40. Fanny

Once the computer scientist and the writer drove together on a Friday evening, with two worried children in the back seat, from Schoten to Durbuy, to look for the daughter's cuddly toy. Not come home with her after forest classes... the grief was immense. Luckily, Fanny was obediently waiting for her among a mountain of other lost objects.

At Relais des Fagnes, the mountain of lost items is also growing steadily. When it comes to a lace tanga, an orphaned sock or a lighter, their destination is a plastic box that is emptied at the end of the year.

When it comes to a stuffed toy or a pillow with the inscription "dearest daddy on the planet", every effort will be made to return it.

Some people believe it is materialistic to get attached to soulless objects. But are they really that soulless if they can provide comfort? Or tell a beautiful story? Like the bracelet the writer found at a flea market: pearls from 1986, bought in Benidorm and treasured for decades in its original red velvet box. Wouldn't call them soulless.

There is enough cynicism in the world already.

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39. Guestbook

The writer has a rock-solid memory. At least according to the computer scientist, who feels he is too often reminded of his missteps. But a visual memory it certainly is not. She does not recognise faces. Glasses, a beard or curls, it completely eludes her. Were she to witness a crime, based on her composite sketch, the police would probably arrest the computer scientist. Or the baker.

She also doesn't recognise cars. Which is tricky when someone comes driving up the driveway and she is not sure if she has already greeted him. She then has to rely on the assistance of the computer scientist, who helpfully informs her whether the people in this blue Volvo or yellow Tesla are new guests or not.

So at breakfast, she just hopes that she greets you in the right language and puts you next to the right partner.

In contrast, it takes her little effort to remember that you like to eat speculoos pasta, are an ultra-runner or teach clarinet.

Chances are also good that a bell will ring when you send another email later. Because your name, she probably remembers. And what you wrote in the guestbook.

But facial recognition would have been more convenient.

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38. Fair

199.45 euros. That was the "fair fee" for playing Bach and Beethoven at breakfast for a maximum of six people for a maximum of an hour and a half. That seemed a bit generous, especially since classical music is not subject to copyright. Objection raisd, understanding lady on the phone and soon the amount was corrected to.... 642.89 euro. Objection raised, understanding gentleman on the phone and soon the amount was adjusted to... 412.82 euro Objection raised, understanding lady and gentleman on the phone and eventually 3.32 euro a year proved fair enough.

There are as many music tastes as there are people. To adapt the choice of music to all guests is impossible. But only following one's own preferences is not ideal either.  Exuberant salsa music in an average brasserie quickly gets on the nerves, and cheap pop in a 4-star hotel doesn't really give a sophisticated impression.

At Relais des Fagnes, they keep it simple and the volume low. Just out of bed, one probably doesn't need the local radio with a rundown of all the bad news in the world every 15 minutes. Nor experimental jazz, carnival hits, Bel- or K-pop or some "wrong list".

Playing quiet, instrumental pieces by composers who have been considered masters of their craft for hundreds of years seems the path of least resistance.

And there are earplugs, too.
 

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37. I-messages

One of Flanders' most famous and lauded poets once declared she did not use social media. She did not want to read reviews of her work and had forbidden friends and family to pass on criticism - good or bad. A good review made her feel good for a few days, a bad one for a few days. And life went on. It's not that she would start adapting her work to the opinions of reviewers or audiences. Nor is it that those expected it. So then what was the point?
At Les Fagnes, this view is shared. Taking part in a tv-show like "Four in a bed" will never be an option and the b&b has no presence on social media. The computer scientist distrusts their intentions and finds it a questionable business model to make money by communicating to multinationals when and how person X is most prone to make an impulse purchase. The writer finds mandatory reviews on booking sites stressful enough. Moreover, she considers I-messages overrated, especially since that day she received her book prize and a committee member kept insisting that she "personally" would have preferred a different winner. In fact, she was recently confronted with another such unconstructive I-message, when a self-proclaimed fan of her work cancelled the fan-ship by whats-app.
All information about the b&b can be found on the website and for more background there is this blog. You can always comment on this.
But you don't have to.

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36. Muddy tracks

One overnight stay, it goes like this. A day in advance guests announce lightheartedly that they will arrive in the morning. "Just parking the car..., we're going for a bike ride!"

When they arrive, in the middle of the breakfast rush: "Small question, can we change somewhere?" With all the rooms occupied, that will be in the private area. Where no vacuuming has been done yet and invoices should actually be made. Then just - "very briefly" - to the (private) toilet. And with an enthusiastic wave, they cycle down the driveway.

After the breakfast shift, cleaning follows. First the cyclists' room, because there is no telling when they will return. So stay at home, no shopping. Gonna be tight, as the actual check-in starts at 5pm. After cleaning the rooms, the entrance and corridor follow. There is still plenty of mopping there, when they come back up the driveway, panting and sweating with the bike in hand. "Heavier than we thought, say! Now we can get into the room already, surely? Not that we minded having to improvise a bit this morning, mind you!" Their muddy cycling shoes draw a trail across the tiles.

"Question... Can we leave our luggage here tomorrow? We are planning another tour." The next day, suitcases are in the private room, the own walk is canceled and a new wait for muddy tracks in the corridor begins.

