geboortekaartje

Mira approved the birth announcment card that we made.
She is one week old now and gaining weight, today (28th of May) she got her first bath and weighs 3,175 Kg. She liked the bath and only cried when feeling cold afterwards. She is waiting now for a visit of her greatgrandparents who are coming over from Brussels.

6 days old, time flies

My daughter is a joy, soft crying, nice smiling and so tiny.

She has 3 uncles and 3 aunts,

She was born on 2005 2006

She has an outspoken preference for mother's milk

I love you

papa

Mother and daughter are both well

welkom op de wereld kleine

Our daughter was born Saturday the 20th of May, she and her mother are both in good health.

(If we do not answer the phone or email, the beautiful little girl is keeping us very busy :)

family pizza

We spent the Easter weekend in the Ardennes closes to SPA with the family. The family meaning my parents, 5 brothers and sisters, 2 partners, me, Parul and her sister Vira. Lots of people to make pizza for :)

Meanwhile Vira is in Paris, my other sisters are travelling to Corsica and Rome and all supposed to be back by the baby's due date, 9 May. Of course that'll be up to the baby ...

Parul's mother also arrived and exchanged the Delhi summer heat for the crisp spring sun with polar wind. Tomorrow we 'll go for a trip to IKEA to get a baby - cupboard/ changing table and have lunch at my parents house. In case you are wondering, I didn't paint the baby room, since we just painted the whole house in summer.

I am off to bed, it could be any moment....

...followed by a 'headache relieving' indoor climbing session

a perfect end to a lazy Sunday!

The 'post 30th celebrations' recovery brunch

at Wattman on draakplaats...mmm.. lekker...
with Christophe and Vira

30th birthday celebrations @ VIBES

From 3 to 30

Aachen

We spent the first weekend of April in Aachen (Germany) .. our last weekend away without baby :-)
In Aachen we found a town with a beautiful old part, magnificent cathedral, shopping on Sunday afternoon, a huge fleamarket Sunday morning and www.carolus-therme.de.

Being an Indian outside of India...

An interesting article from Newsweek. I identified with a lot of what she is saying, and hope to pass on the Indian-ness my parents gave to me, on to my children, who will be half Indians outside of India!

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11569225/site/newsweek/page/2/

My Two Lives
The Pulitzer-winning writer felt intense pressure to be at once 'loyal to the old world and fluent in the new.'

