End of the year wrap up

First of all, I'd like to offer my sincerest apologies to all of my loyal readers for not having written any new posts for a while. Yes, I've been awfully busy, e.g. finishing my new book which I hope to be able to offer to my editor by New Year. Hmmm... it's going to be tight. Then there was the lecture I was invited to do about autism more then a week ago. Unfortunately the organiser, founder of a major Flemish autism organisation, got terribly ill and the whole event had to be cancelled. Well, I already had my flight tickets so I took the occasion to visit my family in stead. For what it's still worth, I prepared a little movie for my lecture, in order to let the audience feel what it's like to be autistic. I've uploaded it on Youtube and if you like you can see it here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V90Eh3g-umY&feature=g-upl&context=G265a57eAUAAAAAAAAAA

Well, what do you think? Horrible, isn't it? I hope that it will do away with the incessant remarks that we get in the sense that we "exaggerate" or the invariable "come on and get your chin up's". Believe me, this movie is very realistic as already testified by a great number of autistic people who got a preview. 

So, it's that time of the year again. The time to review what has been and to look forward to what is to come. 2011 has been a real rollercoaster for me with very high ups but also with a few very low downs. It was the year of my breakthrough as an author, which brought me in many of the national newspapers and even on television. But fame, even in the very limited form which I was to enjoy, has its inevitable downside. There are always people who'll try to abuse your trust and since I'm so terribly naive I often let people take advantage of me. That's one big lesson I had to learn for the umpteenth time and I'll definitely do my best next year to not let it happen again. Even though this will undoubtedly lead me to live an even more secluded life. It's a true pity because there are also a lot of people out there who genuinely appreciate me and the actions I take to promote more understanding for my autistic brothers and sisters. I'm so sorry for them, but I just have to be more careful.  

2011 has also seen the beginning of my career as an English teacher and it looks like I'll do a lot more of that next year. Yet another secondary school contacted me and there are even plans for an English summer camp in June. But I'll tell you more about that later when things are more definite.

But in general, 2011 was the year in which Christine and I truly became an integral part of the Italian social life here in the Emilian mountains and when we were embraced as fellow inhabitants of this gorgeous region. It's astonishing what a bit of good will can achieve... just trying to speak the language, even if we still make a lot of mistakes, just trying to blend in and respect the original culture of the local people, participating in the social events... it all takes you a long way and the local people return your efforts tenfold. The result is that we now have more friends over here than Christine and I probably had during our entire lifetime in Belgium and that we are very much appreciated for the new things that we've brought with us, such as Christine's delicious cakes and my English lessons. We celebrated Christmas eve with the local people, at a hostel of one of our closest Italian friends. Christine offered to do all of the cooking so that our friend, for the first time in her life, could truly enjoy Christmas without having to do all of the work. It was a bit of a culture shock for our friends because Christine wanted to offer them a taste of Flemish cuisine. Italians are generally not eager to try something from beyond their boundaries so she took a bit of a risk there. But everything she prepared, from the dried plums with bacon, the scallops with mashed peas and basil, the sellery-salmon-blue cheese soup, the Flemish "witloof" (chicory) with fried potatoe mash in an almond crust and chicken rolls stuffed with mince/onions/raisins, dressed with a port-fig sause up to the cheese pie desert... it was devoured like they haden't eaten in months.

Needless to say that Christine are now truly settled here and that we never ever want to go anywhere else anymore.

Merry Christmas everyone, and we wish you all of the best for 2012!!!

The master-decorator

Something I forgot to mention yesterday... When Christine was making her buiscuits, she got a little help from Flora, the master-decorator. Flora was so enthusiastic about it that she even did a bit of decorating on herself... :-)

The Christmas Fair

Yesterday Christine and a close friend organised the first Christmas Fair in the whole region. These types of fairs may be a major happening in some countries and especially in Germany, in Italy they haven't caught the Christmassy bug yet. Christine thought that she had to change all that and together with one of our very best Italian friends she went for it. The venue would be the small town of Casalino di Ligonchio, even higher up the mountains than where we live but a very cosy little place indeed. In the end there were seven stalls, but actually our stall counted for three because Christine sold her home-made buiscuits, I sold my special egg/honey brandy and we olso put a lot of Christmassy stuff on offer for a local shop, the owners of which couldn't be present unfortunately. 

For many days, Christine worked day and night making and decorating her special buiscuits: 

Here's our little stall:

In the afternoon quite a number of visitors showed up, not really by the hundreds but still a few dozen. Not bad for a first-time event in such a little town. Christine and her friend are determined to do better next year and make the Christmas Fair grow little by little. The comments were all very positive so that's what counts the most, isn't it?

Some more of her buiscuits... Christine was surprised at how much of them she eventually sold because she didn't want to sell them very cheaply after all the work she had put into them. But her work was obviously appreciated... :-)

And this is the special brandy I made, after an old, traditional, Flemish recipe. It's called "Advokaat" in Flemish and it's actually a kind of sweet and thick liquor which goes very well with fruit, cake, ice-cream, pancakes or other sweet dishes, or on its own of course. The local people loved it so much that at the end of the afternoon I was completely sold out! :-)

At the end of the day we were both exhausted, especially Christine because she had worked so hard for this. But we left with a deep sense of happiness because her efforts to bring some life into this region were appreciated a lot by everyone. It was fun, it was cosy and we did good trade, so what else should one wish for? Roll on next year!!!

