Ah, Belgium! You've been a roller coaster of love and happiness. Like a lifetime happened in just two weeks. The jetlag gave me many more hours in a day than I'm used to, which means I've been a productive human being. Ordering heavy boxes filled with herbs to blend into teas, applying for markets, manifesting a van, going on more job interviews I have ever experienced in my life. A fresh new chapter, seeing loved ones again after a very long time, finding myself starting a business, building up something. Growing up, I guess it's called? Writing business plans, hunting for apartments, the longing to stay. All the responsibilities I've always been running from, welcoming and hugging them into my life. So mature, ha!
With so many reasons to celebrate, I have felt tipsy or hungover more than ever. Dancing with my favourite people, sitting on terraces in Brussels drinking cava, pretending it's summer time. Lunch turns into an all night dance party and concerts end up in hotel rooms. My face has been hiding under a hazy smile of pure life delight. Pink records are spinning in front of my eyes. I'm seeing stars, sleeping on clouds. I have the most vivid, crazy dreams. Because you're sleeping with a rockstar, he says.
All I know is growing up seems to go hand in hand with staying stuck in a teenage crush. The thrill of going out every night, of saying yes to adventure and another yes after that. Yes all the way until you wake up to a brand new day and your reflection in the mirror tells you a morning swim in a pool of coffee will do you good, honey.
It's with that exact face I ended up sitting silently in a Brussels cafe, with Jean-Claude the neighbourhood cat purring on my lap. My hangover bought me overpriced chocolates, golden glitter socks and a course in burlesque dancing. This is my life right now, I think to myself. My Belgian life is spent mostly productive, quarter hungover and quarter glitter socks. Growing up is more fun than I thought.