By Jhumpa Lahiri
Newsweek
March 6, 2006 issue - I have lived in the United States for almost 37 years and anticipate growing old in this country. Therefore, with the exception of my first two years in London, "Indian-American" has been a constant way to describe me. Less constant is my relationship to the term. When I was growing up in Rhode Island in the 1970s I felt neither Indian nor American. Like many immigrant offspring I felt intense pressure to be two things, loyal to the old world and fluent in the new, approved of on either side of the hyphen. Looking back, I see that this was generally the case. But my perception as a young girl was that I fell short at both ends, shuttling between two dimensions that had nothing to do with one another.
At home I followed the customs of my parents, speaking Bengali and eating rice and dal with my fingers. These ordinary facts seemed part of a secret, utterly alien way of life, and I took pains to hide them from my American friends. For my parents, home was not our house in Rhode Island but Calcutta, where they were raised. I was aware that the things they lived for—the Nazrul songs they listened to on the reel-to-reel, the family they missed, the clothes my mother wore that were not available in any store in any mall—were at once as precious and as worthless as an outmoded currency.
I also entered a world my parents had little knowledge or control of: school, books, music, television, things that seeped in and became a fundamental aspect of who I am. I spoke English without an accent, comprehending the language in a way my parents still do not. And yet there was evidence that I was not entirely American. In addition to my distinguishing name and looks, I did not attend Sunday school, did not know how to ice-skate, and disappeared to India for months at a time. Many of these friends proudly called themselves Irish-American or Italian-American. But they were several generations removed from the frequently humiliating process of immigration, so that the ethnic roots they claimed had descended underground whereas mine were still tangled and green. According to my parents I was not American, nor would I ever be no matter how hard I tried. I felt doomed by their pronouncement, misunderstood and gradually defiant. In spite of the first lessons of arithmetic, one plus one did not equal two but zero, my conflicting selves always canceling each other out.
When I first started writing I was not conscious that my subject was the Indian-American experience. What drew me to my craft was the desire to force the two worlds I occupied to mingle on the page as I was not brave enough, or mature enough, to allow in life. My first book was published in 1999, and around then, on the cusp of a new century, the term "Indian-American" has become part of this country's vocabulary. I've heard it so often that these days, if asked about my background, I use the term myself, pleasantly surprised that I do not have to explain further. What a difference from my early life, when there was no such way to describe me, when the most I could do was to clumsily and ineffectually explain.
As I approach middle age, one plus one equals two, both in my work and in my daily existence. The traditions on either side of the hyphen dwell in me like siblings, still occasionally sparring, one outshining the other depending on the day. But like siblings they are intimately familiar with one another, forgiving and intertwined. When my husband and I were married five years ago in Calcutta we invited friends who had never been to India, and they came full of enthusiasm for a place I avoided talking about in my childhood, fearful of what people might say. Around non-Indian friends, I no longer feel compelled to hide the fact that I speak another language. I speak Bengali to my children, even though I lack the proficiency to teach them to read or write the language. As a child I sought perfection and so denied myself the claim to any identity. As an adult I accept that a bicultural upbringing is a rich but imperfect thing.
While I am American by virtue of the fact that I was raised in this country, I am Indian thanks to the efforts of two individuals. I feel Indian not because of the time I've spent in India or because of my genetic composition but rather because of my parents' steadfast presence in my life. They live three hours from my home; I speak to them daily and see them about once a month. Everything will change once they die. They will take certain things with them—conversations in another tongue, and perceptions about the difficulties of being foreign. Without them, the back-and-forth life my family leads, both literally and figuratively, will at last approach stillness. An anchor will drop, and a line of connection will be severed.
I have always believed that I lack the authority my parents bring to being Indian. But as long as they live they protect me from feeling like an impostor. Their passing will mark not only the loss of the people who created me but the loss of a singular way of life, a singular struggle. The immigrant's journey, no matter how ultimately rewarding, is founded on departure and deprivation, but it secures for the subsequent generation a sense of arrival and advantage. I can see a day coming when my American side, lacking the counterpoint India has until now maintained, begins to gain ascendancy and weight. It is in fiction that I will continue to interpret the term "Indian-American," calculating that shifting equation, whatever answers it may yield.

my love

a photoshoot at 7 months pregnant

Vira on the move

My salee, my sister in law Vira is staying with us since about three weeks. She is here for 5 months, it is really nice!! Few people know that Belgium and Australia also have a working holiday agreement. So far she had some great holidays in India and Portugal, and she promised to paint our hallway before her niece or nephew arrives.

Pictures on Vira on the move

Parul is in London for three days of training, pubs will close very early for her being 7 months pregnant, I hope she 'll be all right. Meanwhile I am going to follow a workshop that 'll make me superpapa as well as start a new job on Wednesday. Yep, I got a contract at Handicap international as communications officer, really happy, it's international, Belgian, development, and I 'll be doing Flemish stuff, all in one.

cheers
Jeroen

Amy's pictures

Amy came to visit us last September, just when we found out that we are going to become mammy and daddy!

She put her best pictures from Belgium on this site , featuring a warm Belgium aftersummer, (which we dearly miss now that the wet snow keeps falling).

our last week in Australia

Dinner at Bollywoord on the park, the Thursday night before we left. Did Parul eat too much ?


Rakesh in the kitchen


Ranjana stirring a yummy sauce




Parul outside Vira's office

Rakesh finishing off a Ganesh painting that we'll somehow transport to Belgium.

A walk with Tux the dog, who was really excited, sensing we were leaving once more.


Adolphe Sax is being honoured on this wall

The Belgian beercafe in Melbourne. The place had a huge outdoor space and a cycling club : )

The lady at the bar tried to get foam on the Hoegaarden we ordered and got told off by a colleague for trying to make a cappuccino, she did her best though to reproduce belgian beer serving! Some people actually call Belgium a beer paradise . Well, we are just particular about which beer we serve in which glass!

