Artswells: a bubble of art and magic

Artswells. You hold a special place in my heart. A green foresty one filled with artists, musicians, gypsy treeplanters, decorated with colourful old rag bunting. My favourite festival, I've been telling everyone I met the past year. I couldn't agree more. I come home under the moonrise, shooting stars, northern lights. We scream with delight after jamming in the cold all night, when the sun rises over the mountains and the moon sets like a giant orange ball behind the trees. Early morning smoke over the river vanishes when I kick my boots off and hide under a blanket. 

Wells is so far away, a full day road trip away. Driving through forest fire smoke, thinking what on earth are we doing? As we arrive in the tiny town of wells, the big lake awaits to wake up our tired bodies. Cold water swims are espresso for the body, getting it ready for a festival of dance and art! A familiar feeling comes over me as we roll in through the magical little town. Surrounded by mountain green, a patchwork of river and pippi longstocking houses brings me right back to last year, frolicking around the festival. I left feeling so inspired, and now I'm back! 

Music pops up everywhere, like an endless jam going for four days and nights straight. The awesome mix of people makes Artswells what it is. Drunk punks, blessed coast hippies and everything in between. If Artswells was a drink, it would be kombucha with whiskey. Every single person you meet is so freaking talented, it's mindblowing. From accordion players to tattoo artists, herbalists and poets, everyone is an artist in Wells. 

When everyone is weird, we all become normal. When you can all be yourself completely, there is no judgment. It's a magical place they created in Wells. A bubble of art and joy, music and play. The skies stayed clear of smoke, but the fire inside of me is going crazy with inspiration to create. Oh Artswells, you did it again. 

Fleetwood mac n cheese

This summer I was going to take it easy, leave room for long hikes and camping trips. But then festivals happened. And I can't say no to dress ups, silliness and dancing under the stars. So as soon as Bass Coast finished, I washed my clothes and dusted myself off for Burn in the Forest. Back to back, when you're on a roll you might as well keep rolling. The road trip was sweaty and bumpy. Every drive my car seems to let go of something. By the end of it, I'll be on my own. This time, it was the gps that gave up. So lots of stopping and smiling: excuse me, do you know where I'm going? I didn't, but somehow I made it to Burn in the Forest. 

Men in tutus welcomed me, blowing bubbles in my face. Hello, sweet festival life! If Bass Coast is for dancing, this one is for rolling on the floor laughing. So many silly things happen in one weekend, it's hard to recall even half of it! Every camp does a million things, so the fomo is real. On Fryday the number one question we asked ourselves was: will it fry? So fryers got a-sizzlin' and blocks of chocolate, brie, pickles, bacon, donuts, everything and anything got thrown in those makers of magic crispy goodness and out came the fried mess of pickle flavoured chocolate melted bacon dipped in brie. Yum! 

Baby cheetah camp offered a furry place of 24 hour purring sounds to nap off the fried food coma. Workshops on merkin making and nipple tassels, naked lube wrestling happened and horny men wearing nothing but a giant horn. When I thought my face was going to fall off from laughing, three girls dressed up as pineapples surrounded me. Would you like to enjoy the 360 degree pineapple experience? Uhm yes, of course! While one girl rubbed a pineapple on my arm, I got to smell the sweet golden fruit and simultaneously a shot of pineapple liqueur was poured in my mouth. All while they sang: this is your pineapple song, it isn't very long. And off they went. I actually cried tears from laughter. 

Never was I hungry, after gifts of Dutch stroopwafels (I received a little waffle necklace after doing a splendid interpretive waffle dance while waiting in line), viking feasts, glamorous tea and cookies with the empress and the marvelous fleetwood mac n cheese party. 

Thirst was quenched even before your cup was empty. Guns and rosé, wine and cheese, ceasars on the beach, spiked mimosas for brunch, a little coffee with your baileys? Yes, there was booze and food aplenty, but that's not what it was all about. It's the moments of happiness you share with this group of people you call your family for at least one weekend. Blissful river floating, story telling, love letter writing (yes, there was a postman!), sunrise dancing, waking up in a cuddle puddle, experiencing life in all its silliness together. 

Magical memories and sweet friends were made. A glimpse of pure openness, generosity, inclusivity, being fully aware of the bubble of fun and freedom we created. All good things come to an end and the journey must continue, inspiring me to take this wonderful experience with me wherever I go. Burn in the Forest turns the fire in my heart into a spectacular show of fireworks. Cheeks glowing, soul sizzling with delight. But body in need of a detox. 

