The big bells…

We live on a square that is anchored by The Big Church – this is a literal translation from what it is called in Dutch – De Grote Kerk. While it is known to host dance events and parties, it is still a church in service and Sunday mornings the bells ring to call people to the service. They have just finished ringing for this morning. I love this sound, even when it goes on for 10 minutes in a row.

When I get on my bike in the morning, I always look up at the church tower to see what time it is. When I am at my favorite little bar, I can see the tower clock if I look down the alley. Then I know if I have time for another drink or not đŸ˜‰

When the hour strikes, I love the steady big bell sound. On the half hour, it’s a single bell. I keep time this way when I am somewhere away from a clock – like reading under the trees on the terrace.

This is why I have a hard time understanding why some people move to a house near a working church tower and then complain about the bells. Most of them want them silenced or muffled and I am like “You didn’t check before you bought that house? It’s called due diligence, jackass.” I get very heated on the topic of people moving somewhere and then feeling like things should be changed to suit them – whether it is church bells or more recently in the news, the case of Maurice the Rooster in the French countryside that apparently makes too much noise for the new “second home, escape from the city couple” that has filed a lawsuit.

This is what I saw happen in Seattle. People come to a new area and want to recreate all of the experiences that they had in their previous home without regard for what is available to them in the new setting.  Understandable but defeats the purpose of moving somewhere new. Live in and experience the differences of where you are. Contribute positively by making a difference – I plan to someday open up a vegan diner in the region đŸ˜‰ and leave your entitlement behind at baggage claim.

On Friday, we went for a walk with the dogs in the afternoon and while we were walking along the walls of the church, GG pointed to a cat that stood right in the middle of our path and said “Isn’t that one of ours?”  Guess what, it was Pickle. He apparently found his way over the rooftops and followed us. He clearly hadn’t been out that way before because he wasn’t very good at dodging things like bicycles. So we walked back home, calling him to follow us. He did, for the most part. There were a few open doors that he ran into and quickly ran out of again. I think it was definitely by accident. We escorted him inside the house and then went back to taking a walk. While it would be ideal if he would just follow along on a walk, I am worried about him getting too used to cars, scooters and traffic in general.

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