Iceland, Scotland, France

For the most part I don't know what to expect, which I suppose is the point of travel.

Iceland's supposed to be cold. The high for the next few days in Reykjavik is around 46 degrees. Reykjavik is Iceland's largest city, with a population of 120,000. The second largest city is Akureyri in the north, population 17,000, which is presumably colder, being farther north.

I had the thought the other evening that the farther north one travels from the equator, the more organized things become, the more things have been resolved in regard to civilizations' discontents, and that was why I've traveled north more in my life than south. But when I see the thought in writing I see it's a neurotic thought tinged with racism.

In preparation, I'd meant to read Auden's "Letters from Iceland" but got stuck in the big Kierkegaard bio I'm reading and couldn't get out. I might die while reading the K bio. K's the quintessential northerner, a man in whom all the anxieties of the civilized world took up residence. I'm traveling light--4 shirts, 3 pairs of pants--and taking K's "The Present Age", a small little book. Written in 1846, the book begins, Our age is essentially one of understanding and reflection, momentarily bursting into enthusiasm and shrewdly relapsing into repose. I'm eager to see if K's thinking goes where I think it's going.

From Iceland I'm traveling to Scotland. Having been to Scotland before I know what to expect. One night in Glasgow will do, then we're heading north. The plan's to wind up on The Orkney Islands and do some hiking there. I'm bringing my golf clubs, want to play Crail, Aberdeen, Cruden Bay and maybe Dornoch, which I played before in a northern gale in 1996. I remember I had trouble holding onto my clubs and that I made only 2 or 3 pars. I'd just started playing serious golf and loved the game to the point of obsession, would dream at night about good 5-irons I'd hit, and I managed to trudge around Dornoch, wet and cold, playing all 18 holes. Now that I like rather than love playing golf, I'm a much better golfer.

There's a train we can catch from Aberdeen to London, then from London to Paris. From Paris we may take the train to Clermont-Ferrand or we may rent a car and drive there. We'll stay at least a week in Montaigut-le-blanc, a village about 25 miles southwest of Clermont. Our friend there, Jean-Pierre, is in a hospital nearby. Francoise his wife says it doesn't look good. He's smoked since he was a teenager, hand-rolled cigarettes made of strong tobacco. I want to see him and try to make him laugh as much as he's made me laugh through the years. If I get the chance and can pull it off, the trip will have been a great success.