Straight from Spain
Spain update January 2012Slowly does it
Sunday 22nd January 2012
After my hip replacement operation on December 9th I spent almost six weeks in pyjamas on the settee. But this morning I got up at 7 a.m., not feeling very sure of myself, and stumbled to the bathroom, supported by my hated crutches, to get ready for the 11th Beach Walk. I'm not feeling too sure about the whole thing, because since the operation this is only the third time I'm getting dressed: once to go for a check-up with the surgeon and once, yesterday, to go to the hairdresser's. For the rest I haven't been out of the house.
It wouldn't have been possible anyway. The healing process is very slow, too slow for me. Though the physiotherapist and the nurse who came to see me every day until last Friday think I did very well, in spite of the extensive operation and the fact that I wanted to recuperate at home. They are obviously easier to please than I am. But they're not sure it's a good idea that I'm going to this event today, and then immediately leave for Spain. We'll see, I tell myself. I just hope I won't make a fool of myself. I'm not very happy about showing myself to people at the moment, but I'll try to look as good as I can.
For the first time in months I put on my war paint, and with trembling knees I realise that Dirk was right yesterday and that it had been stupid of me to do all the packing while he was getting the venue in Knokke ready. I am simply exhausted. He calls from downstairs and asks if he should come and help me with my tights and shoes, adding that time is getting on, and I feel caught out. Can he read my mind? Oh, how I hate being this dependant!
Half-an-hour later my husband hoists me aboard the car. When we drive past the De Pinte station clock it is 8.22 a.m. I stare at the clock and just can't imagine I'll be flying to Madrid at 8 o'clock tonight. Another 12 hours... Well, I'd better see first if I can survive the walk. I feel so insecure that, while we drive to Koksijde, I ask Dirk at least ten times if I look alright. His answer is always the same: "You look fine". Okay, I won't ask anymore. He looks and me and asks what else he should say. I shrug my shoulders. Men neven understand what a woman needs…
We arrive at the venue and Dirk wants to drop me off at the entrance. I'm surprised to see it's so busy already and daren't get out of the van. I ask for a stay of execution and want to drive to the side entrance by the kitchen because it's quiet there and nobody can see me. Dirk complies grudgingly and drives out of the car park. When I enter the kitchen a few minutes later and feel my crutches slide on the slippery floor he is unhappy. Hadn't he told me?...Oh, alright. Luckily, there are plenty of people ready to help me. When I enter the beautifully decorated room, my heart in my mouth, 'my' GINB team smother me in kisses and New Year's wishes. This is the first time they've seen me in 2012.
I quickly go and hide in our shop. Olivia and Claire are busy serving customers who queue up for our new 'galgo haute couture fashion line' and I am inundated by adopters who wish me a quick recovery and a great 2012 and compliment me on my courage and commitment.
After two months of feeling guilty because I had to neglect my work for GINB their kindness and commiseration feel wonderful.
At 5 p.m., after a busy and exhausting afternoon I say goodbye to Dirk and the helpers and leave the room and the 600 people behind me to face the traffic to Zaventem, with Els Lernout and her cousin who are acting as driver and helper. Spain is getting closer... It 's almost 7 p.m. when we arrive and a friendly policeman gives us permission to park in the handicapped car park. Els's cousin has gone in to fetch a wheelchair, because I badly need the toilet and I can't run or even walk fast...
I shuffle inside on Els's arm and am glad to see that her cousin is coming towards me with my transport - my loo break can't be postponed much longer. With the most crochtety wheelchair I've ever sat in, they rush me to the toilet. Of course, they are just being cleaned and it's really getting urgent. Luckily, the handicapped toilet is free.
They check me in and take me to the collection point for wheelchair users. They keep me company until I'm picked up. In the meantime, Als asks the ticket lady to take a picture of the three of us for our archives. After ten minutes or so, I am collected. We embrace one last time, they tell me to be careful and they leave.
With my grumpy attendant I set off for customs. They're impossible there: in spite of my wheelchair and my two crutches that are really in the way I have to take off my coat and my boots. "No problem," I say to the lady. "But I can't bend over, so I'll need assistance." We fight to take off my leather coat, which doesn't want to cooperate, carefully pull off my boots. My feet are screened and my escort takes me to the gate and leaves me there without even looking back. I call to him and ask if someone will come and help me with boarding. He vaguely says “oui, ouiâ€. His shift is obviously over.
I wonder if anybody is going to appear. To my surprise, Luc Van Den Boscche turns up. Luc, who was the producer of our concert "José van Dam and friends" and who has adopted Tosca, just happened to phone Dirk today, who told him about my travel plans. Since he's doing a project at the airport and has a free pass he's come to treat me to a cup of coffee. I'm so happy with his visit; it makes the time pass and I don't feel so conspicuous in my wheelchair. Before we've finished our coffee my next escort turns up, talking into his mobile.
