I’m back in my rainy old hometown, spending time with loved ones and working. I’ve been here for 4 days now and seemed to have forgotten about a (big) part of life in Belgium in November: the days that never really seem to break. As if last night connects seamlessly with the next, only offering a few hours of half-light wet grey in between. Right! That’s why I moved to a sunny land.
But I don’t mind, I love autumn. Cosiness arouses me in the deepest depths of my being. Gathering inside old cafes where the windows are foggy barriers of the dark cold outside and the warm snuggly inside.
Last night I met up with a dear friend in my favourite bar in Leuven. The bar that has always been my one bar in this city. As if no other bars exist for me here. We met there at the start of the year for a dinner of cheap spaghetti, right before I would fly back home to Valencia. And now we gathered again around those comforting bowls of pasta, talking endlessly in that cosy bar. We reflected on our year and both felt similar: it’s been a wild rollercoaster, with some slowness that has been good in terms of rest and weird in terms of: am I stagnant? Is life standing still?
We know better than that. Stillness is but a mere illusion, especially when it comes to the bigger picture that is life. Feeling stagnant is something I experience on a regular basis, as it’s the first time I’m living in one place for nearly 3 years without any plan on leaving. As if I signed an indefinite contract with Valencia. I’ve never been able to find the comfort I expect to find when staying in one place. No expiring visa, no end date, no flight back home. This is it! I can stay! For as long as I want. Having that home base is a wonderful feeling. Yet my feet are itchy and the new year will have some big travels in store.
So for now I’m enjoying the slow, the dark, the cosy, the Belgian rain. Because I know this is temporary. Having a flight back somewhere always makes me enjoy the place I’m at even more. I don’t know what it means. Perhaps I’ll always be on the move, packing and unpacking my backpack, coming and going. I love it too much. Some say I’m constantly running away from something, I think being on the move is just my comfort zone.
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