Belgian Comic Strip Center Museum

The Belgians are complex and diverse.   Many are aware of the country’s varied assortment of accomplishments: like producing some of the world’s best chocolate, lace and beer.  But did you know that Belgium is home to the world’s largest population of cartoon artists, over 700 reside in this tiny country.  They even have a museum in Brussels dedicated to what has become known as the world’s “Ninth Art”, Comics.

Walking into the Belgian Comic Strip Center, you’re greeted by a glistening red and white checkered rocket and a candy apple red convertible.  The building itself is the perfect home to the museum.  It was designed by Brussels very own Victor Horta, a leader in Art Nouveau design.  The whimsical glass and iron scrolls compliment the playful characters waiting upstairs to greet the curious visitor.

No English translations here, no matter. One of the beauties of comics is that they’re visual.  Our family was entertained by the colorful displays of stories.  There were also hands on activities incorporated into several displays.  I especially loved seeing my childhood favorite, The Smurfs (Les Schtroumpfs)!  It was fun discovering the actual height of a Smurf, only three apples high.  There was even a true-to-size mushroom village, tiny of course and behind glass.  As my feet moved forward, my childhood seemed one step closer in memory.

My husband liked the exhibits on some of his pint sized heroes like: Tintin, Spirou, and his personal favorite, Lucky Luke, the gun toting cowboy that could “Draw faster than his shadow”.   There are original posters and cartoons from Lucky Luke’s past.  Like the poster of him smoking his trademark cigarette.  When his popularity began to spread, health officials started to rally to have the cigarette removed.  In the mid 1980’s it was replaced with a piece of straw.  All of the exhibits walked you through the cartoon’s history, including the politically incorrect (and there are many!).

The gift I valued most on this journey was remembrance.   As I looked at the cuddly blue Smurfs, I couldn’t help but remember a time in life when my sister and I could indulge in Saturday morning cartoons.  There was nothing to schedule around.  It was the only day of the week that offered back-to-back episodes of cartoons, the only day we could watch the Smurfs. Every kid on the block knew, if you snooze you lose. Our window of animated childhood enlightenment only aired from 7-10am, after that was news and all the boring stuff our parents liked to watch.  Cable didn’t exist; DVD/VHS players were non-existent.  Visiting the museum served as a reminder of simpler times, a time before Skype, wireless, and instant TV. 

Meandering through life’s paper heroes turned out to be reassuring. It was a relief to see 21^st Century kids and adults get lost in the world’s “Ninth Art”, comics.  Everyone needs a hero, even if it’s only on paper.  It turns out my super hero was sitting next to me on Saturday mornings…but it would take a Smurf to remind me.

Kickstart Your Dream

Remember when you could barely see over the counter and people asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”  In a recent issue of TIME Magazine, I discovered a company that makes it their business to see people’s creative ideas become a reality, Kickstarter.

Just like their name suggest, Kickstarter’s goal is to help kick start creative projects.  In order for a project to get off the ground it must fit their website's definition of a project, “A project is something with a clear end, like making an album, a film, or a new game.  A project will eventually be completed, and something will be produced as a result”.  Categories include: “Art, Comics, Dance, Design, Fashion, Film, Food, Games, Music, Photography, Publishing, Technology, and Theater”.  It’s also important to note that, as their website states; “Currently Kickstarter is only open to those with US or UK creditors over the age of 18” (they’re working on expanding). The idea is to allow viewers of their website to voluntarily back your creative dream through donations.  If 100% of the amount you’ve designated for your project is collected, then the funds will be deposited into your bank account for you to make your dream a reality.  If anything less than 100%, then the project is dismissed.  Nothing lost, nothing gained.

You may ask, what does the backer (or investor) have to gain supporting a project?  The answer is pretty simple.  It seems people feel good about taking an active role in someone else’s dream.  Individuals like to feel they’ve helped in the creative process. In addition, the creators of a project often have rewards for their backers.  The rewards are often as creative as the individual sharing their dream. For $15 I recently backed someone writing a memoir.  Because 100% of their funding goal was met, my reward will be a signed bookmark by the author with artwork from the book's cover.  Personally speaking, the bookmark is a bonus perk. The true reward comes from taking an active part and watching another individual's creative idea become reality.