Free as a bird

What is more beautiful than absolute freedom? The endless possibilities without restraints or shackles, the World at your feet and dreams coming true… Unfortunately absolute freedom is a utopia. It is said that someone’s freedom ends where someone else’s begins, and rightfully so because we are all entitled to our own little place, both physically and in our world of thought. Therefore we humans have created rules and laws in order to safeguard everybody’s freedom to the maximum extent and to set clear boundaries. As such it is guaranteed – at least in theory – that everyone enjoys exactly the same amount of freedom. But there’s the rub for people with autism, because we often demand more from our environment than we are entitled to by the written or unwritten rules. Let me illustrate this with a small example. When I was still in the Air Force, I shared the same room with about ten other blokes and this was a disaster to me. After these tiring days I absolutely needed rest in order to be able to process the events of the day. But I wasn’t allowed that and in the room the law of the strongest prevailed, meaning that those who had the least need for sleep decided when the lights went out and when everything would be quiet. Not seldom this was way past midnight and since we had to be up on our feet again by six, there was not a lot of sleep in it for me. Not only are six ours way too few for me, but the constant frustration because of the incessant noise in the room drove me som ad that I couldn’t sleep anyway anymore when things eventually settled down. When I asked for a bit of understanding (obviously in those days I couldn’t think of anything else than arguing that I just needed more sleep) I was scorned at and my motion for silence was outvoted all against one. “Democracy”, they used to call that and I was to respect it.

Now I realise that if we want to take the need for more “breathing space” into account in our society for people with autism, or people with a different condition, that this has its consequences for the others, who’ll hence have to give in on their freedom. Like in my example not being allowed to talk anymore or put on the lights after let’s say ten, even if they’re all still wide awake and still have so many things to say. This will undoubtedly lead to frictions, directed at the “privileged person”. Frankly, I don’t think that any autistic person would actually want to be “privileged”. We attach to much value to fairness for everyone so this would most certainly make us feel bad.

But what is the solution then? A solution which doesn’t take away any freedom from anyone and yet will satisfy everyone? Honestly, I don’t know. What I can say is that we, the autistic people, claim the freedom which we can’t get in this harsh world in another, more cunning way: we create our own world in our thoughts and dreams. It’s the perfect catalyst to undo all the frustrations which we are subject to on a daily basis, the impenetrable defence mechanism which protects us from an overdose of stimuli and at the same time becomes our image of a better world, a world which is tailored to our needs and which we desire so much to become reality one day. Alas, also that is a utopia. But this will not stop me from growing wings and fly off into the deep blue sky, far away to a place where nothing or nobody can still touch me. And there I find peace, while I see the mountains and forest slide past below me. I understand that I’ve been very lucky so far because I can get pretty close to my dream. Like I described in my previous post, whenever things get too hectic for me, I can run away to a high and nearby mountain top. A place where you truly don’t hear anything anymore and the infinite grandness of this World stares you in the face. Mountains and valleys… yes, even the Mediterranean you can see from up there and if the weather’s cooperating, you can even make out Corsica on the horizon. Deep below me I see the tiny little villages, and the little winding roads on which cars the size of ants crawl on. That part of the World that makes my senses go berserk. And I look down upon it, from my mountain top, so far away from it all, and I can feel all of my worries slide off my shoulders. I wish so hard that also all of the other people with autism could find such a place of their own. Is that too much to ask for? I don’t thinks so. What if we started right now with that project? Let’s vote, us, the autistic people, and let us claim this right. The right for one place for each and every autistic person, especially chosen by him or her, where we can finally find peace and where we – at least in our thoughts – can truly be free.

Some time on my own

What's the number one thing that autistic people really crave for? Yes! You guessed correctly! It's... REST! Peace and tranquility in order to absorb and process the horror of these thousands of information pulses that we are subjected to in the real world. Hence our decision to start a new life in the Italian mountains, a place where I can truly come to terms with who I am so that I can build up enough energy to face the unavoidable contact with busy society. 

Unfortunately, however, living isolated on a hill is sometimes not enough. From time to time there are still tensions and messages from the outside world which haunt me and sometimes even drive me completely balmy. When that happens, there is only one remedy: fleeing, as fast and as far as possible. Lucky enough for me, there are places here where I can flee to. Places where I'm not going to be disturbed, where there's no noise, no social clutter and chitchat, only peace. What about the summit of Mount Cavalbianco (1855m), for instance? It's the highest peak I've visited so far, at a time when I really needed it. 

I know that I have to consider myself very fortunate that I can do this. Many of my autistic brothers and sisters have no way out and can only scream at the walls that surround them. Yes, I truly am very lucky. Then again, I'm not feeling guilty at all about it. I've tried my utmost to blend in into society and to contribute to it, for twenty years until I eventually collapsed. So I see it that now society owes me. And I will keep up my struggle until society realises that it owes the same to my brothers and sisters too.

Some pictures I took during my yourney...

The spells of nature

Living in the middle of almost unspoilt nature gives one a completely different perspective about who we are and what life if all about. We people feel so secure about ourselves and go about with our little lives without the slightest care in the world. We watch TV chat shows and frantically twitter to our thousands of followers that X just kissed Y as if that petty fact would be of such terrible importance that we'd want the whole world to know about it. Well, I pity those people... I truly pity them. Because what do they know? It clearly demonstrates how much we're living in our insignificant cocoons, totally unaware about what truly matters. And then, we wake up in a nightmare, like the people in northeast Italian Liguria, and the fair city of Genova in particular. In a matter of minutes that city was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of mud, leaving many people dead and a chaos of debris and crushed cars. And this is only a small example of how fragile we are. Ask the people in Japan, in Pakstian, in the eastern Indian Ocean or everywhere else where nature recently demonstrated its true power. 

