Later

Samen zullen wij lopen tussen
jonge geitjes en de kippen
ze zal rennen, ze zal gillen
en ik zal altijd naast haar staan

als haar handje zal ontdekken
hoe zacht de vacht is van konijn,
hoe nat de snoet van 't lam kan zijn
dan zal ik altijd naast haar staan.

We zullen lachen om het varken
dat lui dik ligt te wezen,
ze geeft wat stro aan de ezel
en ik zal altijd naast haar staan.

Als zij vele lentes later een
bezoek brengt aan de boerderij
met de hare aan haar zij,
zij haar ziet spelen en ontdekken
dan weet ze dat ik naast haar sta.

Geduld

Ik moet en wil
en vul mijn ziel met vragen.
Ik reis en zoek
en vraag de tijd om raad.
Ik kan en mag
er nog niet van genieten.
Geloof te veel
in de leegte van die dag.

Geruisloos

Vraag mij niets
zie mijn stem
hoor de rust
en fluister.

Deel je lot
neem mij mee
en trek me uit het duister.

Belofte

Geef en verlang
gun en vertrouw
geniet en voed
de liefde.

Proost op een kus
geloof mijn muziek
word mijn geluk
zonder twijfel.

What others wrote IV

Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are: "It might have been"

___
John Greenleaf Whittier
Quote from: Maud Muller

Release

Professor Moore in his 'Role of the CEO' class, gave us the opportunity to have dinner with his co-lecturer and former CEO of Rio Tinto Alcan, Dick Evans, before the start of almost every one of his classes. An interesting way to involve students in discussing various topics with the CEO of such a large organization and not only topics like globalization or professional success, but also concerning the role and so-called limitations of family life.

In life we all have to make choices at a certain point, and usually we make those choices to the betterment of ourselves. The everlasting search for improvement and higher achievements. I wonder what is on one's mind when making these choices, sometimes decisions that can change.. Well, that can change whatever. Consequences. What are they and who are they affecting. Are we aware?

Psychologists and other experts explain how babies live in a world that evolves around them. A "singular" world. Jill Scott sang about 'one' being the magic number. As weeks, months and years pass by, the baby's world is enriched with the presence of mom, dad, maybe siblings. Uncles, aunts, maybe cousins. Other family members, teachers, friends, colleagues and eventually their own family. A small relapse when getting to puberty, where the world is about me, myself and I again, but then you're world gets bigger. You're choices are not only your own anymore. Especially once you have your own kids. I think.

The discussion was about making choices in your professional life with or without you're family in mind. At a certain point I think you're not climbing alone anymore. The others should be able to keep up with the steps you make. And if they can't, are you going to climb alone? Or are adapting your pace? But if you adapt you're pace, at the end of the day, will you be satisfied with your own achievements? Did you push yourself to the limit? Does it really matter though? Is it still your personal progress which makes you happy? Or the progress you make as a whole? And sometimes a choice that seems to the betterment of the individual, will turn out to be good for all after a while. It just needs time.

Oftentimes one will have to make sacrifices. I don't see that as a bad thing. And I wonder if we should call it sacrifices. Merriam Webster defines it as: "Destruction or surrender of something for the sake of something else, something given up or lost". It sounds too negative to me. In retrospect sacrifices that have been made by the ones closest to you, could be the ones given them most satisfaction of all.

Times change.
Decisions should change accordingly.
Focus should change accordingly.

Thank you for always putting us first.
نوبت شما هست

What others wrote III

Once in Persia ruled a king
Who upon his signet ring
’Graved a motto true and wise,
Which, when held before his eyes,
Gave him counsel at a glance
Fit for any change or chance.
Solemn words, and these were they:
“Even this shall pass away.”

Trains of camel through the sand
Brought him gems from Samarkand;
Fleets of galleys through the seas
Brought him pearls to rival these.
Yet he counted little gain
Treasures of the mine or main.
“Wealth may come, but not to stay;
Even this shall pass away.”

