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Column
Column 6
Sweet mask.
While writing this story I have honey on my face. Yes, you are reading it well, and no I am not going crazy and I am not bored either. I just read it in the Libelle magazine of October 2010. In column 5 I wrote you that I secretly hoped Jan would visit me one more time. Before the column was online, Jan called me: 'What would you think about me coming to you tomorrow?' Great of course! I ask him if he could bring me some old Libelles. I have brought two thick books but I finished them both already hence my asking him for magazines. When Jan goes home again and I will be staying here for another one and a half weeks I will have something to read.Those magazines have a whole journey behind them. My mother in law in the Netherlands has had a membership for years and when Jan visits her he always gets a stack of finished Libelles. That is how they end up in France. Often we enjoy reading them on Sunday mornings on the couch. I enjoy it to tear out the recipes and try them out as well as reading the short stories. Now I do have a stack of old Libelles here in Spain. At the end of the afternoon, when I am done writing, usually I sit outside with a cup of tea. In the shadow on a long chair and since shortly with a Libelle. I turn over a page and read: Honey, a natural beauty secret. The article mentions that already since ancient history honey has been used as beauty recipe. Cleopatra did not only bathe in milk but used honey in her daily beauty ritual as well. All the good qualities of honey are described and various beauty recipes given. I choose the simplest and fastest tip. I love natural products and want to try it. I choose a sweet mask. Honey is very mild so perfectly fit to make a mask out of it, the article argues. I put a table spoon of honey in a bowl and put it in a pan of hot water together with two eggs which I cook for lunch at the same time. I am stirring the honey and when it is fluid and lukewarm I rub it on my face. Hmmmm, I lick my lips and fingers, that is a good start. I expected it to feel draughty but for the moments it feels pleasant. I hope no one will ring the doorbell because it looks as if I have a scary skin disease. Sometimes people come to collect money for kids with aids or a van comes in the street to sell deep frozen products. The man goes at each house to recommend his goods. Yesterday my neighbor Petra rang the doorbell to ask if I felt like drinking a cup of tea at her place. I did that cozily with Nina. But right now I am not presentable…………however later I should be all the more presentable, which is what the article promised me. When the neighbors would see me now they would start collecting for me out of consternation!
The article argues that honey hydrates the skin, rejuvenates the skin cells and slows down the aging process! Furthermore it also works antibacterial and healing thanks to all the vitamins, minerals and trace elements in the honey. In short it's a wonder remedy. After fifteen minutes I can wash the mask from my face with lukewarm water. I walk to my little bathroom and see there is a big drop of honey on my sweater and the honey is in my hair as well in spite of tying it together in a ponytail. Yuk, it is sticky and hard now. On my face the honey is still soft and liquid because of my body temperature I guess. Hence the drop of honey on my sweater and drops hanging from my chin. I should have lain down for fifteen minutes. Oh well, despite ten years of living in France I stay a very practical foreigner who likes to do several 'things' at the same time, like now. Boiling eggs together with preparing my sweet mask. And the sweet mask is doing its work on my face while I am writing this column. However the results are worth it! My skin looks better and the pores shrunken down. My skin feels smooth and soft! Genuinely these are no 'baked sweet rolls' as we say in Dutch. Try it out yourself! My eggs are cooked and cooled down and I am going to make a salad with iceberg lettuce, tomato, black olives, walnut, egg and seasoned with a delicious honey salad dressing accompanied with two crispy bread rolls over poured with a sweet mask.
Column 5
Integration but then without classes and certificate.
It is already 2012 and the month of December flew by. After having settled in my cottage I got to know my neighbors and their habits. Besides Spanish families there are also Dutch, English, German and French families living in the street. For some of them it is their second home. A few houses are empty. Petra and Peter live a few houses next to me. They have a real estate agency at home and two nice dogs. Usually it is Petra who walks with the dogs and we regularly have a chat. 'If there is something, do not hesitate to knock on our door' she kindly tells me. Furthermore Jan and I as well as two French couples are being invited to have a drink on New Year's Eve.
Petra tells about the people and their dogs. There are so many dogs in this street! According to Petra there are about fifty dogs. She names the nationality of their owners and the race of the dog(s). How striking that I also end up in this street with my nine months old Nina. During the day all the dogs stay in the walled-in gardens. When one dog barks, the whole dog neighborhood answers. Nina is the first to answer, the loudest and the most persistent, she wants to utter the last bark. She is on guard behind the fence of metal bars with metal wire in between. If she, with her sharp hearing, hears anything like footsteps, rustling or a door, she barks. And yes, then all the other dogs start barking as well. Nina is determined to protect me and our new home with her own life. That is very noble from such a small dog but also very exhausting for her and me. When someone walks by the house with a dog my Maltese puppy changes into an adult pit bull. She shows her teeth and growls dangerously. I try to get this out of her by speaking to her in a strict way and bring her into contact with other people and dogs as well as calming her down and tell her softly that it's all right. It works for a moment, with the next stimulation she starts barking again as if her life depends on it. Sigh.
