Volcanic Iceland

My life long quest to climb to the crater of volcano has been fulfilled. It only took 26 years and a hop and skip over to the lovely island of Iceland, and it was definitely worth the wait. The name Grabrok will be imprinted in my memory as the name of the volcano that forever changed my life. Joke, I will probably have forgotten that name by the time I go to sleep tonight, but that's only because I have a terrible memory.

Iceland was really great fun. I stayed with my friend Jade and a lovely Icelandic family with an adorable 5 year old son name Greta.. You can hear him proudly singing about the different colours of the rainbow in Icelandic on the Language Landscape website. In addition, below is a different kind of map, inspired by the use of Greta's crayola crayons. It shows the various exploratory routes taken during our stay, starting from the midnight journey from Keflavik to Borgarnes.

If you know anything about Iceland, you can see that I have not included any of the main tourist attractions which are located in the southern part of Iceland, otherwise known as the "Golden Triangle". That is because I did not go to this part, *GASP* rather spent most of my time hanging about Borgarnes, indulging in wonderful hospitality, rich culture and cosy (huggulegt) atmosphere. I throroughly recommend visiting Borgarnes and spending a couple days getting to know the area and the lovely people. Think farmer's markets, meeting the lovely mothers and grannies who make those wonderful Icelandic sweaters, and spectacular mountain views. I have to admit that after spending a week basking in the views of Borgarnes, I was slightly let down by Reykjavik. Although it is a quirky, vibrant city overflowing with creativity and light-hearted banter, it offers very little compared to the energy and magnetism you acquire from spending time in the mountains. Then again, I do love my landscapes.

Other than the trip to Grabrok, we also explored the Snaefells Penninsula which has its own mini glacier, hot springs as well as volcanic fields and beaches. Part of the magic of exploring the landscapes of Iceland are the stories which accompany each rock formation (the troll who had a tantrum and threw a bunch of rocks into the fjord) haunted farm-house (Iceland's last serial killer lived in Budir in the 1800s), and fjord (the man who was turned into a whale by a fairy as a form of punishment for being greedy and not helping his fellow countrymen in times of need).  I only wish I had had my audio recorder on me at all times to document all the stories I heard.

Portugal - Caves and Dinosaurs

Seriously beautiful caves, dinosaurs footprings, markets full of goat cheese, fresh olives, figs, absolutely massive food portions, port, 65 centavos for an espresso, 1 euro for a beer - who wouldn't want to live in Portugal?

Part of the fun of visiting new countries for me is the excitement and delight of tasting everything. Nothing beats going to a bakery, or a pasteleria in this case, first thing in the morning before people head off to work to join the line of old men standing hunched over the wooden counter enjoying their bica (espresso). The owner of the establishment doesn't even blink at the sight of two foreign girls timidly tinkling their way into the shop. He simply makes us two bicas and places them on the counter, gesturing they are for our consumption. Some pasteis de nata and orange pastries later, we head back to the science center for serious linguistic conversations.

Centro Ciencia Viva do Alviela is a science center situated on the Praia Fluvial dos Olhos d'Agua do Alviela (The fluid beach of the eyes of the Alviela waters - is the literal translation, but basically it sits next to a river which goes through a large natural park). The park itself is great for going on day treks, and the science center offers visitors a place to stay for very affordable prices, as well as light refreshements, and a themed ride for all members of the population who are over 1.2m tall. You get to ride an asteroid.

While staying at the science centre is very affordable, it can be difficult to access by anything other than car, and while it does offer some services, the one shops opening times are from 10:00-19:00. So it's best to come prepared. The nearby town Alcanena has plenty of shopping opportunities, bakeries, restaurants and wool shops to keep your heart content. The centre of the town is made up of an old church, a market which is open on weekends, and various hair dressers. 

All around this area are various caves, or grutas, such as Mira de Aire which are also worthwhile seeing, especially when you get to have a full five course dinner in one of these. I have a sneaky suspicion such dinners may only be for special occasions though. Even if you're not having a spectacular meal however, you will have spectacular views of underground rivers and fountains, and caves that are tactfully lit with warm light, and might even find some unique fossils and dinosaur teeth. 