Space toast for breakfast

Two weeks ago I left the lush Comox Valley for dry and dusty Merritt. The journey from island to mainland. A ferry ride salty with goodbyes, straight into Vancouver's traffic jams. Welcome back. I left the island but not the pace. Slow tunes singing along in between the honking smog of busy city streets. Vancouver family welcomed me with birthday hugs and dinner, a home to come home to. Heart overflowing with love, I left early the next morning, too early for traffic to be jamming my jam. 

Merritt appeared after many a mountain pass, little screams of delight whenever I drive through majestic mountain views. Jimi Hendrix blasting out of my open windows, letting in freedom and dust. The Bass Coast site in full build up mode. Welcome home. Again and again. When you travel, many places feel like home. Because of the family you made, the memories that fill your mind with sweet butterflies, the times you shared on the land. Merritt, as dry as it is, holds a place in my heart. Wild roses and sage brushes form the landscape. The best sunsets I have ever witnessed throw pink golden spotlights on the sandy mountains. Gravel roads and prickly thorns, a fast flowing river to wash away the day.

A festival had to be built. Tying thousands of ribbons to catch strong winds, a main stage with a space ship, a cantina for Sunday soul sessions, decorations and installations for extended forest frolicking. Bass Coast, I missed you. Your quirkiness, craziness, you absolute beauty of a festival. Run by women, it's all in the details. Like a big open air living room that welcomes people to connect, dance, swim, chill, run around naked, a house with doors wide open. 

Nothing beats thousands of awesome people coming together to play. Nothing is serious. Mornings are for skinny dips, baileys coffee and mushroom honey. Burlesque workshops and the famous twerkshop gather a floor filled to the brim with booty shakers. Most of the weekend, I was dancing and laughing so much, I forgot there was gravity to be maintained. Babe Coast made me fall in love about 135 times a day. People looking so handsome there was almost something indecent about it.

A wacky group of eccentrics, drinking their whiskies and swallowing their pills. Dance floor moves kicked up the dust, throwing energy balls around, losing all track of time until the morning comes. The sun rises over zombie faces, still dancing, can't stop won't stop. I am one of them, drowning in my big fake fur coat. But the bass keeps me up, and the dancing is only really done when the music is turned off. We linger, hiding ourselves behind sunglasses, giving last hugs goodbye. 

It felt like the festival happened in five minutes, too fast too soon. So I stayed. The river massaged my sore bones, dust and sweat washed away. Others sticked around too, so we gathered under the stars for jam sessions and late night talks. Letting it all sink in. So much joy, music, dancing. So many new friends. I left Merritt with a family I can always come home to. 

Happy festival summer!

Saltspring summer sweetness

When I moved to Vancouver Island, people would tell me: you will love Cumberland and Saltspring Island, you would fit right in! I did fall in love with Cumberland as soon as I saw that cute little town nestled in between mountains and forest. So I stayed. But Saltspring was always in the back of my mind. At the Herbal Gathering (a festival for herbalists, it is as wild as it sounds) I bumped into Aly, a lady who makes her own soaps and herbal producs, and who inspires me endlessly. You should come visit me on Saltspring Island! 

That was all I needed to hear to hop in my car and go on a road trip to the island of magic, two hours drive and a twenty minute ferry ride from Cumberland. I arrived in time for the colourful Saturday market, danced to every busker in sight and blended right in with the Saltspring crowd. Wild flowers, underground farmers markets, smiling faces all around. I immediately understood why people recommended me this place. Aly took me to a house concert where violins and accordions turned the living room into a dance floor. Welcome home, I smiled. 

The next morning National Aboriginal Day asked for a first nations gathering on the beach. I watched the clouds roll in, mountains disappeared but the fire was stronger than the rain. Elders sang songs and played the drums while young ones danced. We wrapped ourselves in layers of stories by the fire, passing around a big pot of moose stew to warm the soul. 

Ryan hitch hiked down to the island and with him, the sun arrived. The ticking of drops on the car made way for sun beams through the leaves of the trees. We drank wine listening to a frog orchestra, overlooking the reflection of the sunset on the lake. Finding places to sleep in the car unnoticed, where we would wake up with a gorgeous view in the mornings, became our daily treasure hunt. From the lake to the forest and the beach, every day Saltspring greeted us in a wonderful new way. 