From the cycle bag she growls and barks as well to dog owners and their dogs we pass by. At such a moment I am afraid she will jump out of the cycle bag and hurts herself. I will think of something so that she cannot escape and I can enjoy my bike rides with her instead of stressing as soon as I see someone walking with a dog.
Inside it goes well and at night she lies sweetly against me, sleeping. Very innocent and cute…until she opens her naughty black beady eyes in the morning and takes upon her the task to protect 'our castle' again. When we will be back in France I am going to look for help and I might follow a dog training class or in other words a citizenship course for dogs. It seems good for Nina that she learns to deal with other dogs and learns to accept their customs. I believe it will be a tough job, for me that is.
Every day a son of about fifty years old with his elderly mother holding on to his arm walk up and down the street several times. When I look at her swollen legs I think she has troubles with her blood circulation. She is small with a friendly face and soft eyes and walks holding on to her son's arm, holding a cane in the other hand. The son emanates pride, like most of the Spanish people, but also care, patience and love. I hear him talk to his mother and every now and then she answers, however she needs her breath and attention for the walk. She has to keep pace and I think that by now she is trained for a marathon. When they walk past my place the mother says something nice to Nina and we greet each other with Buenas Dias or Buenas Tardes (Good morning/evening). She asks me if everything goes well. She lives with her son, daughter in law and grandson. They have a beautiful dog.
My Spanish neighbor Martin is a friendly young man of 37 years old. His dog Chico is a Colli male of eleven years old and incontinent. His dog is well trained and listens to him. Martin is strict but also very sweet with Chico and luckily he thinks Nina is pretty and sweet. I ask if he is not bothered by her barking. But no, he understands her and her barking. She is small and stress sensitive which is totally normal he thinks. He works as an ambulance employee and has unregular working hours. He is specialized in CPR and cerebral strokes he tells me. He shows me a stack of pictures from accidents where he provided aid. He tells me that if I get sick or break something I should tell him because he will bring me to the hospital and directly to a doctor so that I do not have to wait. What a care!
When his family is visiting him they sit outside in the sun behind the house. His and my backyards are separated by a knee high wall. He is drinking coffee and eating cake with his family. When he sees me he offers me coffee and cake right away. I say no and thank him kindly but he does not take no for an answer. He cuts a piece of cake and serves it on a plate. He asks if I want coffee or tea and introduces me to his family. They are all so friendly and open; I feel welcome and wish I would speak Spanish.
Nevertheless there is also commotion in the street, across from my place. A Dutch couple lives next to a Spanish couple. A cane mat serves as fence between their houses. The Spanish couple has a beautiful garden with many blooming flowers. There is a magnificent climbing plant with purple flowers which bloom in abundance during winter. The Dutch neighbor undergoes nuisance from the leaves that fall on his entranceway. His Spanish neighbor allows him to cut anything that grows over the fence. Yet the day before they leave for Holland for three weeks he cuts away her plant and pours poison next to the roots. This is the story according to the Spanish woman. She didn't see it happening, but her conclusion is drawn from her observation that the climbing plant that has been strong as iron and blooming and growing for years, died within a few days. She now can just pull the branches out of the earth. I listen to Petra's story and I am stunned about how rude a fellow-countryman can be with his neighbors. The Spanish neighbor from across the street is furious and will speak to him about it when he is back………………………I am curious how this will end up. The Dutch neighbor from across the street probably did not follow a citizenship course, and either way he did not pass his exam and did not receive a certificate. I really admire all the people coming to the Netherlands who are so willing to adjust and follow that course and get a certificate.
How about the European Union in practice? Integrating is not all about economics, knowing the rules or speaking the language well and allow or not for veils to be worn, is it?
It is about tolerance, acceptance, understanding and compassion. The language of the heart is not dependent upon a nationality but is a universal language. After all, there where a heart beats, there is Love!
Column 4
Listening to my Soul
After settling at my cottage in December I have been in a writing stream for three weeks. When I start the day my head is totally blank. I know I am going to write, that is all. Every morning, after my exercises, breakfast and meditation I sit in front of my laptop. Words seem to flow out of nowhere on the screen. I say 'seem' because that is not the truth of course. Actually it is a colliding of thirty years of self-development and studies as well as experiences acquired during my earlier years and my previous lives.
