Maybe next year again

53 kilometres. Only.

That’s how much I managed to walk during the Dodentocht; Belgium’s infamous 100 kilometre walk of fame. Or pain.

I had thought I could do it all, but a friend of mine said that it would take 50% will power AND 50% training. Will power I had, but training was somewhat lagging, if even perhaps, completely absent.

Seriously, though. The walk may well have been one of the most wonderful, if not altogether painful, experiences of my life.

It all starts off with such a to-do, and people are cheering and singing. Locals come out from their houses and pubs to support you on the street side. And it’s through some beautiful farm-land parts of the country, too. See (more pics on Flickr) :


But as you get deeper into the walk, very few people talk or sing anymore. And all you generally hear is the sound of feet walking on the ground.

You get a lot of thinking time, too. It’s quite cleansing. I guess. And in the end, the race is only with yourself.

Perhaps next year again. Perhaps.

In the interim, I’ve also had some fantastic other experiences that involved neither walking nor pain. Hooray!

My philosophy at the moment is to try and say yes to everything. Avoid avoidance. Within reason, of course, but then again, reason has never been one of my fortes.

The results have been fantastic.

I’ve been to a Jamaican Independence Day Celebration, which was phenomenal. Traditional food, traditional people, traditional fellowship and fun.


In fact, the amount of times any Jamaican I had met mentioned the word “fellowship” and “fun’” in conversation was more than I could remember. It seems they know something. What people.

I’ve also had opportunity to travel into the countryside of Belgium. To a place called Kasterlee and surrounds. Really beautiful. I met the locals here, too. And a particularly interesting man whose great-great-great grandfathers had lived in the same village as he.

He showed me around the town, showing his birthplace, where his family were born, where he built his business.

He was incredibly proud of his heritage; which was impressive, but all within the same, small village. And yet, that didn’t seem to matter.

When he tells you about his life, it turns out he built a very successful business. Out of nothing. When everyone perhaps thought he would have failed. A business that lasted for 30 plus years.

It seems then, that greatness – whatever or however we think of it –can happen in small , tiny villages that no-one can remember the name of – as well as in the biggest, fanciest cities.

In the meantime, Antwerp has also hosted some tango sessions (I feigned injury, but took photo’s) and some guild festivals. It’s been lovely.

Finally, I had the pleasure of attending two church services in a week. My. What theatre.

Ancient churches, ancient traditions and beautiful choirs and orchestras. Playing the most beautiful, operatic music that stuns even the most ardent of atheists. Both churches were packed to capacity. I was amazed.



Perhaps next year again. Perhaps.