Tags: #Antwerp, #architecture, #Travel, #Wanderin'
Antwerp Central Train Station
I recently took an online photography workshop hosted by one of the members of the American Women’s Club of Antwerp. Brigitte Meuwissen is a talented photographer and her workshop The Art of Seeing shed light on the history of photography and the basic elements of crafting photographs. My photography knowledge is limited – starting with the definition of photography. . . which in its most literal terms means Writing with Light. During these strange COVID times, she taught us how to create photographs of our own homes – looking out our windows, seeing the shadows within the rooms, and capturing
How 2020 Stole Christmas!
Update: I’m happy to announce that the following poem was published by The Brussels Times on December 22, 2020. Click here to view: https://www.brusselstimes.com/opinion/145641/how-2020-stole-christmas/ 2020 has been a difficult year, to say the least. As my children and I unearthed the Christmas decorations from the basement and started to re-read all our favorite holiday stories, I found an alarming similarity between a familiar prose. . . and 2020’s “festivities”. With a sarcastic, but yet enlightened heart, I wrote the following poem. Thank you, Dr. Suess, for your beautiful poem, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Who knew your message could be adapted
Back to School
The following is an excerpt from a Letter from the President that I wrote to the membership of the American Women’s Club of Antwerp in September. At the time, I had spent almost five months at home with my children. Although it made me question my sanity, we had formed a bond. It was as if they were as close to me as joeys in a kangaroo’s pouch. We were contained in our own bubble – as intense or as crazy as it was – it was ours. It felt safe. The morning I ushered them off to school I
We’re Going on a Teddy Bear Hunt
This article was originally published in the FAWCO (Federation of Women’s Clubs Overseas) magazine. Inspiring Women Magazine – Summer 2020 “We’re going on a bear hunt, we’re going to catch a big one. What a beautiful day. We’re not scared. Oh no! Grass! Long, wavy grass! We can’t go over it. We can’t go under it. Oh, no! We’ve got to go through it. Swishy swashy! Swishy swashy! Swishy swashy!” It’s never been my favorite children’s book or song. I know. Call me a Bad Mom. The repetition is good for kids, but it is just the kind of chant
Brokenness & Hope
It has been a muddled few months. I’d moved houses, my children were at home, and the Coronavirus lockdown oppressed the city with its depressing quiet view. The only lights flickering through my days were the gorgeous spring weather and my WhatsApp messages. I’d barely gasped for air between unpacking boxes before Ariadna, the American Women’s Club VP of Membership reached out to me – “What do you think about this?” I give authority to whoever has a good idea. “Go for it,” I said, and I went back to laundry/homeschooling/the Board Meeting agenda. About a month ago, I clicked
Life Love Hope
A festive vibe energizes the city. I’m on the number four headed towards the Nationale Bank stop. The passengers are filled with excitement despite the drizzle accumulating on the ancient tram windows. Darkness fell hours ago. I check my phone. 6:07 p.m. This is winter in Antwerp, days before Christmas. The tram eases to the stop. I descend the steps and walk on the glistening cobbles. The darts of moisture are in that in-between-stage, as any seasoned expat knows – it would be self-indulgent/wimpy to open an umbrella, but I left my hat at home. I glare at the rain
Lost and Found
A wise friend once told me – there are seasons in life. There’s of course, the big ones like school, college, marriage, motherhood, etc. But then I like to think of the subsets – the everyday life. With each transition, there’s a learning curve and then there’s the stuff that goes a long with it. I remember my first time out of the house with two children. My daughter was 18 months old and my son was a newborn. I was on my way to introduce our baby to my husband’s co-workers at his office in Dallas. I’m on
Antwerp Christmas Market
When my family and I lived in the Netherlands, my husband and I used to get up on a Sunday, look at each other and say, “What should we do today?” If it wasn’t raining, the answer was often, “Let’s go to Belgium!” We drive and park and wander the streets of Antwerp admiring the architecture, the wide boulevards, visit the Bric-a-Brac market in Sint-Jansvliet and inevitably feast on a waffle from our favorite stand in the train station. We’d head back to Leiden before dark. We’ve visited Christmas markets in Brussels, Brugge, Paris, and Aachen. For some strange reason,
Antwerp Zoo China Lights
The first week my 5-year old son was enrolled in Belgian school, he went on a field trip to the Antwerp Zoo. “But Mama, we didn’t take the tram, we took a school bus,” he jumped around like a kangaroo when I picked him up from school that day. He loved the zoo – the animals, the playground, the bus ride. A few months later, as he blew out his candles for his birthday, he wished the whole family could go to the Antwerp Zoo. On a chilly day in December, Sinterklaas rang our doorbell and scurried away on Amerigo
AWCA Gala Evening
The Indian summer air shimmies through the wide boulevard of the Meir – leaves on the towering trees dance. Shop lights glow in the twilight as the final shoppers are deposited, hands full of bags and eyes wide with excitement – the Saturday evening beckons. My dress bounces around my knees and high heels click on the pavement I’ve so often passed over – always pushing a stroller laden with cups, snacks, and a discarded jacket, shoe, or both. Tonight, a tiny gold purse dangles from my wrist. Freedom. I grab my husband’s suited arm and we sashay towards the
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