To live in a country which lies for a large part beneath the sealevel means living with water.
We're surrounded by dykes and we're aware of the dangers and pleasures of water.
Water doesn't only provide my favorite food, like muscles and herring, but it also offers many ways to relax.
Near my house is a little lake, and it's a great help in forecasting the weather.
Looking from the windows of the girls I can see a little strip of the lake and it's just enough to see what I want to know.
I love to go for a walk beside the lake, especially at nights of the full moon, or in winter when the snow reflects with a soft haze.
But I never swim there. There's nothing like a beach and I don't even know how deep or clean it is.
It's long ago I was in a rowing boat. I'm not even sure when it was.
But I know a place were a boat, kust like Debi's one, lies half on the land, like someone might come and turn it and row away into the sunlight.
It's at the Africa Museum, at one of the outer edges.
We used to go there by bycicle, making an effort to conquer the hill, and letting wind through our hairs when we sailed down, swiching to fast movements to go uphill again.
The boat half in the water was the signal for just a couple of more pushes and a step into another world.
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