Moving On

Goodbye to Connecticut

Hello to Ohio



Goodbye to Belgium



Today I write from a small corner I've carved out amongst the boxes being packed and stacked around my home at the end of the lane. In fact, I'm using three boxes as a desk and another box for a chair. I'm an expert at moving, this being our eleventh time. We're back in the states, from Belgium -- step one of the move -- but now we gather everything from Connecticut and continue on to Ohio. It's what I'm calling the big-huge-double-duty-move. Our furnishings from Europe are on a ship, somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and after clearing customs, will be transferred by truck to our new home in Ohio. At the same time, there is a truck in Connecticut that is being loaded with all the rest of our furniture.  Both shipments have been carefully orchestrated to arrive during the same week in Ohio. Pretty cool. Sounds easy-peasy, right?  But actually, a lot of obsessive-compulsive planning goes into the process with coordination of moving professionals, shipping experts, expat advisors, real estate agents, and two seasoned transferrees. And so far, there has not been any hangups...knock on wood.  We are downsizing (house-wise) in Ohio, so I've found good homes for our extra furnishings and have dropped off donations all year (since I knew the move was coming). We are lean and mean (well, not so much mean as lean) and we will again, be living on a lovely lane, but this time, in northeast Ohio, so I'm keeping my blog name the same. My Life on the Lane is changing location, but I'll still be doing my same thing, writing, exploring, living life and loving Mr. Lane.  

  

Wish me luck! ~Caron



We Hebben Niet Veel Tijd -- We Don't Have Much Time

Our days here in Belgium are numbered and soon we will begin the process of repatriation back to the United States.  That is, my husband, Mr. Lane, will begin his process of repatriation, since I have been more like a 'visitor' the past two years (and especially since I stayed behind part of the time to allow our youngest to finish high school).  As long as I travelled to the states every month or so, I did not need to have a residency card.  Mr. Lane had all the official documentation, even a Belgium driver's license, I got off easy...and believe me, I'm glad I did.  Waiting in line at the Belgium government offices with Mr. Lane (and hundreds of immigrants and expats) to file his paperwork every several months, was enough reason for me to choose flying to New York every so often.  Plus, this way guaranteed I got to go home on a regular basis.  A perfect world for me.  I will miss Belgium.  But, of course, Mr. Lane will still have business here, so I'll be back...to eat, drink and visit the lovely people we've come to call friends.  I went for a long drive today, along the country roads outside Antwerp, that have become familiar to me over time.  The bumpy cobblestone streets, the village cathedrals, favorite brasseries, bakeries, chocolate shops and book stores...all of which I will miss.  I've come to know my neighborhood shop owners, or at least I feel like I know them, they tell me about their lives here in Belgium, always friendly, always kind.  I've started to see familiar faces when I'm around town...yesterday, a woman said to me, "Good to see you again!"  And I felt almost like hugging her, she has sold me stationary and supplies all this time and I wasn't sure, until that moment, that she saw me as a regular customer, resident of Antwerp, neighbor.  My landlord and another resident of my building were here this morning, to help me figure out why my kitchen sink was flooding the offices below our flat.  They both spoke in Dutch, but we all seemed to understand each other as they fixed the pipe that had come undone.  "You're leaving us soon?" My neighbor said in broken English.  "Yes, back to the states," I said.  His eyes were so kind and I truly felt we'd be missed.  We've moved so many times over the years, eleven to be exact, and this move will be our trickiest yet.  I'll go home to Connecticut, where we still have our home at the end of the lane, and Mr. Lane will stay in Antwerp to meet the movers who will pack and send our furnishings back to America on a transport ship.  I'll oversee the packing in Connecticut and meet all the shipments at our new home in Ohio.  The town we chose just outside of Cleveland reminds us both of New England and Belgium.  There's an historic downtown district with small shops and restaurants, and summer concerts in the town park.  Our house is on a quiet lane overlooking an old quarry that is now a lake.  Homes in town date back hundreds of years and resemble those of our small town in Connecticut and in the countryside of Belgium.  There's even a candy store with homemade chocolates.  But, I'm sure there are very few Belgians, so we will take our memories with us, of all the people we've met along the way.  Of their hospitality, their families, their love of food and wine and champagne and beer...we'll hold them close in our hearts.  In honor of Belgium, I leave you with a recipe for Belgian Waffles.  Be generous in your serving sizes and share every bite with loved ones, and by all means, just like the Belgians, take as long as you like to finish your meal. Tot ziens!