’Mid the revels of his court,
In the zenith of his sport,
When the palms of all his guests,
Burned with clapping at his jests,
He, amid his figs and wine,
Cried: “Oh, precious friends of mine,
Pleasure comes, but not to stay —
Even this shall pass away.”

Lady, fairest ever seen,
Was the bride he crowned his queen.
Pillowed on his marriage bed
Softly to his soul he said:
“Though no bridegroom ever pressed
Fairer bosom to his breast,
Mortal flesh must come to clay —
Even this shall pass away.”

Fighting in a furious field,
Once a javelin pierced his shield,
Soldiers with a loud lament
Bore him bleeding to his tent.
Groaning, from his wounded side,
“Pain is hard to bear,” he cried.
“But, with patience, day by day,
Even this shall pass away.”

Towering in the public square,
Twenty cubits in the air,
Rose his status grand in stone;
And the king, disguised, unknown,
Gazing on his sculptured name,
Asked himself: “And what is fame?
Fame is but a slow decay —
Even this shall pass away.”

Struck with palsy, sere and old,
Standing at the gates of gold,
Spake him this, in dying breath:
“Life is done, and what is death?”
Then, in answer to the king,
Fell a sunbeam on the ring,
Answering, with its heavenly ray:
“Even death shall pass away.”

___
Theodore Tilton
All Things Shall Pass Away

Isabell

As I’m trying to find inspiration for my final paper for Professor Lank’s class, I find myself sipping on a glass of Pinot Noir, listening to Edith Piaf and casting a glance to the Habs game on the background. They win.

I was reminded of the general focus on winning when entering the MBA program. That’s probably what you get when you put a bunch of professionals together, working on assignments on which basis they are ranked. They are used to a competitive environment. They are used to the everlasting quest to win. Win a deal, win a project, win a squash game, win the promotion. It got me thinking. What is winning? What does it mean? I guess the meaning differs for each and every one of us.

It’s all about perspective. What is winning for one person is losing for the other. Surviving can be winning to one, whereas it’s losing for the other: just surviving, just satisfying the primary needs. And maybe in a family where everyone is a scientist, maybe being an artist would be perceived as losing. To an MBA an academic career might be perceived as a loss. Whereas a PhD might think those managers, neglecting scientific research on management, are losing. Stability might be a loss for one, whereas for another person it might be a gain.

In sports it seems a little bit easier. Whoever has most points at the end of the game, wins. Is it that easy though? The opponent might still think the ref was unfair in his judgment. Hence, he might be of opinion that the win was unfairly obtained. Thus, basically there was no win. So it seems there is a perceptual nature of winning.

The other day during an interview, I was asked “Do you prefer winning?”. Seriously. Is there anyone who does not prefer to win? Is there anyone amongst you who prefers losing? Weird question. “No actually, I prefer losing. Winning is for overachievers”. Hm. Is there a deterministic nature of winning?

Then what is defined as winning at a certain point in time, might be seen as losing later on. Think of the tulip traders, during the tulip mania in the Netherlands many decades ago, when the bubble burst. Or the investors in dot-com companies. Or the investors during the recent sub-prime crisis. They were all winners. Until the tide turned and made them all losers. Big time. So there is a temporal nature of winning too.

If everyone’s definition of winning is different, is it really possible to win? Or maybe you can only win from those who have the same definition of winning as you. But is it really possible to agree entirely on what it constitutes? The Merriam Webster dictionary reveals the following on the etymology of the word winning: “Middle English winnen, from Old English winnan to struggle; akin to Old High German winnan to struggle (before 12th century)”. So maybe winning is not whatever meaning we gave it nowadays: maybe it’s not “to get possession of by effort or fortune” or “to obtain by work”. Maybe winning does not have anything to do with what you obtain, nothing to do with the result. Maybe it just concerns the process you go through: the struggle. Maybe winning entails the roads towards whatever it is you’re striving for? So maybe striving for something is already winning?