Of course, they need the toilet once more. "And euh... question: a quick shower, would that be possible?" They don't need shampoo. "And one towel will do, you know!" And when they leave in the evening, after cleaning the bike with the borrowed pressure washer, they sound cheerful: "It was only for one night, but we thought it was worth it anyway!"

For your information: at Relais des Fagnes, it is preferable to book a minimum stay of two nights. Check-in from 5pm, check-out at 11am.

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35. I'm leaving

Every week?" they are told in consternation when they tell about the family visit to Flanders. "Then you guys sure do a lot of miles!"

That's quite OK. No more per week than the average commuter, who commutes back and forth from the suburbs every day.

Distances are relative. In the eyes of the average Belgian, computer scientist and writer have left belongings behind and can join the TV programme "Ik vertrek" (I am leaving). To the average American, they just kept living under the church tower. This one does drive an hour and a half by car for a good burger joint.

Of course, having a home base in Flanders is also an advantage. A cosy, bright and well-located flat, which has the atmosphere of their beloved home in Bloemendaal. When they announce "going home" at a family party in Flanders, it is to this that they refer.

For a long time, they felt they had to choose. That for some reason it is not OK to feel "at home" in two places. In a natural way, they would one day realise that Les Fagnes was their only real home. That never happened.

And yet. When they leave for the Ardennes after a day in Flanders, the writer always hears the same question: "Going home?" and the computer scientist always gets the same answer: "Yes, please."

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34. Listing girl

The writer is affectionately called a "listing-girl" by the computer scientist. She cannot deny it. She doesn't go to the shop without a shopping list, to-do lists for gardener, plumber and husband hang on the memo board, her computer contains checklists for all kinds of holidays, her playlists are sorted according to genre, mood, time period and alphabet and her diary is her most precious possession.

Some call her a perfectionist, which sounds bizarre for someone who was known as an absent-minded professor in her youth and who once left for school half-dressed. So she can and does deny being a perfectionist. After all, everyone puts their coffee cups in the cupboard with the ears turned neatly to the right. And surely towels are sorted by colour, size and folding procedure in every linen cupboard in the country. And who leaves laundry labels in their garments?

The computer scientist sometimes thinks - to himself - that she is exaggerating. Must he say, with his three hundred carefully arranged folders and his draft sheets that look like concepts for a particle accelerator.
 

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33. Sexy

9.8 out of 10. That is Le Relais des Fagnes' score for hygiene. That applies inside the gate.

Outside it is a different matter. How carelessly people treat the beautiful nature that surrounds them.... Cans, food leftovers, plastic bags with and without contents, even construction waste and white goods: thrown out of cars, dropped or dumped.

Computer scientist and writer couldn't stand it anymore. So they joined the "Ambassadeurs de la Propreté en Wallonie" (Ambassadors for Cleanliness in Wallonia) and have been going out ever since, armed with gloves and a grappling stick. They drag rubbish bags out of the woods, fish bottles out of streams and signal illegal dumping to the relevant services. The municipal rubbish man comes for weekly coffee and throws their loot into his pick-up. Sometimes ten bags at a time.
They mainly go out in winter. In summer, the problem seems less acute and they also have less time. From September onwards, they start plogging again. Accompanied by approving honks from passing cars, encouraging applause and raised thumbs up.

Because tidying up is sexy!

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32. Flying chickens

Most of the b&b guests are aware of the major challenges of these times. In particular, the issue of wastage comes up quite often. However, with the best of intentions, they sometimes make it more difficult than necessary. When one does not need cereal with his breakfast and for another the apples can be omitted, lists have to be drawn up for that. While the apple has already been purchased and the cornflakes can sit quietly in their sealed jar when one does not want them.

To reassure everyone: at Relais des Fagnes, nothing is wasted. Hardly any portioned packages are used and, furthermore, surpluses are frozen, jams, soups and vegetable gratin are made, bread puddings, French toast, croûtons and apple pie are baked, breadcrumbs are mixed, cold meats and eggs are made into salads, croque-monsieurs are topped, cheese leftovers are ground and jars of chocolate and speculoos spread are shared until they are empty. Even the hot water from the thermos or the cooking water from the eggs is not flushed down the sink, but poured over the weeds between the pebbles.

The last leftovers then serve as a treat for the fox, which is on post every night. For the hedgehogs and squirrels, hares, deer, martens and mice. But especially for the tits, nuthatches, sparrows, blackbirds, finches and thrushes. And for the jackdaws, magpies and the pair of jays, who even like potatoes and chips.

To the suggestion of keeping chickens, the answer is invariably: there are already chickens on the premises. And they can fly.

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31. Penguin ice cream

The Ardennes house was supposed to be a country retreat for the family of four. But when it was finished, writer and computer scientist were down to two, the family had expanded to eight and "Le Relais des Fagnes" was running as a bed and breakfast. For computer scientist and writer, it is now the place to live and work, and on holidays they go elsewhere.

To a hotel in the German Eifel region, for example, where they enjoy being served instead of serving. Where they have their regular room (no 225, "nicht wechseln") and are greeted at breakfast with a sincere: "Wie schön das Sie wieder da sind..."

To Europapark with children and grandchildren, where they for one week feel like a family again. Always seasoned with the little absurdities they have grown accustomed to. Like the sudden disappearance of a set of hubcaps from the son's car.

