….And here we are, just over six months later, and we’ve successfully left you on the edges of your seats, waiting both with great anticipation and a bit of trepidation about what’s coming next. Little did you know, this big question mark is a pretty accurate summation of the lack of direction in our lives post-European workation. In fact, by writing nothing, we have at least communicated our indecisiveness about “what comes next,” even if we have not shared the details of this open-ended journey. 
After we left Spain, we headed back to Paris to pack: pack up all of the baggage we’d brought with us initially (and had gradually ditched along the way), AND pack as many last-minute activities and as much “meaning” as we possibly could into our last couple of days in Europe. This inevitably led to a checklist of things we wanted to accomplish: 1. Visit with Anita, JR and Cloé, 2. Buy and consume French patisseries and chocolates, 3. Call Severin—a friend and fellow worker from our very first farm—who was now living in Paris, and of course, 4. Stroll about in the “city of love,” taking it all in.
A phone call to Severin began our days’ adventures, as what we thought would be a fat chance turned into bonne chance, and 20 minutes after contacting him we met up with him for lunch. Besides a great opportunity to catch up on the news of Mazy—our very first farm—and feel like our trip had come a bit full circle, Severin also provided us with an insider’s tour to Paris, as well as it’s tastiest confections. We saw a beautiful edible community garden, a beautiful old Japanese Pagoda which is now a theatre for independent films, and sampled caramel-coated pear mousse among other treats in the Tuileries gardens. And Severin had one more surprise up his sleeve: it just so happened that Scott, the Floridian who had been with us for grape harvesting as well as hitchhiking adventures back in September, was actually living with Severin in Paris, and had been taking French classes at L’Académie Française. And not only was Scott was in Paris, but now, after what seemed like just a few short months, he actually spoke French, and was even sharing little known insights with us about French grammar (refer back to our post in on 9/19/09 to better understand the full impact of this transition).
Finally we were off, but not quite home: this saga would not be complete without a trip to a land famous for its adventurous journeys: Middle Earth. We only had time to stay a short week, but we managed to: learn about the trolls and giants that formed the landscape; hike through the ash of active volcanoes; watch parades of icebergs, recently calved from glaciers, move out to sea and then be swept up like jewels on black sand beaches; dodge the nesting terns and gulls diving at us from steep cliffs; frolic in caves behind thundering waterfalls; visit houses built into the sides of grassy knolls; roam between hot springs and geysers; try to sleep despite the fact that the sun never set; visit the site of one of the first parliaments assembled in the world; take a tour of a facility which harnesses energy from the earth in order to power the country; try to decipher letters such as Þ, ð, θ in their unique language, and stand in the rift valley of the Eurasion and North American divergent tectonic plates, in a place not quite belonging to either. Now, if you’re up on your geography, you’ll realize that this rift valley– of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge– is not anywhere close to where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed, in New Zealand. However, having visited Iceland, I am certain that JRR Tolkien’s inspiration came not from a land of Kiwi birds, but instead from a land of small, stocky horses (which we were warned NOT to refer to as ponies, as the natives will be very offended!). I could just picture hobbits hopping on their backs to traverse the rough-hewn peaks, just as we jumped in our trusty steed—our rented Skoda—for our own adventures.
We had rented this car for a pretty reasonable price from a company called “Sad Cars”—we never did find out why they had such an optimistic company name—and immediately got a flat tire. Fortunately, they provided a full-size spare, and so we were able to continue on, being very careful to follow the driving guidelines printed on the visor: Do not drive off-road. Do not drive on unnumbered roads, or “roads that are marked with an F on public maps, as well as driving Kjölur (road 35) or Kaldidalur (road 550).” So, as we turned onto a non-“F” lettered road marked as 570 on our map, which ostensibly meant “safe and passable for our little rental car,” we never imagined that this very same road would later be used for a Jeep commercial: http://broadbandsports.com/node/40291 . Needless to say, we needed a few extra tries to power our little Skoda up some of the hills (we had already descended hills just as steep, so there was no turning back), but we powered on in slow motion (just like that Jeep!). We culminated our 10 kilometer “car hiking” adventure over 2 hours later and just as sweaty as if we had run it ourselves, but infinitely proud of our little trusty steed.
We had arranged a one week visit to Iceland before we’d even left the U.S. (as it was cheaper to buy two flights: Parisà Reykjavik, Reykjavikà Boston, then to buy one flight from Paris to Boston, with a short layover in Reykjavik), and originally we looked for Help-X hosts to stay with. After hearing nothing for months, on our last day in Spain I had grudgingly paid a deposit to Sad Cars (this would be our biggest expenditure of the whole trip besides the airfare), only to receive an e-mail minutes later from a Help-X host in Iceland who said she’d LOVE us to come! Well, it seemed a little silly to rent a car only to have it sit at their farm while we worked, so for the beginning of the week we explored on our own (camping is allowed anywhere which is not “private property or a national park,” which turned out to be pretty much everywhere). Just as we were getting a little bored of gorgeous 50’ waterfalls and exquisite scenery (which are literally everywhere), we arranged to stay with the hosts on their farm for our last 2 nights and help them process rhubarb. This was fun because were able to learn a lot more about Icelandic culture (which somehow our museum visits hadn’t quite covered), and also to shower before we had to face Passport Control at the airport and the next stage of travel.
So we made it home, but we’ve both decided that, although we’re not quite ready to hang up our traveling hats, our future workations will be shorter in length (we never want to travel with so much STUFF again: no additional clothing needed for changing seasons). We’re not sure where we’re headed next—Argentina? Scotland? Madagascar? Oregon?—but we will keep you informed as soon as our lives are once again interesting. I suppose substitute teaching, nordic ski coaching and snow making have their moments of great adventure, but somehow encounters with angsty teenagers or frozen snow-gun nucleators, while just as dangerous, are not quite as fun to recount as encounters with wild boar.
Have a very Happy New Year, and thanks for reading!
sambrey