If you have a dream you haven’t fulfilled do to lack of funding, you should look into Kickstarter.  They just might be the Super Hero cape you need for lift off. It’s free to register your idea, the only thing needed is your imagination~

http://www.kickstarter.com

Pink Martini

“To make art accessible to as many people as possible, free of elitism but without lowering standards - Victor Horta

Who needs a backstage pass when one and all are given the opportunity to be on stage with the musicians.  The night Pink Martini enchanted fans at the BOZAR in Brussels gave me a taste of something much more powerful than anything served at a bar.

The BOZAR, or Palais des Beaux-Arts, is a large unobtrusive art deco building created by Brussels most famous architect, Victor Horta.  If you’re a lover of the Humanities: Photography, Art, Architecture, Music, Literature, Theatre, and Dance, then you’re in for a treat.  This center successfully blends all elements under one roof, a natural fit for a band that embodies the above prerequisites.

This Portland, Oregon based ensemble serves up a heavy shot of cultural melodies.  In one magical night, tunes floated seamlessly through the air in French, German, Japanese, Spanish, English, and Turkish.  Not unlike their attire, the band was full of contradictions.  They’re sophisticated, yet playful.  A few are Ivy League graduates while others are scrappy, brilliantly self-taught musicians.  At times their sound is quiet and restrained, and then with a slight twist the audience is transported to the sounds of a Cuban beat that gives your feet a heartbeat. Those attending the concert were as varied as the band.  There were tailored silver haired gentlemen sipping wine along with youthful hipsters wearing t-shirts and jeans. The band’s creator and pianist, Thomas Lauderdale breezed by as the eclectic crowd sipped on pre-concert cocktails.  Resembling the boy superhero, Dash from The Incredibles, Mr. Lauderdale’s petite frame topped off with a streaked Mohawk, fluttered on air, so quick in his motion that no one noticed as he glided by.  Twenty minutes later he was on stage, along with eight other musicians and their dazzling lead vocalist, China Forbes.  The overhead chandelier in the Henry Le Boeuf Hall foreshadowed events.  An ornate gold and white, three tiered upside down wedding cake (or so it resembled), befitting of a group that would turn a subdued crowd into a party scene.  James Bond might affirm, these fans wanted to be shaken, not stirred.  

The band was dressed in elegant threads.  All of the males appeared as though they had strolled off the set of Men in Black: black suits, white button down shirts, and skinny black ties.  As Ms. Forbes waltzed onto the stage in her floor length black gown, a slit up to her thigh, and high heels that shimmered liked diamonds, the scene was complete. 
 

If pixie dust exists, I’d have to say the night Pink Martini graced the BOZAR, the stars aligned.  Throughout the night, in his genuinely clumsy broken French, Mr. Lauderdale liked to equate his energy to the ten cups of coffee he had enjoyed throughout the day.  His adrenaline was palatable.  And it came not from coffee consumption, but from the eager heartbeats seated before him.  The audience’s energy became a tangible element that Mr. Lauderdale consumed with one gleeful gulp.

You have to listen to this eclectic band in order to be transported. In one evening I escaped to six countries without ever leaving the comforts my red velvet seat.  During the two hour show, on three different occasions the audience was encouraged to go on stage and dance. Accessible to the crowd, just as their vast repertoire of lyrics and melodies would suggest, there were no barriers or boundaries.  

By the end of the night I was intoxicated with the lingering sweet elixir of the band. Who needs a drink, when you have Pink Martini?  Victor Horta’s vision still thrives within the Humanity filled walls of the BOZAR.  Cheers to accessible art, in all forms~

Paris & Popsicle Sticks

I have an idea possibly crazier than me for my 40^th birthday.  My goal is to have 40 daydreamers join me for coffee in Paris!  Sounds like a tall order for such a vertically challenged individual, but it’s my goal nonetheless. I’m also economically challenged, so it will be 40 photo copied faces on Popsicle sticks that will actually accompany me for a cup of Joe in the “City of Light”.

I'm inviting you, the daydreamer to email an image of you or someone you might like to imagine in a Parisian Café (mom, sister, friend, husband, etc...).  I will then paste the image on a popsicle stick and bring it along with me in search of finding a picture perfect café to sit and sip. You will be emailed an image that will help your daydream become a little more tangible.  An image of us sipping coffee in Paris~

Life often interrupts our dreams: Money (or lack of), family commitments, work commitments, health, basically the realities of life.  Living in Belgium gives me wonderful access to Paris.  My gift to you and me is an experience to remember. 

I will only be able to commit to the first 40 responders.  My teeth can only take so many coffee stains! 

I hope someone, anyone responds.  If not, I’m left to believe there are no more daydreamers and my teeth will remain white (or, Mother of Pearl).

A café in Paris is waiting…. 

Email: ABROADINPINSTRIPES@GMAIL.COM

Camping in Holland

My husband and I have always romanticized the idea of taking our family of six camping.  In youth, my mother always took my sister and me camping in the Ozark Mountains, an eight hour drive from our home.  All three helped pitch the tent; mom cooked on a two burner gas range.  Our fancy meals consisted of potato soup with spam and scrambled eggs with bread.  Entertainment was fishing, learning the art of skipping rocks, choosing sticks for roasting marshmallows, and walking to the showers. There were no cell phones or TV’s, just three girls and a tent (and, if we were lucky cousins). 

As much as I love these memories, modern day standards had crept into mindset: aching backs from sleeping on tree roots, no electricity, no toilets, cramped space with no wall for privacy.   So after searching for campgrounds in Europe, I found one that offered a glamorous option, cabins.  It was less than three hours from where we live and affordable.

Duinrell Park sits in an affluent neighborhood in Holland, Wassenaar.  As we drove down the sleepy tree lined boulevard leading up to the park I noticed how pedestrian friendly the area was, as paths could be seen from every direction.   The entrance seamlessly nestled into the suburban landscape (I wondered how the locals felt about this?).  After a quick check in, we were given keys to our home for the week, cabin 446.  

Two of our four kids resisted camping.  Even the upgraded cabin accommodations didn’t seem to smooth things over.  So it was a nice surprise when they walked in without rolling their little eyes.  They weren’t bubbling over with excitement, but I could tell they were curious and interested in this new mode of lodging.  Looking around, I felt guilty.  Not only did we have beds, we also had a coffee pot, dishwasher, and more guilt…a Senseo machine!  The cabin was roughly 450 square feet with three bedrooms, a bathroom with shower, and a living/dining room space.  The only hint of my yesteryear camping was the daily walk, not to the public bathrooms, but to the theme park that was attached.  

Living within a theme park was both beautiful and beastly, beautiful because the kids were in cotton candy heaven.  Sensory utopia usually equates to a more relaxed vacation for mom and dad.  The beast lurking was the sense of selling out.  What did my mom possess that wasn’t carried on into my DNA?  Why does it take a cabin and theme park to entertain my kids when it only took skipping rocks for me and my sister?  My thoughts were interrupted by a four year old eager to dash and discover the park just beyond our cabin door.

The park’s mascot is a cute green frog.  He looked jolly and happy, always giving me a smile and thumbs up, as if saying, “Really it’s okay you sold out, the kids are having a blast”.  And he was right; the kids really were having a good time.  They enjoyed the roller coasters, the bumper cars, and the indoor water park.  My four year old was the first to sniff the chlorine in the air.  In her words, “Mommy I smell swimming!”

Luckily the park closes daily at 5pm.  This means the evenings are left to read and play board games, well not quite.  Our small cabin also had a 17 inch TV, allowing us to watch episodes of Seinfeld.   

Our family’s best vacations entertain the girls while offering a few quiet moments for my husband and me.  In fact it had accomplished the above prerequisites, but I hadn’t expected the nostalgic memories of days gone by.  The simplicity of pitching a tent with my mom and sister and the beauty that came with those long walks to shower and wash dishes in the communal sinks…but then, I didn’t recognize those at the time.  If I asked my mother I’m sure she would remind me of all the complaining she had to bear on those camping trips.  How my sister and I would plead for her to take us to Silver Dollar City Theme Park.  Now that I think about it, I don’t think I was a fan of canned spam either. 

It’s funny how the mind and time changes a point of view. Like most things in life, it seems the treasure of the present isn’t discovered until long into the future.   The guilt I initially had with “selling out” was replaced when I noticed how happy the kids were.  Turns out living in the moment and appreciating the past are two wonderful gifts I discovered while camping in Duinrell Park.