Lastly, and by far my favorite experience were the dinosaur footprints. Driving another half hour north from Alcanena and Minde, towards a town called Fatima, you will get lost and end up going on a free urban tourist tour of rural Portugal. I'm not kidding, there are actually signs which sign post this route as the "urban tourist tour". It is a sweet little tour which takes you through old villages. You see plently of ancient olive trees, tiny houses and churches made of white stone squares which look like they could crumble into a pile at any moment, as well as sheep and cows. Eventually though, you will arrive at a derelict looking park with old iron structures representing sauropods, pay the three euro entrance fee and embark on the most exciting 40 minutes of your life. If you're into dinosaurs that is. Even if you are not that impressed by dinosaurs, you will be impressed by the view of the Portuguese country side from atop a high marble cliff, not to mention the fact that you actually get to step in dinosaur footprints. Your foot will be inside a giant dinosaur footprint. I'm excited just remembering the experience. I'm so excited I'm finding it very difficult to NOT write in caps. Definitely one of my top 100 experiences.

VISIT PORTUGAL!

Beaumaris Castle, Chester and Trwyn Du Lighthouse

The adventure in Wales continues as a slightly painful, disastrous experience, somehow juxtaposed against beautiful scenery and mystical castles. I am beginning to understand how the stereotype of a rugged grumpy Welshman has come to be. So if you ever find yourself in northern Wales, I suggest you take the opportunity to breath in plenty of fresh air, take long miserable walks, and surrender yourself to the peace and tranquility that surrounds you.

Of course, peace and tranquility are great and everything, but there's only so much poignant riverside meditation and sheep watching you can do, so I suggest you take a wander around these places as well:

Beaumaris Castle - I'm not a huge fan of castles. They're a bit like churches or temples if you ask me, but Beaumaris Castle is definitely worth a visit. It is one of the most complete castles in Wales, and I am told it is a beautiful sample of Edwardian architecture. Even if you're not that into architecture, it is a really great interactive experience, its numerous walls and tunnels offering plenty of opportunities to explore and let your imagination run wild. Once you make it out of the dark slightly creepy tunnels within the castle walls, you can meander on top of these same walls and enjoy the refreshing green-ness of surrounding fields. You can easily spend an hour if not more at this site. It is also child friendly and has mini playground with a bouncy castle next door.

Chester - Although not technically a Welsh city, at least a fourth of it is in Wales so it counts. It is home to the Chester racecourse, known as Roodee, the oldest racecourse still in use in England. Races take place throughout the year, with special racing festivals in August and May. These offer a great chance to don your best heels and grandest hats, and make like Eliza Doolitle and holler "move yer bloomin' arse!" at passing strangers (or horses). Aternatively, you can wander around and admire the wonderfully preserved and restored medieval architecture, and walk a top the city walls.

Trwyn Du Lighthouse - A visit to the lighthouse on a beautiful day is like stepping into a picture postcard. Your frustrations instantly melt away as soon as you step onto those white pebbles and feel the heat of the overhead sun. It is a great place for lounging, reading, drawing, flying kites or crab fishing.  Across the water you will also see Puffin Island, the ninth largest island off the coast of Wales and more excitingly, a Special Protection Area for coastal wild life such as Puffins and Great Cormorants. If you look hard enough you might even catch site of one (or both) of the seals that live in the bay.

Bangor and the Eisteddfod, Wales

I have shingles. Sigh. It is the most painful horrible thing ever and it is definitely making me hate Wales a tiny bit. And traveling. It is also making me question my fascination with traveling. One of these days I will post about the dangers of traveling, as well as my top ten countries worth visiting.

First, a bit on the magical Eisteddfod of Wales.

Pronounced es-TETH-vod, the Eisteddfod is a festival which takes place in Wales every year around the first week of August. It is a national festival, a time when all Welsh clans gather, travelling from all parts of the country, and even all parts of the world such as Welsh Patagonia, to celebrate and declare the strength and vitality of the Welsh language and culture. Within the grounds of the Eisteddfod, you are in a different world, a magical world of druids and bards, dragons and soothsayers. At least that is what I'm assuming it was like back in the 12th century when the festival tradition began. The druid tradition is still followed to the extent that ceremonial gatherings such as the awarding of the chair for poetry (an actual chair at that), is overseen by an Archdruid and her council of 150+ other druids, all dressed the part and all scholars of the Welsh language, music, or literature. Poetic bards are called upon to entertain the crowds with lyrical mastery between speeches at ceremonies. Dragon cheese and ale are popular (so good), and although there was no sign of any soothsayers, there was a mysterious procession of people shrouded in white with skeletal horse masks on.