But why do most of us want to win so badly? Our society seems to be built around winning. It’s always the fastest, the smartest or the biggest that catch most attention and are regarded as the most important. It was Romeo Dallaire who during his guest lecture in Professor Lank’s Entrepreneurial Leadership class was questioning whether or not we have created our own pecking order. Are some people seen as more important than others? Did they win the contest?

I remember when I was part of the board of our faculty's association at Rotterdam School of Management, we always spoke of “healthy competition”. Because we were the largest association on campus, dominantly present and everybody wanted a piece of our success. We said healthy competition because it kept us sharp and on the ball, preventing us from becoming this big, inert organization in which nothing changed over the years or no change was encouraged. However, competition can become unhealthy at a certain point. At the point in which people will just do anything in order to be labeled as the best, as the one outperforming the others which necessitates comparing. But should we really care if we are doing better than others? Are you doing what is best for you and your surrounding? If so, who cares if it’s better or worse than what so-and-so is doing or has achieved?

In the environment in which I have been the last few years, it seems that winning is something very superficial. It concerns what car you drive, which firm hires you, where your house is and what your holiday destination is. Don’t get me wrong; being in a convenient position concerning the aforementioned is something I would like as well. I mean, who doesn’t like convenience and luxury.

Now that I think of it, during my adolescent years, which I mostly spent with my best friend Mandy-Ann, we were chasing these materialistic goals. Achieving them was a certain type of winning to us I guess. Buying that designer label top or pair of heels, having the newest phone or the hippest bag, going out for dinner all the time, buying rounds when going out. With our parents money (sorry mom and dad). Good times. It’s fine I guess. We were 17, 18. What else do you expect? I say this now, back then I thought I deserved a Nobel prize for my behaviour and view on the world. Although with the years the purely materialistic “goals” fade to the background a little bit and the focus shifts to performing academically and professionally, it still feels the same now and then. Whoever get’s hired by the “coolest” firm with the toughest recruitment process, wins. Whoever gets the highest compensation, wins. Whoever travels most, wins. But who cares. Did you win in life? And are you doing it for yourself or for others to see? Whenever I was caring too much about what others thought of what I was doing, my mom used to say: “It’s not like there’s a line up of people just to see what you are doing with this and that”.

So when it is only possible to win by comparison to others, are you winning or are you comparing. I have the feeling too often we just want to win in order to prove to others that we are doing well.

I do believe it’s a good thing to set objectives and goals for yourself. To have a certain direction and know where you’re heading. But are we neglecting our personal goals? I have the feeling they are less perceived as success factors nowadays. They are put second. I wonder, can you have a kick-ass house, car, resume and job and be happy with it if there is no one to share it with? No one to leave it to?

So besides the different natures of winning, I guess there is also winning on different levels. Winning academically, winning in your professional life and winning in your personal life. You can be the CEO of a large multi-national, and don’t feel like a winner. You can be the student with the highest grades and still don’t feel like a winner. If you don’t feel like a winner on the personal level, do the other two really matter?

I have always tried to set goals as high as possible. I have always chosen for the less easy way. Because that felt like winning. And it made me happy to feel like I was winning. And I don’t regret what I have done and achieved until now. They were all good things. And even though I am glad I did what I did, and chose what I chose, I don’t think they matter that much anymore.

From what I tell about my little sister, many people conclude “you and your sister are very close aren’t you?” That feels like winning. Feeling the unconditional love of my parents, that feels like winning.

Mandy-Ann recently gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Isabell. We used to talk so much about this moment in life. Although I was not there when she was carrying her, although I was not there when she was born, I know that the second she held her baby in her arms, she knew she won. In a way that made any comparison unnecessary. In a way no one could ever take away from her.

Welcome to the world Isabell. I can’t wait to see you.

Footprint

And so last Monday I got to the point that I attended my last class ever. This was it. Yet another chapter to close. I remember on many occasions contemplating on what I wanted to be “later when I was older”. It seems that ‘later’ is now.