The first morning I was working on my laptop I realized after half an hour and 283 words: I AM DOING IT! I am listening to my souls longing. My story comes into existence and from nothing it takes shape, it manifests. I am cheering out of happiness. I never knew cheering can feel so good. I am lively, radiating and happy. 'Nina', I said, 'we are doing it; we have started writing our book!' Nina looks at me with her dark eyes with an expression of: 'whatever. The only thing I do is doing what I want like barking to everything that moves or walks by or makes any sound at all, like the fridge turning on.' Alright, I am back with both feet on the ground and sit down in front of my laptop again to continue writing. The feeling of happiness stays with me, which is very pleasant.
As I wrote in my first column, I have always had the wish to write a book. Now the time is right for this wish to manifest. This NOW is very special. I couldn't have done this ten or five years earlier since I would have felt guilty towards my family going away for ten weeks on my own to write. Moreover, my busy life of traveling for my studies and keeping my healing practice going, next to taking care of a family, was practically seen not a good moment either. In the meantime our daughters moved out. Yet for my husband, Jan, and I it is a challenge. Furthermore I have a very weak or no internet connection through a prepaid stick therefore Skype conversations are sadly impossible. Luckily I can call with my mobile phone and send text messages.
Jan and I have been alone for a week several times however ten weeks is something different. We miss each other from day one even though we had time enough to prepare ourselves for this. It is no drama, yet every once in a while it is difficult, however we can let go of it too. We already knew that we love each other in good and bad times, but this distance makes us understand even more how deep our love for each other is. The self-evidence to be there for each other and with each other is not so self-evident anymore. We appreciate each other more and we are grateful to be 'together'. It helps that Jan came to visit me for two weeks during the holidays and our daughters visited me in sunny Spain for a week during Christmas. Thanks to this it are only eight weeks we spend without each other. And secretly I hope Jan will visit again for a week.
Although I was really looking forward to seeing them, it was unexpectedly difficult for me to switch. I lived for three weeks intensively in my inner self and silence as a result I needed two days to be directed outwards again and let go of my rhythm of the last few weeks. It was easier for me to go inwards again and continue writing when they left, despite missing their enjoyable presence. I am bringing together two opposite energies. Rather, I let the cozy outward energy melt together in my heart with the energy of inner silence so that it forms something new. This empowers me and brings me back in my daily writing rhythm.
Last year I managed to plan in some free time. Looking back now it has been important in preparation of these ten weeks. I am ready for it now. I belief that everything happens on exactly the right moment, not too early and not too late. You can miss the moment when you are not living your life consciously by always be running after your happiness. Then you don't hear the voice of your soul. Luckily it is never too late to hear that voice when you take the peace and time for it. In this way you can change the direction of your life because we, human beings, have the privilege to make choices. It is to us how we deal with what comes on our path.
Every day I write about four hour without stopping. In the beginning I was surprised about how tired I am afterwards. But when I think about it, it is not so strange. Working concentrated for four hours is exhausting mentally and emotionally. The focus is gone afterwards. Actually it is beautiful how your body tells you your limits. I can only listen to that. Time to lunch and go outside to relax on a long chair. In the afternoon I go for a walk with Nina and sometimes do some grocery shopping. I like to stay at home in my rhythm. The continuity helps me to stay connected to myself and go deeper into my inner self. The next morning I start with reading what I wrote the day before to bring in some changes. It helps me to take up the thread of my narrative. I try to use synonyms and sometimes it's hard to find the right words. However, I find the playing with words very fascinating. The searching and sanding the text is very pleasant to do. Thanks to the happiness I feel every day I know it is right what I am doing. I am answering to the message of my soul.
Column 3
Closing in on my destination!
It's Sunday, December 4th, 10am, as I head out on the motorway towards Barcelona/Alicante. The weather is glorious and the road is quiet. I enjoy the drive and arrive at the cottage before dark. Helena awaits me. She has been my liaison and now has the key for me. She is a lovely, young, modern woman.
She shows me around the cottage and explains some of the must-knows. The interior matches the pictures I saw before. It feels right. My cottage is situated in a nice street. The facades are all painted grey or blue or salmon. The cottages have walled-in front gardens with an iron fence. A front and back terrace. Inside, the floor has beige tiles, outside is paved with glazed terracotta tiles. In reality I don't really have a garden but a big terrace. Only a small green conifer hedge breaks up the stone back yard. There is an en suite guest room upstairs. This room can be reached via the outdoor stone stairs and passed the tiled roof terrace. It's all getting a bit too “stony” for my liking.