Mountain hikes filled with dragonflies were followed by refreshing lake swims and strong coffee on the side of the road. My mind wandered back to Spain, where I had my first cafe bombon with my feet in the sand. Espresso and condensed milk and life is good. Fuel for more hikes and swims until we found a field of flowers and decided that's where we would live. Sun and wine make for sweet memories of summer love. 

We missed the ferry on the way back. Lake swims were more important. The island got stuck in my head like a song on repeat, all the way back home. 

Love letter to Cumberland

Cumberland,

How do I even begin to express my love for you? By dancing in your streets, hugging all your people, writing you a love letter? I didn't know which one to choose, so I decided to do it all. I left you this morning, after four months of bliss and sunshine. The winter months made me doubt my love for you, but that's a personal thing. It's not you, it's me. I'm a summer child and you definitely brought the child out in me these past months. Running around the forest, skinny dipping in the lake, digging in the dirt. 

Three seasons in four months, it felt like we were only together for five minutes when actually I lived a lifetime with you as my witness. I felt lost under all those layers of clothes, out of my element in the cold. You made me feel at home and lit the fire. I arrived by myself and I left with a family. Being part of a community is something I longed for dearly, and you welcomed me with open arms. My search for work got answered by four jobs. I got to write! For a living! And meet the most amazing people, collect their stories and be a sister in the Cumberland family. A wild woman in a bunch of even wilder women. A travelling spirit finding a place to rest. 

I fell in love and made dear friends. I'm leaving with a heart overflowing with love. My creative spark is alight, leaving books of poetry in island houses. The mountains cradle my thoughts. The trees clear my mind of any worries. The ocean's salty water attracts me every time, clothes off in a heart beat. Waves spit me back out on the beach, making me a better person. It's the combination of all of this, that makes me feel so good. But it's the people that make it a home. A place filled with love. A valley full of memories, I take them with me wherever I go.

And I will always come back.

Love,

Joke

Lost in the woods

One fine Tuesday morning I decided it was time for a road trip. I loaded the car with coffee, cookies, my friend Ryan and a gangsta rap playlist. Ready to hit the road, Drake was shouting from the speaker: 0 to 100 baby real quick. I hit the gas and my poor old car could hardly make it to 80 before she started shaking and rattling like she was going to fall apart on the spot. That's okay, we've got time! Holidays! I don't care about other cars passing me. Constantly. And honking. I just get into grandma mode and wear my snail speed with pride. 

So slowly but surely we rattled along until the air tasted salty and Tofino welcomed us with open arms. Hugs from worldwide friends and ocean views got me all excited. Adventure time! Four of us took off on a well prepared hike through the woods, to find an old plane wreck. Coffee, speakers, joints, shoes off and pants rolled up. Two minutes later we were knee deep in mud, swinging from one rope to another, following bright orange ribbons some nice hiker placed in the trees. 

We found the plane wreck and did the tourist thing: taking pictures while climbing the plane. Overlooking the tree tops and our deliciously muddy feet, I smiled with delight. So happy to be back in Tofino! We stayed there for a while and slowly got back down, deep into the mud. We made our way through the dirt slush and were laughing and tagging along until one crazy fast Canadian couple passed us. With no mud on their feet, legs or face! They smiled at us and walked like they knew something we didn't... A short cut! Without mud! Let's follow these guys! And so we did. They were almost racing through that forest so it was hard to keep up, but we found them deep in the woods. 

The girl asked us if we knew where we were going. We laughed. "Of course not, we were following you!" Anyway, we would just follow this mossy path and find our way out. Until the path hit a dead end of many many branches and bushes and I don't know why but we just kept going. Was this perhaps an animal path more than a human path? The wolf tracks told us yes. We lightly panicked. Okay, we freaked out. 

We tried to walk back but wherever we looked was dense forest. We were really trapped. In a gigantic forest filled to the brim with wolves, bears and cougars. Fun fun fun! The first thing on my mind was: "we'll have to spend the night in this forest!" And then: "We're never going to make it out alive!" I screamed to keep the wildlife away, but mostly just to scream. We marched through that forest like we knew where we were going, but clearly, we had no clue. 

Ryan's phone was the hero of the day, with a gps showing us the way to the road. We had to walk through bushes and climb ditches and more than once did we hear cars passing like a mirage. Reality was: we were still in the middle of that wild forest. We yelled and howled and ran and accidentally hit each other with brances in the face. And then: the relieving sound of the highway! 

