On our final morning in Dublin, we woke up at the ungodly hour of six in the morning. Frédéric had been a little restless through the night. The unpredictable Irish weather had rendered our planned cliff walk from Bray to Greystone a no-go on the previous day, and he really hated the idea of leaving the excursion to another trip. He had stealthily checked the weather right before waking me up, and quietly declared “it IS clear this morning so shall we go to Bray?”

I groaned at remembering my promise from a few hours earlier that we would go if it’s not raining in the morning. Unfortunately, we could not leave any later either or we risked not getting back in time for our lunch meeting with Nora. Bray and Greystone are situated to the south of Dublin, of which travel time by DART from Lansdowne Road (the station closest to us, 10-12 minutes walk) takes about 35 minutes and 45 minutes respectively. A trail of cliff walk of about 6km separates the edges of these two small towns and here are some photos from the walk.

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Frédéric loves Dublin. Rather, the nature of Dublin that’s close to both the sea and the mountains, while at the same time it being a bustling capital city yet maintains a particular quiet charm that isn’t drowned out by the sound of city traffic. He sees a life where weekends away from the work desk are spent exploring the great outdoors, especially in the Wicklow Mountains, given the taster that he’d got when we went to Glendalough recently.

About an hour drive the south from Dublin city centre, Glendalough (i.e. glen of two lakes) is a former monastic city and today a popular site for visitors who are keen to see the traces left behind from the monastic heyday against the beautiful setting of the Glendalough Valley. We’ll come back to that a bit later in the post.

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Drizzle, drizzle – just another typical Irish weather that greeted us in Galway. Like good troopers, we pressed on with the second part of our express roadtrip to the west coast. Direction: Connemara.

We hurtled down the small and windy roads of the region, while keeping an eye out for spots we’d like to take a break and enjoy at the same time. It was not always easy to find shoulders where we can safely parked though – the roads that are good for one-vehicle access in both direction often border ditches. Half-parking the car between the shoulders and the roads is a no go as oncoming traffic of some 100km/h at bends means certain blindspots that could very easily lead to some nasty bangs.

As the morning progressed, the sky did clear up considerably. We were lucky too, that for most part, it was rainy while we made our way in the car but when we stopped for photo-ops, the rain abated or ceased altogether, at times accompanied by bright blue and sunny sky. Couldn’t really complain about that now, can we? ;)

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My niece was wrapped in five layers of clothes and she also had her mittens and hats (yes, hats) on, yet among the first things uttered by the adorable 15-months-old was “cold cold”. Oh, she was happy to be out of the car, cheerfully demanded we hold her hands so she can “walk walk” – no one can accuse the girl of not knowing what she wants! – but the wind was strong and relentless. Not too many steps later, she gave up battling the wind-opposed walk in favour of being carried by her mummy, and only her mummy.

After taking a few obligatory scenery and family photos, her parents decided it would be best to take her into the visitors’ centre where it would be warm and cosy. Meanwhile, Frédéric and I stayed on for a short walk along the designated visitors’ path, partly to admire the beautiful cliffs, partly to stretch our legs after a long drive in from Wexford. I’ll let the photos take you through our path.

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Despite the nickname, Wexford was not particularly sunny when we visited recently. Like most part of Europe, it seemed to be mired in the unescapable winter chill, accompanied by frequent showers. The transition between sunny and rainy happened often and rapidly, making it singularly difficult to predict if we could go for a walk yet not be roasting under our winter coats and/or be drenched without a brolly.

Nonetheless, maybe I present, by photos, the County of Wexford that we saw, however briefly it may have been.

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A whirlwind week away can only be matched to a whirlwind week at home, right? Well, it may not look it but it certainly felt like it. As I set my to-do list for the next few days, and reviewed my calendar for the coming weeks, I realised things are liable to be crazier than ever. On the plus side, I manage to sneak in some reading time, which makes me pretty content at the same time.

