Only two more nights left ... it's really getting closer! The preparations are full on. Everywhere lists are prepared with what we can't forget, what still needs to be bought, what needs to be taken from Bruges, and a schedule with what is going to happen when, and the mom's are ironing out the last creases from the clothes. Because time is starting to shorten. But at the Van Welden house we're almost ready. The big tent is up and the living room is starting to fill with plates, cutlery, cooking vessels, salt and paper shakers and so on. Everyone in the neighborhood has caught something or has fallen from his bicycle, and is quickly running to the doctor for a miracle cure, so we can all be ready on Saturday.

All possible disaster scenarios have been run through, and recovery plans have been made. One thing can't go wrong at least: the weather! Depending on who you ask the maximum temperature is being predicted between 24 and 27, with 0 to 5 percent chance on rain, and a soft north, east or westward breeze!!! A warning to all Belgians: you're being advised to leave either on Friday, or after 11am on Saturday when going to the sea! (And to not cause any traffic jams in the direction of Bruges.)

Until Saturday!

If tomorrow the price of registered mail goes up in India, here's the culprit! Over the past two days I've mailed over a hundred registered letters to Belgium and the rest of the world. And being in India, that's not so simple. Every address has to be entered into the computer, and as most Indians can't type, this tends to take a while.

Here my postal story: Monday morning I'm taking my first fifty letters to the post office around the corner. I know where I can find another and decide to split up the letters, so I don't give anyone a heart attack. In the first post office the woman behind the counter looks at my like I'm crazy, fifty!!! She weighs one letter... “rs30 each Madam.” No problem, I take out my 500 rupee notes. Apparently she hadn't expected me to have this kind of money on me because she suddenly says “I can take ten only, Madam.” Oh help! I start to count how many post offices I'll have to go to... Luckily she doesn't let me wait around, but asks me to come back in an hour to pick up the receipts. Time to find another post office, this one is willing to take twenty, somewhat better. They do make me wait there, and wait, and wait, ... If you type with one finger and have to search for every letter like it doesn't exist on the keyboard, this tends to take a while. After much waiting I finally get my twenty receipts.

Meanwhile it's noon, and I haven't even sent out half. What a disaster! After a quick bite I'm on my way to the next post office. I've once more replenished my diminishing stack of letters to fifty. Having learned my lesson, I immediately ask how many letters they can process. And this weird man, doesn't mind posting fifty at once! (Why didn't I bring the other thirty as well?)

The next day, early in the morning, I pass another post office on the way to school. Off course they've just woken up, and the person who does the registered mail hasn't arrived yet, and no one else out of the twenty people running around there, can do this. They can however give me stamps for the two local (non-registered) letters. That's two less! Bringing the total to eighty two!

Good thing there are that many post offices in Bangalore. On the way back I stop by again another post office for the last letters. Woaw, Tuesday evening, and everything is on its way... Now to hope they all arrive!

Bernie can never keep a secret from me. Not only do I know what I'll be getting for my birthday, but I knew we were going to get married before he even proposed!

Even before he proposed, he'd told everyone at his work that we were getting married, since that was necessary for me to get a visa; but I had already let on that I was expecting an official proposal as well.

So when he wasn't there the next Saturday when I got home and called him up with “Where are you???” and he first didn't say anything until he answered “shopping”, I knew something was up. Bernie NEVER goes shopping like that! En when I asked him what he was shopping for, the only answer I got was the typical Bernie-”euheu.”

So that evening I'm expecting him to propose, but nothing. Maybe Sunday afternoon? Nothing. Sunday evening ... nothing. A week goes by, and no proposal...

The next Saturday I get home from school (yes, we've got class every Saturday morning.) Luckily Bernie's motorcycle's parked downstairs, because I'm starving. I go upstairs, and the door's locked. Where did Bernie go to now? Without his motorcycle? He never goes further than 20m without it, at most till the corner store to pick up cigarettes. I take my backpack off, retrieve my keys from the bottom of the pile, open the door and ... there's Bernie on his knees before the door, with a bouquet and a ring!!!

Woooooaaaw. I'm completely blown away! Said YES off course!