Without running away. Let me explain. Arriving back in Norway felt like taking my first full breath in weeks. After everything that happened with our car saga (yes... three cars. We bought three. The first two turned into expensive life lessons. One day I'll tell that story properly because, honestly, if I didn't laugh about it now, I'd probably still be crying), simply pulling into a place that feels familiar and like home settled something inside me. Breathing through lot

We just spent three weeks house sitting in Germany, and I keep thinking about how different it looked on paper. It was supposed to be a pause. A reset. A few quiet weeks to breathe, re-charge, connect as a family. Instead, it was full in a way I didn’t quite expect. We were taking care of one very lovable dog, three horses, eighteen chickens, two mama cats… and six tiny, three-week-old kittens. Which, for the record, are almost the cutest baby animals on the planet (still sec

I used to think we were already doing “slow travel.” For the past couple of years, one month in one place had kind of become our minimum. Very rarely did we stay somewhere for less than that, and if we did, there was usually a reason. Otherwise, one month felt like the sweet spot. It gave us enough time to actually settle in a little, get to know the project, the people, the work, and the rhythm of a place. It gave us enough time to learn new things, make new connections, may

We’ve been slowly growing small roots here in Austria, something that we had thought about but weren't sure how it might unfold. What started out as a short stay has stretched into something gentler — a couple months, familiar faces, the kids settling in, and that quiet feeling of “oh… this feels good.” We’re helping organize a small homeschooling gathering, which honestly lights me up, and the kids are thriving in that unforced, hard-to-measure way that only really shows up