And yet, when destruction has come and gone, we take up our lives again and continue unabated, as if that what happened was only a bad dream and we feel good about ourselves because we're living so far away from the place where it happened. It is written in an old, stupid book that man has power over anything that lives on this planet and that we can use this Earth as we please. How wrong can anyone be! Because there's an unchangeable law of nature, which says that every action is countered by an equal and opposite reaction. Burn down the forests and soon we'll cause a greenhouse effect and the earth will slide away in massive, uncontrollable avalanches of mud, killing everything in their path. This is just one example. Another is the following. Some idiot who was keen on hunting thought it'd be a good idea to release rabbits in Australia. Of course, they had already shot all of Australia's natural predators such as the Australian wolf before that. With the consequence that the rabbit population soon went out of control and they turned most of the continent into a wasteland. "Oh", said man, "but then we'll introduce a predator of our own to control the pest!" And so they released wild dogs to kill all the rabbits. But soon these dogs turned on a better prey: the kangaroos and other animals who weren't prepared for this new threat. And so on. Everytime man has tried to intervene with nature, it ended in tears. And I'm afraid that we'll never learn. Never! Just look around you! Just listen to the people! If you ask anyone about the importance of saving nature, they'll all say "yes" immediately. But their actions are completely opposite! Some quotes I picked up over the past months:

- "Roes are a pest because they spread ticks."

- "Wild boars are a pest because they create havoc in the garden."

- "Cattle should be kept indoors because otherwise you're not certain what they eat and then the quality of the milk may not be consistent."

- "It's not necessary to sterilise cats because most of them die anyway in the winter."

- "What's that? Silicone? Paint? Acetone? Boh... don't bother, just throw it in the skip." (said to me by a tenant of the local special waste disposal facility!) 

Doesn't this make your blood boil? Well, it certainly does that with me. Anyway... While in Liguria they were assessing the damage, I managed to take these photos. Even in its fury, nature can still be stunningly beautiful, can't it?

And then I saw mummy roe deer, resting in our field only 20m away from our house. Well, she can spread ticks as much as she likes in our field and if any idiot ever lays a finger on her, or on her calf, he'd better start running... terribly fast!

A haven of tranquility

What does an autistic person like me crave most of all?... Yes! Right first time! I need rest... A place where I can be on my own, far away from all the stress, the hassle, the incomprehensible complexity of everyday life. Now, if you look at these pictures I took this morning, would you say that I found it?

And what if you asked them?... :-)

If they haven't learnt their lesson by now...

... they'll never learn it.

Yes, it's that time of the year again. Since three or four weeks the hunters are on the loose again in their relentless frenzy to kill innocent, beautiful wild animals just for the fun of it. They justify themselves by saying that they're the proud inheritors of a 'beautiful tradition'. Well, twothousand years ago they believed that the gladiators were also a 'beautiful tradition' but eventually the human race grew out of it, at least to some extent because we're still blood-thirsty animals. Just look at the success of the tabloids and these websites full of 'sensational news'. The more blood, the bigger their success. Will we ever become true civilised beings? When I look at these idiots who're roaming the countryside over here these days, I doubt it. Of course, in Italy it is a requirement for a hunter to have an IQ under 30 so that may explain some part of their behaviour. And we shouldn't take away the hobby of the poor, demented ignoramusses. They too are entitled to a bit of fun. But there are limits.

Just before the hunting season started we had a friendly chat with one of the local forest guards. The man took our case very seriously, moreover because we're now running a B&B and we wouldn't want our most honourable guests to get shot. The forest guard was going to have a word with the local hunters and, surprisingly, it did seem to work. They always maintained a safe distance from our property and we weren't even bothered anymore by their dogs. For the first couple of weeks though. Because this morning we hit the jackpot again. I already saw it coming... Dogs were running closer and closer to our house. First in our woods at the far end of our field, then in the woods below our field. These dogs usually run in circles because that's the pattern a hare makes when it's trying to escape. I didn't see the hare popping out from between the trees. But six big dogs were suddenly running towards us, barking like mad. Christine still tried to chase them off the gentle way, with little success since the dogs were just everywhere and didn't pay any attention to her shouts and gestures. So I took out... THE SECRET WEAPON! Following the advice of my closest Italian friend, I got me one of these: the humble football horn! :-)

The blaring noise scared the living wits out of those dogs and they ran off ten times faster than that they had first appeared. But... I had barely let go of the 'blast' button when we suddenly heard a furious hunter shouting at us from a small open space behind our field.

- "You imbeciles! You bastards! I'm going to sue you! I'll have you! You dirty sods! Stick that horn in your wife's *ù§!&£µ, you , !àèaji)!éù$^$iipu (not for senitive readers...) ... ù$'àço-à:;é'!ç ... µù*£$^[; ... "

And so on (for the next five minutes or so). Then the well-educated gentleman called his dogs back (which were still in a kind of shock I presume) and went away, still shouting very rude words. Obviously I should have been more understanding and forgive him the fact that he was breaching the law at least tree times: hunting within 100m of an inhabited house, hunting with more than 2 dogs per person (he was alone) and art. 649 of the Italian law code which prosecutes disturbance of one's rest at his/her home. 

But then we also heard him shouting at someone else, a bit further on. Eager to know who we were dealing with I jumped on my scooter and rode along the road which goes uphill behind our house and then runs parallel to our land. There I saw his mates, posing on the middle of the road with their guns as if they were the local generals. Or perhaps my new friend had left so many valuables in his two cars that he needed four armed men to protect them. This was in fact another breach of the law: hunters are not allowed to carry an assembled gun less than 100m from a house or 50m from a road. These men were carrying loaded guns ON the road. At first a bit of fear crept in me that they would perhaps try to stop me. But fortunately they stepped aside as I approached and I drove past, trying to have a glance at their licence plates. When I rode up the next hill, I could just see their mate arriving with his dogs, which he put in the dedicated trailer and off they went. Probably to harrass somebody else.  

That's the sort of people we have to put up with during the hunting season. And you know what's the most shocking thing of all? In Italy you are NOT allowed to stop a hunter from entering private land! A hiker, a biker or anybody else you can throw off as you like, but a man wearing a gun you can't! Unbelievable, isn't it? And you know whose fault this is? A guess anyone...??? 