Boarding is already in full swing and he's still talking on his phone, which means I don't get to board first, as it should be, but have to join the other passengers, which of course upsets the queue - nobody can get past me. I apologise profusely to the air hostess who tells me to take it easy and not pay any attention to the queue. Still, my cheeks are bright red and my legs are trembling when I board. A few seconds later, I am relieved to be able to sit down in my seat. The hostess, whom I know from former flights, comes and stands next to my row. It's as if the stream of passengers will never end. I had thought there wouldn't be many passengers on a Sunday evening at this time, but I was wrong. The plane is jam-packed. The only two empty seats are next to me.
The pilot has to wait for more than a quarter of an hour for a Spanish passenger who never turns up in the end, and then the doors close. I think I feel a light pressure on my bladder again... Luckily the pilot just mentions something about a delay and taking off, so it won't be long now... While the plane starts taxiing I try to think of other things and concentrate of the rain lashing against the window. A few minutes later we leave the lights of Brussels behind us and disappear into the thick clouds.
Before they start bringing food for the 'Flexi travellers' I manage to go to the toilet, on the arm of an air hostess. Hopefully, it will be the last time. I get served my umpteenth pasta with something undefineable in it - it says salmon on the sticker - and drink my coffee, and try not to fall asleep but concentrate on my worries.
First of all, I worry about Dirk and Walter who will be leaving soon in the van. Hopefully they are fit enough for the long trip, even after two days of hard work on the Beach Walk - in Dirk's case even three, because he had to load two vans on his own on Friday. Although knowing Dirk, he won't go to bed until I've phoned him to tell him I've arrived safely.
I imagine them having to take 20 hours to do the trip I'm making in a couple of hours, and think of the many people who have come to support us today. I also think of the people who steal from us and the dogs, like the owners of 'Animalia' who organised a walk for the benefit of GINB and then kept the enrolment fees and the income from the food and drink, abusing the trust of all the participants.
After an angry email from me and a phone call from Olivia, who feels responsible, they claim they had sent us a voucher. Which was less than the money they owed us... and could only be used in their shop! So it was a walk for the benefit of Animalia. It seems some people have no problem stealing from an organisation like ours. I know all about it, yet I don't want to distrust everybody because of bad experiences, and they take advantage of that. Oh well, another lesson learned. It's incredible that they feel they can put those poor creatures in Spain at a disadvantage.They ought to be ashamed. But people like that know no shame.
In spite of all the thinking I fall asleep, and when the air hostess comes to ask me to straighten my seat it's as if I've come from another planet. When we land I have to stay seated till the very last and wait for someone to escort me. Hopefully it won't be too long because the staff are ready to leave. I chat with the crew and see my escort arrive. She seems to be from another planet as well...
On the way to the exit she doesn't answer a single question. Strange... my Spanish isn't that bad. When I tell her a Spanish friend is picking me up she silently takes me to an empty lounge where a sole passenger opposite the information desk is waiting for Godot. Anabel who was supposed to pick me up is nowhere to be seen. Which is strange, since usually she's always on time. In vain I try to start a conversation with my escort, who obviously is angry that I'm detaining her, and I decide to phone Dirk. As expected, he is really worried and will phone Anabel and Marie-Carmen. While I wait for an answer, my escort drops me off and disappears the way she appeared: without a word…
When Dirk phones back, I've asked the lady at the information desk which lounge I'm in , so that Anabel can find me. I tell Dirk repeatedly that I'm in lounge 6 and that he really must go to sleep now. Five minutes later, a furious Anabel appears and starts taking it out on the information lady: it was announced on the screen that the passengers from Brussels would be arriving in lounge 5 and then they drop me in lounge 6 - and she's already moved her car twice and... and... I've never seen her this angry! Finally, when we want to leave, all the exits are closed and we have to make a huge detour. A cleaning lady who refuses to open the door meets with Anabel's wrath…
It is after midnight when we arrive at Casa Belgica. Before Anabel leaves, she pulls off my boots and sticks on a new morphine plaster - something Dirk reminded me to do in a last phone call. Thank heaven... It is 1a.m. when I'm finally in bed. Behind my closed eyelids, colourful flames dance around and all the fireworks of 2012 explode. I'm exhausted. Dirk and Walter will be leaving soon …
Monday 23rd January 2012
After a bottomless night I am barked awake at 6 a.m. by the 'boys next door'. It gives me such a shock that I first don't know where I am. When reality slowly sinks in, I immediately think of Dirk and Walter who very likely will have left on their long journey by now. When I sit up I start to feel sick and instead of phoning Dirk straight away, I hurry to the bathroom with trembling knees... which isn't easy on crutches. At 7.30 a.m. I feel better and try again. I get Walter on the line, who assures me that everything is fine and they feel fresh and lively. Dirk is driving the first part and they are just approaching the ring road around Paris.
When Walter takes over he will phone me... and true to his word he phones me at 9.30 to tell me they have left the 'chocolade aire' and that Kika was impossible during the pee stop. The only thing she wanted to do was get back to her safe space in the van. He also tells me they'll only be stopping for essential pitstops and they'll eat Monique's generous packed lunch while they're driving. We agree he'll phone me before he takes over again.
