It's been more than seven months since I last wrote on this blog. It was always my intention to continue both our Monday brunches and my blog about them, but one is not always able to carry out one's intentions. I simply was too busy. Not too busy to brunch, but certainly too busy to write about it.
Seven months is a long time - it is a long time in the life of a thirty-nine year old, and it is certainly a long time in the life of a two year old. The Rihanna Gaga of today is a different Rihanna Gaga from the Rihanna Gaga of the last post I wrote on this blog.
What happened in the meantime? Well, I started work for a new university here in Tunisia, a private institute where I teach at a business school and where, on my first day of work, I became head of the department of communication. That coincided with my last post for this blog and this isn't so surprising as part of my job was a complete overhaul of the curriculum, creating and teaching several new courses. Meanwhile, from September onwards I was flying back and forth between Tunisia and the Netherlands, where I still had a contract until the end of December, teaching at a Dutch university. It was - and this is an understatement - a very hectic period.
But, like I said, we kept brunching. One memorable place we visited was Mala Garden, a restaurant in Siófok, a city at the Balaton lake in Hungary, where we were to celebrate the wedding of my oldest and best friend, who is originally from Hungary, but who lives in Amsterdam now and at whose place I often stayed during my trips to the Netherlands. Rihanna Gaga loved the restaurant, that had a little play corner for children, with a toy kitchen where she could make 'food' for a large group of toy animals. She took this very seriously, cooking enthusiastically and feeding the animals with a clear sense of duty. The food served at that restaurant was a weird mix of general European, typical Hungarian and Thai food. It was lovely to eat some good Thai food, impossible to get in Tunisia.
That was in September. After the wedding, Rihanna Gaga and her mother went back to Tunisia and I travelled onwards per train to the Netherlands. Or at least, that was the idea, but first we got stuck with the three of us at the Hungarian border with Austria, which suddenly had been closed to all trains so that we had to continue by taxi and then a local train to Vienna, where Rihanna Gaga and her mother almost missed their plane to Tunisia because of this. The reason for this was the refugee crisis, which is haunting Europe for months now. Because of this crisis, I could also not travel onwards to Germany as the authorities cancelled all trains from Austria to Germany as well. What we witnessed on the Hungarian border with Austria and what I later witnessed in Vienna, was shocking. Complete families, chased out of the train like animals, surrounded by uniformed border guards - most, of course, wearing sunglasses, avoiding direct eye contact - sitting on the ground with looks of despair on their faces. And there we were, just another family, but one with the right papers (or rather, the right skin colour, as no one ever asked us for our papers), hurrying along the Arab refugees who were now kept in the station by the police towards a taxi that would take us to the other side of the border. Rihanna Gaga, still in her pyjamas because she was sleeping until then, looked confused, surprised. Some children of her own age caught her attention and she pointed at them, but they were staring in the distance.
As we, the lucky ones, drove in our taxi towards the border - some good business for the taxi driver, this situation! - we could see a trail of clothes and sleeping bags left behind by refugees on their way to Austria. Among the rubbish were volunteers with food an water and in the woods refugees moved like shadows towards the West.
After Rihanna Gaga and her mother had left, I went to the Vienna railway station to find out that it had just been decided that no trains were going to Germany that day. I have all the white privilege in the world. I could take out my credit card and passport and fly out of Vienna (it cost me a small fortune, but still: I got out). I got a hotel voucher from the Austrain railway company to spend the night in a luxurious hotel. But thousands were - and, as I write this now in March 2016, many still are - stranded in fields, if they're lucky in tents.
Seven months is a long time - it is a long time in the life of a thirty-nine year old, and it is certainly a long time in the life of a two year old. The Rihanna Gaga of today is a different Rihanna Gaga from the Rihanna Gaga of the last post I wrote on this blog.
What happened in the meantime? Well, I started work for a new university here in Tunisia, a private institute where I teach at a business school and where, on my first day of work, I became head of the department of communication. That coincided with my last post for this blog and this isn't so surprising as part of my job was a complete overhaul of the curriculum, creating and teaching several new courses. Meanwhile, from September onwards I was flying back and forth between Tunisia and the Netherlands, where I still had a contract until the end of December, teaching at a Dutch university. It was - and this is an understatement - a very hectic period.
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| Mala Garden in Siófok, Hungary |
That was in September. After the wedding, Rihanna Gaga and her mother went back to Tunisia and I travelled onwards per train to the Netherlands. Or at least, that was the idea, but first we got stuck with the three of us at the Hungarian border with Austria, which suddenly had been closed to all trains so that we had to continue by taxi and then a local train to Vienna, where Rihanna Gaga and her mother almost missed their plane to Tunisia because of this. The reason for this was the refugee crisis, which is haunting Europe for months now. Because of this crisis, I could also not travel onwards to Germany as the authorities cancelled all trains from Austria to Germany as well. What we witnessed on the Hungarian border with Austria and what I later witnessed in Vienna, was shocking. Complete families, chased out of the train like animals, surrounded by uniformed border guards - most, of course, wearing sunglasses, avoiding direct eye contact - sitting on the ground with looks of despair on their faces. And there we were, just another family, but one with the right papers (or rather, the right skin colour, as no one ever asked us for our papers), hurrying along the Arab refugees who were now kept in the station by the police towards a taxi that would take us to the other side of the border. Rihanna Gaga, still in her pyjamas because she was sleeping until then, looked confused, surprised. Some children of her own age caught her attention and she pointed at them, but they were staring in the distance.
As we, the lucky ones, drove in our taxi towards the border - some good business for the taxi driver, this situation! - we could see a trail of clothes and sleeping bags left behind by refugees on their way to Austria. Among the rubbish were volunteers with food an water and in the woods refugees moved like shadows towards the West.