And instead of making the weekly commute to the Ardennes, mamy and papy now drive to Antwerp, to the granddaughters. Because they are their best friend. (They've said so themselves and, of all the compliments so far, it's the best). For a day away. At the zoo. With kids and friends, with grandmas, grandpas and nieces. And a penguin ice cream.

A short break.

And so it went full circle.

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30. Valentin

Some people attach no importance to St Valentine's Day. Neither does the computer scientist. The writer does. Just as she attaches importance to Christmas, birthdays, school parties and Mother's Day (the real one, the one in August!).  

So the computer scientist regularly has to go hunting for presents. With varying degrees of success. Scales, anyone? Or a self-propelled hoover?.... ("Then you'll never have to clean again!")

He has learnt that - however illogical in his eyes - a collection of earrings, bracelets, necklaces and rings is never quite complete, but still wants to come up with something more original from time to time.

The writer's most cherished Valentine's Day gift was given some 30 years ago, when the son was born. The most original she got recently, when the computer scientist thought he had received a tip after they had watched a cycling race together. The writer had delighted in how cute she thought the prize awarded was, a giant rubber duck. Since then, a bright yellow plastic duck has been swimming in the pond of the Relais des Fagnes, much to the delight of the guests. The writer loves him - and the computer scientist. She has named him Valentin.

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29. La campagne

The neighbour proudly reported that her husband had caught three moles again. "Are they bothering you so much too? They are ruining the lawn!" Carelessly, she added that the moles were now in the meadow behind the house. The writer naively asked if they wouldn't just come back then. Which made the neighbour look up in amazement, saying, "He did kill them first, didn't he!"

Such heartlessness is incomprehensible to the computer scientist, who was once in complete shock when he fished a dead mole from the slurry pit. In fact, he still has nightmares about a little mouse, which turned out to be very dead - and flat - after he accidentally put a fridge on top of it.

For "les gens de la campagne" they will probably always be city people, those from Le Relais des Fagnes. Who, with their camera at the ready, excitedly look out for anything that looks like a deer, enthusiastically search for wild boar tracks, hope that the wolf will show itself to them one day and give each passing piece of fauna a name. Meet (column by column) Victor, Chip, Kobe, Benjamin, Frits, Minimoys and Martin!

 

 

28. En amoureux

The lady from the tourist office, who came to inspect the b&b to decide how many stars ("épis" or "ears of corn" in the Walloon system) she was going to award, was sorry that there was no communal lounge area. But there was. With great pride, the computer scientist and writer showed her the - self-created - chalet, with vintage pinball machine, DVD library, widescreen TV and surround-sound. She was impressed, even if it didn't bring an extra ear of corn.

Then came corona and the chalet lost its social function.

A rebranding urged itself and on "Airbnb" the "glamping" chalet (where pets are also welcome) became an instant hit. An average score of 5 stars, with the sole exception of two Dutch ladies, who expected at least a waterbed for the price of a camping space.

But the space is mostly booked for romantic weekends "en amoureux". Which means a little more for some couples than others. As the computer scientist found out, when he wanted to explain the operation of the television to newly arrived guests and inadvertently confronted them with full-screen breasts, buttocks and penises. Preselection of the previous couple.

En amoureux, indeed.

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27. War

Is Relais des Fagnes well located? Yes, for the cyclist, who wants to improve his Stravascore on the Ardennes slopes. For the hiker, who can wander across the fens along the "Croix des Fiancés" to Baraque Michel. For the car fanatic, who is fifteen minutes away from the most beautiful race track in the world.

For Ukrainian war refugees with no transport and no means of livelihood slightly less so. Shops, services and schools are barely accessible on foot or by public transport, and if you have nothing to do, a day in nature takes quite a long time.

Not that they weren't welcome. Le Relais des Fagnes had applied and held a space for them. No applications came.

So the solidarity was converted into a financial contribution and the b&b was taken off the list again.

But they remain welcome. As does everyone else.

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26. Booking

If you do not advertise on a booking site, you are untraceable on the net. Even if you were to register with all the tourism services in Wallonia (which is not even allowed due to territorial regulations), your beautiful guest rooms remain empty.

This visibility comes at a price. In money and in dependence. Not only do you pay commission, the site also decides who gets to book with you and, after a stay, every guest opinion is published unfiltered.

That's when everything goes well.

When things go wrong, a bug can suddenly cause a booked room to be re-released. The result is a double booking and you have to hastily vacate your bedroom to camp in the living room. Because as a host, you are not allowed to cancel. (Is allowed, but costs money and is pernicious for your scores...)

When things go wrong, you can also get angry customers on the phone, who have booked with the competition, but nevertheless call you on holiday and demand a room.

Do booking sites have a monopoly position? Absolutely. The Walloon government therefore considers it its duty to break this monopoly and launched its own site. Heard of it yet?

I rest my case.

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25. Coldly

People demand value for money. But more than that, they desire respect.

Applies to computer scientists and writers too.

