When you live in Spain but your friends and fam live in Belgium, automatically your holidays will be spent… In Belgium. I know February is not an ideal time to go holidaying in the greyest shade of grey country, but hey. Last October I had a moment where I got engulfed by enthusiasm and bought tickets to a Young Fathers gig in Antwerp. Okay and one in London too. So I shaped my holidays around those two concerts and I regret nothing.
Not even being in London in the snowy cold of winter after two weeks in rainy Belgium. It’s all part of the cosy fun. Next week I’ll be back in Valencia where it’s hot and loud and Fallas will be full blast. So I don’t mind layering up in extra warm woollen sweaters and getting cosy in little cafes.
Belgium was a beautiful whirlwind of visits, a million train rides and showing my lover my Brussels. There was some sun, more rain and always rosy cheeks as my heart set fire being close to all my favourite people. After years of travelling to faraway lands, it’s actually quite nice to holiday in the place that will forever be my (second) home.
Pure quality time, no minute to waste. Catch ups, concerts, dancing, talking all night. I’m surprised I made it to London with a bit of voice left. Belgian visits are always intense in the best way possible. A high dose of love and togetherness making me float on clouds all the way 'til summer.
I just arrived in London yesterday, and it has been a delicious day and night already. Maybe it’s the Belgian high or the London one, but I can’t seem to be bothered by the wet grey weather. I walked all the way to my friend’s house from the train station, whistling songs while swinging a bouquet of sunny flowers in the air.
It’s been four years since I was here, a city that will forever feel like (my third?) home. There is something so addictive about London, I can’t put my finger on it. I can easily overdose on all the city has to offer, so it’s a good idea to stay just a few days. Nibble on some options, fill eyes and belly with the good stuff and then: move on.
The feeling of FOMO I already have in Brussels, multiplies by 100 in a city like London, where everything is available at all times. Last night we went for dinner in a theatre café before singing and giggling our hearts out at the Dirty Dancing musical. The clichés I love and make my inner child dance with delight.
In the bus back home to my friend’s house I had a seat by the window, which was so fogged up it felt as if we were sitting in a moving time capsule, floating through space. I could be anywhere right now, I thought. The guy next to us was drawing, three Spanish friends laughing, different people hopping onto the bus and into each others lives for a tiny while, then pressing the button and getting off at the next stop. Making space for the next ones to join the travelling capsule.
Even though Belgium and London are places I feel quite at home in, they are so so different from my new hometown Valencia that I find myself wandering the streets and staring out of foggy windows in complete travel mode. That familiar trance-like state of passing through time and space. I missed it and it feels good to be back.