If there is one thing that could be said for the time I took off for my holiday, it’s that it was inspiring. We stayed for a week in a hotel in Crete, and I am not joking when I tell you we were a mere five steps away from the steps down to the beach. The beds were practically touching the ocean. The water was so crisp and clear that every dent and peak was visible in the rocky ocean floor – very slippery as well! – and as you stepped further into the ocean you had to mind your step as to not crush the little fish that danced around your feet, more curious than fearsome.
Unfortunately, all good things do come to an end. I was fortunate to get a taste of their food, and whilst I’m an absolute trouble maker when it comes to food from other countries, the Greek food went straight to my heart! Or perhaps we were just lucky with the hotel restaurant! I got a taste of some of the culture and the sights to behold. They certainly do not compare to the Netherlands! We’d wake in the mornings to the sound of the water crashing over the shore, lapping, teasing, flicking and frolicking. My first cup of coffee was met with the morning sky, mostly crisp blue skies, a panoramic view of the ocean, and the sound of a city coming to life.
I haven’t travelled much, and if I get to be so honest, I rarely leave my house back at home. Not because I don’t want to, but because I spend most of my time hidden, locked away in my bedroom working on this story that we’re bringing to life. I work full days, I try to plan anything social during week evenings when Clara is at work, and try to keep as much of my weekend available for us to work with. Things that seem simple, that I have experienced before, now got a much grander meaning.
Something as simple as breathing in that fresh ocean air, the sound of crashing waves. I don’t often get to experience them. The rough exterior of rocks outside of the water, but the slippery headache waiting to happen under water. This was perhaps the first time I looked at the world, and actually let myself see it. See the way nature moved, see the way people built their homes, see different structures, hear people speak different languages in different dialects.
I started not only seeing this real world come to life around me, but our world as well. I imagined one of my Queens exciting a grand, crisp white building. I could almost picture her with that all too familiar slightly crooked smile of hers, waving, as the train cart I rode drove around the island looking at the various gorgeous sights, buildings and culture. I feel inspired, as though I’m looking at our wonderful creation with new eyes, better eyes.
One week was too short, too much to see, not enough time and also a grave need for catching up on some downtime. As a writer, you’re never truly free for a week. You get a break, but your mind will keep working, remain deeply in thought at the quietest of moments, and the inspiration of new surroundings keep the juices flowing.
Unfortunately, writing has not been much of an option there, I tried to get some work done but overall I wasn’t able to do as much as I would have liked. But hopefully I can bring this newfound inspiration to paper, use these new experiences for my writing and in the meantime.. Book another trip!
Maybe Iceland next time?