September | 2019 | nomadic cosmopolitan

Backpacking or roadtripping in Europe is something I haven´t done a lot, and started doing late in my travels, since the budget for a month in Europe can go a long way in Western Africa or Southeast Asia. Its also nice to visit Europe in the summer, which is prime work time, but early autumn or late spring is really the perfect time to visit. I got the excuse to go to Europe for 2 days of work, but extended it into a week long overland trip of big city hopping so I could try and justify my carbon emissions from Iceland and back.

Vor Frelsers Kirke

I started in Copenhagen, where I wanted to visit a dear horse-backriding friend Ditte, but that very same weekend she went to Iceland to ride so I borrowed her summer cabin for me and my favourite German riding friend. Michael had a bad knee so we didnt ride the Icelandic horses nearby in the town of Nykobing but we enjoyed the beaches of Sjaelland by bicycle and the weather was even good enough to barbeque dinner.

Copenhagen canals

We stopped in Copenhagen for a night to overlap with Ditte for one city bike ride and some touristic stops, and the next morning I flew to Hamburg, where I´d be meeting yet another horse friend Jana, for her birthday! We celebrated by scooting around town, day drinking and taking public transport ferries with roadbeers for a cheap booze cruise. We dined with some friends and sniffed some stuff that gave me a head rush, and the next morning we were finally off to ride. We rode Icelandic horses at a friends breeding farm called Bockholts-Hoff and rode thru a German forest on horses that had just arrived from Iceland. I wore my new yoga/riding/hiking pants that were a little too tropical for the rainy weather, but they must have been the reason the sun finally came out.

riding Icelandic horses in Germany

Next I was off to Rotterdam, via flight to Amsterdam and dinner with a Dutch horse friend, who rode those very Icelandic horses with Silke and I a few weeks earlier in Iceland. A short and sweet date before I checked into my Backroads hotel and was given a Backroads van to drive to Provence early the next morning.

Dijon

My ´work´ roadtrip took me 1,099km thru Holland, Antwerp and Belgium, then Luxembourg and into France. I drive past Moselle, Metz, Nancy, a bit of Champagne region, Dijon and spent a night in Beaune. Then I drove the Bourgogne trail, past the gastronomic capital of Lyon, along the Rhone and into Provence. We ended in Carpentras, where we keep our vans, and I spent a day bike touring thru Aubignan and Sarrians.

good thing our bikes have built in wine racks

Another day was spent traveling by train back to Paris, eating some moules frites on the streets of Montmarte, and left feeling like I had taken in an overwhelming amount of sights, tastes and culture from so many different corners of Europe. I had also managed to get a tan and feel the sun, so returning to a chilly fall in Iceland was very welcomed, especially since it was one of the first times Iceland was really experiencing a truly autumn season.

I make fun of golfers all the time. I say, “golf is for old, fat men” or, “golf is only for business meetings.” I thought golf was boring, pointless and drawn out. But, I was only a hater, not a golfer, so I decided to go with the mantra, you can’t knock it til you try it, and I tried it. And, I liked it. I hate to admit it, but it was fun.

driving at Oddur

I started by going to Oddur driving range in Gardabaer a couple of times, which is basically free if you have your own golf clubs, and you can buy a hundred balls for a few hundred kronurs. I inherited two of my father’s driving clubs, and decided it was time to learn how to hit a golf ball a few hundred yards. I had a few pointers, from two others who knew what they were doing, and it was so satisfying when I finally connected the club to the ball at the right angle and drove that ball far, far away.

hitting in the right place seems impossible from this far away

I didn’t quite feel the part without a one handed golf glove, so got that, and I needed a collared shirt too of course. A visor wouldn’t hurt, so I got one of those either, and in no time, I looked like a golfer. Ew. It was just too easy.

Now I was ready for my first real golf game. I did 9 holes at Icelandair Hotel Hamar, on kind of a cold, wet, day. Being exposed to wind and rain made it a lot harder to hit the ball straight, and just hit the ball in general, but everytime I did get it closer to the flag and into the hole, I was pumped for the next tee.

golf glove, yea!

I was on the way to Hotel Husafell the next morning to try out their golf course, but on the way, stumbled upon the farm Nes near Reykholt. They’ve turned their haying fields into a 9-hole golf course called Reykholtsdalsvollur. The grass was green, the sun was shining, and the farmer was about to mow the putting greens. He was a comical, old man who made jokes, told stories, and secretly laughed at our lack of golf skills.

Glanni golf course

My next real game of golf, a couple of weeks later, was at Bifrost’s Glanni golf course. There isnt anyone there to check in with, so you simply put some money in a mailbox and play as you please. There was’t anyone else on the course, so we played 9 holes in just under 3 hours, and I hit over par on all 9. I think I got a +1 once, lots at least 4 balls, but found 3, so I ended up feeling alright with the game. Overall, I feel alright with golf, and I’m going to stop making fun of the sport, although its still hard for me to call it a sport. It feels more like a stroll thru the park with a walking stick that works better hitting balls than