Leave, leaf, leaves...

What is this now? I don't want to leave. I really really don't want to leave. My brain is saying I should look forward to it. Of course I miss home, especially the people who form home: parents, Pieter, oma and opa, Ankie, Jip, my friends, family, ... but still, I am leaving to much behind which I will never ever find again. Probably that's what hurts the most.

When I left Ecuador 2,5 years ago, I realized I was also leaving a lot of things behind: my host families including my lovely 'sisters' Gabucha, Claudia and Valeria, my brother David, Ecuadorian friends, Susana and her family in Quito, ... And of course there were the other exchange students who I saw during the Rotary trips. But it was different. The exchangies only saw each other for the organized trips, in Salinas I was all by myself: a white, strange, vegetarian (I was not vegan yet), European (Belgian sounded to abstract) girl with views that didn't always fit in the patriarchy of an 'unsafe' country, regardlessly riding my bycicle on a military base, being assaulted in the middle of the day on my way to baking classes, travelling without authoritarian permit. But after all, I liked the people I met there and leaving them I knew that I would find them back as soon as I would find the money to return. They would still be there, some years older, living in the same house, hopefully even the dogs will still be there in the house of the Sanchez-family (even though I didn't always like Mac). If I go back I can step back in the traces I left, pay a visit to my hostfamilies, attend a Rotary meeting on tuesday evenings, find my friends at the Malecon or in Guayaquil, ...

But here, my life in Vancouver is not comparable. The first time I experienced living on my own, together. Fairview is a real community. My best friends are living here. I had some midnight study parties with Petra and Mikyung this week (because we are in exams), we can just take 25 big steps to reach house number 2754 to learn some Swedish with a free sample of Physics. I can pass the bicycle reck and check if the lights are burning in Garrapitto's house, so I can disturb him in his cooking/intellectual projects or salsa practice. Mikyung in number 2770, offering me craftfood pasta (I think she is finally out of her family package) or in a smiling conversation with her boyfriend online. Daniel, who is going to leave very very soon, nor ro Colombia but Oregon. I will see them all leaving, one by one. Most of them will come back after Christmas, but I won't. Who knows if I will ever come back here. We cancelled Bowen Island today, I only realize now that this was my last chance to go there. I will probably never go there, definitely not in the same company. It scares me to realize that IF I come back. In some years, when I am older and feel nostalgicness in my veins, I will not find them anymore. Other people will be living in our houses. My small, but cute, side room will not be my room anymore. Another person will be sleeping in the bed in which I had so many nice dreams. So many memories hidden in my pillow, my dead flower on the windowsill, the turnable blinds hiding secrets for the neighbours, the shower which never really stops leaking, the bath room (wash room, as they call it here) I cleaned so vigorously about one month ago. I will never find them back here. My friends, they will be gone. There is no chance to be together in Beanery anymore, no vegan brownies in Sprouts for lunch, no chain of lights going downstairs to Wreckbeach. I will never find this again. I will never find back my exchange term again. It scares me. Counting the days and realize I only have 10 days left (normally only one week, but I changed my flight to the 23th), makes me nostalgic already. Or maybe it's because of the musical we went to watch tonight. Beauty and the Beast! It was amazing and the singing was goosebumpingly clear. The story was quite predictable, but that increased the entertainment level, as I could silently sing along with most of the songs.

Tomorrow I will leave to Vancouver Island very early in the morning, so I should better pack my stuff and go to bed now. It will be day soon!

Love you all and miss you (even the people who are here with me now),

A confused Veerle with a lot of sentimental musical songs in her head.

Behaviour disorders, berry candles and self-made cookies

Artists, especially writers, poets and composers, are in higher risk for mood disorders. Yep, major depression, bipolar I and II, dysthymia, ... they are all on the path I try to wander. Maybe I should take a side way somewhere. Escape, get out of this place, these chains of personal expectations... Some people always want to be different anyway. Reading about mental problems from breakfast (euhm, brunch) till 2 hours after my midnight dinner (gnocchi), you would become depressed for less. Me? Depressed? No, I'm not. Maybe just slightly borderline personality disorder, in a mild and functional sense, experiencing mood fluctuations guided by distracted thoughts. Making loose associations in my head all the time. Does it make me leaning in the direction of schizophrenia? The disorganized subtype, while my 300 'friends' on facebook honor me as 'most organized'. They should know better.... They should... I make good cookies, vegan ones. One day they should honor me for that. Especially my new creation: cinnamon-apple-raisin-vegan delight!

Much has happened the last weeks. Is it really two weeks ago since I wrote? Is it really almost time to leave Vancouver and the people I love here? I have been studying for days now, my eyes getting used to nerdish strong glasses on my nose, the small letters of my textbook (with the suspicious looking psychopath hiding on the cover page), my ears getting deafened by the sound of silence. Fortunately there were Petra and sometimes Alex (and on sunday Marina) to keep me company in the dead house. Never heard such a silence in a student kitchen. And of course there was Whistler last monday. Touching the snow. Marina quite literally with her open shoes. We learned a lesson that day, reading 'wise sentences' on touristic magnetic gifts in one of the hypertouristic shops in Whistler Village. I'll tell you later about the sentence, it just doesn;t fit here. I should tell here about the expedition to the Whistler Public Library, about the two vegan wraps I got in a Greek fast food restaurant for the price of one, about the Korean highschool system which Mikyung explained me and appeared to me a terrible hell comparable to prison or army. And when I think of Whistler, I can't help it think of the hot chocolate we drank on the top of the ski resort, sipping whipped (soy)cream and gossipping about everything a person could gossip about. Is it already 4 days ago? No...

Time flies when you are having fun, says the expression I recently learned from a friend. That's a good one. What does that tell about me and my study? Or does it tell other things? Things about staying in my bed the whole morning, staying widely awake till at least 2 am... Does it tell things I should better be silent about? My distorted life, daily rhythms abruptlyinterrupted. My clock is not running like it used to run. It got stuck in a peculiar moment, a second, an eye blink. Warn me if I am talking nonsense. Analyze me, please, analyze me and bring the results to my postbox. I live in Fairview 2710 room 1, the small unsymmetrical shaped room on the third floor.

I just needed to write 'something' in order to fall asleep. Write the bad spirits away Kill them with the voice of my typing fingers while I am lying in the bed. The bed which witnessed my life in Vancouver without any subjective evaluation, without protesting, warning me, forcing me to sleep when I should. He acts innocent (my bed), but he knows the tears I secretly shared with his pillow. He knows the dreams that follow me at night. He knows what makes me sad, before I know it myself, but he doesn't speak a word about it. Beds don't sooth, they just make it softer...

Goodnight,
Veerle