Before we hang up he asks how things are at Casa Belgica, but apart from the fact that Anabel phoned to ask if everything was alright and whether I needed anything, and apart from the fact that Marie-Carmen came over with Spanish 'brioches' and told me that they are smothered in galgos, I have no other exciting news. I have also been to the clinic with Vali to see the motley crew residing there. Oh yes, and Julian will move the cars by the time they arrive.
All day long I follow them closely. When I phone around 5 p.m. they are just leaving the Aire du Bidart and the Spanish border is in sight. A few phone calls later I get to speak to Walter, who says they are climbing the last mountain before Madrid, and that it's very dark in the mountains, so dark that Dirk wondered why the van wasn't moving! They are still not tired, they claim, but are happy the end is in sight. I ask them if they will have something to eat and they answer "something small". The French stick I had asked them to bring was sold out in all the service stations…
It is 11.15 p.m. when they arrive at Casa Belgica and nearly midnight by the time they have unloaded all the bio produce I have wanted to bring from Belgium. Then they sit down to try my bio ravioli. During this late supper I can see how exhausted they are. Yesterday a beach walk, today Madrid.
Tuesday 24th January, 2012
It is only 7.30 a.m. when I hear Walter walk to the bathroom. We went to bed a bit later - more than an hour later, because Dirk insisted on connecting the computers - so I don't feel like getting up; I'm far too tired! That's what happens when you wake up a thousand times a night because you have to remain lying on your back with a pillow under your knees, or on one side with a pillow between your knees.
While Walter is still doing his extensive ablutions, Dirk goes to the kitchen to make coffee. I decide I have to get up because I want to make breakfast cosy for Walter and Dirk, who are leaving for the airport at 10 a.m. Not even twelve hours after Walter has arrived in Spain he'll be back on a plane to Belgium. As always the last hour goes very fast and not much later I wave goodbye to Walter and thank him a thousand time for his co-driver work.
As soon as they've left I answer my mails and start on the update. Outside the sun is shining but it's not even 10 degrees. After a few paragraphs I try to coax Kika and Loulou outside; they are still tired from the trip and haven't moved since yesterday. A bag of small biscuits hardly help but reluctantly they follow me into the garden.
When Kika sees the motley crew that are staying at Casa Belgica she walks stiff-legged to the gate, ready to intimidate them. This time her behaviour doesn't make much of an impression, because the little black 'mama mia' who was freezing to death in Quenca killing station with her mini-baby is not afraid to defend herself furiously and tries to bite her nose through the gate. The porcelain princess jumps back, furious, and stands there a couple of feet away, barking at the little fury who is ready to defend her baby with her life. The rest of the company consists of a small long-haired brown dog of unknown origin, Niebla, a beautiful young brindle galga bitch and Marcus, a wonderful four-month-old galgo pup. They stay well out of it.
Niebla and Marcus have been in Casa Belgica for weeks now. They were found in the fields of Zamora where they were wandering around in the freezing cold. Although Niebla is not Marcus's mother she has taken care of him during their roamings and they are still inseparable. I watch them and feel touched, and think what a pity it is that they can't tell what has happened to them and who has left them. But even if they were able to tell, the monster would not be punished, that's for sure.
After a few minutes Kika has had enough and goes inside, deeply insulted. Before I follow her example I crunch the rest of the biscuits under my feet for the noisy swarm of birds who are constantly looking for food in this cold. When I step off the path and onto the slippery stones, my crutch slips and I lose my balance. Arms swaying I fall down, and my titanium hip groans. In a panic, I think that I must get up before Dirk gets back, otherwise he'll kill me.
It seems to take forever before I manage to turn onto my side on the damp stones, and scramble up. My heart is still beating loudly when Dirk arrives back from the airport. He asks me if everything is alright and if I'm ready to go shopping. I nod, my heart fluttering. He aske me if there's anything wrong and I shake my head. He says:"You're very quiet", and I answer that I'm still tired, and stiff from sitting down. He'll read the rest in my update…
So I get ready to go to Xanadu and hope nothing has been damaged. Later, when we get home, Marcus and Niebla can come upstairs and Kika can show her nasty character and Loulou her kind heart... but first the shopping, because on Thursday night Marianne and John and Dirk Danschutter 'Ben Hur' are arriving and I have to be in good shape. When we leave, I can't get into the low car without Dirk's help and I groan in pain when he lifts my leg. In Xanadu I am happy that I can hold on to the shopping trolley.
In the evening Niebla lies down in the kitchen, careful not to upset Kika, and Marcus is welcomed by Loulou as if he is her own child. Marcus then goes to look around and turns out to be a mountain-climbing book lover. I get a phone call from Belgium that a lady and gentleman want to get rid of their lovely clean 13-year-old girl from Barcelona, 7 years after her adoption.
The dog was originally their daughter's, but the daughter left home years ago. Now the dog can't walk that well anymore, her teeth are rotting and the owners are getting older and therefore...well, it breaks my heart and I hope that they'll be abandoned themselves when they are old. I mean it. When I go to bed, the old dog and my painful leg prevent me from going to sleep. I wonder whether those posh old people in Belgium are any better than the galguero who abandoned Niebla and Marcus.
