momentous

Another landmark! This morning, I played a real carillon for the first time since the accident. The carillon of Sint-Gummaruskerk in Lier was far more beautiful and easy to play than I remembered it, hopefully evidence that I've learned how to appreciate a good European carillon. Geert disclosed the secret of how he extended the bottom register by three low, exorbitantly expensive bells with his name in relief on the bourdon. Exactly what I mean to do as a carillon rockstar.

Landmark moments happen remarkably often after a major accident. Similarly, it was right outside that playing cabin, half an hour after meeting him, that I decided to risk appearing impudent and shouted at him over the wail of bells that I wanted him to be my carillon teacher. I had no idea what playing the carillon meant until I saw him at the bench. "What?! You only teach composition? You'll still teach me to play, right?!" In fact, living in a country through which I've travelled twice, not expecting I'd move there, I've found revisiting anyplace meaningful. Conclusion: Recipe for a meaningful life consists of returning to the destination of your dreams, revisiting places, getting seriously injured, getting better, revisiting places again. Hmmm.

Discovered that Cafe Intermezzo, a mere two blocks from my house, has the most extensive mouthwatering selection of pannekoeken and ice cream in town, as well as an airy garden-like indoor terrace scintillating with the songs of canaries and parakeets and today's winter sunlight.

Was overjoyed watching the Belgian countryside as my train to Oostende parted its way through the dusk towards the coast. I had almost forgotten why I loved riding the train so much. On countless fall days, I watched beautiful foreign landscapes slip by almost in tears of gratitude for and disbelief at the reality of being here, really here, in Belgium, the future that had once been a distant, impossible dream. It's a good feeling to rediscover.

Savored a dinner of leek soup and 'Oostende Vispannetje' (not quite what I'd hoped for) after discovering that the Spanish restaurant I'd eyed in September served paella only for two or more. Hurried through blue-lighted shopping boulevards (strangely reminiscent of the Amsterdam street on which Jeremy and I bought dried veggies) to the Dominicanenkerk for Klaas and his brother's concert, with part-time Beiaardschool student Dina as one of the soloists. Small world, this country. And a heartening wonder to see the crowds of people who will turn out for a baroque concert anywhere, anytime. More wondrous still, the people who work so hard to give these concerts. There's a passion for early music here that I've never seen before; it seems to run in people's blood, as does the ability to make it.

From the church, I hurried back onto the train, where some underaged Antwerpenaar boarded at Vilvoorde and sat apart from his brother to pick me up despite my visibly intent state of meditation (mentally playing the van Noordt--humbling, to say the least). I humored him with a brief conversation that was 90% in Dutch and 10% in English, but really could be considered 50% Dutch, 10% English, and 40% ideas I didn't bother / gave up trying to communicate.

The Nederlandse Beiaardschool, with its abrupt 100% faculty turnover, is not looking so bad for a master's degree anymore. Fulbright Commission, come through for me. After all, the one Dutch city I think I'd be happy to live in is just next door: Utrecht.

NAMM Oddities: A 7.1 surround-sound 3.6 GHz organ and other otherwordly, slightly threatening developments.