I’m sitting in Parc de la Jeunesse and it is really hot. A slow start to the day — and that’s fine.
Yesterday was Day 25. Heysel to Jette. 22 May. 6 km on the spiral, 12.5 km in total.
Getting there was a saga. I left home with Sybille l’atelier mobile and walked to the Hallepoort, to the entrance at the blind institute, because there’s an escalator there I can use to get straight down to the platform. I waited there for the 6 and got on. I had overlooked that the exit door on the other side was out of service — I only realised this on the way, when I kept thinking: I hope the door opens on the right side. I arrived at Heysel and I couldn’t get out. I tried, but Sybille l’atelier mobile didn’t fit between the seats to reach the next exit either. So I just stayed on until Roi Baudouin, the end station, and there I couldn’t get out either. Nothing to do but stay put. The driver came to check on me — that woman with a ginormous cart, he’d seen me get on and then noticed I wasn’t getting off. I said: I can’t get out. He looked at the door, saw it was out of service, looked at the seats and the bars and agreed with me it was impossible. He was visibly embarrassed. In the end I had to ride back 6 stations all the way to the Weststation before I could get off. I got out there and went to the lift. I was on level minus 1 and the lift was constantly full — I could never get in. So I took the escalator anyway and waited for the 6 again. This time I checked I’d definitely be able to get off. And I could, no problem — but in total it had taken me an hour and a half. Door to door: 2 hours. Madness.
But then I was there. Before I’d even got into the metro at Hallepoort, I’d met a group of people from Bangladesh. I couldn’t ask much, but I did ask whether they’d write “home” on Sybille in Bengali. Then I stopped briefly at a little shop where I found Mustafa, who is so proud of what I’m doing! It is so much fun.
It was warm but I walked slowly. I stopped somewhere and crocheted for a good while. With my found threads0. Then I passed by the community centre in the Cité Moderne — an architectural experiment from the 1950s, I think. Interesting, but unbelievably run-down. I sat there for a bit, ate my sandwiches, though I didn’t really engage much with the people there. Near the Cité Moderne I met Clementine, a woman who has lived in this neighbourhood for 50 years, originally from a village near Napoli. I adapted my question a little and asked her: do you feel more at home in your village near Napoli, or here in Belgium? Oh, Belgium, Belgium, she said, because I came here and I started working and people paid me and said thank you when they gave me the money. More order, more respect, more respect for the rules too. In Napoli there’s no room, there’s a lot of rubbish, crowds everywhere, and if you’re walking there are no pavements. She was very sweet. And then, of course, she gave me a flyer from the Jehovah’s Witnesses — but I think we agreed that people are people everywhere, and love is the answer, not war and things like that. Through the park I met a Moroccan couple, I think, and asked them how you write “home” and what you need to feel at home. I wrote that down too. All around us it was a battle of smells — on one side elderflower, so sweet, so beautiful, on the other wild garlic, the two of them bidding up to each other everywhere you turn. Then I thought: I’ll just keep it easy. I’m not going to worry, I’ll find a place or I’ll take the train. I went to have a look at whether I could get the train from Jette station back home. When I came out of Parc Baudouin, I parked Sybille l’atelier mobile in a bicycle rack for a moment to figure out what I was going to do. That’s when I met Ann, Damien, Lucien and Olivia — they were standing right there, very curious. I told them what I was doing and they invited me to bring my cart to their place. I said: then I’d love to ask you a few questions about home on the walk over. But we just kept talking, and then I was invited to stay for pizza — and they made something separate for me because I’m vegan. More people arrived and it was wonderfully convivial. And then I asked: what makes you feel at home? Damien said: sérénité et sécurité. Lucien, the 7-year-old, said: ma petite sœur et mon papa et ma maman. Ann said: same, actually. When I have my family and our place, that gives me peace, and then I know I’m coming home to that every evening. And that is good. After that I went to Kunst-Wet, to Gundy’s party — the inauguration of her new studio. Vincent and Ea came too and it was lovely. All kinds of conversations with all kinds of people. We weren’t in bed until 1 in the morning.
