroyed by the French during their 1672 invasion. Paradoxically, the destruction of the place had probably saved it from total annihilation by Cuypers and scions, and the small sally gate and remaining tower were absolutely charming. In fact, in an emotional moment I even hugged the gate when I discovered it was named after general Daendels, who apparently wooed his wife there. Not that anyone still knows who Daendels was. *sigh*
On the way back from Wezep to Zwolle we made a further detour, in stead heading north, cycling through the rich agricultural plain where innumerable small canals make their way to the horizon. Apparently there had been some late cold in this region, as many birds had rather young chicks, which is very late in the season.
I spotted a great crested grebe, who turned out to have about three chicks on her back, as they are known to do. We halted for a bit to observe her, when, all of a sudden, the alarmed grebe dived – with chicks still on her back! A few seconds later, one of the chicks popped up, much like a barrel after a shipwreck, and then another came, twenty cm away from the first. The mother appeared perhaps two metres distant from them, one of the chicks somewhat miraculously still being proudly seated on her back. That was certainly an odd thing to behold.
21.6.06
In Procession
The exciting adventures that happen in my usually quiet Belgian village have made their way onto this blog a few times already; here’s another possibly interesting event to add to the batch.
On Sunday morning I woke up to the intermittent music of herremeniekes, or, basically, village orchestras, consisting mostly of brass instruments. They were playing some festive tunes of not exactly outstanding quality. I went to the bathroom, then back upstairs I noticed we had received a message, probably on Friday, about there being a harbour festival in the small yaughting harbour of the village, during the entire weekend. Including Zodragekla! Whatever the hell that may be.
Whether this actually had anything to do with the yaughting or not, there was a procession which passed by right in front (or behind, depending how you look at it) our house. I had never seen a procession before so I watched the entire group, but I have to say I wasn’t terribly impressed.
At the head of the procession was a man in every day clothing carrying a tall cross, followed by a man in very different every day clothing – including silly hat – carrying a large flag with some sort of logo and text I could not decipher. Then came a herremenieke, which had never previously attempted to march in step, and therefore failed badly, followed by another flag. This was a good flag, the only one in the entire procession to look respectful, and it was basically a heavily decorated Belgian flag. Then came a group of little children clad in blue dresses, followed by elderly women in white dresses, and then, what everyone had been waiting for, four blokes carrying on their shoulders a sort of roofed platform with a statue of Mary. The statue looked like it had been made out of papier-mâché, and the poles supporting the platform roof looked suspiciously like plastic broomstick handles. I can only congratulate the four men who carried this travesty, because they kept looking serious and important throughout, no small feat with such a platform.
Obviously behind this important statue came the obligatory pious followers, and there were about thirty of them. They looked very pious in between the looking through windows and talking about parked cars.
At a suitable distance followed a priest carrying a monstrance with two elderly altar boys, who were very enthusiastic with waving the incense. Behind them came another priest, under a sort of roof on wheels, carrying what I presumed was probably a relic. There were various altar boys around carrying torches, too.
And that was the end of the procession.
I have a hunch that apart from the procession and the harbour festival, there is also a meeting day for people who own minis. I have seen over a dozen. Ah, Neerkanne. Life never gets dull here.
On Sunday morning I woke up to the intermittent music of herremeniekes, or, basically, village orchestras, consisting mostly of brass instruments. They were playing some festive tunes of not exactly outstanding quality. I went to the bathroom, then back upstairs I noticed we had received a message, probably on Friday, about there being a harbour festival in the small yaughting harbour of the village, during the entire weekend. Including Zodragekla! Whatever the hell that may be.
Whether this actually had anything to do with the yaughting or not, there was a procession which passed by right in front (or behind, depending how you look at it) our house. I had never seen a procession before so I watched the entire group, but I have to say I wasn’t terribly impressed.
At the head of the procession was a man in every day clothing carrying a tall cross, followed by a man in very different every day clothing – including silly hat – carrying a large flag with some sort of logo and text I could not decipher. Then came a herremenieke, which had never previously attempted to march in step, and therefore failed badly, followed by another flag. This was a good flag, the only one in the entire procession to look respectful, and it was basically a heavily decorated Belgian flag. Then came a group of little children clad in blue dresses, followed by elderly women in white dresses, and then, what everyone had been waiting for, four blokes carrying on their shoulders a sort of roofed platform with a statue of Mary. The statue looked like it had been made out of papier-mâché, and the poles supporting the platform roof looked suspiciously like plastic broomstick handles. I can only congratulate the four men who carried this travesty, because they kept looking serious and important throughout, no small feat with such a platform.
Obviously behind this important statue came the obligatory pious followers, and there were about thirty of them. They looked very pious in between the looking through windows and talking about parked cars.
At a suitable distance followed a priest carrying a monstrance with two elderly altar boys, who were very enthusiastic with waving the incense. Behind them came another priest, under a sort of roof on wheels, carrying what I presumed was probably a relic. There were various altar boys around carrying torches, too.
And that was the end of the procession.
I have a hunch that apart from the procession and the harbour festival, there is also a meeting day for people who own minis. I have seen over a dozen. Ah, Neerkanne. Life never gets dull here.
6.6.06
Why Bicycles are Better than Cars
On Monday morning I woke up to the noise of a lot of people chattering and moving about outside. I realised I must have overslept, and the fair – basically lots of local people offering their useless stuff for sale – had already started. I groaned and sat up to look at the clock, opposite my bed on a bookshelf. I stared at some amazement at it, then realised it had decided to stop making sense and perhaps applied a twenty hour a day time system, so I turned to the left, to look at my digital CD/radio clock near the window.
