I was trying to decide whether the sky or the water were more blue. Until my thoughts were interrupted by some cold drops splashing my bare legs. Dad and I were in the middle of the Grevelingenmeer, a huge body of water which is in fact a lake although it could pass for the sea, so vast and endless it is. There we were, in a bright orange kayak, a stark contrast to the blue all around us.
Christmas morning. The moon was still visible, a large pale silhouette. The sky was lilac, and seemed to fill the windscreen. Dark coated horses ran underneath, their long manes flowing, hooves flying. Slowly a powder-pale blue seeped through the sky, the moon faded. Bare trees lined the roads, we were the only car around. There aren’t really many places left in the world that are truly peaceful. I love chaos and colour and buzz, but after a tiring first half-year teaching, peace was just what I was looking for. Peace, with a little side of adventure. And you can find both in winter in Zeeland.
That funny time of year in Europe. When the heat hangs on, but the sun takes longer to surface in the mornings, and the moon is still a feature of the sky when you first step outside. The last week of my admittedly very long summer holiday. It was hard to leave family in England, but the dogs were along for the final ride. A week in Bruinisse, a chance to enjoy our soon-to-be-home, before I started my first real job.
The seal spat out the fish for the third time. Patiently and resignedly, the lady netted it out of the water, reinserted a tablet into another fish and tried again to feed her difficult patient. He had half his back scrapped clean off, perhaps from a run in with a boat’s propellor. Lucky he was here, I thought and could one day be returned to the wild. We were in Aseal, a sanctuary for our flippered friends who need rescuing. And visitors can see how the staff are looking after these creatures and preparing them to be released as soon as possible. I wasn’t expecting to find such a place here, in Holland. But then, I had a lot of surprises during our week in Zeeland.
Tranquil. Not a word we normally associate with India. But beyond the often discussed hustle and bustle, chaos, dust and noise there is indeed a laid-back side to the sub continent. I came to India this year to unwind having had a stressful few months and found that even in Bangalore, the hectic hub of a city that seems to grow by the day, it is possible to relax.
So I managed to lock myself out of my apartment this morning. Smooth, I know. It was bound to happen; self-locking doors and my forgetfulness are a bad combination. Long story short, I was let in a while later but it kind of wasn’t how I had hoped to start my weekend. I was feeling gloomy over breakfast then gave myself a metaphorical head-slap and got in the car.
Pale grey misty clouds lay over the sleeping city. They formed layers interspersed with rosy-pink sky, like the tiers of an elaborate wedding cake. The sun emerged from this canvas, rising slowly, enjoying its moment in the spotlight as cameras clicked all around. The sky was soon filled with bright blue; the temperature already rising, the sunrise show over, for today at least.
I doubt I was the only one who was relieved after the results of the French election. France has got to be one of my favourite countries. There’s the acres of rolling countryside, miles of winding roads, almost empty. Forests where wild boar roam, rivers and lakes framed by fields of sunflowers. There’s the long stretches of caramel coloured sand, washed by waves reflecting the blindingly-blue sky. There’s the food; wine flows like water, crispy baguettes are eaten copiously, fresh produce is found in every village square. There’s the weather; mild springs and falls, golden summers, cosy winters. Not to forget the unexpected chateaux one stumbles upon, in all their architectural grandeur.
Nothing. No planes, no cars, no machinery. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been surrounded by such peace, alone with my thoughts. Not quite alone though; there was the sweet song of the blackbird, the mooing of cows from a distant farm, the breeze through the apple blossom trees. I shared the quiet evening with a bird of prey, far overhead, surveying the resting valley. What a view she must have; a patchwork of fields of green and yellow, dotted with plump white sheep, cows and horses like daisies in a meadow. It was one thing to drive through this bucolic landscape, it must be incredible to see it from above.
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