After Rihanna Gaga and her mother had left, I went to the Vienna railway station to find out that it had just been decided that no trains were going to Germany that day. I have all the white privilege in the world. I could take out my credit card and passport and fly out of Vienna (it cost me a small fortune, but still: I got out). I got a hotel voucher from the Austrain railway company to spend the night in a luxurious hotel. But thousands were - and, as I write this now in March 2016, many still are - stranded in fields, if they're lucky in tents.
The next day, I wrote on Facebook: "One day, maybe thirty, maybe fifty years from now we
might say to each other that to stop the movement of people - especially
the movement of refugees - is a crime against humanity. I believe it is
and if that day comes, I hope all those involved in creating the laws
and enforcing the laws that make this inhumane system possible will be
brought to justice." I was furious when I wrote that. I am still as furious right now, as the refugee crisis is still raging in Europe, as leaders are still unable, unwilling to do anything about it and as I imagine the shame I must feel when, years from now, maybe, Rihanna Gaga will read this and ask me: so what did you do to help these refugees? You see, I was too busy flying up and down across the Mediterrean, each week, and while I made that trip, 150 refugees drowned in that very same sea each week as they tried to reach the same destination as me.
Well, the flying up and down ended in December, together with my contract in the Netherlands. During the last three weeks, thankfully, as I was close to a breakdown, my mother came and stayed with us for three weeks. Not only was this a great relief, as she helped out tremendously with caring for Rihanna Gaga - and us! - but it was also really nice to have her with us. After that, we spend the Christmas holiday in Groningen, where I once lived and studied and worked at the university. We took care of a house of friends of ours, much to Rihanna Gaga's joy since the house had two very friendly cats in it that proved to be an endless source of entertainment.
This holiday was a great moment for Rihanna Gaga to spend some time with family, meeting all her cousins, the children of my three brothers living in the Netherlands. It also proved to be very beneficial for her speaking abilities: the three weeks that my mother was with her and then the two and a half weeks in the Netherlands encouraged her to speak more and more and by the end of that period she could confidently talk to us about what was on her mind, something that was not always the case before that. I sometimes worry about this - and I am sure I worry too much about it, as I worry too much about everything, I am that kind of dad - because, of course, she doesn't hear a lot of Dutch in Tunisia.
Our sojourn in the Netherlands was also a great time for some brunches in the Netherlands. We ate pancakes at a restaurant in Scheveningen - I forgot the name - and in Groningen we visited the Coffee Company, the Dutch stylish answer to Starbucks, where we ate a cocque monsieur, as well as one of my favourite places in that city to have a quiet drink: a Christian bookshop called Boekhandel Riemer which has a coffee room in the back where one can sip good coffee or tea and eat a variety of delicious cakes next to a wall filled with framed Bible quotes. The atmosphere is great: pleasant people, a good collection of books, newspapers (a Christian newspaper and a local newspaper) and very friendly staff. The woman serving us refused payment for the cherry cheescake - whichs, she said, was already two days old, even though it tasted delicious - and no-one minded the fact that Rihanna Gaga knocked over the glass of water that she asked for. Another nice lunch we had at that time was at Brasserie Intermezzo in Haren, the village to the south of Groningen where our friends' house was located. Surprisingly, for such a family place, there was nowhere to change a baby, so when Rihanna Gaga needed changing, I had to be creative. The toilets in the basement had nothing that could serve as a changing table, so I opened a door next to them to find a large storage room with lots of outside furniture - probably for the terrace in summer. This served the purpose I needed it for well enough...
I fully intended to resume this blog after returning to Tunisia, but the craziness didn't really end. Having had no time at all during an entire year, meant that there was much work that simply got pushed forward. Grading, working on publications, courses that needed to be developed, presentations I had to give: it kept piling up and when I finally didn't have to travel so much anymore, I still had that enormous pile to work through. Only now, do I feel that I can finally start to catch my breath. And hopefully start updating this blog again, maybe even weekly. That would be great!
Well, the flying up and down ended in December, together with my contract in the Netherlands. During the last three weeks, thankfully, as I was close to a breakdown, my mother came and stayed with us for three weeks. Not only was this a great relief, as she helped out tremendously with caring for Rihanna Gaga - and us! - but it was also really nice to have her with us. After that, we spend the Christmas holiday in Groningen, where I once lived and studied and worked at the university. We took care of a house of friends of ours, much to Rihanna Gaga's joy since the house had two very friendly cats in it that proved to be an endless source of entertainment.
This holiday was a great moment for Rihanna Gaga to spend some time with family, meeting all her cousins, the children of my three brothers living in the Netherlands. It also proved to be very beneficial for her speaking abilities: the three weeks that my mother was with her and then the two and a half weeks in the Netherlands encouraged her to speak more and more and by the end of that period she could confidently talk to us about what was on her mind, something that was not always the case before that. I sometimes worry about this - and I am sure I worry too much about it, as I worry too much about everything, I am that kind of dad - because, of course, she doesn't hear a lot of Dutch in Tunisia.
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| Boekhandel Riemer, Groningen |
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| Brasserie Intermezzo, Haren |
I fully intended to resume this blog after returning to Tunisia, but the craziness didn't really end. Having had no time at all during an entire year, meant that there was much work that simply got pushed forward. Grading, working on publications, courses that needed to be developed, presentations I had to give: it kept piling up and when I finally didn't have to travel so much anymore, I still had that enormous pile to work through. Only now, do I feel that I can finally start to catch my breath. And hopefully start updating this blog again, maybe even weekly. That would be great!
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