Two down, two more to go

Two down, two more to go. Two what though, that's the question. Two weeks. Two weeks have passed in which I packed my things, bought more china I didn't need, did my shopping and started saying goodbye to people. After five months at home, the time has finally come to leave again. Once more to France, only this time, not to Paris. This time round, I will get to know Lyon a little bit.

As usual I'm taking far more things then I will probably need. However, having your very own kitchenette ought to be celebrated. As does having your own bathroom. No other hairs in the drain than my own. It's still disgusting, but not nearly as disgusting as someone else's. For the first time since leaving the nest, I can put chocolate in my fridge. And it'll stay there. As do the nice desserts.

Despite having lived toward these final two days at home for weeks now, suddenly I start to get a little scared. Worried that it will not be great. I don't even dare to hope for a good time. For nice colleagues and hopefully new friends. Theoretically I'll find those. As it is seasonal work helping holiday-makers if they get into trouble in the sense of problems with their cars and caravans, there will be more people like me there. Hired for a few months. New in town. Usually that makes people stick together as no one knows anyone.

It will be summer so the weather will hopefully do its bit for a good time. Otherwise the shops will. Once in a while, one should make an effort to live in France. Not least to expand the contents of one's wardrobe according to the latest fashion. And there is a home in the countryside to go to, especially during hot days. To do nothing but relax, tan, pick cherries and maybe do some baking.

So what can go wrong you wonder? Not much, I agree. Then what is there to be scared off? Coming to think of it, I don't know. Perhaps I'm scared to be lonely there. That I will not be arriving together with other new people but have to start alone among employees that have been there forever. Perhaps it won't be so easy making new friends then. Yet, I have never lived somewhere and not had any friend at all. So statistically, we should assume that things look rather well and that there is no real need to worry and only need to enjoy.

To take or to leave, that's the question

Suddenly you wake up. What started as an ordinary visit to an old friend suddenly might be more than that. Suddenly you become aware of how he makes you feel. Safe. Secure. You can trust him with your life. He will never go away. You wonder what it all means. That perhaps you have overlooked a good deal for years? Or that you have become desperate and that security and familiarity is all you want. Because it's safe. It's quiet.

A dilemma needs to be faced: whether or not to settle down for good, for safe and for quiet, or whether not to keep looking. For great, for excitement and for life. I think I have chosen the latter. O it is certainly good to have a quiet life. But I do not think that I want to fall in love with how someone makes me feel. I'd much rather fall in love with the person himself.

As I thought things over and imagined what it would be like, there were issues. Big issues. Like seeing up a little to seeing him. That's not good. Like probably never feeling proud of him. Impressed. Or having the will to make an effort, let alone being prepared to do anything for him. Never. After all, it would be a quiet life.

Not that I would have to do anything. No, there wouldn't be any need for that. He would happily pull the cart by himself. Alone. Whilst I continue living my life as I have always done. Taking up a job in Cairo. He'll come with. Should he have second thoughts, I'll threaten him: 'take it or leave it', without ever really worrying he'll leave it. Of course I would be upset if it'd ever end. No doubt about that. I will cry when he leaves. But also have the certainty to get over it. There would not be devastation afterwards.

What worries me most though is that one day I have to wake him up. One day I have to tell. One day I have to go. Smash the dream, say that I hoped it would work, that I have done my best but that I want my freedom back. The worst of this being that I know it now. That we'll make it for a year, maybe two. Maybe even longer, who knows. But I think I will always worry. Worry that I am found out. That I went for the safety, the security, the familiarity, but not for him. That I will just fall in love with someone else. Really fall in love without rationally choosing to if you even can. Then what? Then I leave for great? Or do I stay out of loyalty?

I don't think I want to answer any of these questions much less see a dream turn into a nightmare. I do not want to think about a boyfriend in terms of 'having to deal with him for a weekend.' But I would. And suddenly you wake up. This is not what I want. It is not what I am looking for. I may not be someone who likes conquering a guy, but I do not need one that would give it all to me on a silver plate either. I do not want to have to fight for my feelings. I choose not to choose but to let events take their course instead.

Meet and Greet

Home again after attending an informative event for graduates and young professionals interested in working for the EU. Two days ago, the competitions for general administrators started. The Dutch government (or what's left of it) wants to export more Dutchies into the EU bureaucratic apparatus. An exciting start of the selection procedure, specifically aimed at people standing at the beginning of their careers, was considered the way forward.

The way forward it was with a good turn-out. I must admit I was rather impressed. Similarly to going to the careers fair earlier this year, I have trouble becoming enthusiastic about these things. Somehow I have some difficulty motivating myself and finding a proper reason to go. Because let's be honest: the provided information is not exclusive. It is also available online in full detail. So you find yourself going somewhere for something that you can also get by just remaining where you are: in front of the computer. So, if not for the info, what do we go for?

To put the enthusiastic title meet&greet into practice? Fair enough, by staying at home, one does not meet new people. The title failed to specify who we're meeting and greeting though. The experts, speakers, information and recruitment officers? If you have an urgent and personal question, you can call or email them. No need to spend €7,20 on a trainticket for that. However, this is a competition we're talking about. And what do we do in competitions? That's right: compete. With competitors. Meet and greet the competition. Watch them. Listen to them. Crossquestion them. The loners are the easiest. They're craving for a chat, you see it in their eyes. In their smiles. A little insecure perhaps. So if someone seems interested, they'll take the bait.