So has that been my goal? Finding out what I want to be? Is it even possible to find out? And when one finds out, will it be satisfactory? So you want to be an investment banker. You become one. Cool. Then what? Or maybe you want to be an accountant. You become one. Cool. Then what?

To stay in the MBA spheres: you might leverage your strongest capabilities and become whatever it is you decided you wanted to be. Hedge against the fluctuating demand of the job market by picking your profession diligently. Start making good money. Have a cool LinkedIn profile, because you have a cool job. Hence a cool network. Then what? What are you giving back? How will you be remembered? “Jeez, so-and-so sure knew his way with those balance sheets and all”. Hm.

“An organization is a means to an end, not something on itself. Something you build and use to accomplish something else. It only has a meaning in relation to its end, to its purpose”. Monte Hummel was guest lecturing Professor Lank’s Entrepreneurial Leadership class. He added: “An organization is a vehicle to something more important”. So, do we need to find out what we want to be? Or do we need to find out what we want to do? Or maybe even find out what difference we want to make? As Richard Pound, former vice-president of the International Olympic Committee, said when sharing his observations during another guest lecture: “It’s hard to make a buck, but a lot harder to make a difference”.

In our first Managing the Small Enterprise class Professor Lank was talking about how most conversations with people you get to know start with the “What do you do” question. And he asked us to turn to our neighbors and ask them “What do you love” instead. As knowing what someone does, does not really tell you anything. Whereas knowing what someone loves…

What difference do you want to make?
I believe that should be the question we ask ourselves and each other.
But we tend to see time as money, so I guess we prefer to simplify things instead of making them more complex

The only good thing of puberty is that you think you can change the world.
And really believe it.

Not all who wander are lost

I have been in Montreal for almost three months now. And I don't miss Holland. I'm just not sure if I should be worried or relieved. It makes me wonder.

I've been on a few trips since I got here: New York, Boston, Quebec City, Toronto... Oh yes, I know, my troubled life. But it surprised me that every time I would cross one of the bridges back to the island, I sighed and thought "Ah.. Home again".

So, where is home? And does everybody always have one? At all times? The other day one of my classmates, who is going on exchange in September, said: "I don't know where I will be ending up when I come back, I don't really have a home right now".

One could say home is where your family is and that makes perfect sense, don't get me wrong. But is that your home or the family's home? Or is your home per definition the same place your family's home is? Or is home where most of your friends are? And for that matter, does the amount count or the depth of the relationship?

I feel it gives me a sense of freedom, not exactly knowing where I am from. My mom always said: "You are brought into the world, not into a country".

I guess it doesn't really matter.
I guess home is where your heart is.
I guess I just need to figure out where mine is then.

I'm afraid I already know.

Reflection

Courses at McGill are so different from those back home. Obviously, it depends on what courses you take. If I was into accounting or finance, they might have had many similarities. It might not come as a surprise to you that I am not, hence I took strategy courses which mostly turned out to be inspirational ones. One of these classes is a class taught by David Lank: "Diversity in Entrepreneurial Leadership". The first few classes that I attended, I just had goose bumps all over. I don't think I have ever experienced someone teaching a class like he does. Imagine this: you are 26 years old, attending your first MBA course ever and the professor tells you that he is going to dictate something everyone has to write down AND that he is not starting until he sees everyone holding a pen. "What I will dictate now, is the fundamental underpinning of this course, write this down: "Everyone in this room, can do something better than I can"."

Each class he presents us a guest lecturer, a leader in his or her own way, and a guest host. The guest lecturers have varied from the first female president of the Canadian bar association, a Canadian astronaut, politician and engineer in one and a neuroscientist who used to be a rock star whose documentary I actually saw when I was in the plane coming from Holland to Montreal. They tell us the stories of their lives, how they got where they got, what inspired them, how they got over setbacks... That's not it. First class, our professor gave us a little booklet in which each and every one of the guest lecturers had indicated what book inspired them most and why. Have you ever been in the book store, thinking of what book would be nice to read next? I don't. Anymore.