Belgian Waffles   

Heat 1 cup (soy) milk

Add 7g (1 package) dried yeast

Separate 4 eggs (yolks and whites)

Beat the whites until you get a sort of foam

In a deep bowl, combine:

3 1/4 cups flour

1/2 cup (cane) sugar

1 teaspoon salt

Melt 250g (soy) butter and add to flour mixture

Also, add the milk-yeast mixture

Finally, add the four egg yolks

MIX until smooth

Fold in the beaten egg whites

Gently combine with your hands

Let rest for at least 8 hours (I assume in the fridge)

Heat waffle maker until very HOT

Spoon in waffle mixture (should be thick)

Add toppings in Generous amounts:

Whipped Cream

Ice Cream

Chocolate sauce

Fresh sliced fruit

anything that sounds good!

Enjoy!

             

Authentic Belgian Waffle in Brussels

Our son enjoying his favorite local food -- waffles!  We were fortunate that our three grown children and their sweethearts were able to visit us here in Belgium and travel to other countries during their stays. 

Yum!!

All is Calm, All is Bright

Our little town in the states was all lit up with holiday decorations as we strolled down Main Street along with our fellow citizens for the Holiday Walk, the kick-off to shopping and celebrating, which happens every year, on a Friday evening, right after Thanksgiving week. There were carolers and ice sculptors and Santa Claus and horse-drawn carriages...and even a movie star and his new girlfriend (we are a small town, but just charming enough to draw even those with an entourage).  All bundled up in my new white scarf, black suede boots and cozy down jacket, listening to a carol or two and dipping into Books on the Common to buy a few gifts, I found myself getting in the mood for Christmas.  How can you not get in the mood, with half the town out in the cold winter air, singing songs and greeting friends, children with their eyes wide open as Santa goes by on a sled through town.  I mean, come on, it felt like that scene in Funny Farm with Chevy Chase, where he and his wife decide to sell their house in New England after their dreams of moving to the country, so Chevy can write the great American novel, are a total bust.  When they find a potential buyer, they talk the whole town (and promise to pay each citizen $50 to depict 'small town' values) into bringing to life, a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting.  I love that movie.  And I love that our little town reminds me of a Norman Rockwell painting and that it's not an act.  It is, indeed, a sweet little New England town, right down to the white painted houses, black shutters, the town post office where everyone chats while they are in line to buy stamps, the diner, the ice cream shop and the gazebo in the park.  It's like a movie set, and sometimes I think someone might yell, "Cut!"  And the movie is a wrap.  Is is possible to be in love with a town?  Well, my heart flutters every time I go home, so it must be love.  Or maybe I just appreciate it because I live in another country most of the time these days.  Or maybe I see it differently, because I live in another country.  Antwerp has its charms as well.  We flew back to Antwerp a few days after our walk along Main Street, arriving on a Saturday morning, the city still sleeping as we drove along the Scheldt River to our flat overlooking a small harbor.  The moon was setting over the city, and holiday lights were still sparkling as the day began to peak through the overcast skies.  The riverfront had been transformed into a winter wonderland, tidy merchant shacks had been set up and there was a giant Ferris wheel, lit up and rotating slowly nearby the castle (yes, we have our very own castle in Antwerp...) and there was even a makeshift ice rink complete with bales of hay to sit and rest upon between laps.  Tiny white lights were strewn all along the sidewalks and I felt like we were getting the pre-opening-night-sneak-peak as we drove by, the only folks around, those who were setting everything up for the first day of celebration -- which was that day.  We were a bit punchy from the overnight flight, so when we arrived at our building, we got a burst of energy and cleaned our whole apartment and pulled out the few holiday decorations that we'd had shipped over when we moved into our flat.  Our goofy Charlie Brown style faux-Christmas tree, it's branches all bent and decrepit, magically came to life as we found a few ornaments and a string of lights.  Voila!  Christmas in Belgium.  We napped a bit and then walked down to the river to join in the festivities with our other fellow-citizens...and I must say, it was all too familiar to our sweet little New England village celebration.  Santa was there to thrill the children, the street vendors were selling hand-knit hats, warm macaroons (just like my grandmother made), hot chocolate, wooden toys, and of course, waffles, chocolates and beer.  Even the castle had a tree inside its courtyard, near the statue of Jesus on the cross.  It was lovely, and we felt welcomed back to our other hometown, in northwest Flanders where friends were greeting each other much the same way they were in our small town in Connecticut, a kiss or two or three on the cheek, with a hello! how are you?  Merry Christmas!  Only, in Dutch of course.  My life on the lane is calm and bright, happy and merry, and just as festive on both sides of the pond.  Gelukkige Kerstmis, Seizoenen Groet!  Merry Christmas, Season's Greetings!

