[Bringing my travels up to date will take some time. For now I’m culling/organizing my photos and arranging chapters for future writings. As a result there is less narrative and more imagery. However you wish to view these posts: a quick perusal, a lingering glance, or a stepping stone to your own travels, I hope you will be no less inspired.]
It was a difficult decision to leave Iceland. But I’ve learned to trust my instincts and the decision seemed to be the right one.
I sought a place I could stay a month or so away from cities and confinements imposed by laws intended to contain the pandemic. After a considerable search I found a home in the countryside outside the town of Vire in Normandy, France.
A new wave of pandemic restrictions would necessitate written agendas when entering towns, but the area was populated with more horses, cows, and sheep than people. Country roads, fields, and walking paths became my new haven.
I stayed for two months.
Although the opportunity for conversation was infrequent, I waved to the farmers as they drove their tractors in their fields, spoke to the shop owners (those selling essentials and had permission to remain open) when I made trips into town, and the occasional passerby while walking in the countryside. I admittedly said hello to the various animals too, despite their general indifference.
I enjoyed the simple routine of the days reading, strolling, exploring on foot and bicycle, keeping in touch with loved ones, and soaking in the sounds and sights of nature.
to be continued…