Travelogue Planning & Drafting

Brainstorming

Plan Of Events

Travelogue Draft:

Location	Description Prompts
Cruising on an old, recycled wooden boat, sailing from Iceland (the mainland) to the island where Armilla is situated.	·         Smell of old wood, slimy and covered in moss. ·         Sea spray has the character cold to the bone, regretting the decision to take a boat. ·         Only a small roofed hut outlined with wet wooden benches for cover, completely full. ·         The taste of salt gradually turns to a taste of iron, anticipation re-emerges. ·         Boat is a collage of sodden wood and scraps of metal. A botched attempt at a cyborg war ship, still evidently an old human fishing boat, the stains from old sighs and logos tattoo the old exterior. Footprints of the human creators. ·         The vessel groans as it wades through the murky waters.
The docks	·         The vibrant bustle of workers, travellers, machines and seagulls’ cuts through the dreary monochrome landscape. ·         Excitement accelerates as I hear the sound of unusual, powerful and state of the art engines reverberate amongst the tall cylindrical metal skyline. ·         My wet feet bring me back from thoughts. Cold, numb and flushed faced. ·         Decide to search for somewhere warm.
Streets of Armilla	·         Nymphs walk the streets with little care for the cold gusts, they look weathered and unphased compared to the tourists and humans huddled under coats and hats. ·         The smell of fish slowly fades as I wander further into the city, replaced by perfume and fabric softener emitting from laundromats and fragrance stores. I notice how common these types of businesses are… ·         Many windowsills are accompanied by sticks of burning incense, which also flood my nostrils. A concoction of culture. ·         On occasion, the rows of streets will break for a garage, where the aroma of tyres and an unusual egg smell accompany revving, cranking and clattering. Then, the shops start again.
Greenspace	·         I decide to take a narrower path at a junction of endless more streets, leading me through an alley parallel to the back of a laundromat. The large humming fans blow the warm detergent-smelling mist onto my clothes, covering me with cloudy droplets. ·         Spots of sunlight play with the laundromat’s strange architecture, patterning the metal wall on my other side like leopard print. ·         I come to a small open green space, centred around an immense Neptune statue. Decorated with flowers, incense and candles like a shrine. ·         a discussion with a nymph lady sitting on a bench, discover she owns the laundromat, taking a break.
Coffee shop	·         captivated by the strong aroma of coffee as I walk past the store, decide it’s a good place to warm up. ·         Order a cappuccino, arriving in a cup more like a bowl…patterned with coca in the shape of a school of fish. Snacked on a warm ‘Snúður’, a cinnamon filled bread roll covered in chocolate. ·         Listened to an unusual conversation between three nymphs, complaining about the ‘ugly human buildings on the outskirts of the city centre’ and how they hope for them to be demolished soon.
Hotel suite	·         Take a stroll through the remaining streets towards my hotel. Comment on a pair of unusual police uniforms. They explain the role of ‘fire wardens’, a necessity in a city with its architecture; focused sun-rays make the risk of fires extremely high, especially for businesses that dry kelp. ·         Greeted in the hotel lobby by a nymph receptionist. I watch what I believe to be window cleaners on the adjacent building as my paperwork is checked. In fact, they seem to be polishing the buildings metal exoskeleton… ·         The hotel is filled with aquariums, allegedly all interlinked as one system. Partnering with a nearby hatchery and volunteering some of the building as marine space. ·         To my pleasant surprise, my room’s ceiling is an unobstructed view of fish, swimming amongst turquoise waters. ·         I note on the unusual dome windows.
Restaurant	·         Dark by the time I re-emerge ·         Streets are filled with celebrations, I learnt this is extremely common, as tourism is huge, and therefore nightlife. ·         The smell of gin and beer warms my nostrils. Sends me into a nostalgic, festive spirit. I eagerly walk through the illuminated streets, browsing menu boards. ·         Ordered some hot spring rye bread with smoked mutton as a starter. Washed it down with beer, followed by a hearty stew served with sheep’s head, surprisingly good. No longer concerned over the laws against eating fish, as this restaurant reassures.
Garage	·         I arrive at the garage bright and early. ·         Blow on my fingers and watch my breath as I wait for the shutters to rise. ·         Feelings of excitement and anxiety. Saddened I’m not staying another day. ·         An orange glow creeps over the distant mountains, silhouetting the unusual structures and immense satellite disks. ·         Shutters rise, greeted by a woman nymph, dressed as a mechanic. A few signatures and forms of ID before I’m escorted to another building. The brass door is pulled open, revealing a new car. Design reflects the city perfectly; I see all my experiences within it. ·         State of the art, hydroelectric powered sports car with all the trimmings. Ten years of saving, and I’m finally the owner of a famous Armillian Car.
Armilla Bridge	·         Dawn washes over the shrinking island as I drive along the stretch of road, the only solid link between Iceland and Armilla. I watch the little water droplets dance across the windscreen, dressed in yellow light. With the sunrise to my side and Armilla in my mirrors, it was the only experience that could finalize my short but unforgettable stay in Armilla. I drive across the bridge, homeward bound.