Grote Markt, Antwerpen

Shopping along the Scheldt River

Ice Skating Under Twinkling Lights

Antwerpen, BE

Ice Skating in Antwerpen

Carolers in Ridgefield, CT

Cheerful Storefront in Connecticut

Grote Markt, Antwerpen

Antwerpen Lit Up

Het Steen, Antwerpen's Petite Castle

Window Shopping in Ridgefield

       

Home Is Where You Hang Your Hat

A few weeks ago, Mr. Lane and I landed in Brussels at dusk and as the sun was setting on Belgium, we headed north towards Antwerp, tired from our travels and ready to be back home.  Coming around the corner and up out of the tunnel into Antwerp, its dim, glowing lights welcomed us home, and what a sweet, sweet sight....ah...I was home, for one day.  The plan...to repack then back to Brussels Airport to begin our final leg of what was feeling like, a world tour.  But, for now -- we were home.  Home.  It's where you hang your hat, keep your stuff, clean your clothes, sleep in your own bed.  Home.  After the final leg to Naples, Florida, next up for me, home-home, in Connecticut for a few weeks.  Survey the damage from the recent, freak snow-storm and welcome my youngest, home for Thanksgiving from college in Boston, along with some of his floor-mates.  Can't wait for the house to be filled with a bunch of university kids looking for home cooked food, a quarter-less washing machine, and a regular-sized bed -- all of which I will happily provide.  Ah, home.  So thankful for home, whether in Belgium or in the states.  As we all move towards Thanksgiving, let's be grateful for our homes...wherever they may be, down your own lanes, safe, warm and filled with what is important to you.  My life on the lane is filled with travel and discovery and jet-lag, but mostly my life on the lane is all about being home. 

Happy Thanksgiving from My Life on the Lane...to you and yours and your life on your lane.     

