After three ‘turbulent’ flights I arrived in Calgary in (two) pieces. Stan, who follows my blog, picked me up from the airport. This Polish man opened his home to me and before I put down my head we had a (typical Polish) lovely light meal of bread and butter, different cheeses, meat and pickles. The next morning I left for Banff.

It feels like I’m cycling in Central Asia. The landscape is wide and wavy with brown and green tones and a lake here and there. I’m in Connemara. From Killarney I headed north.

It has only been two weeks since I got on my new bicycle in Tilburg to head south. First into Belgium, then France, England and Wales. Now I’ve arrived to Fishguard, my last stop before getting on the ferry to Ireland.

2 months in the Netherlands after 13 months living as a nomad. What’s that like? First of all, it’s great to talk my native language again. No matter how fluent my English is, it’s still different to express myself in the language I grew up speaking.

If you turn your holiday into your daily life, it’s no longer a holiday. Twelve years ago I got on my bicycle for my first cycling trip. My motivation: independency, to see the world, curiosity, challenge and to grow as a human being.

‘You haven’t been gone that long yet..‘ my brother said to me on the phone this morning, as we casually discussed when I might be in the Netherlands again. Amazing how perception of time can differ.

A trip is like a dish, a combination of ingredients. Sometimes it’s like a three course menu; a memorable starter (where and how I wake up), a sublime main course (the bikeride itself) and a delicious dessert (the arrival and the evening).