Never have I been so happy to hear cars flying past us. We made it! We survived! Hugs all around! Followed by ocean swims to wash that mad adrenaline off our bodies. To celebrate life, we feasted on seafood and wine. That night, we watched the sunset from a couch in the sky. Someone placed a couch on a platform in the forest (just a 5 minute walk this time), overlooking the ocean. A magical end of a wild day. 

Cougar tales

Where do I begin? As soon as my work visa expired, adventures started happening for real. No more work means all time to play. One big long holiday! Until the money runs out. Then it's back to business. But for now: I'm on this island in Canada, where life is o so different from homeland Belgium. There are mountains and road trips and don't get me started on the wildlife. I have so many wild stories my fingers can't keep up with my brain. I want to tell them and I will tell them all, even if it takes the leftover ink from my pen and biting nails in excitement until there are none left.

First there was the late night visit of Canada's famous killer cat the cougar. I was home alone and woke up to an evil cat sound, followed by seven chickens going crazy, followed by silence. Then the footsteps on the deck. The scratching at the window. I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. The lights were on. "Anyone here?" My heart was beating in my throat. I looked outside: full moon. That explained everything. "I'm probably just going crazy", I thought while slipping back under the blanket. I left all lights on. Just in case.

The window scratching started again and I grabbed my phone. Like a maniac I called every person in Cumberland I know. No one picked up. It's 2 am and people probably think I'm drunk calling them at this time. So I called everyone again. As the monster cat kept scratching the house, my friend Jen picked up the phone. Thank goodness. 

- Are you okay?

- A cougar just killed all the chickens and is now trying to scratch her way into the house.

- Where are you? 

- Hiding under a blanket. 

The angel Jen got into her clothes and hopped in her car at 2 am to rescue me from the cougar attack. I spent the rest of the night on her couch. Morning sun showed big dark bags under my eyes and memories of adrenaline rushing through my veins. Was it all just a dream? One of those vivid ones, that stick to your skin all day. I drove back to the house and it was not a pretty sight. Feathers all over the garden, one traumatized chicken standing in the middle of it. 

The poor chicken went on walkabout the next day. She never returned. I packed up my car and decided it was time for a road trip. The cougar has been back three times, hoping to scare more chickens and travellers.

Life right about now

Oh what a wonderful day! Waking up feeling free, birds singing it's time to shine. Morning coffee rituals with friends in the garden. Long lost catch ups of two days not seeing each other. When coworkers turn friends turn family, 24 hours feels like a long time without hugs. Cuddles, stories, laughter. We decide who will be the bun and who will be the hot dog in the middle. Two buns make a sandwich but they will feel the cold wind on their backs. It's best to be the dog, stay warm in winter time. All with a serious face. I nearly hit the floor laughing. Life is sweet, I think.

Last night's tipsy texting tells me summer is here. My heart skips a beat all the time. Caffeine keeps me going but everything happens with a shiver. I burnt my face in that first sun. In burnt the burn the next day and now I'm like a snake shedding skin but still smiling. Some days I wake up feeling like a wild woman, ready to take over the world. Dancing naked to yeasayer eating chocolates in the shower, all the good stuff all at the same time. Finding a forgotten taco like a treasure in the fridge. More coffee. More shivers. Wearing only glitters. Half a day off and I'm having a one woman party. I write, trying to pour my excitement for life into words. I kiss the paper, make ink stains on hands and cheeks.

Strawberries ripen just by looking at them. I close my eyes and smell memories of summer fields of joy, cheap champagne picnics, swaying hips on festival grounds. I taste the salt of your body while swimming in the ocean. Cold water is my morning alarm. Hair still wet, slamming car doors, almost late for work. I see myself in your sunglasses and smile every time you walk past the window. 

The rain makes life less heavy, the air is clean, plants are relieved and the pavement smokes. I love the smell of rain on a hot day. I get out until my feet are muddy and my legs can't dance anymore. I've got something for you, you say and push a piece of paper in my hands. 1920s typewriter ink, fingers moving fast, mistakes are made easily so you flipped the page and there it is. A poem named Joke the Wild. Words get blurry as my eyes do too. I smile and hug and hug some more. Summer rain makes for starry skies. Coming home tastes like your words on my lips. 

Magical forest

Maple syrup to sweeten 

up the day

time changed and so did my mind.

Shifts in perception

following mornings spent 

in the forest

in the back yard 

of our house,

everyone's house.

The fire is on, warming our cold

feet after days of exploring

forest freedom

finding what we were

looking for all along.