Riprendere Vita...on the Lanes of Italia

Keyboard Shortcuts Help Toggle. control+alt+h

I've been traveling quite a bit lately, feeling like a rock star on tour, in a way...if rock stars are middle-aged Americans who wear somewhat sensible shoes and suede vs. leather jackets and who can't remember all the words to the songs anymore! Let's see, about a month ago we left our home in Antwerp and with just two, two-day trips back for clean clothes, we have traveled to Lille, France, New York, Connecticut, Boston, Cleveland, New York again, London, Brussels, Lake Como, Milan and Venice and we are now enroute to Naples (the Florida one) via New York and Atlanta, then back to New York to Connecticut, and then back again to Antwerp. Of course then we will head to California for Christmas, why not? Seems fitting for aging rock stars, right? Or at least a corporate executive and his author-wife who have lost their collective minds and are trying to zig-zag through as many time zones as possible ('fall-back' happened for us in England). I'm tired but inspired, jet-lagging with tail-wagging. Okay sorry, that last line proves I'm exhausted and maybe not cool enough to be a rock star after all. I'm writing from somewhere over the Atlantic ocean, wings stretched (ba-da-dum) on to the next place, Florida...for an industry meeting, which to me, means a few more chapters (writing not reading) poolside, hopefully sipping mojitos. Instead of talking about all the places I've been lately, I'd like to share a bit of Italy with you, not only because it's one of my favorite places on earth, but because I learned some new things this time. In the past, I've been to Florence, Pisa, Siena, Tuscany and all its splendid hill towns -- but this trip, I was lucky to see the northern region, from the Swiss border all the way to the Adriatic Sea. Even though it rained almost the entire trip, I found I'm still, undeniably in love with Italy. I feel alive in Italy -- my senses, my heart, my mind all awaken and I find myself 'feeling' my way through each day. We arrived late in the evening to our hotel at Lake Como, and with the rain, a heavy fog was covering the steep mountains surrounding the lake. Out on our veranda overlooking the lake, the rain was falling lightly and boats skimmed the surface of the water, heading home for the night. We slept good that night, a light wind against the French doors surrounding our room. In the morning, we woke to the most magnificent view of the entire lake region, the fog lifting, leaving a blanket of clouds that only added more texture to the peaceful mood of Lake Como. Mr. Lane was off to meetings and I was off to Milan. A driver, Giampaulo, picked me up mid-morning and we headed back forty-five minutes to the fashion capitol of Italy. Milano is a historically rich city with cathedrals and palaces, famous designer boutiques and up and coming little gems that all devine fashionistas would love discovering. It's also a foodie heaven, with cuisine from Italy considered to be among the best in the world. You'd be hard-pressed to find a bad meal in Milano. If it's shopping you want, the department store, La Rinascente, can be found among the designer stores in the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele. This is Italy's equivalent to NYC's Bloomies or London's Harrods. The department store carries many of Italy's most popular brands, as well as, many others from around the world. If you're in a brousy mood, you can take a stroll around Cordusio-Magenta, a lovely neighborhood with small boutiques housing creations by Italian designers such as Massimo Crivelli. Of course, bring plenty of euro if you plan on actually buying anything. I bought just one special gift for one special person and easily surpassed my budget...but it was worth every penny, and I can't wait to see him open it at Christmastime :) Don't forget to take a Gelato break (I didn't forget...twice!) with flavors like dark chocolate, hazelnut, banana or orange zest ...yummy-perfecto! If you're more the cultural type, Milano will not disappoint...the city boasts wonderful antique shops bursting with furnishings from the High Renaissance period. The Municipal Modern Art Gallery has exceptional collections from the 19th and 20th centuries, including works by Picasso. If you are lucky enough to secure an advanced appointment, you can view Leonardo da Vinci's 15th century masterpiece, The Last Supper, at the Refectory of the Church of Santa Maria delle Grazie (icbellagio.com). The entire city is a juxtaposition of ancient and modern. Sky scrapers are going up to house fashion designer's growing need for larger headquarter offices, right next to gothic shorter versions that housed great innovators from centuries past. The financial district is home to Italy's stock market, Borsa Italiana, where banks house most of the surrounding buildings. Milan is the capitol city of the region of Lombardy and the province of Milan and is the second largest city in Italy.  This accounts for the many strikes and demonstrations in the news. In fact, there was a demonstration going on when I was in town, but my driver, Giampaulo, had a cool gadget that provided a constant stream of info about traffic and city related issues, so he knew where the strikers were at all times and kept me safely away from those areas (the demonstrators can be quite violent if not passionate). That day, they were striking against the bail out of Greece and the domino affect it would likely have on Italy's already weak and corrupt economy. Cost of housing per square meter in Milano is skyrocketing and only the very rich can afford most addresses in downtown Milan. You'd never know, other than by the cries from demonstrators, that Italy is suffering along with the rest of the world -- economically. The city is set up like a spider web, with rings of traffic encircling neighborhoods with the main arteries feeding down into the historical center where the largest cathedral in Italy, Duomo di Milano dwells. This Gothic church took nearly five centuries to build. The Piazza del Duomo surrounds the grand cathedral. In the evening, opera fans marvel at the gilded interiors of the 18th-century theater, La Scala, considered one of the world's most important music houses. The theater also boasts its own museum, with the history of Italian music from the 17th to 20th centuries. Before or after you hear the fat lady sing, you can grab a delicious bite at II Salumaio di Montenapoleone, a Milanese eatery nearby La Scala -- deliziosa!! If you are a wine-ufficiale, then a stop at L'Ulmet for a glass or two to leave you feeling relaxed and satisfied. Ahhh, vino! Le nostre preghiere sono state esaudite! (our prayers have been answered) I was surprised to see canals stretching through parts of the city that were originally constructed for shipments of marble to be transported to the center of town when the Duomo was being constructed or was it when the palace was going up? Well, whenever it was...a long, long, long time ago, complex waterways were developed, some of which have been buried under now, to make way for new buildings and roads. There are a few canals left, with ancient boats, reinvented as restaurants, still floating, although tied up, kind of sadly, on the low tide. The canals are no longer used for boat traffic, and unfortunately, in some areas, now seem to be used as trash receptacles...which is always sad to see. Milano is a bustling, wealthy metropolis, with a graffiti'd middle-class shoving up against its skinny, super-model sides...a hotbed for unrest and controversy. I must say, after a day of walking around Milano, no matter how interesting and gothic-modern, I was very content to return to the restorative and spiritual shores of Lake Como late that afternoon. I wrote into the early evening, a light rain tapping against the tiles outside on my terrazzo.  Mr. Lane returned from his meetings and invited me to join him and the staff from his division offices for dinner at Il Gatto Nero (a restaurant supposedly frequented by local-resident-movie-star-extraordinaire -- George Clooney) We both changed into dinner clothes (I was careful to wear something George would find attractive, even though it seems he's not attracted to my age-group, even though he's my same age) and were greeted by his colleague in the lobby for the very steep drive up the mountainside to the restaurant. Winding back down proved trickier knowing the driver had several swigs of Grappa with his cappuccino after several glasses of wine with dinner. But what a way to go if you were going to go...the incredible view, the mountains, it felt like we were suspended above the lake...if we propelled off the side of that cliff, if the car had lost it's grip (remember, it's raining and slick)...well, then all I could do was hope and pray that George Clooney would hear my screams and catch me -- rescue me and nurse me back to health at his gorgeous movie-star villa, which according to our dinner-mates was clinging to the same mountainside we were now traversing, like new skiers making our way down the slopes, back and forth, turning and crossing, turning and crossing, a few feet lower each time (I swear I saw dirt and rock falling down the hillside from our tires...Mr. Lane said I was crazy, but he too had shared in the Grappa-fest, so what did he know?). But alas, we made it back down to our hotel (George hadn't been needed after all) and by that time, the rain was coming down hard, but we found our way to our suite and out onto the veranda for one more look at beautiful Como. I didn't mind one bit that my best silk evening jacket (the one that would most certainly have caught George's eye) was getting drenched as Mr. Lane kissed me, like an Italian lover, right out there in the rain, leaning against the railing, the lake lapping against the ancient stone wall, two stories below, neither of us coming up for air, even when the wind knocked over the trellis behind us....no, for a few lovely days, we lived like passionate Italians, throwing caution to the wind, drinking whole bottles of wine as if it was Perrier, staying up late, laughing, saying things like, ciao and grazie a and scusi! Referring to each other as Bella and Ricardo (more romantico than Mr. Lane, si?). Ahhhh, Italy, I love you. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, we found ourselves driving (Giampaulo at the steering wheel once again) three hours east, through white-wine vineyards to Venice, city of love. My heart be still. I can't tell you much about the rest of our trip, (privacy please) but it was wonderful, I can tell you that...and Venezia far exceeded my expectations. It was more beautiful than I ever dreamed and even more special than anywhere I've been in a long time. Do hire a gondola in the rain, late at night, off-season, when the only city lights are dim candles illuminating the centuries-old villas...and oh, be sure to choose the gondola with the guide who sings and whistles the greatest Italian love songs ever written, and who takes his time weaving through the canals and is the last gondola back to the dock. Perfetto! My life on the lane is winding, and ancient and romantica and deliziosa (and sometimes even a little dangerous) Ciao-Ciao! Venice Beautiful Designer Shop in Milan Milano in the Rain Lake Como in the Rain Venice Venice Venice Venice Doorway Lovely Lane in Venice El Duomo Milano

