Picking up our brand new electric car in Oslo was the start of our next adventure. I’d already flirted with the “wrong” side of the road in a manual car during my escapades down south, so I felt confident enough. That confidence quickly unravelled as the car started yelling at me for no apparent reason, and the exits in the middle of a major city suddenly felt like the maze scene from the Triwizard Cup—confusing, and mildly terrifying.
Lost in the Fjords Read More »
Leaving Ireland felt like being cast as a member on Alone. The training wheels were off, and it was just the two of us.
I’m famously stubborn when it comes to luggage. Unless absolutely necessary, I refuse to pay for a checked-in bag. This character flaw (or strength?) is truly tested in Europe, where they’ve started charging for anything that doesn’t fit below the seat. Eventually, I caved (slightly) — four weeks in unpredictable weather couldn’t fit “under the seat in front of you.” I bought one 10kg bag that was allowed in the overhead compartment, selfishly squishing Méabh’s clothes into a small backpack. At this point, it’s become a game between the airline and me — just how far will she go to not pay the extras? At home, I always win, but on this flight, I was forced to buy a $5 protein ball for the hungry hippo sitting next to me.
Chaos in the Calm — Yurt Life in Norway Read More »
We wind down the narrow, serpentine roads, hedgerows hugging each side – the west of Ireland showcasing its stunning scenery. As we pass through charming little towns, I know we’re not in Kansas anymore.
“Hey Mum, look, a castle!” says Méabh, as if from a fairytale – Ireland’s rolling green hills, stone walls, and castles seem plucked from a storybook.
Through Kinvara, Lahinch, and Lisdoonvarna (feels like a song, doesn’t it?) — all towns along the Wild Atlantic Way — we arrive safely in Doolin. Sustained by tourism and agriculture, Doolin is the gateway to the Cliffs of Moher, the Burren, and the Aran Islands. Though relatively small, it doesn’t lack charm.
We meet Pat Sweeney at The Doolin Inn at 10 a.m. He later told me he was 10 minutes late the previous day because one of his cows was giving birth — not your standard tour guide. A local farmer by trade, a jovial tour guide by day.
Ditching the Crowds: Our Scenic Hike Along the Cliffs of Moher Read More »
Travel in my heyday — my youth, those yonder years — was unquestionably different. Disembarking the plane signalled the start of an adventure: no time wasted. After checking into a 20-bed dormitory in the heart of town; a pub, café, or attraction would be hit within minutes.
Today, I have to consider another human — and her plush toy, Chase — both still getting used to existing in this world. Hunger, exhaustion, and the small detail of not actually understanding we’ve travelled a million miles, all play a role in our next steps.
Week 1: From Sunshine to Sniffles — The Realities of Travel Read More »
The Elevator Scare I see fear flash across my preschooler’s face as the lift doors close and she disappears from sight. Oh shit, Up! Up! Up! I frantically press the button. The doors bounce back, open to the sound of Méabh thinking her Mum had left her to travel Europe on her own. We were five minutes into
Solo Parenting at 30,000 feet Read More »