Now if I were you, and had never attended this class, I would already be impressed by the above mentioned. But I'm still not done: Lank's assignments. Last week I handed in my first paper. Not just a paper. A reflective paper. In this paper, he wants us to reflect on three of our guest lecturers and the message of their lecture. Then relate this to our own life and two books we recently read. His exact words were: "Use life experience and other stuff from outside class." Have you ever had a professor telling you to reflect? On your life, accomplishments, failures? As an assignment? For a grade?

What was the most enlightening to me of all remarks made by guest lecturers was John Gomery saying he was not sure if he made all his choices on a rational basis. I found Daniel Levitin to take a similar perspective by saying not to take a too narrow view on what you are doing and that your goals can be flexible as new opportunities arise, as well as John Hobday with the muddling-through-perspective ("you just have to muddle your way through life") and not believing in career planning. Things happen.

The reason this attitude struck me, is that ever since I can remember I have the feeling I made my choices on a rational basis, I never permitted myself to have things to just happen. I believe the way I chose what I chose, is unsurprisingly and clearly linked to my upbringing. Being the child of two ambitious people, who moved from their country where they had everything they ever wanted and needed, to Europe in order to offer their child the life they could not offer her in their home country, surviving a war and a childhood with so much less opportunities than most of us had, formed me immensely. I remember my mother always telling me to choose a profession with which I was sure to be mobile. In the sense that she was always thinking of: “What if we will have to move again?”.

Even though I have spent many nights, talking to my parents about their experiences and their lives, and having heard so many stories that explained to me where this mindset comes from, I think I will never be able to feel what they feel, but I can understand. I never thought of this rational way of making choices as restricting me. It actually made my world a lot bigger. From the moment I dropped physics, biology and math (as it was too hard) and gave up a career in medicine, and the moment I dropped out of law school (because it was too hard) and gave up a career as a lawyer, I made myself forget about prestigious jobs that sound good to talk about when one has guests coming over, and started thinking about what path to take to see the world. If I was supposed to choose that profession that would assure me mobility, I’d better go and see what is out there. From starting my International Management Bachelor – providing me with vast exchange opportunities – to choosing France as my first exchange destination – few people in business administration speaking French said my mentor – to pursuing a Masters degree – minimum requirement by large corporations nowadays – to choosing Strategic Management as my concentration – not too focused on one area of business administration – to ending up in Montreal – where else can one leverage his multi-cultural background more profoundly? –, each and every step was taken with rational at its core. It all had to make sense, it all had to be useful.

There is not one decision that I regret. There is not one goal that I set for myself that I did not reach. For every step I took, I would look back and be happy I took the one before it, for that one enabled me to take the next. I thought.

And then I read Taleb’s ‘Fooled by Randomness’. Am I a fool of randomness? Am I seeing causality where there is none? Post hoc ergo propter hoc?

Enter: Daniel Levitin. “Nimbleness is necessary when your abilities do not match your goals”. And let that be what guides me on the rest of my journey.

Thanks Professor Lank.

Honeymoon is over

And so it seems that I'm slowly passing the first phase on the culture shock curve and the honeymoon phase is surely coming to an end. However, I refuse to believe that this phase is always followed by one filled with anxiety and hostility towards the new culture. I believe it's more like reality smacks you in the face and I am becoming aware of the fact that even though it's still ultra-cool to live in Montreal, Montrealers are still ultra-cool people and the ultra-coolness of the city still makes me smile every morning I get up and every time I walk the Montreal streets, life is still life.

After having spent a week in the USA, visiting New York and Boston, and being torn by thoughts about where I would like to start my professional life, study break is over and now I need to pull myself together. Once again, I underestimated the amount of pages I need to read and the pace with which I would be able to do that. Luckily, history has taught me that I perform better under pressure, and so it happens that the upcoming days will be filled with studying, studying, drinking tea and studying.