Forest dwellers

adventures of full 

moon mountain walks

in the snow I'm covered 

by a blanket of warmth

keeping my inner fire alight

nothing can cool me down

the spark I have inside is

glowing all night

keeping the energy flowing

until the morning light.

Winter blues solutions

Some mornings I wake up in a sun-filled room, jump out of bed into the day and feel ready for adventures. Talking to strangers, smiles everywhere and life is sweet. Other mornings the rain tries to get me out of bed. I reply with a groan and turn around, blanket over my head, hiding from the day. On grey days, I'm not always in the mood. To be social, leave the house or wear pants. They call it the winter blues.

I wasn't expecting endless summers when moving to Canada. So I had to get used to winter, to dark mornings, looking out of the window and feeling an emotion best described as 'meh'. Like other winter bluesers, I had to find a way to get around the grey. Add sparks of light and golden glitter to cloudy skies. I tried warming up and sweating in steam rooms and saunas. Drinking bottomless cups of coffee. Dancing until the break of dawn. All good, all fine, but the grey day feeling wouldn't leave me. And the next morning would be one of head aches and a heavy heart.

I started writing more letters. More than ever. Fitting tales and hugs in envelopes to send around the world. One fine day, I found a love letter in my snail mail box. All the way from Australia. Another one from Belgium, England, Canada, Spain. Every morning now, rain or shine, I jump out of bed with a fresh face and butterflies in my belly. Excitement in every step, a twinkle in every eye I meet, until I reach the post office and turn the key. Unlocking the PO box is like opening a treasure chest. The joy of writing letters multiplies when receiving a handwritten postcard filled with stories that make my day bathe in sunlight.

Thank you to all sweet letter writers, for sending me so much love and joy. Turning winter blues into summer heat.

Lovelovelove!

Vancouver Island lovin'

It's been two months since I moved to Vancouver Island and I am feeling settled in. As if I've been here all along, like the trees in the magical forest of our backyard. I unpacked my backpack for the second time and surprised myself on how many items I have been gathering over the past months. Living in a house requires a certain dress code. It's all about house coats and funky aprons. So when the thrift store had a  50% sale, I went all out. 

With summer in mind, I found myself trying on tutus and wedding dresses. One shiny dress with pink bows and other hilarious ugliness made me fall in love. So my festival outfit is checked off my shopping list. While planning sunfilled adventures and road trips, I am working three jobs and exploring everything Cumberland has to offer. 

When I arrived here two months ago, people would ask me why I moved here. Did I have a plan? A job? Did I follow the love of my life to this tiny village on an island far away from home? I replied with a triple no and a smile, pointing out of the window, at the trees and mountains and ocean. THAT's why I moved here. Often the response was: "oh nice. But you do realise there are no jobs and single men here?" Smile on repeat and a little bit of a panic in my brain. I handed out resumes like a maniac, went to career fairs and checked craigslist every hour. No jobs. One month passed and as soon as the snow storms calmed down, I got a call for a job interview. And another one. And another! Three interviews lead to three jobs and I couldn't be more grateful to work for small, local businesses. 

I have never lived in a little community where everyone knows everyone. It feels good! It means you work with friends, live with friends, party with friends. Cumberland is a special place filled with wonderful people. Sunny mornings drinking coffee on the porch, yelling good morning to everyone walking by. Saturday night dancing to funky tunes and Sunday mimosas and live blues for brunch. Morning shimmy shakedown and dance hall classes. Late night writing. Icy cold lake skinny dipping. Snowy mountain adventures and forest missions. Ecstatic dancing and steam room chanting. All the goods to soothe my soul.

Oh, and the summer is already happening in my mind. My feet got ridiculously itchy last week and I daydreamt of road trips and camping under the stars. I started looking around for a vehicle. This morning I woke up and found my dream car. I bought it without blinking. I can't wait to move into my little house on wheels and take it for adventures. River baths, bonfire coffees, starry skies and endless journeys. Bring it on. 

Wintersleep

While he's looking

for himself on an island

a ferry ride away

I'm searching for a car

to drive through the country

over the mountains

across the prairies

writing poetry and driving

for days on end

until I reach that place

where life is just that pace

slower, where I can stay inside

if that's what I want

I don't need no jacket 

no mountains no snow

I roll up into a ball 

fall into a deep wintersleep

and when all is melted

I'll go out and melt

with you if that's what

you want to do

Into the woods

It has taken me months, but I am finally embracing the snow. Yes, it is March. And yes, it is still snowing in Cumberland. I just moved to this beautiful little village surrounded by forests and mountains. Our house has a wood stove for warmth and cosiness and this is where I spend most of my time: in front of the fire. Until my cheeks turn red and I taste like smoke. That's when I like to go on adventures in the woods, enjoying the crunching sound of snow under my feet. 