Dear old BENITO MUSSOLINI!

In the twenties or thirties (somewhere) he passed a law that allowed men wearing weapons to roam freely across the country, private property or not. The goal of this law was to stimulate 'heroism' and to create a national sense of 'war'. Isn't it astonishing that even today Italian hunters are still using a law from Mussolini in order to defend their interests? People who'd swear they'd kill every fascist they'd come across, but at the same time try to prevent the laws of Mussolini to be changed or deleted. Now do you believe me about this IQ below 30?  

Well, we're confident that these prats will from now on think twice before they come too close to us again. They spend years training their dogs and they will not risk that this training is completely overturned in a matter of seconds by our horn. When you're dealing with idiots and you've tried talking and being nice to them for a year without result, this is the sort of thing to do. It's the only languge these savages understand.

In the meantime, we're getting ever more visits from the local wildlife, as if they sense that there's a safe haven for them at our place. Especially a mummy roe deer with her calf is visiting us every day now, early in the morning and in the evening. She's also getting ever less shy and I already managed to approach them to about 15m without scaring them off. A couple of days ago, they even came right next to our house! These two pictures were taken with my mobile and through the side window, so please forgive me the bad quality. And you can't see the calf on them either (though it was there!). But just to show you in what a stunning place we're living!

 

The Monte Cisa Challenge

It has been a dream since I first came to live in Italy: climbing the Monte Cisa. Not that it's a particularly high or spectacular mountain with its 1698m, far from it. But it's been staring me in the face right from the start. On the following picture, taken from our terrace, you can see it on the left, with its steep rocky westerly slope. If you look very carefully, you can see that right to the left of the summit there is a meadow. And in that meadow there is a tree. Well, I've always said that one day I'd be standing right next to that tree. So I went for it...

I rode with my Vespa along small, winding mountain roads to get as close to the mountain as possible. Here I'm already getting nearer... tension is rising... I'm filled with anticipation... I simply MUST get to the top!

The road is getting worse, only dirt and rocks. But I carry on unabated. The problem is that the road goes through the forests so I haven't got a clue anymore whether I'm close to the point I had selected to start my climb or not. Eventually I guess I must be close enough to have a go so I park my scooter and look up through the woods. I can hardly see any sky, let alone a recognisable point, but I just know the mountain must be there. Filled with courage I start to climb. The ground is very steep and slippery with all those leaves, but by jumping from tree to tree I have sufficient things to hold on to in order not to slide all the way down again. Apart from painful, this would have been quite embarrassing... :-)

Slowly I'm beginning to make out more and more blue in between the highest trees. Could it be that I'm already approaching the summit?... No... It's just a wide open space filled with what looks like an avalanche of rocks. Above these rocks there's another forest. But it appears to me that the summit couldn't be far beyond that so I just carry on, leaping from one rock to the next until I reach the outskirts of that second forest. The view is just spectacular and I can already see our house way below in the distance, so I must already be quite high indeed.

I climb through the woods again. Steep... tiring... slippery... The top can't be far now... it can't be far... Again there's more and more blue in between the leaves... it must be right over there...

Uh... not quite. Apart from having slightly miscalculated my point of departure (i.e. much too far to the west, right under that incredibly steep wall of rock in stead of the easier way through the woods on the left) I'm absolutely gutted to find out that the hardest part is yet to come! Oh bother...

Holding onto branches, leaves or even lumps of grass, I manoeuvre very carefully to the east, high, forested cliffs as well right above as below me. Very scary but still doable. Again there are more and more trees which give me grip and places to rest and I climb and climb... And then... the trees in front of me open up... behold... the meadow with the tree where I wanted to be so very much... I've made it!!! 

The panorama is just breathtaking from the summit! Here's a zoomed-in picture of our house, indicated with a red arrow. I called Christine with my mobile and told her to get the binoculars. "Yes!", she said, "I can see you, barely, but still...!"

As usual I've made a 360° panorama. You can download it here:

http://dl.dropbox.com/u/24841015/Panorama.jpg

It's over 6MB but I can assure you that it's well worth it, at least I think so...

Then, after about half an hour of gazing and feeling good about myself, I decide that it's time to go down again. By chance I meet a local sheep herder who was looking for his flock (they're roaming about freely in the mountains) and he told me that there's a much easier way down, right along the westerly edge. It's steep, he assured me, but not too difficult. I'm holding my breath because I'm not really a big fan of "steep", "deep" and ladders but decide to give it a go. All in all, this mountain is steep everywhere. One last look at the summit...

And one other piece of rock, sticking out just a tad lower...

The way down...

When I've finally reached more solid ground about half an hour later, I meet the road again I was following earlier on to reach the mountain. Now I'm following it down, hoping to find my dear little Vespa again. It's almost an hour's walk, during which I actually spot a male deer, and eventually... there it is...

Riding home again, watching the sunset...

The art of driving

Yesterday we went to collect Christine's car at the garage where it had been for maintenance. While we were waiting for our turn to speak to the mechanic, the latter was having a conversation with a (very) senior citizen. The old man was incredibly shabby, with worn, dirty clothes and a dusty old cap on his balding head and he spoke very rough local dialect too. We couldn't understand all of it, but after living in this area for almost a year and a half now (Christine already two years) we could make out most of what he was saying. Apparently he had dropped by for a broken stop light of his old little Peugeot. The mechanic was most helpful and asked the man to press the brake pedal so he could investigate the problem.

- "Errr... which pedal would that be?", the old man asked.

- "It's the one in the middle", the mechanic kindly replied.

In the meantime Christine and I were standing there in wonder. That man was driving his car without knowing where the brakes were??? We had hardly overcome our initial surprise when we overheard him mutter something else which we didn't understand but which ended with:

- "...I'm not seeing too well anymore because I have cataract." 

