Fighting the Cobbles - My trip to Belgium in 2018, Part 27 - Arrival in Wavre

This blog continues the previous Part 26,
https://gerdiwanninger.blogspot.com/2018/10/fighting-cobbles-my-trip-to-belgium-in_8.html

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

   

'The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes,

but in having new eyes'

Marcel Proust

   After nearly one day walking from Duisburg (Belgium, not Germany) I arrived in the province of Wavre, named after its capital. As the mother tongue is French, the citizens are called 'Wavriens' and 'Wavriennes'.

   Following some smooth hills i finally arrived at the first houses of the city of Wavre, with over 34,000 citizens some of the larger urban areas I would passed on my trekking part during my trip in Belgium. 

Reaching Wavre City Limits...

   Historically a Roman villa has been found in an area close to the city but it was first officially mentioned as a dependency of the County of Leuven in 1050. Located conveniently on the crossroads of Brussel-Namur and Nivelles-Leuven a town grew in this place which have been granted its city charter by the Duke Henry I. of Brabant, "The Courageous" (1165-1235) in 1222. 

   Between the 16th and 18th century the city suffered from many disasters like retaliations, wars and two major fires. Wavre had its share of the 'Battle of Waterloo' (June 18, 1815) during which the French General and self-proclaimed Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte was defeated by the British-led Allied army under the command of the Duke of Wellington and a Prussian army under the command of Gebhard Leberecht von Blücher. The outcome of this battle ended the reign of Napoleon in Europe and changed the political situation in the old continent.

   I did neither come to invade nor start a war but rather came in the peaceful mission of a tourist looking around, breathing its air and try to learn something about this town. After walking from 9:30 in the morning to the late afternoon (5:30 pm) my first priority was to look for a hotel. I did not want to sleep in my tent which is not very convenient in a city. My friend Rene told me about a church in which I could stay but checking out the map beside the Town Hall it seemed too far for me to handle today.

Town Hall of Wavre 

   I walked thru the sometimes narrow streets and found a hotel and asked for the price. Before deciding I found a chain hotel a little outside beside a freeway which was priced higher and already fully booked. I left but discovered an industrial area with a large supermarket across the street. I went inside, bought my dinner and something for the road tomorrow. I returned to the first hotel and checked in, the price included a breakfast. The hotel had a distinctive Middle Eastern flavor, a surprise for me and a sign of the international openness of Belgium.

My cozy Bed for the Night 

   The first I did is to plug in my phone and camera to charge the batteries. Then I washed my clothes, underwear and socks which would be dry the next morning. I took my first extensive shower within two days. After all was done I made myself comfortable on the bed to have my dinner while I was watching TV, a time I enjoyed tremendously.

   The bed was great and, needless to say, together with the room, much more spacious than my one-man tent. I was glad that I decided to take off some time of my 'adventure' part of the journey... At around 10:00 I went to bed and, after some minutes, I longed for the fresh Belgium air. I closed the air condition and opened the window wide; afterwards I felt much better and had indeed a good night's sleep. 

(to be continued@
https://gerdiwanninger.blogspot.com/2018/10/fighting-cobbles-my-trip-to-belgium-in_17.html)

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Growing Up, part 9

A German Youth

Grown up in Germany in the 1960s and 1970s

   With moving up to secondary school came many big changes. As I came from primary school 5th grade I repeated the 5th grade in secondary school. I was one of the oldest students but had some classmates were downgraded from grammar school.
   Secondary school was further away, it took me 15 minutes by bike one way and nearly 45 minutes by bus because I had to change the bus at least once. The school was not far away from my grandmother's house but I've never went there before or after school. She, my mother's mom, lived in Eastern Prussia, before and during the war a part of Germany. But in the winter of 1944-1945, as the Russian advanced, they fled Königsberg (or Kaliningrad as it is known in Russian today) in fear of retaliation. As my grandmother told us they left everything there except for the things they could carry, and were never allowed to return. 
   They fled in a train full civilians which was attacked by the Russians. As she protected her children one bullet shattered her left arm and grazed my mother's back nearly destroying her lungs. My grandmother's left forearm had to be amputated, my mother felt the pain especially after sudden changes in weather in her back for the rest of her life.    
   As I had already two semesters in English I was one of the best in class. My most memorable teacher during the whole secondary school (the next 6 years) had been this  female English teacher. She was very interested in my miserable family life and spend a lot of time to listen and to encourage me. She was the first who recognized that I developed a kind of hump which all of my sisters have too. I did not walk nor stand straight, my shoulders were bent forward. My mother said that we inherited this posture from my father but children without confidence living in a discouraging environment see no reason to be proud about themselves...
   In the beginning of the 1970s smoking was big in Germany. The secondary school had a 'smoking corner' where teachers and students alike could smoke. As my father was a heavy chain smoker I did not have interest in doing so myself. As a truck driver he seldom took shower on the road, as long as I remember he carried the 'aura of cold smoke' with him. In his car he had a real lambskin which he rarely washed, the smoke stuck heavily in the fur.
   The relationship between my parents did not change at all. My mother was still dominating while my weak father drunk his youth and his responsibilities away. Sometimes I wondered how my mother, a real miser herself, could afford coats made of real fur. It was not until my elder sister told me that each time, my father was caught with a girlfriend, he bought a coat to appease her. For a few weeks they tried to get along until the volcano exploded again...
   My father was Catholic and my mother, a reformed Christian. As a child I was baptized but have to attend a confirmation (lat. 'consolidation', 'recognition') in my teens. This means that I had to go to church for class once a week for roughly 9 months. In this class we had been taught in the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, had to learn some church rules, the meaning of Christmas and Eastern but also Whitsunday (or Pentecost) etc. I liked to attend the lessons very much; the pastor was also my religion teacher. He was an 'open' Christian, I remember the outrage when he let a band play in church.

Day of confirmation as a full member of the church, 

me standing beside of the pastor 

   From him I've learned not to count on humans but to trust in the Lord. He told us that everyone and everything has a reason, might it seem good or bad in the moment. He also encouraged me to attend the Sunday worship which I did without the consent of my parents. I let them argue at home, my own joy and 'salvation' came from God himself. Many elder church members asked me why I come alone - I did not know how and did not want to answer. Writing this I still believe my foundation of the faith was build right there between God and me, a very lonely teenager in much need of affection.

(to be continued)