Room 336

Ok, so I've decided to keep my word and post another entry re my Brussels visit.

The round table conference was a great experience. There were writers, journalists and literary critics from the Netherlands, Belgium, Lithuania, Latvia, Poland, Slovakia, Czechia, and Hungary. Together we discussed which step to take next in order to solidify the cultural dimension of the united Europe. The conference confirmed my impression that each time writers from different EU states meet the point which calls the hottest debate is the lack of union of the EU. The point mostly stressed was the divide that ex-Communist countries refer to between the West and the East. A Polish translator/publisher kept begging the point that the West keeps trying to westernise the East. On the other hand, the Dutch critic who was also chairing the conference pointed out that there are more contemporary Eastern European writers being translated into Western languages than vice-versa. This is also my impression. However, what struck me most was that - as usual - while the East-West divide gets somehow to the agenda, the North-South is never tackled. In paractical terms, Malta and Cyprus never feature. Which for me is a huge disappointment of course. I mean, I am well aware of what is being written in Poland, but how many Poles know what we or the Cypriots are producing?

Of course, the buzz word is translation. Many Westerners feel, and I would say truly feel, the need to become acquainted with the whole of Europe's literature. Given the multitude of languages used by Europeans there must be a concerted effort of creating possibilities to have these 'lesser known' literatures translated.

But, as I said, the conference was great. I just hope that once it is over, something gets done. We had a superb dinner in the basement of the building housing the Vlaams Nederlands Huis, which was attired with theatre paraphernalia, making the place warmer and more attractive. I shared table with dutch writer Maarten Ascher - a great man who made the night even more enjoyable, a Czech writer (regrettably I already forgot his name) who gave me a curious version of the story of the bomb which fell over the Mosta Dome (I won't go into that now) and others.
Right, so that was it. Or almost.

Yesterday my good friend and once-publisher Mark Vella (or as I like to call him - much to his delight - Feltrinelli) got a train to Brussels from Luxembourg where he is currently based to visit me. We met, of course, at the Grande Place. At noon. It was freezing cold. He took me (and I'm saying this because he paid - he's become a benestant you know) to Pizza Hut. Bloody Pizza Hut!!! But that's the cheapest outlet. We talked about our motherland ... usual complaints, usual disappointments, usual bla bla. In the evening we met Arnold, the general secretary of the European Greens, who did his utmost to tour me round the European Parliament. That was the most boring place I've ever been to. It is even more boring than the Junior College! Well, maybe it is not that boring, but the I am allergic to the corridors of power.

Then we had dinner at a Sicilian trattoria downtown Brussels.

Then Feltrinelli got a train back to Luxembourg, Arnold went home, and I was back to room 336 at the Metropole. Stayed up late reading. Got up early morning yesterday and got the wrong train. It is the second time which this happened to me in a matter of six months. Last June, while in Slovakia, I got a train to Ukraine instead to Bratislava! All this is reminding me that I soon turn forty. Other mishaps during the Brussels trip: I bought a book from Gudja airport and left it at Malpensa, I lost a silver chain given to me by Passaporta Writers Association (Brussels), lost a gift I bought to Jana, and took the wrong seat on the plane from Brussels to Malpensa and again from Malpensa to Malta. I must really be getting old!

One other thing which struck me: everyone knows my great great fear of flying. I just cannot get used to it despite the many trips I make annually. But flying over the Alps from Brussels to Malpensa yesterday was sheer bliss. It was an experience which a person goes through once in a lifetime I think. The beauty of it all! Goodness! I even caught myself wishing that the flight would take much much longer!

Now I'm back to the Rock. No more room 336.

Brrrrrussels

I'm posting this entry from the Metropole Hotel in Brussels. Outside it is freezing cold. Arrived late in the afternoon and after checking in at this hotel went straight to the Grande Place where the Christmas spirit is already at its best. I've been invited here for a round table conference hosted by the Vlaams Nederlands Huis, this being the closing month of the Netherlands' EU presidency. Tomorrow the participants will be discussing the 'next step' of their (our) respective countries' membership in the EU from a cultural point of view.

I may be posting something about tomorrow's conference if I feel like it. For the time being I am glad to be here, the capital of Europe, as the shops selling EU souvenirs make it a point to announce.

Strolling across the Grande Place was almost dreamlike. It was like excavating the past memories when, as a child, I used to be mesmerized by Christmas cards depicting white Christmases from some foreign land which looked so beautiful albeit alien. Obviously these 'white' Christmas cards, were nothing but the colonial inheritance which, to this day, we have not rid ourselves of. It's odd that people living in a mediterranean island send eachother Christmas cards with reindeers, snowy hills and little cottages amidst forests. It still happens today. I wonder if Australians do the same.

It's getting quite late. I think I should have a hot bath and go to sleep.