Dreamtime

Heavens to Murgatroyd - a whole week sans blogging. Sorry. It was so busy, with hours and hours and hours of teaching and one frenzied day of interviews on Friday in Brussels. But Belgium busy isn't like Toronto busy. In Toronto when I was busy, it felt like time was being flushed down a powerful toilet. Here, it continues to float by. I've only been here two weeks. It feels like forever - and not in a bad way. In a kid way, like when five minutes seems like a reasonable amount of time to be told that you can play outside before dinner, and (sadly for me) a 1.40 hour class seems like a fucking eternity. The teaching is fun, though. I'd forgotten. Teenagers are fun to teach, in small groups that my superior lungs can yell down at least.

Some travel this weekend when the workload/busy load let off a bit - travel, hah - we went to a tajine place 45 minutes away where I had the most delicious shrimp tajine thing I've ever even heard of, and today we went to Bastogne - big groups of teachers. Nice. Sunny. Warm. Pretty. This is a rich and pleasant country.

So bizarre to think that in this well-regulated, rather adorable province, just 60 years ago conscripted men were blowing each other's brains out in droves - this is Battle of the Bulge Land - now, as the hackneyed but no less brilliant pun goes, the only bulges being battled are from all the pastries, chocolate and charchuterie. War is an inexcusably perverse abomination. People would do well to remember that better than they do.

Finished Artist of the Floating World - bloody brilliant. Neglect to read at the peril of your eyes' well-being.