They respect every guest and try to comply with as many wishes as possible, even if one request seems more reasonable than another. Want to know the route of some carnival procession or parade? They look it up. Like a printed version of the walk description? Coming soon. Want a vegan breakfast? Or breakfast before 6 am? Can be arranged. Is the adolescent son coming along unexpectedly? The room will be converted. Stranded with tyre trouble? Depannage is on the way. No transport to your destination? They'll take you there. Too cold in your mobile home? They'll lend you a fire. Watching Netflix series? Just use their chromecast. Stuck in the snow? On the tow rope up the mountain.

In other words, they do their best. For everyone.

When their guests don't appreciate that, it hurts. When they write that they were received "coldly." When they honk that the lovely reviews are really "richly deserved" and rate the b&b themselves with a paltry seven. When they disappear like a thief in the night. When they give a ten in all areas except price-quality. (What's the message? Everything was perfect, but for free would be better?)

People who write bad reviews do so under the guise of warning others of the risk of a bad experience. That sounds noble.

But mostly it is revenge. Now to find out why.

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24. Supercell

Thunderstorms were forecasted over Antwerp. Lightning, wind, rain and hail. It became a supercell.

Since then, computer scientist and writer have been driving around with a car like a golf ball, which they affectionately call a Dacia Bluster. But no windows broke, it did not rain inside and lightning struck elsewhere.

Rain was forecast over Liege. Lots of rain. It became a water bomb.

They were hosing down in the cellar at night, guests fled and the chalet flooded. But they suffered no damage, did not sit on the roof for hours and most importantly, they didn't loose loved ones.

Severe weather had been forecasted inland, with warnings of strong winds. It became a twin storm. Garden furniture flew away, electricity failed for hours and some trees tumbled down. They lit candles and made it cosy.

Still do.

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23. Cover

"Don't judge a book by it's cover," is a well-known saying. But however open-minded you want to be, subconsciously you still form an image of a voice on the phone or expect a certain type of person with a certain make of car. That image rarely turns out to be true, and that is one of the most fascinating aspects of hosting guests.

A motard in tough leather suit (with skull) who comes timidly to ask if a vegetarian breakfast is among the options. A businessman in tailored suit and tie, who has not mastered the use of the toilet brush. A young couple in ripped jeans and full of tattoos, who make the bed and polish the bath tap as they leave. A lady with plunging cleavage and her self-assured partner, pulling the curtains of the wellness area so tightly that not even the cows are given a glance. A Tesla owner with trophy-wife, paying off the tourist tax in copper cents. A racing driver, who comes to inspect the room after booking, declares everything fine and then cancels his booking. The couple of motorcyclists, who come flying noisily up the driveway, appear to be unfairly chased away from the competition and burst into tears when you offer them a room. The reserved German industrialist who signs a jolly racing car in your guest book. Seven giggling scout adolescents, who leave a super sweet thank-you note. An elderly lady and gentleman, deftly coiffed and shaved, from whose room at night the sound of a patting hand on bare buttocks echoes.

Lots of books, even more covers.

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22. Motto

"You give colour to your lives," they sometimes hear. But computer scientist and writer have no sense of adventure. They do, however, try to maintain a kind of Pippi Longstocking attitude when projects present themselves: "I've never tried it before, so I think I can do it."

When they married, they were 22, recent graduates and the only experience of independence was two years in student accommodation. At 26, they were raising two children in the middle of a renovation. While one was working full-time three quarters of an hour away and the other was pursuing a career that included overseas travel. Meanwhile, they tutored, took courses and got involved in parish work. Set up a tutoring centre and bought property. Had beginner's luck in the stock market and each received recognition in their respective fields.

That they also experienced financial difficulties, were stalked, faced four lawsuits and even experienced a robbery is less known.

Equally little known is the deep grief that so unexpectedly invaded their lives and still affects it every day. A grief in which they could not comfort each other because it overwhelmed them both, on that cruel autumn day in September. A grief in which they could not even be together because a funeral had to be arranged in two families, of a mum and a sister, who had died not together but at the same time.

Since then, they have been even more aware of opportunities that arise, keeping in mind Grandpa's motto: "A man suffers most by the suffering he fears."

The writer's motto echoes this: "It all comes down to attitude."

The computer scientist's is on his favourite shirt.

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21. Camping enthusiasts

A camping enthusiast is a free bird. He considers himself independent and can pitch his tent or mobile home wherever he wants. But in Belgium, this is prohibited by law. Tent, caravan and mobile home belong on a campsite, where the facilities are tailored to their needs. And where constant investments are made to respond to the changing market, for example to the growing demand for extra comfort and privacy. With rising prices as a logical consequence. (3 figures for a place with its own bathroom is not exceptional.) While it still remains a campsite, without the free feeling that for many belongs to camping.

It therefore seems an attractive idea to set up tent, caravan or mobile home in someone's garden. "After all, we don't need much..." Just a nice spot on the lawn for the tent or a paved surface for the mobile home. Also, of course, a place for the car. And electricity. And water. And wifi. And oh yes... private sanitary facilities. With towels and shampoo please.

We offer all this. Plus a large domain with pond and lounge areas in sun or shade, a petanque and badminton court, a children's area with swing, a ping-pong table, barbecue, campfire, extra equipment and breakfast in bed if you wish.

Comments? "We missed the camping feeling."

Oh well....