Our eyes must have seemed to pop out of their sockets and our jaws dropped open wide. How on earth... There wasn't much time to think because the bulb was replaced in no time and the man appeared to want to reverse his car. There was little room to manoeuvre and Christine's car was parked pretty closely behind his so I shouted at her: "Quick, move your car out of the way as far as possible!" Which she immediately did. Better not take chances with that bloke behind the wheel! To our great relief, however, the mechanic was so friendly to reverse the car himself because after all it was a rather tight spot and so the man could take over straight onto the entrance lane.

And then... suddenly an elderly lady arrived on foot and took the driving seat of the little Peugeot.

- "Yes, I'm driving because my husband's sight isn't too good, you see", she explained. Christine and I were having difficulties not to laugh too obviously and we really had to clench our teeth together. And off they went...

The frailty of friendship

Friends for life... such sweet words, but altogether whispers in the wind and too easily forgotten because of a sad misunderstanding. I had a friend once... someone I believed to be a true friend. Someone who'd always stand by me and never let me down... Alas, wrong interpretations of words cast in stone, the unwillingness to listen to explanations and the stubbornness of the own right shatter a bond that I once thought to be unbreakable. I went down on my knees and begged... begged for forgiveness, which I shouldn't even have done. But I though that this friendship was too valuable so I gladly humiliated myself in order to save it. In vain. 

Now I realise that noone, not even the closest true friend, is worth going down on your knees for. I realise that when someone remains stonecold to this ultimate act of trying to make a mends the original friendship wasn't as true as it should have been and that once again I've been deceived. I'm a terrible chooser and all too often let myself be indulged by sweet words. More whispers in the wind... Whispers... which dissolve in absolute silence...

The red bracelet

- "Hurray! Today we're going to my favourite amusement park!", a little boy shouts overjoyed when his mum announced the big news. He's autistic and he just adores going to that park because to him it's his fantasy world come true. All of his friends from television will be there, like Samson the dog, dwarf Plop and Maya the bumble bee. It's summer and for a change the weather's very nice, which only adds to the boy's excitement. He's filled with impatience and anticipation as they drive all the way to the park. Of course, summertime and nice weather also mean that the park is very crowded. The boy's a bit anxious about that, but fortunately the park management has a special arrangement for children like him: the red bracelet. Children with a disability, either mental or physical, are entiteld to wearing this bracelet which offers them a priority entrance at the various attractions. No horrible queues which could possibly drive him mad and cause a crisis. 

Unfortunately, however, not everyone is as understanding towards children with a handicap. Some heartless people watch the priority entry with vicious jealousy.

- "Hey, where can you buy these red bracelets? I want one for my kids as well!", a vile woman shouts hysterically at the little autistic boy. But to the woman's surprise, the boy remains as cool as a cucumber and calmy replies:

- "Do you want my bracelet? Well, you can have it. But you'll have to take my autism with it!"

The mad woman is stunned and doesn't know what to say anymore. And so is everyone else who's watching the scene. The boy then enters the attraction and tries to forget what just happened. In vain, obviously. It keeps nagging in his head and he so wishes that his autism would go away. As if it had only been a bad dream. The rest of his day is ruined and he only wants to return home and cry.

It's an ordinary day out of the life of little Thomas, and I guess from personal experience out of the life of every autistic person or people with other disabilities. My brother, for example, has always been a keen boyscout and once they went to the city of Antwerp with one of them sitting in a wheelchair, just for laughs in order to spot the people's reactions. Although not a lot of verbal reactions were encountered, the faces of these people said more than a thousand words. Ranging from pity to annoyment because the wheelchair was in their way. There's still a long way to go as far as education is concerned...   

Clearing the debris after "hurricane" Thomas

Oh boy, what a week, what a week... My dear friend Thomas and his mum paid us a visit. A visit that we're definitely going to remember for a very long time! He was soooo thrilled to see me back after all these months that he nearly stormed past me in his enthusiasm at the airport. But then he gave me the warmest "hello" I've received in ages. Even though it was his very first time in an aircraft (let alone going abroad), he was very brave and even encouraged his mum (who wasn't quite as brave at first but in the end also thoroughly enjoyed the flight). It was a moment we've both looked forward to for so long, and there it was. The not-so-little-anymore lad jumped with joy because of this whole week without worries, far away from pestering administrations, a new school (for the 8th time), a new appartment (for the umpteenth time), being beaten up and a shipload of family problems. One thing was almost as important to him than seeing me though, and that was visiting a real Roman amphitheater. So we drove all the way to Verona because there we would find the nearest of these ancient buildings which is still in a very good state. Obviously, not-so-little Thomas knew everything about amphitheaters so he gladly showed us around like if he were a professional guide!





But that wasn't nearly all! Thomas's birthday is next month, but nevertheless Christine insisted that we'd already celebrate it during his visit. So she baked him a cake. And what a cake! She even sculpted Tabaluga, his favourite cuddle, out of sugar paste...

And on Friday we went all the way up one of the mountains. Well, not quite up to the top because Thomas was suffering too much from the high wind, but he nevertheless reached 1.700m! Can you see how proud he was? :-)



That being said, the visit wasn't all roses. Apart from being autistic, I suspect that Thomas is also endowed with some form of ADHD, just like his mum. I want to be very careful with this because I know all too well how easy it is to make a wrong diagnosis and of course I'm not a doctor. But Thomas was just... too much for Christine and I to handle. Always talking, humming, singing and jumping about... Obviously he was so enthusiastic about this holiday, but it had to be more than just that because I've never met an autistic person with, let's just say, so much energy. Today, Thomas and his mum have returned home and Christine and I are totally wasted. Up to a point that we feel it would take us at least a month to recover from the terrible amount of stress we've had to endure this entire week. It's all so sad, really, because Thomas is such a great kid and the very best friend you could ever imagine. Anyway, I'll take a bit of rest right now, get the batteries recharged and then see how it goes. Thomas will be returning in two months, so we'd better be prepared! :-D

At least someone wasn't bothered by Thomas' enthusiasm...