The benefit is that I won't need to bathe Nina as often, but there is little for her to explore and sniffle. At home she runs after the chickens and guinea fowl, and digs holes in the meadow. I sometimes wonder why I did not opt for a black dog, but well, they too get dirty even though it may not show as easily. Besides, the dark eyes and cute nose are so nicely visible on a white dog.
Luckily, some lavender spills over the fence from the neighbors garden. There are palm trees in the street and little parks at both ends of the street with gravel rather then fresh green grass. It actually looks like litter gravel, and it is soiled with feces. Despite the large signpost which warns of a 60 euro fine if you do not clean up, people clearly do not do so. Hm, these are the things you do not see when booking online. Perhaps I should rephrase my earlier statement that there are two parks. This is an adjustment for this country girl.
The next morning I am collected by car by a former villager, Steef. We will have coffee at his place with his wife Wil, as they are only a village away. They have offered the loan of a bike with saddlebags during my stay here, and it awaits me as I arrive. The three of us jump on our bikes for some shopping. The sun is out, the sky is blue and there is a cool breeze.
But where to leave Nina? Steef suggests that I put her in one of the saddlebags. Won't she fall out? Let's try. I place her in the bag and take a small test drive to gage her reaction. She loves it. She is sat in the bag, her front paws are on the edge of the bag and her little head sticks out. She glances past my legs, snout in the wind and her little white coat is blown back as we cycle to the supermarket. Wil offers to stay with Nina as I do my shopping. We return to my cottage with the groceries and I invite my friends for lunch at the, you guessed it, Chinese!! Nina can even come in with us. It is an inviting and quiet place. The food is fresh and tastes excellent.
My heart is warmed by Wil and Steef's warm welcome. I am invited for lunch on Saturday. This will also give me a chance to go online and take care of some business, like sending these columns. Gosh, I hope I remember how to get to their home. But let's worry about that later.
I get up at 8.30h the next morning and start exercising. I have a challenging program by American Jillian Michaels on my laptop. This is endurance and strength training! Accompanied by some groovy sounds, Jillian talks me through the difficult sections. She is my personal fitness coach.
I take my breakfast outside to the front terrace and bask in the warm morning sun. I have a shower and meditate before I install myself at my computer.
This will be my ritual for the next 10 weeks.
Column 2
Hit the road Jack...
It's Saturday December 3rd 2011, today I leave for my writing-retreat.
I have grown towards this step in the past year and now I am rearing to go on this remarkable journey. I packed my suitcases, bags and computer into the car yesterday. My darling husband Jan is checking the oil and topping up the water. The final bag goes into the trunk as I enter the address of my Girona hotel into my GPS. The system does not recognize the street name... This shall be the first leg of my trip, a 500 km drive.
Nina shall accompany me. She is a 9 month old Maltese dog with a long-haired, white coat and cheeky dark eyes. I have buckled in her travel case on the passenger seat next to me. Secure and solid. It will allow us to look each other in the eye as we travel, nice and cosy.
Waved off by Jan, I hit the road at 10.30h. We shall be reunited on December 20th as he and my daughters join me in Spain for the holidays. My cottage lacks internet, but luckily there is still my mobile to keep us connected.
There is a variety of Cd's for me to choose from. I decide on an old one from Barbara Streisand, fun for about an hour after which I am kinda done with her. Time for a Chopin piano concerto. The music suits my surroundings and mood beautifully. I am closing in on the Pyrenees. This is my favorite European mountain ridge, so far. It is breathtakingly beautiful both in summer ánd winter time. I decide to leave the motorway for a while and cut through the mountains. Ok, it will add some time onto my journey, but I am in no hurry. Including stops it should take me about 6 hrs to reach the hotel. The road is quiet and I enjoy the overhang of rocks and the rivers flowing through the ravines. Nature is glistening in the sunlight.