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20. Monsieur Tom

With every visit to Flanders - once a week - by writer and computer scientist lurks irritation. For instance, when they stumble from crossroads to crossroads, surrounded by cargo bike mothers and bicycle couriers, while in Wallonia they only have to watch out for crossing wildlife and the occasional (Flemish) cycling tourist. Or when they walk between the shelves in an Antwerp supermarket and get only a blank stare back in response to their welcoming "good morning!". It also takes more and more effort not to take the condescending cliché jokes about the easygoing Southern neighbours personally. The majority of the Walloons they know are hard-working and generous people with a positive attitude and an open mind.

Who welcome them into their community and give them a sense of belonging. That feeling is in little things. When the hairdresser notes an appointment without asking for a name. When a waitress points out a table to "monsieur Tom" with exuberant glee. When an invitation arrives in the letterbox for the brass band's New Year's concert. When the plumber spontaneously calls his cousin the joiner to get the bathtub in place. When the neighbour's dog comes over to play enthusiastically. When the hardware store clerk asks for photos of the grandchildren. When you queue up to cast your vote in the hallway of the municipal school. When you alternate offering and being offered drinks in the local hospitality industry. There is that feeling of belonging.

Almost.

Just need to learn to kiss. Always. Everywhere. With anyone.

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19. Novels

Welcoming paying guests for the first time is nerve-wrecking. So there was no rush to open the b&b. In any case, renovations had to be done first and administrative obligations also took up a lot of time. The house was occupied only half-time and at those times, barbecues were planned and family and friends stayed. And, of course, the IT consultant had to consult and the writer had to write.

Then, with the 2015 Formula 1 weekend, the leap was taken. After a phone call to a friendly hotel owner, both guest rooms were occupied within 15 minutes. (Even after a Swiss Porsche driver suddenly changed his mind and then in all likelihood spent the night in his convertible.)

So they were launched, they learned by doing and the bookings poured in. While the consultant was still consulting, but the writer was no longer writing.

Then came corona. Not a single room occupied during the lockdown? Sure enough, that of the father-in-law, who came to stay for a few days and suddenly had to stay for eight weeks. By order of the police, who officially registered him in the "Les Fagnes-bubble". While the consultant still consulted and the writer wrote again, resulting in two novels.

The lockdown was followed by the "boost". Holidays at home are an enduring trend and the beautiful Ardennes are more popular than ever. Two guest rooms became three, then four, now five (to six). While the consultant still consults, but the writer no longer writes, except for this blog.

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18. Spa

Even before there was talk of paying guests, it was clear that a wellness area was to be built. Even before the deed was signed, permission in principle had been sought and obtained from the municipality to build an annex at the back of the house. (The contractors we hired for the first phase did not know this, which led to open grumbling because they had to build a "couloir à nulle part").

The "Spa" was originally meant to be an open wellness area, which would be available to b&b guests within defined hours. All well organised and everyone happy.

Then came corona. Instead of an open space where everyone was welcome, it became a private area by appointment. The response to this was so positive that the appointment scheme was never scaled back. All was well and everyone happy.

Then came the energy crisis. The existing arrangement proved financially unsustainable, so prices were raised. The guests were very understanding and the wellness remained a nice extra to their stay. All was well and everyone happy.

Then came the climate crisis. During the hot summer of 2022, bookings for the Spa decreased drastically. Who crawls into a sauna at an outside temperature of 30°C? All well and no one happy.

So the Spa was converted into a sixth guest room. Not advertised, but available for last-minute guests or staying family. And the sauna? That can still be booked.

All well and everyone happy.

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17. Idefix

When "Les Fagnes" was for sale, it was advertised as a "charming place in a beautiful park with mature trees".  In reality, it was a dilapidated building among mostly over-aged conifers and epiceas, dark mastodons of exotic greenery with no value for fauna or biodiversity. Turning the site into a park domain would take many years of careful selection, structuring and planting. Some trees had to be removed because of lack of space, others because of disease, others because of proximity to electrical cables and some also for renovations. With a tree-hugger in the family, this is no easy task. Moreover, two of the most valuable trees, an ash tree and a blue cedar, fell victim to drought due to climate change.

Although dozens of beeches, oaks, walnut trees, Japanese and native cherry trees, chestnuts and maples were planted in the meantime, the computer scientist was in deep mourning at each felling. To this day, every little lot he finds gets a bow tied and he carefully replants it to a protected part of the garden, where it is safe from lawn machines or weed whackers.

And he is very proud of the name the gardener came up with for him, which he considers an honorary title: Idefix, the tree-loving dog of the comic book hero Obelix.

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16. Shed

The inspiration for the room names can be traced back to a Spanish b&b, where the guest rooms were named after hamlets and towns nearby.

In the early days, there were two rooms on the ground floor, called "Malmedy" and "Stavelot".  Room Malmedy would have a rustic Ardennes atmosphere and room Stavelot would be a bit more exuberant, referring to the famous "laetare" (carnival). But "exuberant", on reflection, did not really fit in with the concept of "peace and quiet in the blue Ardennes". So there was opted for more serenity in (snow) white and (water) blue and the name was changed to "Hockai", after the nearby village.

The same recipe for the new guest rooms upstairs. Studio "Francorchamps" was given a sleek look in black and red, in reference to the racing circuit, and the green and brown tones of studio "Sart" breathe the palette of the Ardennes forests.

