Jessica Gregson’s blog

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Some places I’ve been; some books I’ve read

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In early December, Clare and I went to Iceland with a small list of things that we wanted to achieve: 1. Dive Silfra; 2. Visit Jökulsárlón (something that’s been on my List for years); 3. Visit an ice cave (and lick it, though we didn’t know we would want to do the latter until we were actually inside); 4. See the northern lights. The entire trip was a crashing success, with items one through three achieved in good time, as well as achieving various other goals that we didn’t even know we would want to do until we did them (hammer a nail into a canvas at a Yoko Ono exhibition! Eat putrefied shark and then a massive pot of fondue to get rid of the taste! Touch a very fluffy Icelandic horse! See a lunar rainbow!) AND THEN as we were congratulating ourselves for an A+ trip, with the ever-unreliable northern lights as our only failure (and not through want of trying), our flight back to the UK was delayed by just enough time for the sky to clear and the northern lights to announce themselves about half an hour into the flight, whereupon EasyJet dimmed the cabin lights and everyone rushed over to the lefthand side of the plane with their noses pressed to the windows and a temporary but beatific sense of aurora-based camaraderie spread through the plane. ICELAND YOU ARE MAGNIFICENT.

On our last night we pushed the metaphorical boat out and booked into the Silica Hotel near the Blue Lagoon. Silica has its own private lagoon, which is open until midnight, which means that when we arrived, after an epic journey from the southeast of the country and fresh from licking glaciers, at 10pm, we were able to get changed and immerse ourselves immediately. One of my happiest memories of the trip is of floating on an inflatable ring in the milky water under a light rain, reading Sjón’s From the Mouth of the Whale by Kindlelight. (Good, but not as good as The Blue Fox, which is gorgeous.)

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The happiest person to ever enter an ice cave 

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Jökulsárlón 

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Putrefied shark, which I am mostly glad to never have to try again. Sorry, vikings. 

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At the end of December, I went to the end of the train line in rural Belgium for a new year’s eve wedding. It was minus five degrees but the air was clear as a bell and we were staying in an old monastery with an enormous fireplace that powered all the heating and hot water. On the morning of the wedding, which was also the final day of the year, I went outside for a wander in nothing but a dress, no coat, cup of coffee in my hands; everything was bright and frozen, as if the whole world was suspended.

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We piled into a fleet of cars to drive into France for the wedding ceremony, in a tiny village where the bride’s uncle was the mayor. As soon as we crossed the border the mist rolled in and when we had photos taken in the village green the leaves underfoot were crisp with frost. I read Scott Lynch’s Locke Lamora by fires, on trains, in bed with the lights out.

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In late January I went to Sierra Leone for one of the more stressful work weeks of my life. I barely read, but when I did it was Kenji Yoshino’s Covering, which had been recommended to me in Boston late last year. I walked on the beach and drank Star beer with friends and colleagues and lost my lovely replacement Mille Collines cardigan thing, exactly a year from when I lost the first one, also in Freetown. I passed by Paris on my way home, and had a single morning of sight-seeing, which I spent lurking like a goddamn gothic in Montparnasse Cemetery.

A post shared by Jessica Gregson (@clotidian) on

A post shared by Jessica Gregson (@clotidian) on

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In late February I had a work-related delay which meant I had an unexpected piece of dead time and so I looked for places that I could go that a) were one (inexpensive) flight from the UK, b) didn’t require a visa to be arranged in advance, and c) I hadn’t been to before. Thus: six days in Cape Verde, serendipitously arriving for Carnival. I bounced between the islands of Sal, São Vicente and Santo Antão, went for four dives and saw my first shark, hiked down from a volcanic crater through heavy mist, ate plenty of delicious food, watched various Carnival shenanigans, listened to live music, read the entirety of Mira Grant’s Newsflesh books, and got mugged once, but that was a small price to pay.

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First night in Santa Maria

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Watching the Carnival parade, Mindelo

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‘Mandinga’, Mindelo Carnival

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Hiking from Cova Crater with Edison

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Boats at Ponta do Sol

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Looking west from Ponta do Sol

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Clouds on the volcano

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Mystery white-clad woman on the pier, Santa Maria

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Written by Jess

March 10, 2017 at 6:15 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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