Snow is so strange. To actually see these huge flurries descend on the city, and painstakingly paint everything white, millimeter by millimeter. As I left my French class on Thursday night (exam result: a pleasing 75%), I stepped out into the park to see a lamp-post half covered in snow. A lamp-post! Just like in Narnia. Who knew these things actually existed. I always thought that one had to go to the snow. I never really understood that it could come to you.

We did one final round of the plaisirs d’hiver (winter fun) markets in Brussels with our friends James, Colette and Grace from Leuven. While James and Colette defrosted in a café, the rest of us braved a walk through the insides of the inflatable ice monster chained up outside. Adrian was very amused at my screams due to the loud noises and people jumping out and grabbing my legs. I emerged feeling very unimpressed and it is unlikely that I shall ever walk through the bowels of another monster ever again.

In response to Laura’s challenge, Adrian constructed a balcony snowman, but I added the final touches to turn it into a bonchaton de neige (good kitten of snow). The snow is beautiful, magical, otherworldly, and extraordinarily sublime. It has however, shut down Brussels airport for two days this week. Fingers crossed we can fly out to Italy to meet our cruise today.

Our trip to Iceland was the maiden voyage of Icepedition, organised by Chris Gordon. It was a self-drive holiday, and a fantastic way to see the country. He gave us a map and an itinerary, arranged tours and accommodations, and met up with us most mornings and evenings to ensure that everything was okay. He is completely smitten with Iceland, and he is so enthusiastic about sharing this place with other travellers. His friendships with the locals meant that we were invited into the homes and lands of Icelandic residents, giving us a special insight into the brave people that live here. It was a fantastic holiday, and I recommend Icepedition for anyone who wants to explore this place in the future.

This trip was my first chance to sail amongst icebergs, in the Jokulsarlon lagoon. As the salty sea water reaches Vatnajokull, Europe’s largest glacier, hundred of icebergs break off where they slowly melt as they progress towards the ocean. It is a really beautiful and surreal place. With the glacier and snow-capped mountains in the background, most of the shapes are carved out in shades of blue – from the pale turquise of the ice to the vibrant azure of the sky. Streaks of black from centuries of volcanic eruptions cut through the vista to emphasise the age of this place.

We took a cruise through the lagoon and our guide carved off a sliver from one of the icebergs, so that we could eat ice that was over 1000 years old. Our guide was a native Icelander who spends all her winters in Australia – she even went to college in my hometown of Canberra. She spoke like a perfect Australian native, which made it all the more shocking to hear her correctly pronounce towns like Þorlákshöfn when talking about the region.

Occasionally, seals would poke their heads out of the water. Our guide told us that there were two types of seals in Iceland, and that these are the cuter ones, as they are smaller and have fewer whiskers. We were later told that the locals call the seals that give birth on land Land Seals, and the ones that give birth out at sea Out There Seals. The Icelanders are big fans of literal names for creatures and places.