Wind

I really don't like it when someone agrees with you to do something together, and suddenly tells you at the last minute they have something else to do.

So again, I got stood up! :( Had agreed with a friend that we'd go cycling today, because the weather was supposed to be much warmer (by 2C). But at around noon, she texted me saying that she's going out with her parents instead... so unreliable! And I was looking forward to it too... I didn't get angry at her, and only texted her back saying it's not a big deal, and even hoped that she has fun...

But then when I think about it, I realise this incident is not the first time, and actually means more than just not living up to a promise. It's things like this that makes me feel like people can treat me like a worthless person... treat me like someone you can just cancel on at the last minute, or like someone you don't need to contact or speak to for a long time until the moment I'm needed...

Surely I'm much more than just being useful! Surely I can give people more than just help when they need it! I mean I'm not a terrible person to be around with, and I'm not someone who plans or tries to take advantage of other people... but then people push me away, and only come to me when they need something. And it hurts.

Well, with or without anyone, I went cycling. The weather wasn't as great as predicted; in fact, it was horrible and probably the worst kind of weather to cycle in. No matter. I promised myself that I'd go cycling, and cycling was what I did. I need it, to clear my head, to make myself feel energetic and useful, and also to get out of the house.

A friend told me the other day that there's a beach down the coast from where I live which is supposed to be nice. It's located around 20km, at a town called Hoek van Holland ('Corner of Holland'). I know it because when I was studying in London that's where I take the ferry across the North Sea to England. I remember watching the land slowly disappear from the window of the ferry whenever I left the country... and watching the land gradually appear as I sailed home. So, it's a memorable place.



Though I've never been there by bike. So I took my bike and cycled through the dunes, along the coast. There were cycle-paths along the way, so it was easy to ride and find your way... except the fact there was really intense winds and drizzle. At one point, an hour or so into my trip, I started to hear my head ache, like something was constantly banging against my temples and forehead, and it felt like I was going to faint or something. So I stopped and rested for while, and called my mum.

It was an empty landscape, the only other life were two black bulls grazing in the field and crows that swarmed black overhead. Besides that, I was surrounded a wall of sand dune and thin undergrowth of shrubs and dry grass. I spoke to mum for half an hour or so, but at times the wind was doing more of the talking than we were. She's doing alright, and when I speak to her, I realise how much I miss her. She's really the only family that I feel close to, which is sad, because I live with my brother under the same roof but we have absolutely no contact at all. She told me about my life, asking whether I felt better after sounding depressed last week. I said yeah (I guess...) , and asked her how she's doing. Well, this Friday she's going to have a complete check-up of her body, and the doctors are going to examine whether the area which had cancerous cells around her intestines are really gone after the chemo therapy.

She once told me how painful the check up is... basically they shove a long, long tube fitted with a camera down your throat (endoscope), to reach the problem area. She's be anaesthetised, but still awake during the whole procedure. What's worse, there's noone to go with her. My dad just couldn't care less. I felt really sad hearing that, and along with the strong wind blowing and blowing in the barren landscape, I felt like I could cry there and then... But thankfully, she said a close friend of hers will go with her, and be with her throughout the whole day. That eased my sadness somewhat.

After talking to her, and drinking some warm tea I took from home, I cycled on. This time, I wrapped myself really warmly and wore the hat that came with my jacket. It did help protect from the cold, but still it was a struggle against the wind. All along the way was a naturally protected area to one side, and rows and rows of greenhouses on the other. At one point I reached a little town called 'Monster', but besides a dead rabbit lying on the side of the road, there were none to be found, so I cycled on.


I peddled hard, and the kilometres went by slowly. But I was determined to get to where I wanted to go, I was determined to see the sea that I had travelled across so many times before, so I fought and fought with the wind and weather. Sometimes, I was blown aside, and the wheels fell off of the cycle-path and sunk into the grass, causing me almost to fall over. But I jumped on the bike again, and peddled even harder. The wind may be against me now, I thought to myself, but when I go home (hopefully), it'll be an ally.


A cat jumped out of nowhere, and hid in the grass, watching me. I stopped and took a picture of it, and stood and watched it watch me. After a few moments, it probably go disinterested and started to silently walk away, which led me to cycle on as well.



And suddenly, around the corner was an open and almost empty beach. There was even a sign, welcoming me to Hoek van Holland, and ironically reminding me that this was the "sunniest beach in the Netherlands". I looked around at the gray overcast skies, and felt the drizzle on my face and jacket, and wondered where the sun was. Immediately I felt it was an unusual beach, and indeed there was another sign that explained why. All along the western coast of the Netherlands, the government is busy trying to pour sand onto the coast to prevent the sea taking away the land. There's even a special department of the Minstry of Transport and Water Management (Rijkswaterstaat) which deals with this. Every few years the Netherlands imports millions of tonnes of sand and piles it onto the western seafront. Hoek van Holland is one of these places, and indeed, the sand was fresh and neatly and evenly spread along the coast. Just before hitting the beach, I even saw this 'sand depot', with dozens of big trucks, and I was wondering why. And I found out why.


I had a rest on the beach, and treated myself to some warm Dutch pea-soup (erwtensoep) and fries to keep myself warm and full. It felt like heaven, sitting in that restaurant, enjoying 'grandma style' traditional food and watching the wind play with the waves outside. After that, I took a walk along the pier, and watched huge tanker go by, and the refinery flames jump in the air and harbour lights of Europoort (Rotterdam) twinkle in the distance.



Of course, I was only half the way, and needed to go home too! So I followed the signs, and started to head back. The way back I took another route, through little villages and towns that were covered with greenhouses. In the dark sky, you could feel like it was day, because of the orange glow of the lights. And the wind was with me, so I was really going fast in the night. I felt like I was an express train, speeding along the road, with my headlights shining into the distance, and red backlight trailing behind. And beneath me, the wheels made noises as they jumped and rolled over the tiles and tarmac of the cycle-path.

It was much quicker to return, and soon I was entering my city and seeing familiar streets. And even sooner I was under the warm shower, and feeling the water wash over my body, wash away the cold, aches and sweat.