Campaign for a better understanding of autism?

The Flemish Autism Society (http://www.autismevlaanderen.be/) has recently launched a new poster campaign and are even running for the renowned "solidarity prize", issued by one of the leading Flemish newspapers to reward the best campaign supporting a better and more tolerant society. The poster is a cartoon, combining the two protagonists in the Belgian political crisis, Bart De Wever of the Flemish Nationalist Party and Elio Di Rupo of the Walloon Socialist Party. The header reads: "stereotype of an autistic person?" and at the bottom left it reads:

1. Doesn't consider somebody else's feelings

2. Doesn't take the initiative to or doesn't participate in the discussions

3. Resists heavily to change

4. Leaves the initiative to contact to someone else

5. Is strongly attached to certain objects

This was published full-page in the newspaper with the enormous header: "Campaign depicts Bart De Wever and Elio Di Rupo as autistic persons".

I'll give you a second or two to make your own interpretations.

Now, bear in mind that I'm autistic. This means that I'm incapable of reading "hidden messages" or "ironic interpretations". The way I see it, is that those two politicians (who after more than a year still haven't come to an agreement for reasons which I shan't explain here) must be autistic because they can't reach a compromise etc. Hilarious! Our politicians are autistic! Or, in other words, this campaign reinforces the known stereotypes about autism in stead of tearing them down, which is what the Flemish Autism Society are trying to make us believe.

Well, I'm terribly hurt by this campaign. Also because I'm a fond supporter of Bart De Wever because he's the first Flemish politician in 180 years who doesn't bow his head for the incessant Walloon demands. But that's personal.

Am I exaggerating? Am I seeing things? Am I growing mad? I'll leave the verdict up to you...

We have a new lodger

Last Thursday evening we had to go to the vet's urgently because Canelle wasn't feeling very well. She was constantly vomiting, didn't eat or drink anymore and was clearly in pain. In the end, she turned out to have a severe infection in her stomach and intestines and had to be kept on a drip against dehydration. With tears in our eyes we had to leave her there, the poor thing...  

But while we were sitting in the vet's office during the examination, we noticed that all of his animal cages were filled with little kittens, 3 of which had been abandoned and found by the road. One in particular immediately attracted our attention, poking his grey little muzzle as far as he could through the bars and indicating with his tiny paws that he wanted to play. Which I obviously did. He was just soooo cute and friendly... I had great difficulties putting him back in his cage when we returned home. The next day we went back there to see how Canelle was doing and... exactly the same story. Eventually Christine persuaded me not to get too attached to the little kitten because we already have four cats to look after. But I just couldn't forget that poor little sod. So after a lot of moaning and grunting, Christine succumbed and yesterday evening we went back to the vet's in order to collect him. :-)

I named him Tobi, which is indeed quite close to "Thomas", but I couldn't think of anything else that so much reflected his high an playful spirit. So here he is... barely 6-7 weeks old. Nevertheless he already managed to scare the living wits out of Flora, even though she must be at least 5 times as big. But he charged at her like a brave knight and she was forced to withdraw. :-) Hopefully he'll become the protector of our domain now because Flora and our two Norwegians are just too... cowardly..., even though they're so big and Canelle can be a real fury but she's simply too small to make an impression on some of these stray cats that roam the neighbourhood. 

Welcome, little Tobi!  

To all of the "normal" people

Thomas, the autistic boy I have already talked about and one of my very best friends, has been beaten up severely by a couple of "youngsters" while he was visiting his favourite amusement park. Why, you might ask? Because he was once again roaming in his fantasy world and started talking to a couple of balloons. The result: a concussion, a ruptured eardrum, a black eye, a bruised back, a bloody nose and bitemarks on his fingers. He's terrified now, afraid to go out and swore that he'd never go to that amusement park ever again, even though it's his favourite place on earth.

It is beyond words, regardless if it is autistic or not, that a child can get beaten up so severely in a so crowded place. What did all the bystanders do? Just watch the scene? Where was the park security? The saddest thing about this case is however that Thomas has now lost his only "safe" spot in the world. Remember what I told you about my clay mountain? This is ten times worse because he's not just "lost" it like me, he got assaulted in it and I can only imagine how he must feel right now. According to his mum, he hardly says a word anymore and it seems that many years of effort to try to integrate him somewhat into the "normal" society have been flushed down the toilet in one single blow.

THIS is why I'll struggle for the rest of my life in order to make people understand about autism. THIS is why I'll never again tolerate that any autistic person is bullied, threatened or hurt, just because he or she is "different" from the so-called "normal" people. What is "normal" anyway? The way I see it, is that WE are the "normal" ones around here because we would NEVER do such a thing to someone else. "Just for fun"... "Hilarious"... "I can't stop laughing"... THIS HAS TO STOP RIGHT NOW!!!

Thomas' mum is currently planning a week's holiday at our place (hush hush... secret!) and we sincerely hope that this will bring him back among the living, so to speak. After been sent to hell by the minister of education about his school problem (when the cameras were gone of course), this must be another major disappointment for poor little Thomas. I wish that I could help him overcome all of this and mind you, my determintation for my struggle to defend autistic people has grown tenfold. We have already stood halfway across the bridge for a long time now, stretching out our hands to you. It's about time that the "normal" people will make an effort too and cross their end of the bridge.

Mob tactics - part 2

Odd, isn't it? The last court session was barely over, I just wrote my previous blog, or we've been vandalised. No, the damage isn't extensive. It's just the B&B sign that I had planted by our entrance lane was torn down this morning. 