It is cold outside of my blanket fort, so I wrap my body in layers of sweaters and as many socks as my shoes will allow. The house smells of fire and coffee. I love the rattling sound of the bialetti. My hands soak up the warmth of the coffee, holding the mug like a precious object. I walk outside in the early sunshine. Fresh snow covers the colourful houses in a layer of white. With every layer of snow, I add a layer of clothes. I look like the michelin man with jackets and coats and scarves as far as the eye can see. 

I let the sun fill up the cup I hold tight in both hands. With every sip, I taste her rays like golden beams, waking me up for a day of adventure. My hair smells like smoky bonfire coffee from last night's beach sleep. Nature's perfume, I don't want it to leave me. Walking shoes feel worn in, memories of Canadian hikes captured on the inside. 

Our backyard is the Cumberland forest. Endless vibrant green covered in a soft carpet of snow. The swamp is frozen but not enough for me to perform a fabulous piece of ice ballet. Instead I swiftly hide behind a tree, inhaling the end of winter. The birds sing happily, they are ready for a change of season. I am with them, the cold makes my bones shiver. 

Winter beach fire

Dirty chai to set the mood

slow tunes follow 

the rising sun

you rest your head

on the dragonfly pillow

your hand shades your eyes

I jump around spilling

cold coffee on the ground

twirling the wine glass in the air

fancy morning coffees

we drink and stare

out through the valley

where the trees hit the mountains

the snow touches the sky

the waves take the fire

barefoot on the rocks

memories of shooting starts

keeping me up all night

listening to the song of the ocean

thinking everything will be alright

Snowy adventures

If I would explain last week in colours, I would speak in snow and night sky. Clouds gathering, flakes falling. Wherever I look, I see paintings of white and black and all the shades of grey. Not the exciting kind, more the stay inside and carry blankets around the house kind of story. Don't be fooled by my cosy style as I wrap my socks around my legs, all the way up to my knees, pyjama pants neatly tucked in them to keep the warmth in. I stare out of the window and see my freedom wheels, riding me all over the place in search for crazy adventures. Just not now. A bike covered in snow is not always the way to roll. 

I have been stuck in my snowy cabin. The only way to get a coffee is to hitch hike into town. It's easy but slippery and I kinda like not having to wear outside clothes (meaning anything that is not considered PJ's). But one fine morning I peeled my pyjamas off my body and decided it was time for action! It's not because I'm stuck in the snow I can't go on adventures! Right? I gave my bike a look of a disappointment, grabbed my coat and hopped in my new friend Carol's car. 

I met Carol a week ago, when life was still sunny and warm. My bike and I were on a journey in Courtenay and of course I had no idea where I was going so I asked a fellow biking lady for directions. And just like that, a new friendship was born! We swapped biking for hiking and set off on a day trip to Campbell River. The drive was like a dream of winter wonderland, with snowy trees, mountains and views so beautiful my old little camera had no idea what to do with them.

As we approached Elk Falls Provincial Park, I got excited. I had only ever heard of snowshoeing when I moved to BC two weeks ago. And yes, I imagined walking around with tennis rackets tied under my shoes. Which - for those of you who are with me - is NOT the case. Getting ready took me about two hours but there I was with snowshoes and poles and thermal underwear. Elk Falls, show me what you've got! 

A gorgeous forest walk and then... A lot of steps to get to the viewpoint. The gear went off (except for the thermals) and I enjoyed the gorgeous falls. As I was looking around, I felt as if I was really living in a painting. Oh, beautiful Vancouver Island! I'm in love.

Island life

It's been one week since I left the mainland to bundle up in a tiny house on Vancouver Island. And boy, it feels good to be here! Already on the ferry to the island I got treated to something I have NEVER seen before! okay guess!

Nope, that's not it. Guess again!

No... Does that even exist?

I'll tell you before you dig any deeper in that absurd mind of yours. I saw fifty baby dolphins jumping around the boat!!! I could hardly hold myself from jumping around the place myself! I was giggling so loud I woke up the lady in front of me and we started talking and I thought: wow I have to do a lot more loud laughing by myself and people will start talking to me. Maybe it's just island people. They are the best. That brings me back to why I couldn't stop thinking about this place and eventually had to move here. These glorious people I met on dance floors, in forests or at house parties last summer. 

