While travelling, there were only two things I really missed in Brussels: my friends and my bike. Nothing beats riding your bike every day, taking you on adventures wherever you please. As soon as I got back home to Belgium, I hopped on a bike and just rode for days and days on end. Ringing friends’ bells, exploring neighbourhoods, getting lost in forests. Oh how I missed this!
Riding a bike brings out the child within me, flying down hills, playing adventurer, sweating, singing made up songs, sometimes falling face first on the gravel. I love every part of it. Biking makes me smile like a lunatic. Biking in Brussels makes me yell and swear most of the time, since it’s not a very bike friendly city. Car drivers seem to be excellent at ignoring you and your space on the road. So often my smiling inner child turns into a swearing sailor when hitting the road on my two wheeled partner in crime.
But you know what, with the weather my mood changed into a hot melting piece of happiness. Delirious because of the heat wave, I haven’t been losing sweat over traffic and arrogant assholes behind the wheel. Like a cinderella seeing my bike as a golden pumpkin, taking me magical places and making sure I get back home safe and sober after a night out. Try it: riding uphill for half an hour will sober you up like THAT! Hangovers stay the same, but you can’t expect your bicycle to do everything for you.
So lately I’ve been loving the bike life more than ever, swiftly ringing my bell and waving at people while passing by. Like a queen in a cabrio, hair in the wind, breeze in my face. And then the inevitable happened. My bike got stolen while I was too busy dancing to cheesy nineties music.
Maybe it was my punishment for dancing to cheesy nineties music.
Ah, Brussels, that's why we're in a love-hate relationship.