But I praise myself lucky with an apartment that still provides me with a view on the city and a humble view on the skyline so that every time I look up, slightly annoyed by the fact that I am forced to stay in and catch up on my readings, I see Montreal and I can feel a smile appearing on my face.

Observations

New York City swallows you. It absorbs you. One does not go to New York, New York is something that happens to you.

Reporting live from Montreal

I have had many emails since my last story. At first they were quite positive. Loving the story and all. They got a meaner tone after a while. Hate-mail even! It started off innocently with remarks like: "Where's the next story", "Why are you not writing anything on the blog", "I knew this was gonna happen" to "You only post weird poems". Seriously. I'm trying to be all inspired and zen on this side of the ocean. Patience is a virtue remember? And the thing with good things coming to those who wait? Remember? Pressure does not stimulate creativity. And I wanna hold on to both ears preferably. So cut a girl some slack. I need to absorb the experiences, process them and translate them into meaningful words. So this one is a totally on-request-blog-story. Whoever is disappointed after reading: blame your fellow-blogreaders. Peace & love people. Peace & love.

So. I cannot accept the fact that three weeks already passed. Although I'll have to. So many things happened in the meantime. As I said, Montreal airport was already like dying and going to heaven. Montreal itself, is even better than that if possible. The weird thing is, I don't exactly know why. I don't have the words to describe, and if I do, it just sounds cheesy. But what the hell. I love cheese.

I moved to another apartment after one week. Although my first apartment was in a nice area, it was really old and falling apart, so I needed to leave. I guess you could say that I'm too spoiled. I prefer saying that I just want to enjoy life. And in my world, enjoying life is only possible in a hygienic environment. So why sit around, mope, be unhappy and itchy all the time. I started looking on the Internet, found something else and even though I felt bad for my roommate, I moved as soon as I could get the keys. For the fifteenth time in my life. I'm a professional.

This city is like a dream. Do you know how weird it is, hearing about Montreal being a mix of European and North-American influences, finding it pretty corny that everyone keeps telling you this, then living it and understanding why people keep emphasizing this fact? It's so true. You walk around in downtown, and although I've never been to New York, I can understand to a certain extent how it would be like. City-life, cars everywhere, grumpy cab drivers, people in suits running around while talking on their cell phones, students, Asians, Africans, Arabs and squirrels. Yes. Squirrels. Then you move further to Vieux Montreal ("Old Montreal") and it's like walking in my old Parisian neighborhood: buildings are not that high, streets are really small, cute little boulangeries and a nice view on the river. Then, the Montrealers. Also dividable in two "cultures" si tu veux. One group not preferring to speak English, and being rather unhappy when you do so. Staring at you to shrug indifferently once you finished your sentence. The other group, being the anglophones, who are overly happy to help you with anything you need. Almost cheerleading you the directions when you're lost and ask them how to go here or there. But the funny thing is, here, in contrast to regular North-American cities or typical French cities, you also have the in-between-group. People who don't master the English language entirely but are very interested in where you're from and what brought you to Montreal and try their utmost best to help you. The city is not predictable. And I like that.

My Canadian friend Tamar, she puts it so well. The other night, I was telling her about my love for the city and especially the people. Everyone here is so nice, friendly, kind and helpful. Montrealers are open-minded, and they just don't care. They live their life and let you live yours. They're laid back. They're relaxed. She said that Montrealers are well-known everywhere. So, when in a conversation, Canadians just know when someone is from Montreal. Why? How?
"Because we're ultracool", she said.

Observations

It's funny how I am surprised about the number of people awake at this hour, while I am sitting in a... coffee shop. All these years of studying finally seem to contribute to my analytical skills.

What others wrote II

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence;
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

__
Robert Frost
'The Road Not Taken'

Did you know..

..that in Canada, in supermarkets, eggs are stored in the fridge?

Finally, people who understand stuff.