It is difficult though isn't it. Starting a chat with a complete stranger. As I floated around, watching, observing, I suddenly realised that whenever we do talk to a stranger, we often have a topic to talk about. A question to ask perhaps. Or, if we are very lucky, something in common. During such an event however, one should think that every person present has something in common with everyone else. Everyone shares an interest in working for the EU. And the loners have a second common feature: they are all alone. So why didn't I take one step closer to the girl that friendly smiled back at me, quite clearly looking for someone to talk to. Not to be alone anymore. All that would have been needed was a simple: "You're here by yourself as well? It's always a bit awkward in the beginning isn't it." That's it. Chatting we'd have made our way to the auditorium, laughing a little about the buzzer announcing the event is about to start.

But I didn't. Because I didn't know what to say. Not then. Then you think. So hard. And it's empty. At home again, safely in front of the computer screen where no one can see your own insecurity is where you realise how easy it is. That going alone is not an obstacle during a meet and greet, but an advantage. Meet and greet. Being there with old friends perhaps takes away the interest in making new ones. No need to meet anyone, much less greet anyone. The other loners though. Together in their being alone. Easy to talk to. They are also the ones using the event what it was intended for: meeting and greeting.

Spear

Two weeks ago I was on holiday. In France. I go a lot to France these days. The fact that my parents bought a fermette in Bourgogne might have something to do with it. So far I have found myself there with my parents however this last time was special as my sister joined as well. And during this week I realised once more that I really should spend some time with my sister once in a while. That it is during these prolonged periods of time that she tells me things. That we share the most private aspects of our lives. Including men. I have to admit that my sister's doing most of the sharing, not least because my love life tends to be a short story. Which is why it is important to listen and to learn.

After a couple of years of dating well-chosen and less well-chosen boyfriends, my sister realised that there is type of guy that she tends to like after all. Or rather, a type that provides the certainty you are with a man. You know, a real one. According to my sister, nortern men are real men. Not such vain, forever whining, self-important sissies who still have their mum doing their laundry. After quietly bringing up that I'm not really into blonde hair and blue eyes, I am assured it has nothing to do with that. Physical features including hair and eye-colour are mere trivials.

No, what matters is whether he's a little rough or not. The way to figure this out apparently is to imagine one's target with a spear. If the guy in question would look good with a spear, you know you're on the right track. Now, although always having had a feeling that one should stay away from guys with a relatively high-pitched voice, this is a revolutionary approach to testing the suitability of one's potential partner.

Despite sisterly assurance about certain features being completely unimportant, I am still not sure that I go for this northerly, rough, manly type. Only just out of the bearskin and probably rather hairy too. After having been told about spears and manliness I am left feeling slightly awkward before whispering that I'm still not that interested in the northerners. That I tend to be more attracted to southern types. Not particularly for lack of spear or a appropriately low voice, much less for lurking presence of mother. I just like dark hair and eyes better and well...southern guys you can kindly ask to get rid of the chesthair. But let's face it...imagine a well-groomed Italian with a spear. See what I mean? By the same token, my sister's own boyfriend, a decent Belgian from West-Flanders of average hight with broad shoulders, would not look good with a spear either. He's more of a club-type.

So is it really all about a spear? Or is it in fact about a weapon in general? Can we make an adequate guess about a guy by imagining what type of weapon would suit him best? Or does the choice of weapon actually tell us a lot more about ourselves? Perhaps my sister is a spear-girl. She likes spears but is dating a club-guy. As for me? I've always had a soft spot for a bow-and-arrow. Somehow I find it sexy. And yet...I wouldn't be surprised to end up with a sword-guy.

Veg

It has been ten years already since I decided to stop eating meat. Save for one weddingparty I have not had meat in my mouth since. As long as you live at home and your mother cooks your food, this is a fairly simple decision to make. After all, in the end, you're not the one dealing with sudden practical problems. Even after moving away from my parents however I have not once found being vegetarian an issue or a challenge. Not in the sense that I might miss meat nor in the preparation of food.

As the years went by however I find I have become increasingly interested in cooking (not so much in eating the meals) and from the pasta with instant sauce I have moved on to making my own soup, apple crumble and curry. An immense improvement if I might say so.

Recently my interest in cooking and the will to make everything myself has taken flight. Not because I am suddenly incredibly hungry but rather as in two weeks time I will finally, for the first time in my life, have my very own kitchenblock. Despite it only having two electric plates, a small counter and a fridge, I am on cloud nine. It's the best I've ever had. No one to share with, no dirty dishes in the sink that do not belong to me and no disappearing dessers from the fridge. All that will hopefully belong to the past for good.

I intend to celebrate this by cooking, as one should. Consequently I have found myself going through my mum's collection of cooking books like a greedy caterpillar in addition to browsing the internet, always on the look-out for something tasty. Apart from quite an international collection of recipes, this collecting-mania has resulted in some reflection on non-meat food, or veg for friends and family.

Somehow there is something the matter with 'veg' in particular. There is some sort of a midly alternative air about it. Veg is close to biological. For reasons beyond my comprehension putting 'vegetarian' in cooking websites' searchengines results in nuts and very creative but slightly odd recipies. Is it me, or is this strange? Are most vegetarians mildy alternative types in knitted clothes on sandals after all? Or are these recipes added by prejudged meat-eating folk?

It has been ten years since I stopped eating meat and not once have I been inclined to add nuts to my food and cook them. Perhaps the nut-obsession is born out of a fear among meateaters that vegetarians lack essential minerals. That meat is an absolutely essential part of our diet and therefore it has to be replaced. With nuts, randomly added mushrooms and odd cheese-filled bakes. I just doubt there is any need for that. Of course, that the minerals in meat need to be replaced is beyond any doubt. A Bolognese sauce with mushrooms will do though. But there is no need to become obsessed. After all, having a piece of meat every evening, internationally and historically speaking, is more exception than rule.