It is nighttime here in Belgium and I am in the mood. The sights have changed since the last time I sojourned. The house is new; the walls are painted summer colors of red, green and yellow. The veranda is warm and welcoming, sunny and happy. I am happy as I rest on the yellow couch, typing away after yesterday’s misery in the airport when I sat through an eternal-like five-hour delay.
I walked in town with Toufi at lunchtime, learned some French and found myself pleased. There were handsome boys prancing about with their cool hairstyles. Among them was the boy at the Café whom Toufi and I saw to be boyishly cute.
After our little afternoon delight, we headed back home and enjoyed grilled chicken. I had good appetite, which I take to be the European effect (excitement of walking in new, free air where one is bound by nothing, not even the language).
But who am I to speak, for I am only a tourist, bound to be happy with new findings and tastes. And whether it rains like a madman or burns like hell ( we are waiting for the latter to happen!), I will blissfully watch and stand in awe because I can be a stranger and not care to blend in. I can be a stranger, and still feel a transformation within me, a happy reincarnation. I am not exaggerating, nor I am being dishonest. And despite being advised not to use words such as honestly, truly or even my favorite of all, simply, I simply feel like accepting this new state of bliss. I should also add that for once I won’t think, that I will raise my glass, and say, cheers, for there is much more to be seen…
Until a later time,
The little traveler