Sadly enough, this one displayed the exact same time, and although for a moment I did play with the thought of getting out of bed, starting up my pc and checking what time that would give me, I decided the chances of both my clocks, one digital and the other battery-run, malfunctioning at exactly the same time to exactly the same result, was practically nil. So I turned on to my other side and slept for over an hour before I woke up again at 7:15. The hubbub outside had only increased in volume, yet stubbornly I persisted in my dormant strategy. I got another hour of sleep before deciding I’d had enough and taking a shower.
As the fair was going on right in front of my window, which is on ground level, I decided to keep the curtains half closed so I would have some fragment of privacy left to me. Despite it only being about 8:30 then, there were quite a lot of visitors already. As I would be going on a cycling trip with some of my friends at 14:00, I had breakfast, made some preparations, cleaned up my room and had lunch. I then prepared two further sandwiches (in case I would get hungry on the road), prepared 3 bottles of water totalling 1,5 litres (taking the eventuality into account that other cyclists would have forgotten to bring along their own drink) and left at about 13:30. When I got outside the pandemonium of the situation became clear to me in all its grotesque misery: the vast majority of the eejits attending the fair had thought it necessary to go by car, despite the splendid weather and the fact that there are only about three narrow roads leading into Kanne and as many public parking spaces.
As I cycled to Maastricht, the entire road, from my house to the outskirts of the city, was absolutely crammed with cars in single line, standing motionless, waiting for someone to start moving, the air heavy and unstable from the exhaust fumes.
There were a number of fields, normally used for grazing cattle, now reserved for the iron horse, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough. All along the track, people on foot and on bicycle were trying to get to the small village, yet it was thanks to the lazy bastards in cars that their progress, too, was significantly hampered.
Sadly, the route that we would be cycling that day was also starting us off through Kanne; luckily, due to us deciding to go cross-country over the Sint Pieter, we avoided the vast mass of ignorant car-drivers and unfortunate pedestrians and cyclists. The trip from then on was fun, but tiring, as there were a few significant climbs and a beaming sun. Nevertheless, the weather was as good as we could have wished for, so it was a success in the end.
Sadly enough, this one displayed the exact same time, and although for a moment I did play with the thought of getting out of bed, starting up my pc and checking what time that would give me, I decided the chances of both my clocks, one digital and the other battery-run, malfunctioning at exactly the same time to exactly the same result, was practically nil. So I turned on to my other side and slept for over an hour before I woke up again at 7:15. The hubbub outside had only increased in volume, yet stubbornly I persisted in my dormant strategy. I got another hour of sleep before deciding I’d had enough and taking a shower.
As the fair was going on right in front of my window, which is on ground level, I decided to keep the curtains half closed so I would have some fragment of privacy left to me. Despite it only being about 8:30 then, there were quite a lot of visitors already. As I would be going on a cycling trip with some of my friends at 14:00, I had breakfast, made some preparations, cleaned up my room and had lunch. I then prepared two further sandwiches (in case I would get hungry on the road), prepared 3 bottles of water totalling 1,5 litres (taking the eventuality into account that other cyclists would have forgotten to bring along their own drink) and left at about 13:30. When I got outside the pandemonium of the situation became clear to me in all its grotesque misery: the vast majority of the eejits attending the fair had thought it necessary to go by car, despite the splendid weather and the fact that there are only about three narrow roads leading into Kanne and as many public parking spaces.
As I cycled to Maastricht, the entire road, from my house to the outskirts of the city, was absolutely crammed with cars in single line, standing motionless, waiting for someone to start moving, the air heavy and unstable from the exhaust fumes.
There were a number of fields, normally used for grazing cattle, now reserved for the iron horse, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough. All along the track, people on foot and on bicycle were trying to get to the small village, yet it was thanks to the lazy bastards in cars that their progress, too, was significantly hampered.
Sadly, the route that we would be cycling that day was also starting us off through Kanne; luckily, due to us deciding to go cross-country over the Sint Pieter, we avoided the vast mass of ignorant car-drivers and unfortunate pedestrians and cyclists. The trip from then on was fun, but tiring, as there were a few significant climbs and a beaming sun. Nevertheless, the weather was as good as we could have wished for, so it was a success in the end.
3.6.06
Time Flies
Not all that much happened in the past period, apart from study work. I've also been reading "In the Shadow of Burgundy" again, a study on court culture in Guelders from about 1380 to 1500. It is a wonderfully detailed book, divided in three parts. I had finished the first part (on court finances, education, job posts and the day-to-day happenings at court) a few months ago. I picked up the book again early on in the week and yesterday I finished the second part (on the arts: literature and the spoken words, visual and applied arts, etc) and today I started part three (on the way the culture at court benefitted or affected the position of the lands governed by the Dukes of Guelders, and vice versa). It is hugely interesting; I am often surprised by how interesting seemingly dull cultural subjects can be. Two years ago, when in Kleve (a German city and medieval Duchy bordering Guelders), I bought a book on literature at the court of Kleve from 1100-1600, and am using it for comparison. The book is referenced to quite regularly in In the Shadow of Burgundy.
Fun fact: In the 1290's, nearly 30% of the household expenses of the Counts of Flanders was spent on wine. Nearly 1% was spent on waffles (although it's not much, I'm surprised waffles were accounted for seperately; but then again, this is Belgium after all).
Fun fact: In the 1290's, nearly 30% of the household expenses of the Counts of Flanders was spent on wine. Nearly 1% was spent on waffles (although it's not much, I'm surprised waffles were accounted for seperately; but then again, this is Belgium after all).
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