I spent a couple of very relaxing days at the Belgian coast this week. I really did need to get some work done so I escaped to the relative calm of the apartment my parents have at the Belgian shoreline. The Belgian coast is only about 40 miles long, and adorned by long strips of apartment buildings erected to accommodate all the Belgians fleeing to the edge of the country every summer, as if they were our national army after it spotted a German soldier coming around the corner. So, yes, it is pretty touristy, but for me the sea still has a romantic and exotic appeal, especially during fall. The North Sea is pretty, but not inviting. (*resist urge to metaphorically link this image to Belgian women*) Actually, when I was walking on the beach in Oregon a couple of months ago, it reminded me a bit of the Belgian coast, minus all the eyesores, that is. I like the sea, and whenever I am back I try to make it there for a couple of days, taking a little time out, so to speak.
Especially Wednesday was a pretty day. It was very gloomy weather, a thin blanket of fog was covering everything, creating an eerie filtering effect, dampening all sounds and sights. On Monday and Tuesday there were still quite a few people around, enjoying one of those European four day weekends, but by Wednesday the place was pretty much deserted. I went for a walk and listened to Azure Rayon my Ipod and it fit perfectly. I love it when I pick the right soundtrack for a walk. Maybe I get too much of a sense of accomplishment from those kinds of insignificant successes. I walked to the little bungalow in the dunes where we went with my family when I was very little, it must have been my first holiday. I remember being sick with some sort of pocks and feeling miserable, the musty smell of the bedrooms, playing in the street with my cousins, the unpleasant sensation of walking bare feet on tile floor covered with sand and jumping off the deck in back in to the sand. I went to the back to check out the deck, it wasn’t nearly as high as I remembered it to be. The whole bungalow looked like it had seen better times. So have I, but not often. It was a great day for melancholy.
Posted by vana0047 at October 7, 2005 07:44 PM