caron627@aol.com

On Architecture

Where we live in Antwerp, restoration is on-going with buildings being meticulously remodeled and (unfortunately) in some cases, torn down and completely rebuilt. Seems everyday, there is a new project begun in the waterfront area and throughout the city of Antwerp. Architectural styles of Baroque (with Flemish Baroque having its own distinct styling), Romanesque, Gothic, Neoclassical (which began under Austrian rule in the 18th century), Art Nouveau (Brussels led the world in Art Nouveau during the 1890's) and Art Deco can be found all around Belgium. Some of the newer contempory architecture falls a bit flat alongside more ancient counterparts, however there are some modern jewels which blend and even sometimes explode within the modest skylines of Belgium. Here are some favorite architectural splendors, sublte and spectacular from the low countries. My life on the lane is rectilinear, semicircular, pointed, stylistic and juxtapositioned these days, and I'm enjoying all design concepts -- old and new.

My First Acquisition of Antwerp Art

I love my new painting by Paul Van Soens, Antwerp artist, who also happens to be our landlord.  I fell hard for this abstract painting on display at Mr. Van Soens art studio and gallery, Insularte, which is at the street level of our building.  I'd been admiring the painting for weeks with Mr. Lane as we passed by on our evening walks.  I came home the other day, with company, and there it was...Mr. Lane had asked Mr. Van Soens to place it in our flat to surprise me.  How sweet is that?  It's the perfect touch to our modern, loft-like apartment.  It hadn't occured to me that the painting had colors similar to the cover of my novel, Restoration, until it was hanging on the wall above the fireplace and a copy of my book was nearby.  No wonder I was so drawn to this particular piece.  Mr. Van Soens has many wonderful pieces on display in his studio, but this one spoke to me.  I think the dark, embossed area looks like cobblestones with the horizon floating above, very peaceful to me.  I'm in love.  I'm in love with all art these days in Europe.  I can't help myself...art surrounds me all day, everywhere I go...I'm immersed in oils, water colors,    

sculptures, statues, frescos, murals, even the graffiti moves me.  The new European artists inspire me, as they go up against the great masters in history. It makes me think about literary greats and how writers, just like artists, try to imitate and match the masters when crafting their words.  Does art imitate life or life imitate art?  Do words imitate art and life?  Everything and everyone interact and inspire everyone and everything.  My life on the lane is inspiring and artistic and literary and absolutely lovely.