What others wrote

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.


___
William Ernest Henley
'Invictus'

The trip I had been waiting for.

It was a regular day at Schiphol Airport. Not too quiet, not too busy. Everything was going real smooth. I was in the wrong line, because I had already checked in online so I didn't need to wait for more than half an hour, but could have taken the shorter line. But it was all good, I had enough time, it was all stress-free. Packed two pieces of luggage, but when putting them on the belt the ground steward was making his suprised-face: I was only allowed to check in one piece. "I think you're already on the verge of a great adventure, so let's not make this day more exciting than it already is, I'll check them both in for you.." he said. So it was still all good, I still had enough time and it was all still stress-free. Bought a digital camera on sale, a really, really cute one. Bought some souvenirs. Stopped by the bank. It was still all good, time was running out though and it was getting less stress-free. So I ran to the gate and made it to the plane, but only after taking off my boots and putting them on again, unpacking my carry-on and packing it again and being physically violated by this rough airport chick..

Exit: Holland, Enter: Washington

OH
MY
GOD
As soon as I stepped foot on US soil, all hell broke loose. Officers were yelling, people were making their annoyed-faces, children were crying, French people were pushing and it was way too hot for so many people in one area. The Chinese-American airport lady was kindly requesting us to be careful around the escalators because we were so many: "MOVE AWAAAA FROM THE ESCALATAAAAAL.. HEY, YOU, GUY, MOVE AWAAAA!! STOP, STOP, NO, TO THE LEFT." I'm not really good at guessing, but I think there were like 500-600 people in line to have their passport checked and their I-promise-I-am-not-a-terrorist-form by US customs. Just checking someones passport wouldn't take that long, but when you want to know why someone's there, where he is from, where he is going and where he is staying.. plus his fingerprints of both hands and a picture.. then it takes a really really looooong time. I arrived at 15.00 and my next flight was at 16.50: I missed it. I MISSED MY FLIGHT! And they couldn't schedule me on the 21.45 flight because that was an Air Canada flight and I had United Airlines tickets. So I needed to find a hotel as the next flight was the next morning. Paid by: me. Airlines cannot be held responsible for security checks taking too long. I actually do understand that. However: who can be?

Exit: Airport, Enter: hotel

In the shuttle towards the hotel I found I met Steven Johnston. A man the age of my grandfather, if he were still alive. I stopped by his room as I was going to the 7-11 around the corner to get some food and wanted to know if I could get him anything, but he was worried about me going out by myself, so we ended up having dinner somewhere close to the hotel. He told me how he worked for Ashraf, the sister of the Shah of Iran, from 1964 to 1968 and his job as an electrical engineer and his travels from Ireland to Australia to the US and France again. He told me about his children and his grandchildren and advised me on what to look for in a husband. He shared his vision on religion and marriage and many, many, many other things... I went to bed at 22.00 and got up at 05.00. Airport security made me take off my boots and put them on again, unpack my carry-on and pack it again, but refrained from harassing me physically this time: thank you Washington.

Exit: Washington, Enter: Montreal

Finally! I am here! I thought I had died and gone to heaven. No one was making their annoyed-face. No children were crying. French people were not even pushing and the immense passport check area, with high ceiling and not air-conditioning but fresh air, was empty! Only 5 people in line per douanier. Only one question was asked (purpose of visit). I got my suitcases within 5 minutes and there was Tamar, whom I had met during my exchange in France, to pick me up and bring me to my apartment.

*sigh*

Saai

Als de dag geen dansen kent
en de nachten niks dan nevel
als het wachten, wachten blijft
en de tijd niet loopt maar rent

als het fluiten je verveelt
en de zon geen warmte brengt
en de dagen langer worden
en de nacht niks met je deelt

als de tijd niet stil kan staan
en de dagen niet meer dansen
en het donker, donker blijft
dan is het tijd om weg te gaan.

My new neighbourhood

Leaving in 35 days..

..and counting.