Hello all,

So the prophecy came true didn't it? As soon as I'm immersed in the school life the bloglife slows way down. A lot has happened in the last two weeks actually, but I'm not sure exactly what to write about. I had a friend come and visit from New York for about two weeks, we went to Amsterdam, Brugge and Maastricht, which is this medium-sized Dutch town just across the Belgian border.

The trip to Amsterdam was nearly a disaster, one small part of which was the fact that I forgot the memory card for my camera, so I don't even have pictures of the many good things that happened. The hostel we stayed in was horrible, as in hor-ror. It was called D u r t y N e l l y's, write it down, because you don't EVER want to stay there. The bathroom (singular) was disgusting, I won't even go into how disgusting, and there wasn't hot water (or even warm water) the entire time we were there. It was like they had a kegorator underneath the pipes that actually refrigerated the water. We didn't get a single good night sleep while we were there--being interrupted twice by some sleep-deprived staff member confused about whether or not we were in the right beds--and the downstairs was this played out Irish pub that had nothing but loud sports events and even louder British rugby teams (or some other strapping congregation of young "old boys"). As cheap as it was, we paid too much to be so uncomfortable.

BUT, it all came together in the end. We decided to leave a night early, because we had to leave in the morning on Monday anyway, and another night in that horrible place was more than a mostly shut Sunday night in Amsterdam could compensate for. So we go grab our things out of the lockers, not intending to check out--just in case we can't get back to Leuven--but rather to get the 10euro deposit back in case we can. I hand the guy the lock, he hands me a 50. I look at it, I look at him, he hasn't noticed, I deliberate for a split second... I put it in my pocket and walk out the door. 40 euros bought us a train ride home, and we were back in Leuven by midnight. I know maybe I should have given it back, and perhaps I'm giving the fates a chance to make me by actually putting the name of the place on the wide open intraweb, but I would gladly give it back just to be able to tell the people why I decided to take it in the first place. Maybe the whole thing could be a learning experience for everyone. The worst case scenario is that that poor bartender got fired or fined or something for his mistake, in which case I would apologize to the best of my ability. Trouble with wearing a uniform is that you're obscured inside the identity of the institution, occupational hazard, in the broadest sense.

The good things of course were plentiful. Myself, Shannon, Brad, Corry and his friends Andy and Ivanna (sp? pronounced "ee-wan-na") all hung out and spent the night wandering around looking for various things, a good chance to see the city all lit up. Mostly it was the usual for Amsterdam: museums, coffeeshops, museums, coffeeshops. I enjoyed myself. I highly recommend getting the Museumkaart the next time you're there. 33euros for a 24hour transit pass and free admission to all the big museums. You have to start EARLY though, time flies looking at art and historical stuff.

In the Van Gogh museum's contemporary photography exhibit I saw that photograph of the woman in Italy walking through the gauntlet of leering men. I'm sure you've seen it, it was a woman photographer but I can't remember her name. Someone has it in their apartment, who is that? I wanted my friend Taine to be there so bad, I think she's the only one that would know where I was coming from when I looked at it, strange a thing as that is to say. I've seen it many times before, it's actually painful for me to look at, because the woman's face is distorted with fear, as all these dapper (and otherwise) men lean over banisters and motorbikes to harrass her. You can almost hear the whistles, sneers and tongue clucking. It makes my skin crawl even thinking about it. But I noticed this time, or at least I hope I saw, since I was so close to it, that there are three men who are standing in front of her and can see her face. They aren't whistling, or sneering, and their posture is almost confrontational, like they're ready to spring on whoever crosses the line to touch her. The one nearest to her looks surprised and concerned, like he's just on the threshold of figuring out what's happening, the second looks ready to whisk her out of there, and the third is an older man, maybe in his late 60s, who has his hands in his pockets and is watching the whole thing like he's seen it a thousand times before. I actually held up my hand to cover the rest of the photograph so I could just focus on their faces. I'm sure it wasn't the kind of nobility that would confirm all my fading ideals about the human race, but there was something there that was complicated enough to assure me that we are not entirely abandoned to the strange human propensity to view living things as objects, with all the cruelty that that brings out in us. I was happy I saw it, or at least wanted to see it badly enough that it seemed real to me.

Since then (more than a week ago now) I've just been visiting with my friend and trying, trying to get a handle on my work. It's crazy how the time just goes and I haven't done what I set out to do. I think I have a planning problem, gotta work on that. In any case I am getting closer to a fully in-charge position. I read the entire second book of Malebranche yesterday and besides the werewolf stuff, I think I have a handle on the imagination as far as he's concerned. A lively imagination is contagious, you know, and of course it is also a temptation to sin, so watch out on both counts. If anyone wants to have a good laugh, read the chapter on Montaigne in the last chapter of the third part of book two, I haven't even read Montaigne, but Malebranche sure hates him.

I'm off to the central library now, the boulder awaits.

All my love,

Cake