The highs/top outings during our trip were:

• Millions of stone pillars, near the ocean (giants causeway)
• Pet a sheep
• Two days living in a small pod. BBQ, hottub, rabbits, gathering wood for a fireplace (Kinelarty luxery glamping pods)
• The (very similar to a dutch) beach
• Impressive cliffs (cliffs of moher)
• A pint with a curry

The lows (for me):

• Belfast. I have to be honest, I struggled with this city, mainly because of the atmosphere created by the murals. Many of the tours focus on wall paintings about past conflicts, and the figures portrayed were involved in very violent events. Seeing them displayed so prominently, almost celebrated, and called ‘volunteers‘ felt unreal to me. In my mind, ‘volunteer‘ was being used as a synonym for people who committed acts I find deeply troubling. When I told my friends that my first step to improve the city would be to paint over all those walls, they couldn’t understand me at all.
  The strange thing is that the people were incredibly friendly. It was the only place where someone shared his whole life story with me while we waited for the bus, and the only place where asking for directions led a woman to start in Welsh and then switch instantly to English when she saw my face.
  Very warm people, but for me, the city itself felt heavy and depressing.
• Very long rides, long times in the car. Lots of days we spend between 2 and 6 hours in the car. A lot and quite stressfull.
• Spanish timetables. Eating late, like in Spain, is not the Irish way. Finding a place to eat after 22:00 was not a nice experience, and we ended up lots of times eating fastfood or chinese.
• Last day. Stress. Wake up early, drive 3.5 hours to the airport to return the car, take a bus to the airport, check in, and take the plane. No breakfast, no lunch, only coffee, and after arriving take the bus home and walk for 15 minutes with 4 huge bags. Not the best way to end the holiday, thats for sure.

The next morning we headed out early, towards a little beach. But soon the route started to look suspiciously familiar… The beach was only 5 km from the castle we had visited the day before. So another 200 km of driving. And after the beach, plus a few other sights in the area, another 200 km back.

In the end we clocked 600 km (and also 6 hours) that we could easily have avoided if I hadn’t trusted the AI so blindly. Unfortunately, I only realized that when it was already too late.

Seeing and experiencing plenty of places is of course an important part of the holiday. So far, the plan looks perfect for discovering many different sides of Ireland. I also have my own wishes for this trip, and that’s to get a little taste of Irish life and I don’t think that’s difficult at all. Starting the day with a nice big breakfast, and ending it with a pint in the pub. That feels like the right way to experience Ireland.

A few times a year I add the photos from my camera and phone to my archive. That archive started small: maybe 30 or 40 photos per year. But taking photos has become so easy, and sharing or receiving photos so normal, that I now have years with more than 10,000 photos. Far too many, of course. Sometimes I even feel like a kind of digital hoarder: someone who fills their house with everything they can get their hands on, but digitally. Every little screenshot, every failed photo, every duplicate shot ends up somewhere in a folder. It piles up without me noticing, to the point where the archive feels more like a digital storage unit than a collection of memories. By deliberately pruning, I make the archive usable again, a collection I can browse without feeling overwhelmed, where the photos that remain actually say something about that year and about my/our life. That, to me, is the essence of selecting an archive.

That’s why I introduced a clear rule: about 100 photos per year. And for big events, a maximum of 100 photos per event. The focus is on photos with family and friends, supplemented with a few landscapes or nature shots that truly add something. It’s the same logic as my paper albums. I do look at those from time to time, precisely because they only contain the photos that matter.

100 photos per year, 26 years, plus a few major events. Still a substantial collection, but finally one I can view, cherish, and maintain. An archive that works as an archive again, and not as a digital basement full of forgotten files. A way to preserve memories without drowning in the sheer amount.

As the Rodriguez, there’s the routine of going to work every day. After that, it’s keeping the house in order, cleaning, cooking, washing clothes, drying, folding and storing, tidying up, take care of the pets and everything else that comes along. Ana even tried to give me an extra task: painting the entire house. Fortunately, I managed to diplomatically avoid that one. And if I do happen to find a bit of scarce free time, it usually goes into cleaning the car, dusting the shelves, reorganizing the kids’ toys, cleaning the windows, and so on.

With all these tasks, it’s unlikely I’ll have any time left for myself, but if it does happen, I might still squeeze in a bit of enjoyment: a movie, a series, some music, playing around with my laptop, some exercise, a walk in the woods, working on my game, experimenting with my blog, an outing with the guys, a bit of shopping, building a LEGO set… The small freedoms of a Rodriguez, hidden between the responsibilities.

And honestly: it was a pretty fascinating match. Spain won 1–0, but it could easily have been 15–0. They spent almost the entire game on Argentina’s side of the field — passing, edging closer to the goal, every attack a small chance. You could see the frustration building in the Argentinians; the game became more physical, until a red card send one of the Argentinos home. Only in extra time did the ball finally fall right, and then it was over quickly. There was some pushing and complaining and Trump popped up on screen for a moment, and that was the whole story.

I watched alone at home. I have to work again tomorrow, so after the final whistle I headed to bed. For Ana and the kids it was a completely different story: the celebration exploded there. After the victory they walked to the beach with a big group of children, celebrating, laughing, jumping into the water for a moment. A spontaneous summer evening celebration you only get when everyone is swept up in the same wave of euphoria.

Ana prefers a different kind of holiday, where activities and experiences follow each other at high speed. I’m increasingly choosing convenience. Getting an ice cream. Finding a geocache in the town. A little trip to buy some eel. A walk along the beach with a kroket to finish it off. Wonderful.

Still, I try to plan one fun activity every year. Mudflat hiking, Volendam, Efteling, Rotterdam. This year I want to take a trip to Limburg. The province where my godparents lived, and where I spent many holidays myself. Visiting the Three‑Country Point, descending into a cave, and enjoying a good slice of vlaai. This year we’ll see. I ended up cancelling the trip to Limburg because the family in the Netherlands described the situation as ‘scorchingly hot’, and that’s not the best moment to go to Limburg.

The kids have two months of vacation ahead, so that will be an interesting period. They both received their report cards, and it was a very pleasant situation: they each had a list of perfect results or near perfect results. They’re very smart boys, and they’ve earned their vacation.

In terms of health, things are still going well. I still faithfully take my gram of vitamin C every morning, and the pills I used to buy in the Netherlands are now available in Spain as well. Together with the occasional little health experiment, I’m happy to say that I feel very good.