Flemish thoughts

Yesterday on the front of the French and Belgium newspapers was Obama. Amidst all the scrambled vowels and consonants, it was fairly easy to tell that Hillary had dropped from the race. Flemish seems REALLY crazy. I realize that it is probably older than French or German, but still it seems like a language that a couple of guys made up over beers. Sadly, we haven't made much attempt to learn commonly-used Flemish phrases because most people speak English. The real trouble happens at restaurants when the menu is in French and Flemish (neither of which we know), we don't bother to have them translate, and Steve accidentally orders a pepper sandwich. In a couple of days, we'll be on to another language.

Brugge is very, very lovely. It is sort of like a baby Prague. We have a room in a place right on the Central Square across from the big bell tower. It rings out songs every 20 minutes. The first one is Classical, but I don't know it. Next is Greensleeves. Then Ode to Joy. It is quite charming, even in the middle of a nap. We've been taking it easy, but I do want to walk up the few hundred steps tomorrow to watch it ring.

Neither of us had clean underwear, so we're doing laundry. Actually, I'm across the street at a hostel using their 1-euro-per-day Wi-Fi. Lots of smoky youngsters are coming and going. I wonder if they think I look like one of them, or I'm past my prime. At age 33, this year has marked my first time out of the country. I've wanted to come since I was an undergrad at UNC. I applied for an exchange program in Italy, but it didn't work out. I got my first passport when I moved to Atlanta (2003) and almost did a summer program in Austria on Emory's dime, but decided to go to the Oregon Bach Festival instead. It was a good move, ultimately. This trip with my wonderfully generous new husband has been a dream come true. I serious doubt that we'll take one of this length and magnitude again.

At different points along the way, we've wanted to share parts of it with people we know. Bryan would have loved the fry museum today, and Kevy would have loved the pinball machine at the cafe in Paris. Jeremy is the only friend I have that would have truly appreciated Monteverdi's Vespers at Notre Dame, and my grandmother Eskew would have been thrilled with the Salzburg Sound of Music tour. Steve is keeping beer coupons for Erik and I'm buying up floaty pens left and right for Cindy. This is just the beginning. I realize how fortunate I am to be in this situation at this time. It is quite the dream come true... made complete by clean underwear tomorrow.