Skip to main content

Slow pace at the beach.

I’m sat here in my parents’ cottage only a 12 minute drive from my home. It’s white, built literally on the beach (although not on sand), and beautiful. I’m sat inside listening to the webstream with the sound of waves crashing on the rock in the background, writing emails, and looking out at the view of the sea. It’s so peaceful. (The photos are of my view here I'm sat).


I got back to Norway on Friday evening. It’s strange how even if I only had one short flight to get home, it still felt like I’d been travelling for days (well, I guess that’s exaggerating a little bit, hours and hours...) probably coz I usually have had a long journey behind me when I reach Amsterdam airport.

It was lovely to get home again. The rest of my last week in Amsterdam was really lovely and had a much nicer pace, although I did manage to keep busy. I spent time in the Tabernacle of the Nations (the prayer room), had coffee and meals with friends, and enjoyed the city. It was a good week.

Coming home it’s always a joy to see family again. Even if I was only away for 7 weeks, my nieces and nephew have grown and just keep getting sweeter and sweeter. And I keep coming back to the beach. On Sunday my mum and I went for a walk on the beach, and yesterday I came here with my brother and his two children and we had hotdogs and played in the sand. It was a tad cold though... and it’s cold today too. I’ve put the heater on next to me where I’m sat writing at the dining table, but my fingers still feel very cold. Typing doesn’t seem to work to warm them up either.

Life is at a slow pace right now. It’ll speed up soon enough when I step into the next on the my journey. But for now I’m just going to savour this pace I’m at, watching the majestic sea and listening to the waves.

Popular posts from this blog

Getting to know the local culture.

Life is a strange thing. Last week went…not much happened, and then it was over. The weekend was quite calm without too many wild and exciting things happening. Except, of course, a wee outing to watch the National Championship for Veteran Ploughing. Now, like me, you might be sadly lacking an understanding of what this actually means. So I am delighted to be able to enlighten you in this respect. It’s basically (for the “farm-language-illiterate” like myself) a competition where you use old (hence the name “veteran”) tractors and ploughs, and plough up a stretch of field which is then evaluated and the one scoring the highest sum (accuracy, depth, how well the soil is turned is all given points) wins. I must admit that this information I got by eavesdropping on a conversation next to me where a man was explaining to some of my friends how it all works. So that was a fun adventure….although we only stayed for a bit. What is sort of occupying my mind at present is my upcoming travel abr...

Taking in the familiar and a heart connected.

Amsterdam. It still has that muggy feeling in Summer, and a constant flow of people which if you stop to think about it, it's quite amazing that there would even be space to accommodate them all. But then I guess they are not all staying. Just passing through on their way to or from somewhere. It's always good for the heart to visit somewhere that was once home. The familiarity of streets and customs makes it easier to embrace what might be new as well as the joy of being reacquainted with old friends. Friends. So many of them to be found in this city, ready with hugs and good words that are uttered when seeing someone who was away again. Friendship. A treasure that cannot be bought. Cobblestones trodden by many, including myself. Sitting on a bench. Praying. Remembering the first time I stumbled upon this area lined with windows with red lights and curtains. An area which has come to represent no longer windows, but people to me. Some still behind a window. Others who have ...

Romania- so much hope filling my heart for this nation.

As I sit down to write this, I am at the little table in a rented flat in the centre of Bucharest, Romania. It’s quiet. Strangely quiet considering we’re in the centre of a huge city. My feet are propped up on a worn fake-leather puff thing, and as I check the time I realize that I have been in the country less than 24 hours... and yet my heart is overflowing with impressions and emotion for a nation I barely know. It’s getting late, but I know I am too awake to sleep and so have made myself a cup of Earl Grey (with milk) and have sat down to try to capture at least a bit of what this day has been. As always, I write mostly for myself and the occasional other who desires to enter into the telling of my story. Driving from the airport last night, and getting the first glimpse of the city and seeing majestic buildings lit up towards the night sky, filled me with expectation. A beautiful city filled with so much history. I came wondering. Wondering what this nation I knew from w...