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20 May: I know, a photo taken at Marks & Spencer is hardly exciting but have a read at the labels of these bottles. Juices with red pepper or asparagus in them? We tested out the one with asparagus in it and it actually was quite nice. Granted, there wasn’t too much asparagus in it to start with, but enough to give a hint of the taste. Honestly though, I miss the food hall of M&S. There are a couple of them in Paris; the food section in the branch on Champs-Élysées is very limited and the other branch is a bit far in Levallois-Perret (actually outside of Paris), thus why I’ve not yet been there, but it does boast a much bigger food hall so maybe I should at least check it out once!

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River Saar flows from Mont Donon to Trier, its length splits to sit nearly half-half between France and Germany. In the region of Saarland, Saarbrücken is at about the half-way point of the river. A little further south, it even acts as the natural border for the two countries, where the towns of Grosbliederstroff and Kleinblittersdorf are linked by a short bridge.

Our third train since leaving Nancy in the morning took us to Saarbrücken, followed by a tram ride to Kleinblittersdorf to check-in to our hotel, before crossing the bridge to Grosbliederstroff to attend C&V’s wedding. Since we don’t have time to explore any of these towns, the best I could do is to share the few photos that I took while we were there.

Grosbliederstroff

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My social media feeds have been flooded with various St Patrick’s Day-related photos, videos, well-wishes, articles and more. They are making me very nostalgic for the good ol’ days when I celebrated the festival with much gusto, as well as certain level of silliness, with my friends.

Today, I found a folder of photos from St Patrick’s celebration back in 2008 on my computer. These photos are precious to me. I have not been in Dublin for Paddy’s Day since 2009 (I was elsewhere, then I moved to France) so this was more or less the last time I properly celebrated the big day with the whole shebang: parade, céilí, pub crawl! (Previous years I even hosted parties at home – fun, but a lot of work!)

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On the eve before our departure for Reykjavík, I had the good fortune to across an article that talked about the emergence of Nordic cuisine, led by René Redzepi of Noma in Copenhagen. As I read through the article, my attention was steered immediately to the mention of DILL Restaurant, conveniently located in the city where I’d be visiting right the next day. I immediately sent an email to them, hoping to snare a table for LT and me with such short notice. We struck gold – they booked us in for Saturday night, hurrah!

Arriving back from the Golden Circle Tour, we hastily made ourselves presentable and requested the front desk for a taxi to drive us over. We were not far from the restaurant, but after the wet and windy day, we needed more comfort than ever. At least the rain seemed to have abated. I wasn’t sure my coat would be happy to get another dose of soaking!

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I should probably also add to the title of the post: on a very wet and windy day.

Our time in Reykjavík was limited. The deal for return flights and 3 nights hotel stay translated to only 2.5 days for activities – a fact not communicated to us until weeks after we’ve paid for this little promo. Had we known, we would have rethink the trip, and likely did it quite differently. No time for to cry over spilled milk here. We would just make do the best we can, and that included taking organised excursions so we at least get a taste of what Iceland is like.

We ought to be smart enough to judge the weather forecast before we booked onto a tour, but as the 2 full days that we had were both predicted to have a bunch of mixed conditions, our brains short-circuited and we failed to notice that one day would be warmer than the other (thus higher probability of being a nicer day). We picked the wrong one to take in some of the best sites outside of the Icelandic capital.

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A few months back, I saw a travel deal to Reykjavík that was all too tempting. I managed to wrangle my friend LT to travel together with me, and since hotel was already part of the deal, suffice to say we didn’t do too much pre-trip research. Two days before departure, I had a quick root-around the cyberspace and did a couple of things: book our airport transfer and made a reservation at Dill Restaurant.

We left Paris for our long weekend break on a cloudy afternoon (oh it was bright above the clouds, of course), and were greeted with an even cloudier sky on arrival in Keflavík International Airport. I mentally went through my wardrobe option in my backpack and prayed I have not under-prepared for the trip. It was the end of April and I was banking on early spring weather (even I wasn’t delusional enough to think we’d get early summer weather), so I was probably alright. At worse, I’d just do some shopping.

