“Ik Heb Niks Maar Alles”: Barefoot Camping in the Forest

Last week, I took a 14-hour flight to the Netherlands to spend time with my Dutch partner in Delft.

During the one-week summer vacation ── which, for most Japanese full-time workers, is quite long and precious (!)── we drove south to the Ardennes in Belgium for minimalistic camping.

From the edge of the woods, we hiked about 7 kilometers, carrying only some essential gear to eat and sleep under the trees for the night.

Somewhere along the trail, I started to feel pain in my feet because the shoes were not suitable for a long walk.

Besides, I had been watching my partner ── who often walks barefoot── with growing curiosity.

He’s always been that way, even walking barefoot in Japan, where most strangers would glance in surprise.

For fear of pain and discomfort without shoes on, I didn’t dare to do likewise.

But that day, surrounded by trees and tranquility, something changed in me. I took off my shoes.

At first, I felt everything: pebbles, twigs, rough patches of earth. It hurt, sometimes.

But strange enough, that very discomfort began to awaken something.
My soles began to notice the difference between gravel, pebbles, dry roots, and damp soil.

Each step became more intentional.
Each pause, more present in tranquility.

The pain faded, replaced by awareness.
And then by a quiet kind of joy.

That night, lying under the stars, I thought about how little we had brought with us—and how complete it felt.

Out of nowhere in a forest.

No convenience or materialistic abundance like in Tokyo life.

No goals, no schedule.

Just breath, trees, warmth, and peace.

“Ik heb niks maar alles” (I have nothing, but everything in my heart).

Emika

Japanese flexitarian

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A 20-something flexitarian. Based in Nagano and Tokyo (and the Netherlands). Working full-time in Tokyo.