Tag Archives: Exhibition

Roots

Exactly one month before the start of my big adventure, my friends took me to this marvellous exhibition in Ghent’s Caermersklooster. It’s about the roots of Flanders and the heritage of our homeland that we carry inside us. With unusual local artwork, a stunning setting and the best company, it is a moment that I will continue to cherish during my journey – because as much as I believe in the importance of travel, I also believe in the importance of home, and as my departure comes nearer and goodbyes become plentiful​, I realize more than ever how I am rooted among the people I love ❤

Or as Lin Manuel Miranda sings in Moana: We keep our island in our minds, and when it’s time to find home, we know the way.

 

Advertisements

Arrival in Singapore: Sky scrapers and storage rooms

Brussels airport felt very strange: full of heavy armed soldiers and long, dysfunctional queues of people waiting to be let through for check-in. The line for Turkish Airlines was by far the longest in the improvised departure hall. It seemed that most other big airlines had moved back to the main building, but TA hag to stay amongst lots of smaller airlines, many of which I had never heard before. In the end, everything went smooth though. After an agonizing flight (I never seem to get used to 14 hours on planes), a surprisingly smooth immigration check and a convenient MRT ride, I soon found myself exploring the streets of Singapore’s China Town.

The first place of worship I walked past was a bright green Mosque that had already closed for the night. The second was a Hindu temple that was full of light and life. Although the building wasn’t that impressive, inside a man was playing loudly on a long, gold coloured flute. The noise (because it didn’t sound much like music to me) carried far beyond the mosque and I imagined it could have easily charmed a 100 snakes all at once, yet there weren’t any. I took of my shoes and wandered inside, where people stood in rows to watch the main shrine.

Not much seemed to happen, but none the less the spectators stayed and stared. I wondered for a second if it was the people who got hypnotized by the flute?

Continue reading Arrival in Singapore: Sky scrapers and storage rooms