The Grand Place in Brussels, Belgium, is encircled by two larger buildings and the lavish Baroque guildhalls of the former Brussels Guilds, St, Patrick’s 2026 The morning arrived cool and bright — about 51°F — the kind of crisp Brussels air that feels freshly washed, as if the city...
I slipped out of Amsterdam the way one leaves a dream — slowly, reluctantly, and with the faint suspicion that I’d forgotten something important, like my sense of direction or the last line of a poem. The canals shimmered in the morning light, each one a ribbon of memory I wasn’t quite...
Heading out of Amsterdam this morning and making my way south toward Brussels. I’ll follow the A16, stopping in Breda to fill up the petrol tank before crossing the border into Belgium. I’m turning the drive into a little adventure with a few stops along the way: 🧀 Gouda I’ll swing...
I woke up on my first full day in Amsterdam with that familiar mix of excitement and mild confusion — the kind that comes from sleeping in a new bed and remembering, only after a few seconds, that you’re not at home and the day ahead is entirely yours. Outside, the city was already in...
There’s waking up on a ferry… and then there’s waking up on a ferry when you’ve splurged on a proper cabin. I opened my eyes slowly, stretched across a bed that didn’t fold out of a wall, and thought, Yes. This is the version of me I aspire to be. For a blissful moment, I forgot I was...
There’s nothing quite like stepping out your front door in Waternish knowing you won’t see it again for four weeks. Four weeks! That’s practically an odyssey by modern standards. Odysseus had sirens and sea monsters; I have Google Maps, a boot full of snacks, and the faint suspicion I’ve...
Skye → Newcastle → Amsterdam → Brussels → Hamburg → Copenhagen → Oslo → Bergen → and Back Planning a long road trip isn’t about drawing a straight line on a map. It’s about understanding where effort belongs, where to slow down, and where logistics quietly matter more than scenery. A...
No one asks the strong if they’re tired.No one wondershow havey the weight has become,how many nightsthey’ve drowned quietly in their ownbreath,how often they’ve wantedsomeone – anyone –to notice without having to scream.But maybe that’s the curse of...