The house is a metaphor for the self ...

The house is a metaphor for the self, of course, but it is also totally real.  And a foreign house exaggerates all the associations houses carry.
Frances Mayes, extracted from Under the Tuscan Sun.

I love the words I find written in Frances Mayes book, Under the Tuscan Sun.  I’ve been carrying this book with me, wherever I move, since before moving to Te Anau, New Zealand, and that was way back before 1999.

The book is so veryvery different to the movie.  My idea is that the book is for writers and dreamers, while the movie is a straight out chick flick ... humble opionion, of course.

The Belgian Bloke ...

I often travel alone ... I’m lucky, the man who found me in Istanbul accepts that a New Zealander living in Turkey might be a bit of a wanderer.

But sometimes he travels with me however I can’t always blog all about that while on the road.  It’s the kind of information burglars might rather enjoy.  There’s the whole google face recognition thing these days and so, when I travel with my Belgian, he’s often not mentioned and it’s sad because I do enjoy traveling with him.

This trip to Ireland was special in so many ways.  He had decided he wouldn’t be driving.  Instead, he had hired an Irish rental car and it was all about me getting back behind the wheel after 7 years as a passenger. 

It has to be said, I loved driving back in New Zealand.  Loved it with a passion!  Friends visiting New Zealand can attest to that, although I would rather they didn’t critique my style here.  Yes, that means you Diede, and perhaps Mary Lou too.

Anyway ... I was a little bit nervous about it all.  7 years is a long time. 

The rental car bloke in Ireland said, ‘so you’re okay with a 2011 Peugeot 308?’  I think I gave him a wee bit of a fright.  I didn’t hug him but I might have said, ‘I’ve only just arrived in Ireland and here I am, having a really excellent time!!!’  He almost smiled, which we felt was an event, as Gert and I weren’t sure he smiled a lot normally.  It was possibly the equivalent of a hearty laugh from a more easily amused bloke.

We trotted out and loaded up the car.  Gert had maps.  He’s great with maps.  I’m not.  I never know where I am in the world.  I accept that.

We did all kinds of M Roads on our journey from Dublin Airport across to Galway, over there on the other side of Ireland.  It was grand.  I had imagined I would sit around 90kms p/h in the slow lane in those places where the speed limit was 120kms but do you know, it all came back to me.  120kms was okay.  Gert liked my driving.  He’s a Flemish bloke.  He’s fairly blunt when it comes to truth-telling.

And we timed it nicely.  His directions were excellent.  I didn’t drive him crazy, not once.  A miracle.

Anyway, we arrived in one piece at the home of the lovely Rob and Angie and just kind of stepped into this magical time of wandering and boating and fishing and stuff, in Ireland.

I took this photograph of Gert fishing ... but that’s a whole other story, involving trees and fish and things.

Ireland!

So I did it ... passed the ‘haven’t driven in 7 long years’ test.

There was the flight from Brussels to Dublin, with the politest airline I’ve ever been on ... Aer Lingus.  So polite, so sensible, so amusing.
Loved them!

Boarding order was strictly enforced.  Really. Then, so sensibly, they had the people at the back of the plane board first ... so we didn’t have to wait while those at the front of the plane faffed about with their overhead lockers.

I laughed, thinking ‘they’re teaching us manners’, as they enforced the order of boarding ... with charm.  A first over here, I have to confess.  It was so like New Zealand's way of being that I could only smile.

My first drive in 7 years was only a Peugeot 308.

A 2011 Peugeot 308!!!


I think the Hertz guy almost smiled (and he didn’t seem like a big smiler) when he asked if that was okay.  I was surely a little bit sparkly and enthusiastic.

It’s a diesel, with 14,000kms on the clock.  It handles like a dream.  I thought I might just stay in the slow lane and sit around 90kms for the 200km trip across Ireland, from Dublin to Gallway and beyond but ummm no ... it handled well at the speed limit of 120kms.

Along the way, we stopped at Athlone for a little food but made sure we picked up a Christy Moore cd.  He was just the perfect traveling companion, up loud as we drove.

We arrived, found Rob and Angie’s, met Gus and Jessie - their big beautiful dogs, had a lovely glass of red wine handed to me and we sat down to chat some of the night away. 

This morning, I made myself get out of bed just before 8am ... groaning a little, as the bed is one of those ones that are good to just kind of stay in but there’s talk of a bit of a sail today, out on the water here where we are, after we’ve walked the dogs in the forest.  This New Zealander is just beside herself with excitement over it all.

Sadly, I did forget that Ireland is an hour behind Belgium, well, it’s on GMT actually.  And it may be that my 7.45am, ‘feet on the floor, Di’ was really a 6.45am start.  Oh well, it gave me time to write here before I go off and harass Rob for some coffee.

So, good morning, and I’ll let you know how it goes.