X-mas

Holding Caitlin, Sharon and Garry's baby girl, at Pauline's birthday dinner. This was after our week in Kiama, staying with Parul's friends from Sydney.


We spent Xmas with Parul's family. After a Xmas eve dinner at home we drove down to Yannakie. Here is a picture on a walk along one of the wild beaches at Wilson Prom national park, close to Yannakie, South of Melbourne.

The beach at the caravan park in Yannakie where we stayed for one night.

Xmas day was colder and a lot more windy than expected.

St Kilda

We went out for dinner at soul mama, a fanatic vegetarian restaurant full of normal people and with a beautiful view.

Sint Kilda ligt aan de baai van Melbourne, de skyline van de stad zelf zie je op de achtergrond.

Toen ik de foto nam was het nog fris en winderig, intussen is het warm en een heel eind boven de 25 graden. Wat valt me zo op in Melbourne?

Vliegen

Deze zomer zijn er uitzonderlijk veel vliegen overgewaaid vanuit de outback, je zit in een moderne stad en wordt op bepaalde plaatsen lastiggevallen door vliegen als een koe in een Vlaamsche weide.

Links houden?

Zelf in het zwembad trekt iedereen baantjes aan de linkerkant, Australie is een moderne en multiculturele maatschappij maar vloeit grotendeels voort uit de angelsaksische cultuur en dat zie je aan het schoolsysteem, de architectuur en de religie. Aboriginals zie je weinig in de stad. Eergisteren op een barbie (BBQ) bij Jeremy een vriend van Parul, raakte ik in gesprek met ene Paul die als leraar in een afgelegen gebied werkt in een dorp met Aboriginals. Hij geeft Engels maar hield een pleiddooi voor begrip voor hun non-kapitalistische cultuur en tegen OCMW-uitkeringen. Blijkbaar zijn die gemeenschappen helemaal niet mee met de moderne samenleving maar zijn ze er wel voor een deel afhankelijk van geworden. In het laatste dorp waar hij lesgaf wilden alle jongeren graag in de gevangenis geraken want daar hebben ze een groot fitness centrum en dan kan je met stevige armen terugkeren. Velen weten dikwijls niet waarom ze de gevangenis ingaan. Fascinerend moeilijk!

Groen

Er zijn veel bomen en in de meeste wijken is er een groene long met natuurlijke afwatering. Treinen en trammen lopen hier wel rond maar alles ligt ver uiteen en zonder auto is het niet eenvoudig, tenzij je echt in het centrum woont.

MATROESKA's

Geloof het of niet maar de Vlaamse misdaad serie die in de lente de kijkcijfers van VTM de hoogte in moest jagen loopt hier zowaar onder de naam Russian dolls. En ja, in plat Antwerps met ondertiteling. Zou de VTM dat uitwisselen tegen series van Flying doctors uit de jaren tachtig of worden ze hiervoor goed betaald? Ik voelde me eigenlijk plots fier op VTM.

down under

Sinds midden december zijn wij down under. Na een vliegreis over Kabul en een voetmassage in Kuala Lumpur kwamen wij aan in Melbourne waar de lucht helblauw is en de schoonfamilie blij is.

Intussen hebben we ons tussen indische maaltijden, vrienden terugzien, Melbourne leren kennen en zwemmen in het zwembad en oceaan in een vakantiegevoel genesteld. De afgelopen twee dagen steeg het kwik boven de dertig graden, wat ook helpt al blijft Melbourne wisselvallig en momenteel heel winderig en onweersachtig.

Enkele indrukken:
In dit park zitten drie scoutsgroepen, jongens, meisjes en een schotse groep.

Te voet onderweg door suburbia, de afstanden houden je gezond als je niet altijd over een auto beschikt.

Garry (op de foto naast Parul) and Sharon kregen twee weken terug een schattige baby.

What the.... ? indeed

and of course this one is classic!

and finally a public health message:

Engrish

A friend sent me a wonderfully funny website www.engrish.com
My mum always had this joke about a chinese menu that offered "flied lice with lemon glass" and this website has many of those idiosyncracies and lots of "what the..?" moments (a.k.a Rove Live!)
This picture is one of my favourite ones: