Report Onze

Well here it is my last Rotary report. The next time you here from me about this wonderful experience I’ve had will be in person. This report may seem brief and perhaps even a little less well phrased as the others, but for reasons that if are not obvious now should become apparent by the end of your reading of this have restrained my ability to pour my full attention into this.

This past month and a half has once again been another great experience.

At school I did my three exams, passed geography and social sciences, but failed French by two points. Though overall through the year I passed in French. I made my goodbyes to the school and its staff and a few of the other students as well.

With Rotary I had my final meeting and therefore presentation. It went very well, and I was congratulated on my French improvement and my performance with my theatre academy. One of the Rotarians has a daughter who was at the same Academy.

While on the subject of theatre the performance went very well, only very minor bumps along the way, and I received an Excellent as a grade for the entire year as well as some very good critique and advice from the professional actors who judged us.

I had a very special moment on the Belgian’s Father’s day (it’s a week before the Canadian one). I went to Comines to see my Great-great-grandfather’s grave. He was killed in the war, and I couldn’t think of a more appropriate day to go see him then Father’s day. It was a moving moment to walk over the graves of all of those potential fathers’s and then once I crossed them all come upon the father who died for many, but more importantly, lived for me.

I had several goodbyes with Rotary friends, once in Eupen where I saw a Leiderhosen wearing saxophone playing Austrian band. Second in Mouscron where I camped in the back yard. Why? Cause I happened to have a tent with me! Third in Sart, where I rocked out to some classic rock with a Rush crazed Australian. And lastly in Waremme where I got to see what can go wrong with flights.

Everything was going fairly smoothly goodbye-wise, no tears yet, until two nights ago when I had my goodbye party. I held it in a field beside some cows under a tunnel tent. And as I said goodbye to my Belgian friends I always took a little moment to realise, this could be the last time I see them. And therefore proceeded to unashamedly cry. Once you get started it’s hard to stop, so people who had not been expecting tears from me got them. It was a very hard moment and really made me realise just how much they mean to me, and thus in turn how much this year has meant to me. I have been changed from this amazing year abroad, except now it is no longer abroad for me, it’s just another place I like to call home.

But now it’s time to go back to my first home, and see the people I’ve been dying to see for the last eleven months.