On the train to Belgium, I noticed that you can choose to sit facing the direction of travel, or looking where the train has just been. This got me thinking: am I a forward- or backward-looking person? Do I spend the majority of my time thinking about the past or looking forward into what’s yet to come? I’ll think about that one for a bit…
In the next three days, I saw most of Belgium’s highlights: Antwerp, Brugge, Ghent, and Brussels. I was especially curious about Brugge, after three unrelated people had recommended it within the span of a week while I was still in Asia.
I was excited as I walked away from the international ticket counter at Amsterdam Centraal, ticket in hand earlier that week, but as the weekend drew nearer, I found myself stressing out. Silly, really, when I think about all the new places I’ve been in the last six months. Then again, I’d been in Amsterdam for almost a month, leaving only for daytrips within Holland. That’s plenty of time to get comfortable.
I spent most of the day in Brugge moping around, wanting to go “home” (Amsterdam), asking myself what could possibly be the matter with me. Maybe I was just out of adventure-travel-by-myself mode. Maybe I’d run out of energy to figure out how to get around and what to do with myself, with that dazed feeling I get after just arriving in a new country. Maybe I had post-RTW blues.
Or possibly, I was just tired of being surrounded by tourists. Tourists truly are a strange breed. They travel in herds, wander aimlessly, stop the flow of traffic at the most inopportune times, stand on street corners holding large maps up to their faces, take pictures of themselves in front of statues, and buy funny useless little trinkets. Even when I am one, I try to pretend that I’m not. But who am I kidding? Sometimes there is just no denying it.
Determining to return to Brugge only in the off-season, I hopped the train to Ghent, which was refreshingly free of crowds, but with just enough people milling around to make it interesting. I was content follow my feet wherever they would go, along the canals, through the narrow lanes and wide boulevards lined with charming little restaurants, all washed in the light of the setting sun.
After a day of window shopping in Brussels with Leen, one of the girls I was couchsurfing with for the weekend, I caught the train back to Amsterdam. By the light of the moon, I found my bike among the dozens lined in the stands outside the station, hopped on, pedaled hard, and grinned. Ahhh. Good to be back.
I decided I don’t really like sitting backwards, looking where I’ve come from. A lot of the time, it’s hard for me to think about the past. Of course I do it, but if the memories are good, I find myself longing for a time that’s impossible to live again, or I’m remembering things that I wish would fade from memory. Even so, I learn from the past by reflecting on it.
However, I am inspired by the horizon, fascinated with what it could hold. I am drawn into tomorrowland when I dream of what could be. I love to think about how everything happens for a reason, how we are all connected and part of something larger than ourselves.