Reykjavik, Iceland: I’m thirty, thirsty and I only want to hear Ja Ja Ding Dong.
Dublin, Drogheda and Belfast, Ireland: I turn 27, tarot cards predict my pregnancy and some girls threaten to beat me up.
So here I am again, a bit heartbroken and in need of adventure and the company of a good friend. Two weeks ago I buried my dad, and now it’s my birthday. It feels strange trying to be happy amidst it all. Luckily I have long ago invited myself to the motherland of my other mother, Miss Sharon D, to celebrate me turning 27. I grab my sportsbag and hop on two planes – seriously, why are there no direct flights for such a short trip? – and am greeted with a big, warm hug and a lovely present when I arrive in Dublin.
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Sydney, Australia: Being a tourist in my own city, part two
In this blog post I go to the aquarium, wax museum, zoo and Sydney Tower. Then I go to to Sydney Morning Herald Cellar Door wine festival and celebrate Mardi Gras by going to a big gay pride parade.
Sydney, Australia: Being a tourist in my own city, part one
In this blog post I celebrate my first Australia Day, then I go to Luna Park and the Chinese Garden of Friendship. There are also a lot of pictures from the Bondi to Coogee coastalwalk, which I am obsessed with.
