Monday, March 30, 2009


-I sat in the metro, riding home from Antwerp. Across and to the right of me was an old, wrinkled, amusingly vulgar seeming man. (check out all those adjectives) He spoke too loudly, often slapping his pal on the shoulder and chuckling at what I assume were his own jokes. He was speaking something out of eastern Europe. I glanced at him as he got off the metro. I've no idea what my facial expression was. But he stopped, and with a very serious face blew me a kiss. I laughed and exchanged words with the girl across from me. Then he was there, to my right, quite close, blowing another dead-pan kiss. We all laughed. He walked away, and the French girl patted her dog on the head and said "Quelle type!". Then her eyes opened wide and she laughed some more. The bearded gentleman with the fingerless gloves at my right told me to turn around. I turned around. The old man stood directly behind me, watching us all through the window.
Quelle type indeed.

-On the way out of the metro station I passed a large African man with a drum to match. Behind him bounced several barefooted, sparkly bikini clad african ladies with feathery headdresses. Woluwé-St-Lambert is not exactly the exotic local, so this amused me. Next, as I entered my street, I saw craaaazily costumed characters on stilts emerging from the parallel street. They played a catchy tune on a boombox. As I kept my head turned to watch, and continued to walk up my street, I walked straight into a tree. With quite some force, I might add. A character wagged a finger at me, and I continued on my way.

-Jul made a deeeeelicious chilé con carne, and his Californian visitor made hilarious impersonations of the nasally voiced, ironing obsessed Romanian he'd just stayed with.

All in all; a good day.