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One of the best thing about living in Paris is the ease one escapes from Paris. Ownership of a private mean of transportation optional.

For someone who likes to travel, this is essential. Paris being a massive travel hub means I could either take the RER/Transilien to visit areas in Ile-de-France, the main rail services for trips around France and all its neighbouring countries (and then some), as well as flights to the rest of the world. I know, there are bus options to travel around Europe too, but I’d rather pay a wee bit more and shorten the travel time, given I don’t exactly have unlimited paid holiday to take.

And well have I been busy taking advantage of this in the last twelve months or what… February (as in 2 months ago) was the only month in which I stay put in entirety in Paris. If it hadn’t been a short month, who knows where I could have jaunted into? ;)

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There’s macaron, and there’s macaroon. One looks like a mini sweet burger with creamy ganache as the filling, sandwiched between two smooth-shell almond-flour meringue biscuits. The other is spiky and brown from the baking of shredded coconut.

A great macaron bursts with flavour and melts in your mouth. It is also delicate, requires gentle handling and probably put a major dent in your wallet.

Yeah, the last part is quite the trade-off for a good quality macaron. Some of the best come from the Parisian pastry houses of Pierre Hermé and Ladurée. The macarons they sell come between €1.50 to €2.00 a piece, which is steep for ganache-sandwiched meringues of the size of a small cookie. However, as a treat goes, it’s worth every single cent paid for these babies.

I’m no macaron expert, but my friends and I have previously conducted a rather unscientific tasting after purchasing macarons from several pâtissier in Paris. Between Pierre Hermé, Gérard Mulot, Arnaud Larher, Christophe Roussel and Art Macaron of Mathieu Mandard, we had quite a macaron overload but we also came to a conclusion that the majority prefer Pierre Hermé. I do wonder though, how will it fare had we bought some from Ladurée as well that day for the taste-off?

My favourite flavour from PH’s collection is undoubtedly that of Infiniment Caramel (caramel au beurre salé), followed by Rose and Infiniment Vanille (vanilla). The most unusual flavour that I have tasted from them was that of white truffles (the fungus variety, not chocolate). I see that they have new flavour of Fragola (strawberry and balsamic vinegar), which I’m aching to try.

There are cheaper generic macarons available, but in my experience, they don’t measure up to the works of the masters. They may be equally colourful, but the flavour tends to be weak and one piece tastes the same as the next. It’s such a shame.

Ps: on a creative note, here’s a recipe that makes a combination of macaron and macaroon.

If there is one city that you would go time and again, which would it be? London? New York? Tokyo? Melbourne? Mine is easy. Ask any of my friends and they can tell you without hesitation.

Paris.

What gives it away? Maybe it’s because I visit the city every year, often multiple trips in the same year. It’s hard to keep me away from the French capital. ;)

Mind, Paris and I had a tumultous start. The first time I was there, she was like an ice queen, beautiful yet aloof. I was very young then, an unseasoned traveller with a lack of finesse in how I dealt with people. I admit to feeling privileged and I did not understand the cultural undercurrent beneath the foreign language that I haven’t a clue beyond bonjour and merci at that stage.

Over the year, things got better. Waaay better. I learnt French (still learning – I need lots more practice time) and tried to understand their ways (there are so much embedded in culture and lifestyle that I barely scrap the surface), and more importantly, I made friends living in the city. They welcome me with open arms, had me entangled in their lives (in a very good way, as I met their friends and families too), and so much of my happy memories are undeniably linked to them. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I like to think that I know the city pretty well by now. At least enough for the owner of Mouff’tarte (they do fantastic savoury and sweet tarts) to recognise me by sight! Next time, I’ll get him to remember me by name? Lol.