Obviously this is the work of someone from te Danilo clan or perhaps one of Nezio's buddies. Well, if they think that we're intimidated by this, they're seriously mistaking. If this is he worst they can do... huh! I already fixed the sign just now and tomorrow morning we're going to report this straight to the Carabinieri. Of course, it will only be a "complaint against an unknown person". But then it will be on record. And Sabrina might just like to slip it in during the next court session. "Oh, not that we want to accuse dear Danilo of course. I'd just like to highlight that my clients are being threatened" or something. Let the judge make up his or her own mind.    

Mob tactics

The tale about the Big Bad Wolf is getting ever more sordid. Believe me, it will have a happy end. But the way Danilo's acting right now is just... despicable. Last Friday Christine had to go to Reggio Nell'Emilia to court, remember? She there met with our brilliant solicitor Sabrina and what she told her is just... beyond words. The Danilo clan has been threatening her! If she woulnd't let go of our case, they would report her to the bar and the solicitor-general! Their argument is that a friend and colleague of Sabrina's had once defended Danilo in another case and to them it would be a conflict of interest. Even though Sabrina is not professionally associated to her friend, so in reality she's got absolutely nothing to worry about. It's all bluff. But now it's become more than clear why our first two solicitors (among whom a very famous one) eventually tried to get rid of our case, even though in the beginning they claimed that they had enough evidence to have Danilo's business closed for good. The Danilo clan apparently's got so much daylight-fearing information about almost everyone that nobody dares to stand up against them. Fortunately, Sabrina is very much like Christine. These ridiculous threats are to her like a red flag on a bull: they make her even more determined to carry on. Also Christine felt very much reassured. If Danilo wants to take that route, it's obvious he knows that he doesn't stand a chance in a fair (legal) fight. That didn't stop him by the way to be represented by his own brother, the other head of the clan and owner of his own lawfirm. It's normally deontologically not allowed, but "my colleague was suddenly detained so I had to take over". 

The case itself on the other hand was over very quickly. It turns out that the judge who's normally responsible for our case is leaving and will not treat our case anymore. We'll have to wait for the new judge to be sworn in. Which will be in... april next year! :-) There was a judge ad interim but she was so terribly busy that she proposed an adjournment. Christine wanted to ask whether we could at least already have some of the parties' arguments treated but Sabrina insisted she'd leave it as it is. After all, it's not us who're after our money. It's Danilo who wants his €16.000 (which he BTW already reduced to €6.000 by now... how striking...). Pity for him, but he'll just have to wait a little bit longer. Danilo's brother was apparently sitting there in such an arrogant way, with shabby clothes, leaning back in his chair, and said: "she expects all of us to work for free! Huh!" How about that for a too self-confident and despisable attitude! Obviously he forgot to mention that we've already paid Danilo €3.300. For non-existent work, but I suppose that's only a small detail. And when this case is settled, we'll have another little surprise in store for Danilo, which I'm not yet going to elaborate about. You never know who's reading my blogs... But Christine and I are sure that he's not going to like it... :-) 

Homesick

It is generally known that people with autism don’t like to go outside of the places where they feel safe. This can be their private little room, their hugchair, a bench under their willow, or in my case, the top of the clay mountain in the town of Boom, Flanders. From there you had a wonderful view of my town, the old clay pits surrounding it and if the weather cooperated a little you could even spot the Atomium on the horizon. Yes, sitting there abandoned, on my own, were to me moments of pure magic. They brought me peace and I completely felt at home and sheltered, amidst my world.

What is less known, is that this urge for security is not only limited to places, but that it also – at least as far as I’m concerned – encompasses moments in time. Moments in an often very distant past which I long back to, and not always for positive reasons. Sometimes I just long for a moment like the one I just described about the clay mountain, somewhere in the middle of the eighties. Images appear in my mind, but also sounds and the music I strongly associate with that period. The perfect whole of observations which make me in my thoughts go back to that safe moment; a rare moment when I was allowed to taste perfect happiness. I close my eyes and the world around me doesn’t exist anymore. There’s just me, the clay mountain and that music. You know, a number of years back I had the opportunity to visit my clay mountain again. A moment which I had longed for for perhaps fifteen years and which ultimately became a true disaster. The clay mountain wasn’t my clay mountain anymore. The elements had eroded the long peninsula of clay, which stuck out no less than thirty metres above the wasteland of the old clay pits around it, such that it had become dangerous to still walk all the way up to the end. But what was even worse, the wild nature with the derelict drying sheds and the crumbling chimneys had gone completely. Instead they had created a modern public park with tidy lawns bordered by straight footpaths. My world had been destroyed! My safe place had been taken away from me! Even now, again many years later, I think back with regret and anger to this horrible discovery. It’s like something inside of me has broken. Fortunately I can still turn my world alive and as it should be in my thoughts . With the derelict sheds and the tunes of Scritti Politti’s “Absolute” on the background. It’s the only thing I’ve still got left.

These nostalgic moods don’t only carry me back to safe moments, like I already insinuated. They’ll also not fail to remember me about my big failures, or at least those events which I consider to be failures. In my mind I relive them second per second, word for word, but this time I react differently and I say different things through which the in reality painful scene will get a happy ending. Often this is about love, because I’ve had my share of misery in my youth. With my pathetic way of communicating I wasn’t what you could call the dreamdate of all the girls I fancied. It’s weird that I still cling so hard to that because eventually I’ve found the perfect love in a woman who loves me unconditionally and supports and understand me. Even if I make life for her sometimes far from easy. Yet I can’t resist going back to these many parties and other events in the distant past in order to rectify a thing or two which I seriously cocked up back then.

