From the moment our wings were clipped during the first Covid lockdown, in 2020, and we couldn’t go more than 2km from our homes, I had an overwhelming desire to pack up my things and drive far and long in just about any direction. As time wore I found myself fantasising about morning beach walks, forest-dappled sunsets and delicious foreign food.
As a life coach I always tell my clients that the power of their decision is enormous and that only when we make a decision do we then act on it. So after two years of talk I decided that a nomad’s life, travelling across Europe in my little silver car, with Molly, my gorgeous four-year-old chocolate cockapoo, in the passenger seat, was a decision worth making, especially as I was single and had a big birthday approaching. A 40th bash in the sun was a very appealing concept.
My loose plan was to spend two or three months in France, Spain, Italy and Portugal. I had vague ideas of hopping from one Airbnb to another, but I also wanted to keep my plans loose, to allow for spontaneity and adventure.
So in February this year, with my car packed like a Tetris champion’s dream and Molly’s pet passport safely next to mine, we took the ferry to Holyhead, in north Wales, on the first leg of our journey. As I sailed away from all my friends and family, from a language I could actually speak and from all the comforts of my comfort zone, I was so excited about the prospect of new adventures, meeting new people, seeing new places and learning things along the way.
From Baby Reindeer and The Traitors to Bodkin and The 2 Johnnies Late Night Lock In: The best and worst television of 2024
100 Years of Solitude review: A woozy, feverish watch to be savoured in bite-sized portions
How your mini travel shampoo is costing your pocket and the planet - here’s an alternative
My smear test dilemma: How do I confess that this is my first one, at the age of 41?
After a stop in London to visit friends I hopped on the channel-tunnel train to France, for a month in Paris. I had booked a tiny but gorgeous studio apartment in the centre of the artists’ quarter of Montmartre, excited to immerse myself in the Parisian way of life. Of course in the first week I had croissants and coffee for breakfast, went to a local market and walked home with a fresh baguette protruding from my jute market bag, and ate onion soup and goat’s cheese salads in corner cafes while Molly attracted lots of attention from people at neighbouring tables.
People were concerned before I left the city. “Is it safe to be travelling on your own?” they asked. When it comes to safety, the same rules apply no matter where you are in the world: keep your wits about you; don’t go anywhere dark or ominous late at night; and keep a close eye on your belongings.
People also asked if I’d be lonely. You’re never lonely as a solo traveller with a gorgeous dog in tow — striking up conversations about each other’s dogs had already made me lots of friends in Paris. And travelling with Molly has been incredible. I now realise that Ireland is the least dog-friendly place I know. Molly has come with me everywhere in Europe, and all the restaurants and bars we have visited have welcomed her, and quickly offered a bowl of water (even before my drinks are served).
She has sat on my lap as I’ve had my hair or nails done, and waited patiently in dressingrooms while I’ve tried on clothes. Despite her strange ban from most parks in Paris, and from all places of worship in the city, there is nowhere I haven’t been able to bring her.
The biggest personal concern I had, and something I worried about endlessly before I left, was driving my car on the right-hand side of the road. That has come to be one of my biggest life lessons. The thing I wasted energy worrying about has turned out to be the thing I am most proud of. Molly and I have now driven more than 25,000km on the right-hand side of the road. We have survived the dreaded Arc de Triomphe roundabout, in Paris. We have lived in Dénia, on the Costa Blanca in Spain, and Marbella, on the Costa del Sol. We have had stints in Lisbon and Albufeira, in Portugal, and spent two months in the south of France, taking in Provence and Occitanie. We are currently in Italy, where we have spent the past few months travelling around Tuscany and the Emilia-Romagna region, in the north.
Molly has visited the Eiffel Tower and Lisbon’s 25th of April Bridge, and explored many Spanish beaches. We have kayaked together on Lake Garda and spotted George Clooney’s house on Lake Como. She has been on a gondola in Venice, visited Juliet’s balcony in Verona and sampled lots of pasta in Bologna and Florence. I am convinced she can now bark in at least four languages.
Our travel has not been as expensive as you’d think. With Airbnb you can get some really affordable options, particularly if you are staying for an extended period of time and are willing to stay outside city centres, and in general the cost of living has been so much lower than in Ireland. Since my cliche-laden first week in Paris I’ve kept reminding myself that I’m not on holiday but on a year abroad, working remotely, and that, while it’s been important to take everything in, it’s also important to stick to put a budget.
Did I pick a great year to travel by car, considering the increase in the price of petrol? No, but I have a very fuel-efficient car, and it has definitely been cheaper than air travel. The most expensive times for me have been when I have had friends or family come visit me and it has entailed a jam-packed schedule. As we get older, we single people often struggle to find people to go on holiday with. One sure way to beat that, I’ve found this year, is to go away by yourself: you’ll soon have a long list of visitors. I have been so incredibly lucky to spend such great quality time with so many of my friends and family this year — something that has, ironically, been a brilliant consequence of my decision to go away.
In a few days we will leave Italy. We’ve decided to rack up some more kilometres by taking in Croatia, Slovenia and Switzerland before embarking on the drive home to Ireland, in December. Our trip has passed in the blink of an eye. I can’t recommend a European adventure enough to anyone thinking of taking to the road. If nothing is stopping you other than fear, then face your fear and do it anyway.
As I strap on my ruby slippers for the final leg of an incredible year-long adventure with my dog whose name isn’t Toto, I am glad to report that there truly is no place like home.