I had never even heard of the Comox Valley before. Until I met a busker in Vancouver who told me all about the beautiful place he lives, the Valley indeed. He offered me his couch and two days later I hopped on the ferry to Vancouver Island. The sweetest people picked me up when I was hitch hiking and I immediately had a good feeling about this place. The mountains, ocean and forests blew my mind. Meeting inspiring artists, finding hidden festivals, going on adventures with new friends who turned into family straight away.

I travelled across Canada and lived in Toronto but the island was still on my mind. And now, many months later, I can giggle as loud as I want in my tiny home, on the bike, anywhere and everywhere because there are more mountains than people and the people that do live here, are hilarious. So I blend right in. 

So what does one do on an island, you may ask. Hiking, biking, eating scones and doing new things like bikram yoga where sweating takes on new dimensions. Meeting friends, thinking of looking for a job but going for a beach walk instead. Talking with herbalists about collaborations, writing a fresh new book, taking a step back from the busy city life. This slow paced island life has got me all wrapped up in warm blankets and hugs. Especially when I woke up to a perfect snowy landscape this morning. Soup making, letter writing and snow ball fights. That's what I do when I'm all snowed in and can't get my bike to take me anywhere without hitting the ground. It's like the island is pushing me to do things that are good for the soul. To reconnect and grow. To see nature's beauty and appreciate the little things more than ever. 

Wishing you a soulful weekend!

City girl goes island

You know how sometimes when one door closes, another, better one, opens? Flashback to the beginning of December in Toronto. It was freezing cold and I just got let go from my warehouse work, seeing it as the ultimate sign to start writing more than ever. One week later I found a fancy job as a communication specialist at a scientific research institute. It took me eight hours of exams, two job interviews, Saturday meetings and a total makeover to fit into their corporate world. But I got the job! 

All I had to do now was change my dresscode, hide tattoos, take out piercings, wear skirts that cover my knees and look like a corporate copy. And I would have to stay in Toronto until my Canadian visa expires. Okay, I thought, I can do this. I was a bit nervous. With shaky hands I stored away my dreams of moving to Vancouver Island and writing about things that don't necessarily involve scientific research while wearing golden flower dresses and dying my hair pink. The company offered me a welcome dinner and a salary I thought I would never earn in this lifetime. I would start as soon as I returned from my month of winter holidays in Belgium. 

But on the last day of 2016 I got an email from the scientific institute. Bad news. They were not able to give me the job. I saw the bubble of me looking like a business woman in my corporate outfit pop, together with the idea of living in a big grey city for another six months, working a 9 to 5 job writing lab reports while wearing fake glasses. (When I think of myself as a business woman, I always wear glasses.) Pop! Nothing left. But relief. 

Again, an ocean of possibilities opened up and as the waves waltzed in, so did I. I decided not to let this shake my mood and danced all ideas of elegance away. Fresh adventures, I thought as I twirled around in my glitter dress. When the headache kicked in and sparkles were traded for PJ's, I opened a new email. A friend from Vancouver Island was looking for a roommate. If I'm interested to move in with her and live in the finest of Canadian nature, between ocean and mountain, lakes and pines, beach and bears? I didn't have to think twice.

I packed all my glitters, flowers, dresses that dramatically show both my knees, art supplies and dreams into my backpack and booked a flight to BC. Island life, I'm ready!

Power of play

I don't know about you, but this has been my most playful year yet. Usually summer is where I get my daily dose of play, especially at festivals. Rolling around in mud, dressing up like a fairy, hugging unicorns and dancing until I faint. Wearing my wedding gown all around town, ordering cake for breakfast, having serious meetings about how to build an entire city out of chocolate. Life is one big play!

There has not been one day this January where I haven't played board games, danced like a maniac, laughed so hard I thought I wasn't going to make it out alive. Then I flew to Vancouver where my friend Funergy introduced me to puppetry. Last Sunday, we were on a mission. We would brighten up the rainy day by playing with sock puppets in a cafe, entertaining all passersby. 

I had never done anything like this before and wasn't sure about the reactions. Maybe people would be weirded out by two grown ups (right!) playing with puppets. Maybe it would be awkward at first. It was an experiment. My inner child got excited and before we even sat down, we were dancing around with our hands in the air, bringing happy looking socks to life. 