While many traditions are of pagan origin, the stone circle left behind on site each year, many new ones have been incorporated over the years, such as the flamboyant giant of a pink tent at the centre of the grounds. It draws attention from all directions, screaming to be seen yet peacefully sitting amongst rolling green fields and white fluffy sheep. The festival is a very large event, one which requires a year's planning and fund-raising to organize. It is something for young and old, and refreshingly, it is something which all generations truly seem to enjoy taking part in. Young boys and girls eagerly practice their steps for the traditional clog dancing competitions, modern theater and art performances are available for viewing. Older people interact with non-Welsh tourists in Welsh taster classes, and even academic and political discussions are organized to debate the future of the Welsh language and culture. There is something very special about the way visitors of the Eisteddfod interact, the joy and laughter which permeats the air, and the general sense of acceptance of the self, the specially designated areas for children to run and scream and destroy things. A truly ingenious use of haystacks.

As an outsider it is really refreshing to see a culture within a larger nation which strives to maintain its identity, and enjoys doing so. My observations may be slightly skewed of course, but that is certainly what it feels like within the rose tinted tent.

 More information about next year's Eisteddfod can be found here.

Nazi bunkers, fishing and oil rigs

So I'm back in Europe, but this does not mean I have stopped travelling. In fact, I'm travelling more than ever, nearly to the point of delusional exhaustion which results in me walking into doors. Safe to say I'm happy that I will be in ONE place for a whole three weeks. Amazing.

This one

At the end of June I went to Norway to visit that one there > and had a great time. It was beautiful. I discovered that fjords in Norway are everywhere (it is one of those things you have to see to believe) and the people are lovely, albeit slightly sceptical of my very obvious foreign-ness. They are also very tall. I have never felt smaller than when surrounded by tall blonde Norwegians in blue blazers in a cramped bar in Stavanger. It's not like you exactly care though when you're in the company of good friends and you're all acting a bit loopy on the dance floor.

Stavanger is the cutest little seaside town/city. It is technically a city, because it has a cathedral, but it really feels more like a town. Especially when you see a giant cruise ship docked in the harbor towering over the wee wooden pubs and houses. Old Stavanger lies on the left of the harbour if you're facing inland, and is comprised of tiny white wooden houses, tiny flower gardens and cobbled streets which lead you up the hill to the tinned mackerel museum. Very cool and interesting if you're into old labels and adverts, but it was enough just to see the free exhibit at the front. To the right of the harbour are pubs, restaurants and more meandering cobbled streets which lead you to more pubs and restaurants.  

I would like to say that many Norwegian stereotypes apply. People are tall, blonde and outdoorsy. They dress very smart in navy blue blazers, or practical down jackets and wind breakers. A trip to the coast includes a fishing trip on a boat. Rocks and boulders resemble trolls and wooded areas look like they were taken straight out of an illustrated fairy tale book about the animals of the forest. Unexpected factors of this trip included the sheer number of pale peach jelly fish in the sea, the exploration of spooky nazi bunkers on the cliffs of Hausvik, and the horrible monster of a hangover that I had after drinking one too many øls. Locals beers are delicious. I particularly recommend the White Dog Lervig øl from Stavanger.

Finally, the landscape. I think this is where I finally understood the utter fascination some artists have with landscapes. Don't get me wrong. I have always enjoyed a good view, but never really understood why. Then standing on the side of a cliff peering out into the ocean, I realized that nothing compares to that feeling you get when you are confronted by the sheer size of the world in comparison to your tiny self. There is nothing that compares to standing on top of a rock or a mountain surrounded by nothing but scenery, giant jagged rocks plunging into a sapphire coloured ocean, bright blue sky above you, wind whipping at your hair and waves crashing against the rocks below you. And then the technological addiction kicks in and I understood the frustration so many landscape artists must have felt as the tried, and still try, to reproduce an image of their surroundings. Try as I may, no picture will ever capture that feeling. But a drawing might.