This week however, I was struck by the most dangerous of all of my nostalgic moods. The sort that actually tries to bring me back in touch with that past which I should rather leave in peace. Why I’m doing it I don’t know. It’s so strong. I just can’t resist the urge, even though I realise for more than ninety-nine percent certainty this mood will lead me to a disappointment infinitely greater than the disappearance of my clay mountain. Because I was so clumsy at chatting up girls but still had so much love to give, I sought again refuge in my fantasy. I made up the perfect girl and at least she saw what a small, kind, golden heart was beating inside of those seven foot thick walls of armed concrete which I had built around my person. She was my great love. By coincidence I then found a picture on an ad with on it the girl of my dreams. It was truly amazing! She was indeed the girl like I had always imagined her in my wildest dreams. I nicked the magazine she appeared in and secretly worshipped her picture, day and night. Sometimes I even took her to my clay mountain to show it to her and to be happy together there, in our little paradise. Eventually, twenty-five years later, the memory of her has withered although every now and then it still appears in front of me. Not as such because I regret my current situation. I already told you that eventually I’ve found a dream of a wife. But only because I would like to have had a better, happier past. Coincidence would strike even more mercilessly this week. Every now and then people mention the power of the internet, but I’m sure that only very few people actually realise how powerful it truly is. I was just surfing a bit and before I knew it I was back in my safe past again, although this time with “Everybody’s got to learn sometimes” by The Korgis in the back of my head. I surfed ever deeper and deeper on the infinite web and suddenly I ended up on a website about beautiful girls of the eighties. And to my amazement also about my girl of the advertisement. I had lost her picture since long, but there she was, with name, date of birth and the lot. Apparently she’s Danish and there was even a picture of how she looks like today! Her eyes were still the same but now she’s a woman in her mid-forties and she doesn’t really resemble the girl I cherished for so long anymore. A most painful stroke went through my heart and I cursed myself that I had once again wanted to return to that bloody past. The shock was so hard that her beautiful memory exploded like a soap bubble. My dreamgirl wan’t anymore. Of course I do know that people grow old and change. Perhaps I can accept it more easily of myself or the people around me because you live the aging process so silently that you hardly notice it. Except maybe when you’re standing in front of the mirror in the morning and you suddenly discover yet another wrinkle. But those twenty-five years difference with my picture hit me hard in the face. As cold as ice and merciless.

After the clay mountain, the fact that my parents recently sold our house to go and live somewhere else and so on, this is once again a terrible blow to me which I refuse to accept. No, everything should remain exactly as it was and how I want it. And everything should happen exactly how I want it. Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it? O, how I long for a bit of peace of mind…

Updated website

It took Christine and I a lot of time, but finally here it is: our B&B's website is now also available in Flemish/Dutch, German and French. We would like to thank our dear friends Viktoria and David sincerely for their help with the German and French versions. Really, thanks a lot you two!!! :-)

http://www.bb-lastella.it/

Enjoy!

And a bit of good news

Just to end on a happy note...

This morning, the expert that Nasty Little Nezio had hired to take a look at the damages to our house came to pay us a visit. He was a very kind man who didn't really examine all of the problems in detail. The first glance probably already told him more than enough. So it was probably with a lot of reluctance and embarassment that he delivered the latest explanation from his client regarding the drainage... and you're gonna love it... :-)

"The drainage was only temporary. It should have been replaced with a definitive one later on."

When you've stopped laughing, you'll realise that Nezio knows all too well that he's gone terribly in the wrong and that he's most afraid about going to court. That's another thing the expert told us in a covert way because he stressed the problems with the Italian judicial system and that it would be better for all to swallow our pride and try to come to an agreement. Not! We'll have Nezio's private parts on a plate and our solicitor is going to take care of that. Two down, only Big Bad Danilo to go...   We can't wait!

A bit of sad news

Living in the middle of nature is just great. It's like feeling connected to the environment, to be one with nature, feeling whole. It's an experience I've been searching for for all of my life and I could recommend it to anyone. Life just takes a different pace, a much slower one. And I daresay a more satisfying one. Sometimes I reproach some of the mountain folk around here that they're not grasping this at all. When they see a tree, they think about "stove". When they see a deer, they think about "shooting it". It's so terribly wrong. They should appreciate a bit more how fortunate they are that they can live here instead of nagging all the time about their petty little problems.

But sometimes, nature can be cruel as well. Two days ago, late afternoon, we lost our cockerel, two of our three hens and one of our little chicks to a fox. It all happened in a flash. Normally when they're in some sort of distress our hens shout very loudly and in a way that leaves no reason for doubt that they're in trouble. Not this time. They're capable of flying onto our roof, 6m high. But again, not this time. All that was left was a bunch of feathers and the corpse of one of our hens which the fox hadn't been able to take with it in time. Christine and I were devastated. We already lost all of the hens Christine had driven from Belgium to a fox in September, after they'd been here for only six days. This time we thought we'd do better and we always kept our hens under strict surveillance. But even that was not enough. The only thing we can still try is building a strong fence and keep the hens within the enclosure. It's something we were reluctant to do because our hens were so happy because they could walk about as they pleased. Perhaps we were too naive about this and it was only a matter of time before we had to pay the price for it.

Anyway, that's that. We're not angry at the fox at all. It's got cubs to feed too and it's a very useful animal, no matter what some stupid people may say. Our attitude towards them hasn't changed a bit. It was our own fault. Later in the evening, the devious fox even walked straight past the big window of our living room and even looked inside. It's got such a cute muzzle and friendly eyes that one may wonder how such an animal can be this cruel. Then again, the same can be said about our cats as well when they return home with a mouse, lizzard, bird or even rabbit. Sometimes even still alive, just to have something to play with. It's just the way nature is. We humans should be a bit more humble and finally admit that we can't change it, and the times we did try always ended in disaster. We should rather become a part of it again. But try to explain that to most part of the world...