The reactions were amazing! Old ladies walking up to the window to cheer, smiles appearing on the face of every person that passed by, lots of thumbs up, men taking their hats off, laughter, selfies and then... People coming in to thank us, to tell us we made their day, to join us in the fun and play with the puppets. A snowball effect of joy! Wow! Four hours flew by and before I knew it, my face was stuck in a smile so big I thought I would never go back to being able to perform a straight face. Which is already a challenge for me. 

And I was right! No day has been the same ever since. A walk on the beach turned into a puppet photoshoot and a sleepy Tuesday morning got all exciting when Funergy taught me how to make my very own sock puppet. There is no way back now! Making people smile has become a daily goal. Which makes me smile. It's contagious. If everyone would have a puppet to play with and get over the first silly very adult feeling of embarrassment, and just play like the big children we are, the world would be a happier, more colourful place. Power to the puppets!

My guardian angel Lydia

While working in a big soap factory, I had happy days and useless ones. You're at home writing, walking in the park, doing yoga, meeting up with friends and feeling all joyful, until the clock warns you to get on that train right now, destination uselessness. Eight hours would crawl even though I was busy. Peeling off labels, putting other labels back on pots and bottles and one minute is a lifetime. 

It was on a particular useless day that Lydia walked into my life to change my world forever. She was new and I showed her around. We worked together all day, it felt like only five minutes. She must have been in her sixties, a grandma from Ghana with an amount of stories that would make a library blush. Stories of Africa, arranged marriages, tragedy and love. Even when sharing tales of hard times she has been through, she always kept that glow, that twinkle in her eyes. She told me: "Baby, don't take anything for granted. Enjoy every moment with your loved ones, because when they are gone, there will be nothing left but memories." 

She had lost her beloved husband but was still positive and enjoying life to the fullest. I told her I admire her positivity. "You are such an inspiring woman," I whispered. She smiled, looked me straight in the eye and said: "Every morning when I wake up, I have two choices. To be happy or to be sad. And every day I choose happiness."

Those words kept ringing in my ears for a very long time. I saw her the next day and gave her a big hug. Such a great connection created by sharing stories. She winked and her eyes had that twinkle. That was the second and last day I saw Lydia. She didn't come in to work anymore, which made me wonder if she sensed the uselessness of the job and realised the factory didn't fit in her vision of happiness. Secretly I think she was a guardian angel who walked into my life just to put pink glasses on my nose and make me see the world through her positive eyes.

Talking to strangers

How to write a travel blog when you look at your life and realise you're a settled down woman? I'm a happy Torontonian, for now. This might change in a couple of months or weeks, but at the moment I'm enjoying all the good things this city has to offer. Adventures of the everyday! When life just floats you in the right direction and surprises wait behind closed doors. All you've got to do is get out and open the door, sit yourself down at the bar and order a glass of wine.

So that's exactly what I did last week while hiding from a snowy cold Sunday afternoon in a smoky bluesbar. Two conversations with strangers later I sold my book and got offered a writing job. The power of taking yourself out on a date and talking to the person randomly sitting next to you at the bar! Listen, I love my me-dates, but I love talking more than anything. So when you find yourself hanging out at the same bar as me, you know what time it is.

After five hours of blues and New Orleans jazz I danced home in the dark, the powder covered pavements as my endless outdoor ballroom. Buzzing with energy, sleeping was the last thing on my mind. I wrote and baked oh hell I even did the dishes! At unearthly hours of the night creative energy reaches peaks and there is no way around it. You have to surrender to it, let it flow through you and when you wake up the next day, you may find your room covered in poems, a burnt cake in the oven and a spotless kitchen. 

Last night was another one of those. A poetry slam in an underground venue did crazy things to me. I was laughing, crying my eyes out, cheering and singing along and as soon as it was all over, I ran home as fast as I could. My feet weren't even touching the ground anymore, I swear! Repeating words in my head one of the poets yelled out, followed by cheers, screams, applause. "Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us come in every day. We get to work." 

He talked about bohemian nights, live music and creating every single day. Everyone's perspective is different, but for me it was yet another slap in the face. Don't wait around for inspiration to touch your brewing brain with golden ideas. Get to work. I'm not talking about your daily job you do to pay bills. I'm talking about your passion, your creative mind that wants to break free and spend every single hour of the day and night writing, painting, dancing, sculpting, designing, creating. 

So let's get to work! Do what you've got to do. What makes you happy, what feels good. What puts a smile on your face and makes others smile with you. Forget about fear and go back to play. Experiment! Explore! And if you don't know where to start, go out and talk to a stranger.