We miss the world. The longing for mountains, rivers, different views sits like an ache in the gut. It feels like whining. It is whining, we know. It is still a f*ing bummer that we can’t pack Henning full of gear and just head out on all the adventures that we planned. At least not without quarantine, fines and whatnot. And we understand. And we comply. And behave. And scream internally….
Sick of eating from the Scandinavian larder. Want figs and cheese and sausages and weird stuff that only tastes good on location
We planned a snowshoeing-trip to Norway before the lockdown, and we held our fingers crossed that we could go, but we had to make do with Denmark. Admittedly she dressed up nicely in her winter finest and we got to try out the gear, but mountainous she is not…
Our planning wall is full of projects and trips: book writing, hiking, climbing, kayaking and (if we can find the cash) pack rafting. And they are going to happen. And the world is going to open up again. And we promise to quit whining.