As the administrative centre of the whole operation, the private quarter was named "Jalhay" and for the wellness area, the name "Spa" was obvious.

Meanwhile, the computer scientist single-handedly converted the old wooden garage into a cosy guesthouse, proudly named "chalet". And finally, he created a gym in the sagging goat shed, which was upgraded from "shed" to "lodge".

All clear. Right?

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15. Chip

When the computer scientist established himself as self-employed, a name for the company had to be found. Since his name is Tom and he specialises in software, "Atomic Software" was quickly coined. And of course, the a was replaced by an at-sign and writer and computer scientist were delighted with their originality and trendy hipness.

The new venture was accounted for in the existing company, after a renewed notary visit to have the articles of association amended to reflect the unique combination of software consulting and room rental.

There is little common ground between the two, but the good listener discovers a subtle connection here and there. For instance, the squirrel that reluctantly allowed them into its territory was named Chip. Not in reference to the jolly duo from American cartoons, but to a computer disk.

It was the daughter, who managed to capture the bv's two activities in one image, by drawing an at-sign (in French "arobase") as an eye in a squirrel silhouette. Since then, the squirrel, with or without arobase, has been the b&b's mascot and squirrels belong to Relais des Fagnes like Chip to Dale.

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14. Cokaifagne

Moving from Rose Avenue to a street called "Cokaifagne" felt like a downgrade. It sounded ugly and besides, pronouncing the street name raised more than one raised eyebrow from English-speaking guests. Unlike the neighbours, who were attached to their "lieu-dit", computer scientist and writer therefore thought it was a fine plan when the municipality decided to rename some streets.

"Route de Hockai" may have seemed a bit banal as a new name, but it would put their guests unambiguously, clearly and accurately on the spot.

Or not.

Not only did a "Route de Hockai" already exist in the neighbouring municipality, navigation systems are still not up to date a decade later. So it could happen recently that they had to explain to a police patrol the way to their intervention address.

So they still have to inform their guests that although the b&b is located in "Route de Hockai", they had better enter "Cokaifagne" in their system.

And they still get raised eyebrows in response.

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13. Separation

A condition for starting a "bed and breakfast" or "chambre d'hôtes" in Wallonia is that the landlord must live in the property himself. But the family was registered at the Antwerp flat, where the children were studying. The computer scientist and the writer regularly stayed in the Ardennes and would receive guests at those times. In the government's thick rulebook, however, this option does not appear.

Domiciling everyone in the Ardennes had consequences for the children, keeping everyone registered in Antwerp meant no bed and breakfast. Splitting the happy family of four and leaving the children behind seemed like a drastic intervention. The compromise was that the writer would register at the holiday address, since she would become the person in charge of the b&b.

Unfortunately, this option does not appear in the government's thick rulebook either. Not only did an embarrassing surprise follow at the next tax assessment, the thirty-year marriage of writer and computer scientist now shows a gaping hole somewhere: one year of official separation.

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12. Scarf

When the writer was a young girl, she did see herself as a diplomat's wife. She considered herself quite capable of hosting garden receptions at an exotic embassy. In evening dress and tiara, of course. Or else stewardess, like that with a diagonally knotted scarf around the neck. But not on a plane, on a cruise ship genre "Loveboat". Much more stylish.

Receptionist of a super chic hotel also qualified, in designer coat suit and stilettos.

It became b&b manageress. No receptions in the evening sun, only breakfast before sunrise. No exotic palm garden, no luxurious cruise ship, no 5-star hotel. No gala dress, no scarf, no stilettos. In it's place a comfort dress, hair ribbon and practical footwear. A little less glamorous, but pimping up the picture with a heartfelt smile: welcome to Relais des Fagnes!

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11. Les Fagnes

The Schoten building had a total area of about 390m2, which is not bad for a house in the Antwerp outskirts. But that was dwarfed by the 5 450m2 of the new Ardennes country house, which, according to the computer scientist and the writer, meant that it could rightly be called a domain.

So when a name had to be thought of, "Domaine Les Fagnes" (French for fens) was the obvious choice. Or shortened "Les Fagnes", for the friends. So it soon appeared on the newly installed mailbox and it also became the title of a beautiful photo album the daughter made to herald the new phase of life.

It was only when the first guests of the nearby 5-star hotel "Domaine Les Hautes Fagnes" drove up the driveway, unsuspecting and full of expectation, that they realised their mistake.

So - as they should have done immediately - they did their Google homework and searched for a new name that would not make potential b&b guests dream of butler service, hotstone massages and 5-course meals with custom wines.

After a bit more careful consideration than the first time, the choice fell on "Relais des Fagnes", emphasising what they do offer: the peace and space of Ardennes nature. And the fact that they did not have to buy a new set of adhesive letters was also a plus.

Which does not alter the fact that for themselves - and for friends - it will always be "Les Fagnes".

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10. Hospitality

The Ardennes house was meant to be a holiday home, with the vague plan of renting it out occasionally as well.

Long renovation years followed, during which the life of the writer and computer scientist changed drastically. Not least because the Bloemendaal house was exchanged for a flat in Antwerp, where the children went to study. Thus the children remained firmly anchored in Flanders, while the parents' focus shifted more and more to Wallonia.

And as it turned out, once the renovations in the Ardennes were over, there was actually half a house left over.

