I didn’t run to the Nederlands at the weekend – I drove with my family to Kinderdijk, and then onto Middelburg after some cycling and fun around the windmills.
I had come down with my worst ever allergic reaction on Wednesday and had cautiously recovered through Friday and Saturday, going for a shortish10km romp with 2 laps around Rivierenhof on a rainy cool Saturday night.
I felt sorry for all the locals and travellers who will have booked tickets for the nightly outdoor music concerts held in Rivierenhof (just flicker search it if you want a squizillion pics of the concerts) July/August with some great acts – but unfortunately atrocious weather for this season. It is a beautiful park if not for the unfortunate constant hum of traffic which has come to symbolise Belgium for me in many respects:
As I commenced my second lap however it occurred to me what one of my many problems is.
To run as I do – and I’m lucky because I feel much the same at 10kms as I do at 1km – and usually that is not too bad – I was reminded that it is about rhythm.
Of course! Since we have been here we have no rhythm.
And because of what we have, or don’t have, here – we are always keen to escape.
Catch 22; the more you escape the less rhythm you create – because for one – you won’t escape to the same place twice (We’re stuck in this ‘not a holiday, not a life’ mode, so to return somewhere is to usurp any opportunity to go somewhere different).
So I’m open to ideas.
We lack rhythm, yet can’t handle the monotony. Many Belgians relish rhythm often returning to the same holiday spot year after year (Kiwis do this too I note). But we don’t have those hubs, those family gathering, old chum back slapping options.
Further all the expats we do sometimes slap backs with do the same as us – we behave somewhat like an exploding skyrocket, escaping the city at tremendous pace and dispersing in every possible direction to see where we might head towards and then fade out.
…And we must see what we can see, though at times I crave to see it as an explorer and not a tourist – to actually dwell in one place/region for a while, discover the hidden charms, observe the way of life, live in their shoes a while.
…and then of course, leave and go back to our rhythm which is not rhythm.
Perhaps I’m living a Jazz, and just like Jazz at first it feels a little odd, but there is a pattern, there is a core, and life and purpose and vibrancy can spring from it.
…or you take the record off.