The flight was absolutely fine if you ignored the invitations to buy stuff. Keflavik airport is a fair way from Reykjavik, a fifty-minute bus ride, but the intrigue of the landscape and the occasional burst of recorded commentary – the language seems more musical than its Nordic cousins – made the journey a pleasure. Reykjavik surprises with its compactness. The bus terminus seemed to be in a semi-rural outer suburb – it was as if we had arrived in Thomastown to see Melbourne. Our lodging was supposed to be both close to the terminus and to the centre of the old town, which seemed impossible, yet it was so. Two minutes’ walk found our room, and we were only a kilometre or so from the harbour. We explored that route for a while, then found ourselves ... read more

Day 37: Waterford-Dublin Given the bucolic bias of our Irish itinerary, it had been a long time since we’d been on an actual freeway, so the rapid transit to Dublin surprised us a little. Roganstown Hotel, a little way into the countryside from Dublin airport, was carefully chosen to give us a bit of R&R before the long haul home – gym and pool sessions helped condition us for the one-day confinement of the Airbus 380. Pleasant surroundings, the usual Irish hospitality and a good dinner; and tomorrow morning we will wake at dawn and contrive to pass through the airport a little after our constitutional head of state leaves it and a little before the American one arrives. Things we won’t miss about Ireland: 1. Tour-busfuls of Americans who may be nice people but TALK ... read more

Day 33: Glencar-Killarney A road trip today, down the Clare coast. We stopped at a beach that you can drive on in an ordinary car (we didn’t). We walked around the little tourist town of Dingle, famous for (i) a resident dolphin and (ii) that Marie Antoinette nearly fled there, but didn’t. I had a haircut/beard trim/eyebrow clip there for the princely sum of 11 euros (about $16). Visited another clifftop fort, a small one – Bronze Age, I think it was which was – patrolled by sheep and a Doberman named Roxy, which is suitable for a place with a lot of rocks. Some superb sea views, of course, and finally a two-way mountain view at Con(n)or Pass (like many other places here, it has alternative spellings). Liam at Glencar had looked up the local ... read more

Day 27: Ballindine – Connemara outing The day dawned cold, with a blustery wind. First south, to Galway city. The outlook over the famous bay was grey and bleak, which didn’t deter three or four mad swimmers in a seaside suburb from jumping into it, sans wetsuits, for a swim. As we continued around the coast road we suffered our regular fate and got lost, this time impressively reaching the extremity of a coastal island when we thought we were still on the mainland. The local who gave us directions back said it was a regular occurrence. In addition to the road signage being inconsistent and frequently absent, in Connemara it goes from being bilingual to only in Irish Gaelic (or simply Irish, as it is known). Often the Irish bears only a faint resemblance to ... read more

Day 22: Miravet-Barcelona-Dublin At 6 this morning we made our way with our bags down the steep road, through the tunnel (under sleeping people, perhaps), across the town square where the resident maremma barked at us until he recognized us, and headed off between the sandstone houses towards Barcelona. On the road we missed an exit to the airport, and attempted to make good by taking a 20km cross-country correction. Bad decision. This was the Deans Marsh-Lorne road, except longer, through steep mountains and punctuated by little villages with more traffic than people. Our conservative policy of adding an hour to every travel time to an airport came into its own. The plane was not full but occupied by two school groups, one of twenty small boys and the other some teenagers. For Helen, it was ... read more