As I get near to Perpignan I decide to join the motorway again. But the due to works I am blocked from doing so. Bummer. Where is the next entrance? I am guided into town and in a flash I am crawling through downtown traffic. Roundabout after roundabout, 3 lanes of cars trying to navigate their way to their destinations. It is a Saturday afternoon, and crowds of shoppers flank the road. Oh dear, this is going nowhere fast and it is draining. I am left with no choice but to surrender to it and be carried on the stream of cars leaving the city. No signs for Barcelona. I see traffic moving through the mountains. That's the motorway I should like to be on, but cannot reach. As I leave the town behind me, there is still only this crowded little road to Girona with traffic moving no faster then 80km/h. And then there is the motorway, yes! Now I can finally make up for lost time as I accelerate. I must reach the hotel before dark as I am night-blind! More works on the road to Girona prevent me from making real tracks. Finally, the exit. My GPS seems on the blink and is struggling to locate the hotel. And indeed, I too am a little frazzled and find myself in the center of this town now. More crowds. I drive to and fro. I find myself back on the motorway, but am too far out. I have to turn around, back on the toll road heading North. Normally I don't mind having to search for a while, but the light is fading, so I must hurry. My stress starts to transform into panic. Traffic is chaotic and I am letting myself get dragged into it. The outside is mirrored inside as the chaos manifests in my head. I pull over to come to my senses. I feel calmer after a few breathing exercises. I find myself on the phone with Jan, not sure who called who. My pillar of strength remains calm. “Look up the address for your hotel on your GPS”, he instructs, and I do so successfully. “Select it and the GPS will take you there” says Jan. Ok, I am relieved and calm again. I should be there in ten minutes, according to my GPS. I manage to take the wrong exit and am downtown again. However, the experience is very different this time. My head is clear and I stay calm and collected. I realise I need to get back to that roundabout and take the right exit. I take a left into a little street hoping to turn back to the roundabout. It is a one-way street and as there is no traffic I decide to stop and ask for directions. I approach a couple and ask if they speak English. Luckily they do. The gentleman calmly explains how to get to the hotel, his Spanish accent is present but he is very clear. He repeats himself 3 times, clearly, calmly and then checks with some concern if I will manage. Yes I will! I recount the route, right and then follow the road. Straight across two roundabouts, passing the red brick hospital on my right hand, left on the 3rd roundabout which will take me to the hotel Etappe/Ibis. He then adds that there is plenty of parking at the hotel. What a kind and helpful couple. Muchas gracias!
Within 10 minutes I am parked in front of the hotel. First I walk Nina and then enter the sliding doors to check in. A nice, young Spanish woman greets me. She checks the computer and says “I see, you have a reservation at Ibis hotel, if you exit through those doors and take the next entrance” I thank her and take the next entrance. Behind the counter I find that same young woman awaiting me with a big smile. It makes me laugh, did I just transport into the English tv-series Fawlty Towers? The Etappe and Ibis hotel receptions are not divided by a wall, so the receptionist covers both desks.
The room is nice and has a comfortable bed, how I shall sleep! All is well. I have arrived at the hotel and at myself.
Column 1
Planting a Seed
Since my childhood I have enjoyed writing. It started around my 11th/12th year by writing short children’s’ stories. Back then I also started to write a children’s book. On my wish list for Saint Nicklaus I put a crown pen with Indian ink and a notebook to write down poems. I still have the notebook with the poems; I sadly do not know where the pen and ink are.
In December 2010 I decided to take off January and February 2011 to write, at home, in my healing room. I started with arranging my desk and cleaning the room as a mental preparation. Alright, computer on my desk, door shut and let the ideas come. What came was restlessness and incoherent texts I was not at all satisfied about, but I thought it will come.
To make a long story short, it did not come. Time and again I found excuses to walk away from my computer. I just do the laundry, important right? Let’s get a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Oh, I need to get the mail, walk the dogs and get some fresh air.
Well then I came down with a fever, a strong fever with an abscess in my right ear. My GP prescribed me penicillin and rest. And I could totally surrender to that, I slept many many hours.
The restlessness was gone and I was very happy my agenda was empty so that I had all the time I needed to be ill. Moreover I had the peace and quiet to think and listen deeply to my soul. Why was I so restless while my desire to write was so strongly present ?
The restlessness was there because I took my decision too quickly. I had just had a busy year and December had been a busy month as well with a lot of appointments, an agitated month. The decision to take the next two months off to write was following up the tumult too fast.
So I hadn’t listened well to what I needed, and I needed to rest. And subsequently, what are good conditions for me to write? After all writing is a creative process I cannot enforce. I need peace and space for that and a pleasant environment where I am not distracted by side issues. Furthermore the idea needs time to sink in and mature.
I decided to spend the winter in Spain! December, January and February next year. In the meantime my family and I can grow towards this. I did some pre-research to know where in Spain I can spend winter the best.
My choice has been the Costa Blanca, it has a wonderful climate and there is enough for rent. I let it rest, but the seed was planted and just needed some water from time to time to sprout.
In September I rented a bungalow for ten weeks in a small village. Through the internet and telephone contact it was very easy to organize. I signed the lease and transferred the bail.
Friends from my birth village moved to Spain four years ago, to the Costa Blanca. I decided to send them an e-mail and tell them about my plans. It turns out that my little house is situated only 1,5 km from their home. That is around the corner!
The wish to write a book has always been present and now it is going to happen. I am looking forward to see what I going to grow out of that seed.
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