terug in Mechelen

I first caught glimpse of Sint-Romboutstoren set against one of the most beautiful post-storm sunsets I'd ever seen over the city. Although one wonders if it was just such lighting that gave the Maneblussers their name. In the night, Mechelen greeted me with fireworks. I could stand right under them with my ears plugged, still hearing the ooohs and aahs of the Mechelaars around me. (Oh wait, was it the national holiday?) Sint-Romboutstoren was as magnificent as ever; I was nearly overwhelmed standing at the foot of it, as I have always been. It has a monumentality in its incompleteness and white stone that even its completed sister, the OLV-Kathedraaltoren, lacks. Again the tower looked to catch fire. Is it not funny that the two cities I've occupied this year in Europe are both home to Maneblussers who tried to extinguish the conflagrations in their towers, only to find that the towers were backlit by a foggy moon? Perhaps citizens the world over who love their carillons react this way.

After shopping at the GB in Sint-Katelijne-Waver, which to my amazement now stocks rice milk, and picking up some homegrown produce by bicycle, I made some fresh pasta sauce and then took off for the Beiaardschool. It soon became clear that the iMac G4 in the archive could not be updated because it could not download any executables at all -- thanks to WatchGuard HTTP proxy, courtesy of the municipal ISP. Grrr. I was really pleased to find, however, that I did not mind practicing on the attic's Clavion practice keyboard at all--it is a Ferrari in comparison to Rochester's. This in contrast to last year, when I usually opted not to practice at all than play that maladjusted thing. Why doesn't somebody adjust it?

I was just getting to the Beethoven piano concerto transcription in preparation for my terrifying concert in Antwerp when I found myself so physically exhausted that I could hardly move. After forcing myself to play through it once, I packed my things--and realized I'd been practicing since 16:00, and it was now 20:30. Even as a full-time carillon student, four hours had been my limit, although I wasn't this exhausted afterwards. Still, it was rewarding to realize that with a decent instrument, I could practice for hours without even noticing the passage of time. Perhaps the environment also helped. There are few distractions, and the rooms are spacious (in contrast to the UR practice pod), relatively comfortable, and have windows and honest-to-god sunlight.

With the house mostly to myself, I've had great fun taking over the kitchen and in fact the entire first floor. It's almost as luxurious as occupying an entire condominium on Memorial Drive in Cambridge. And for the first time, I'm riding a hybrid that's closer to a road bike than to its mountain counterpart. The wheels are bigger than Lucky's, and the bike is quite light. In other words, I'm zipping along with ease at record speeds. Although zipping over cobblestones is more unpleasant than ever.