Flying sucks. But what flying lets you do is amazing.
Lots of exciting things went down in the last few weeks. For one, I sang in the Carols for Christmas! Concert, which filled the 1800-seat Cirque Royal in Brussels on Sunday night, December 5th. The hall had lousy acoustics for a choir, being built for circuses - I mean it, we warmed up in the old stables, with troughs on the walls - normally, this group plays in the Palais des Beaux-Arts, but it is being renovated. So we did our best, which came out pretty darned good, and it was a lovely evening of mixed carols, some well known, some less so, and the 130-voice choir, a fantastic orchestra, a children's choir, and a featured British tenor named Nick Sales. Two of my Belgian pals came to the show, dressed in suits (hubba hubba!). Also, the show was recorded, and the group will review this and last year's recording, and possibly cut a CD in January. And, all of this raises money for charity.
The general favorites of the evening were the kids' songs (they really were good) and "Do You Hear What I Hear" (which was an arrangement by our conductor that used everyone: it started as a tenor solo, and then the choir came in and we all echoed each other and it sounded incredible). The whole undertaking was a great experience.
Then to my great joy, Diana Krall, one of my favorite jazz musicians, came to town. In fact, she played at...the Cirque Royal! On December 7th, two days after I sang there! Yup, Diana and I, we play the same halls. Fortunately for me, she is not as well known in Brussels as some places, and it was only half filled, which made for a mellow, intimate concert. I sent a review in to a fan web site; it's not up yet, but I got an email saying he'd post it next time he updates. Smooth Jazz fans, check it out at http://www.dkrall.com/.
And then last weekend I went back to France for a quarterly OSI meeting and our Christmas party, which was a lovely dinner out, right on the water. The French coworkers all asked how my French-learning is coming along, and I assured them it's getting worse, and then distracted them with chocolate (prompting the sales manager to say, "We need to always have a project going in Belgium,") and the program from my concert, pointing out my name. Swell meeting, a few pats on the back for me (oh, did I do something right? Glad to hear it) and possible upcoming projects are in Spain, Italy, Ireland, and we are making efforts in Scandinavia. Hm. Then, a festive dinner at La Siesta restaurant/casino/discorama between Antibes and Villeneuve-Loubet. It was pleasant, and I went home around 1 am.
I hung around with the Taylors the rest of the weekend, and did laundry and all that sort of thing. It was gorgeous in Valbonne; crisp and sparkling weather, and white Christmas lights up all over town at night. You could see the snowy Alps.
And now I'm back in Belgium.
But I make that sound so easy, like I just teleported. The flight is only an hour and a half or so, but there is all the other hassle. In fact, when I left last Thursday night it was more like this: make lists, pack, short drive to airport, turn in rental car (Fiat Seicento), check in, show boarding pass, go through X-ray/metal detector, wait, catch plane, eat strange food (seriously: green beans with bacon bits, served over strange red cutlets of something and it's all cold with salad dressing. Fortunately, Sabena Airlines hands out chocolates, and I knew I had a pizza in the freezer in Valbonne), land, retrieve luggage, exit through Nothing To Declare section, get rental car (I am not keeping a car in France, yet), be startled to see it is an Opel Astra station wagon (they must have run out of subcompacts, but it was almost 11 pm Thursday night so why argue), get in car and decipher wipers/radio/headlights, get on the A8 south with 7.5 French francs for toll.
I always remember the francs, but I can't seem to catch the A8 to save my life. When I first arrived in France, I got it right, although I got lost in the Sophia Antipolis area trying to find the office. Then last time I went back, I got on the A8 (if you want to be cool, say "Ah-wheet") going the wrong way, merrily towards Monaco, but I managed to turn 'round. This time, I missed it and was going along the Promenade des Anglais (main drag of Nice, right along the water) and I thought to myself, Dang! Missed it again! But I realized, you know, it's not such a bad state of affairs to be driving along the Promenade des Anglais, fer cry-eye, even if you're a complete idiot. I turned around, and managed to miss the entrance to the A8 *AGAIN* and ended up taking the non-toll coastal road. I grumbled again and then sternly reminded myself, Carolyn, you are FEET away from the Mediterranean. Stop whining, this will take you to Biot and you can get home from there. It isn't quite as fast but it's only a few kilometers so relax, and drive. And I did.
Park the car (nice living right by a parking lot, although it'd be better if I had my own space in the basement of Vallis Bona), drag suitcase in, collect mail (the amount of junk mail in France is stunning), get into chilly/clammy apartment, start up heater, start laundry, start pizza, water thirsty plants. Whew.
Once the weekend was over, on Sunday afternoon it was time to go back to Brussels, because I hate doing the early-morning-Monday flight (I'm sure you can imagine). Say it with me now: make lists, pack, remove most FFrancs from wallet and insert BFrancs (French are about 6 to a dollar, Belgian about 37 to the dollar, so I just think in Dollars/Euros and do the math), drive to airport (smugly on the A8 this time), turn in rental car, haul luggage and self to check-in (show passport), show boarding pass to enter terminal (stricter here than the States by the way), go through security, catch plane, strange pate food thing this time, wonder if I have my Belgian apartment keys along and decide not to look, land and deplane, collect luggage (I don't always check baggage but took the Big Case this time), stroll through "From EU Country/Green Luggage Tag/Nothing to Declare" exit, pick up rental car (VW Polo this time!), discern controls, drive by grocery store which is closed so Top Ramen will have to do, short drive home, yes I have the keys (whew!), haul luggage up stairs, turn on heat, start water boiling, and unpack.
And I'm doing that all again in two weeks, to spend Christmas in Valbonne. Any bets on whether I can actually catch the A8 this time? And I didn't mention that sometimes a BUS takes you to your plane from the terminal. And yes, everyone speaks English in general, and I can manage some French if they don't. Airport announcements come in several languages. And as you can see, customs between two Schengen countries in today's Europe are practically nothing.
I know, it's not that interesting but...it's my life! Although I managed to get through all of November without having to fly anywhere, and am hoping to achieve the same for January.
In other news, one of my ferrets passed on suddenly over the weekend. Ferdinand, you will be missed.
I hope this finds you all well, and merrily anticipating the holidays. Cheers!
C a r o l y n
=====
M i n s q
"Brothers Grimm knew chances were slim
Anyone would dig it that the human soul was Snow White
And the Seven Dwarfs were seven Tempers in Man
Whose digging out the gold completes the plan."
- Manhattan Transfer, 'Sing Joy Spring'
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