Starting a bed and breakfast was then an obvious choice.

Neither computer scientist nor writer had experience in the hospitality sector, at least not on the delivering side. They had, however, holidayed in just about all of Europe, visiting hotels, restaurants, bars and coffee houses of all genres and all levels. They had camped, rented cottages, slept in cheap transit hotels, stayed in guesthouses and people's homes, stayed in 5-star hotels and taken luxury cruises. From everywhere, they had memorised what they liked.

If they liked it, hopefully their guests will like it too.

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9. Tradesmen

Skilled tradesmen regard house owners as a necessary evil. Pedantic dilettantes who get in the way and ask stupid questions. Which, in the case of the writer, is pretty accurate.

Admittedly, connecting the washing machine to a radiator pipe does not show much understanding of plumbing.  So both writer and computer scientist had the utmost respect for professionals. And by extension, for specialists in all sectors of society. They still have. Though there have been some dents here and there.

After

• the central heating installer sold them a remote-controlled burner, unfortunately only remote-controlled in Germany.

• the bank consultant failed to arrange a loan and the insurance broker repeatedly refused any intervention, despite 50 years of loyal clientele and not one missed payment.

• the plumber haphazardly connected all the pipes in and under the house, with no regard for drainage, let alone separation of "grey" and "black" water.

• the swimming pool specialist assured that a budget of around €30 000 would suffice, after which the quote arrived, at a cost of €80 000 and including a Napoleonic code of regulations for a professional environment.

• the accountant was as surprised as they were when they suddenly turned out to be registered as a divorced couple.

• they stood for several weeks scratching paint splatters off the windows, which had been enthusiastically daubed around by the professional painter.

• the all-round handyman neglected to use rustproof nails for the terrace, so that it now shows more freckles than a Scottish maiden in the Spanish sun.

• every commune in Wallonia seems to have its own tourist counter, without any cohesion or cooperation, so that the b&b in nearby Malmedy cannot/may not be mentioned.

• the contractor punched a doorway between kitchen and hall, which should have been between kitchen and basement.

• the architect did not indicate that the floor under the showers should have a drain, so the tiles had to be broken up again.

• the carpenter ordered a kitchen window in the wrong colour and also fitted unsuitable doors, which cannot be closed in sun - or rain - or thunder - or snow - or wind.

• one of the workmen handed a radiator to be reused to the old-iron marchand.

• they found the planned demolition work too risky to carry out themselves and therefore outsourced it to a patented and (self-)insured demolition specialist, who then tackled a floor slab with the grab crane and pulled the rear façade centimetres out, whereupon the house just barely didn't collapse and had to be underpinned with high urgency.

 

But it's finished.

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8. Projectmanagement

Fact: proximity is important for good project management. In the case of the writer and the computer scientist, this was utopian, because they carried out renovations 170km away. Since they could only inspect progress once a week, this amounted to identifying flaws and plotting a course of action to rectify them. While they were still recovering from the previous week's flaters. Which, after a few weeks, leered like a Echternach procession or an unending series of Hanoi towers.

Fact: clear communication is important for good project management. Utopian in the case of the writer and the computer scientist, since she cannot read a building plan and he suffers from telephone anxiety.

Fact: tight time management is important for good project management. Utopian in the case of the writer and computer scientist, since he can think in 3D, but not in days, hours or minutes. And for her, the opposite is true.

Proximity, communication skills, technical insight, natural leadership... all very nice words for the qualities of a good project manager. And all utopian.

In the end, it comes down to this: perseverance. In short: mail and mail again, call and call again.

And meanwhile just keep going.

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7. Door handles

A renovation is a test for a relationship it seems. Now according to most, the computer scientist's relationship with the writer was doomed to failure from the start, so in their case, two renovations were just a little extra challenge.

Their recipe for a successful remodelling and, by extension, a successful relationship? No trespassing on each other's domain.

The one who is technically inclined makes all the technical decisions. The one who is not technically inclined manages finances, administration, communication, calendar, design and decoration, public relations, bookings, travel plans, living expenses, landscaping, recreation, real estate and social contacts. In varying and unforeseeable order.

Going solo to choose a kitchen between parent contact and recorder lessons? Check. Stocking twenty litres of bright blue paint along with the weekly groceries? Check. Claiming a crew of gardeners to lay out borders? Check. Going to the bank alone for an extra loan? Check. Buying a flat without a viewing by the spouse? Check. Ordering door handles, flooring, window frames or bathroom furniture as you see fit? Check.

But doesn't all this include consultation? Nope. Waste of time.

Yet according to those who are tech-savvy.

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6. Head over heels

Falling in love head over heels with a neglected villa in the Ardennes countryside. It sounds more romantic than it is, especially when a deposit has been paid with no key in sight.

Holidaying in the new house with the whole family. It sounds cosier than it is, especially when you have to cook on a campfire and wash your hair with cold water.

Starting the renovations in good spirits. It sounds more adventurous than it is, especially when that means demolition, demolition and more demolition. Chicken coops, donkey and goat pens, dog kennels, fences and enclosures, all driven metres deep into the ground in the previous owner's favourite material: concrete. Dragging pillars out of the ground with the all-terrain vehicle, smashing feed troughs and forcing floor slabs loose. Dragging tonnes of old rust out of the various pens and chutes, removing mouldy food supplies and filling container after container "tout-venant".

Working in concert with professionals. It sounds more efficient than it is, especially when electrical wiring needs to be prepared overnight or a pile of muck needs to be dug out from under the terrace.

Using and appreciating everyone's strengths as a couple. It sounds more harmonious than it is, especially when one digs unforeseen trenches right through the driveway and the other is given the sole - and frustrating - task of making phone calls. With the plumber. And with the gardener. And with the architect. And with the contractor. And with another contractor. And with the insurance company. And with yet another contractor. And with the tax inspector. And with the bank. And with the tourist board.  And again with the bank.

Would they do it again? Sure they would.

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5. 3D

Starting a second major renovation was never the plan. On the other hand, computer engineer and writer did think they had enough experience to do it over. Even more in-house this time.

So the computer scientist downloaded an architecture programme and started drawing. Version 18.3 was the right one: a clear plan of the new layout, with five en suite bedrooms, a dining room where the hall used to be, a kitchen instead of the garage, an extra staircase to the first floor, a relocated basement entrance and a passage to a planned extension.

The writer saw nothing in it. To someone without a 3D world view, a floor plan is a motley spaghetti of randomly running lines with odd little scribbles representing things like taps and sockets. Then again, the computer engineer didn't get that. For someone with only a 3D world view, it leads to frustration when spatial descriptions such as "in front" and "behind" turn out not to be fixed concepts, but can vary depending on where someone is.

Nevertheless, the writer confidently printed the plans and pasted them in enlarged versions on the walls for the contractors' information (with varying degrees of success). And when a sleek villa emerged from the ruins, with good flow and all modern comforts, she was not the least bit surprised.

Nor was the computer engineer, when the writer made what he considered bizarre design choices, which in retrospect turned out to be right.

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4. Framed

Trading in a dream for another dream is not that difficult. Selling a dream before it is realised is completely different.

The seller of the Ardennes villa had imagined his life differently. He too had seen his family growing up in a safe nest in a warm neighbourhood. When that family fell apart, he could only cling to his memories. No amount of money and no buyer could convince him to let go of his dream home, though he could not cope with the upkeep and loneliness.

In the family of the writer and computer scientist, however, he seemed to recognise himself, and in a symbolic gesture of approval, he gifted them a framed aerial photograph.

But that did not sign the deed of sale. After three cancelled notary appointments, the writer and computer scientist plumply got into their car one evening and, after an hour and a half's drive, knocked on his door. With aerial photo in hand, they promised him sincere care for the property and eventually secured the key to their new dream.

His own dream ended abruptly, just a few months later, in a dark bachelor flat in a Walloon provincial town.

 

 

3. Haunted House

The blue Ardennes had been the favourite weekend getaway destination for 20 years, when the idea of buying a holiday home there began to grow. Following a tip-off from a hotel owner friend, the writer immediately lost her heart to the dilapidated villa, completely snowed under, with its romantic bay window, bustled staircase and wrought-iron balustrade. The computer scientist and the rest of the family saw a haunted house with peeling paint, broken windows and cracked awning.

In the first instance, the property appeared to have already been sold, to the writer's chagrin and the others' relief, but in the second instance, the sale did not go through, to the writer's enthusiasm and the others' resignation.

On the site visit that followed, everyone was confirmed in their first impression, so they bought the property there and then. And now, a decade and a lot of money later, the others too see what the writer saw, that one freezing cold day in half a metre of snow.

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2. Taxi

Buying a house is like buying a dream. The writer and the computer engineer bought that dream in the Schoten district of Bloemendaal. She had only two requirements when buying a house: a bathtub and a fireplace. The property in Bloemendaal had neither. It also had no kitchen, no central heating and no other form of comfort. But it was on a street romantically called "Rose Lane" and it had a large, south-facing garden. So writer and computer scientist embarked on a two-decade building project and realised their dream of a happy family with a daughter and a son, growing up in a warm neighbourhood.

Until a stalker invaded their calm life and turned the warm neighbourhood into a threatening environment, where a dark silhouette stood under the window at night and the daughter could only get around by taxi.

A move to the anonymous metropolis, where the children went to study, combined with weekends in the Ardennes countryside brought the peace of mind and security the family craved. And so a new dream began.

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1. How you are

That the writer and the computer engineer would get together was written in the stars. Yet according to the writer, who at 16 had already thought it would be a good idea. It took the computer engineer two years longer. The rest of those around them were still not convinced after 10 years of marriage. The relationship would founder when the attraction between the two "opposites" wore off.

But several decades later, the writer is still proud of her phlegmatic anti-hero with his big heart. The computer scientist is still proud of his spirited princess-on-the-pea, whom he conquered so unexpectedly. And lets Jeroen van der Boom's song "How you are" pop out of the speakers with a broad grin.

"If you ain't got it, marry it," an American president once said. Opposites can also complement each other. The differences between the writer and the computer engineer are superficial. Neither needs to climb K2, go deep-sea diving or fly solo around the world. Both like cats, predictability and chips with mayonnaise. And despite usually being in each other's company, they are not done talking. Extra-marital excitement, drudgery or midlife crisis pass them by.

For now, anyway.