This Journey to Norway Wasn’t a Vacation

When the war in Ukraine began, the world stopped making sense. The future became blurry, time lost its rhythm. The men stayed behind. My husband too.

Before the war, we traveled a lot together. Iceland, Turkey, Greece it was always us. He planned, organized, took care of everything. I just lived and enjoyed being by his side. It felt good to exist in the shadow of strong shoulders. But when that shadow disappeared I finally saw myself.

Everything split into “before” and “after.”

My close friend moved to Norway her husband had always dreamed of it. He brought her there, and a few months later… just left. A new country. A new life. And she was alone. She was struggling. So was I.

Then one day spontaneously, without any plan or logic I bought a ticket. My first trip alone. I planned the route myself, took responsibility for everything. My husband stayed home, taking care of things. And I left just to visit. And it became the most healing escape of my life.

My friend and I explored Norway like two girls right after graduation. There was something childlike in the way we stared at the mountains, laughed into the wind, caught drops of rain. That feeling that everything is still ahead and it’s going to be beautiful. And for now beauty is here. All around. In every curve of the road, in every lake. And that beauty it heals.

In Norway, nature is the main character. People don’t reshape it or fight it. They adapt. As if they’re saying: “Nature is wiser. We’re just guests here.”

Our route, our “places of power”:

Norheimsund - a tiny town by the fjord, where my friend lived. Our refuge. Evenings with wine and memories, mornings with coffee and waterfalls. Nothing really happens here, and that’s the beauty of it. Time seems to hang in the air.

The air cuts clean to the bone.The fjord stays quiet, the water dark and deep like a moody morning. You can walk along the shore without thinking, just listening to the world breathe.

Not a place for adventures, a place to finally exhale. To remember how it feels to just be - no noise, no plan, no explanations.

And then there are the houses - like something from the future, but with soul. Moss on rooftops, plenty of wood, wide windows instead of ego. Architecture that blends into the landscape instead of trying to dominate it.

📍 Stegastein Lookout — a platform above the abyss where time and space disappear. Just you, the wind, and the answer to a question you forgot to ask.

📍 Rampestreken — a climb that makes you want to give up. But then, standing at the top, you see yourself — strong, alive, not small at all.

Folgefonna National Park - we weren’t expecting much. Just a park. Just another patch of nature. But it felt like a sip of something real.

Glacier and moss, snow and green, sharp wind and silence that lands straight in your chest. The clouds hang low, almost brushing your shoulders and suddenly, the world feels smaller, closer, almost tame.

The park was established in 2005. It’s not rebuilt or reshaped - here, nature is simply allowed to be. People don’t come for thrills - they come for the quiet. They walk, they pause, they watch. Drink water from mountain streams, follow the way light shifts on rocks, and somehow start speaking slower.

Folgefonna isn’t a park, it’s a space where the world doesn’t press on you,

it just… is.

Like an inner shhh…

when all your thoughts scatter, like mist between stones.

This trip wasn’t just an escape. It was a starting point. I saw myself differently as someone who can not only create a route but also guide someone through it. And I fell in love with that making paths. Not just to places, but to the heart.

My friend needed me someone close, someone who could help her adjust, find stability. And I think… we made it.

I started a Telegram channel where I share the most beautiful and fascinating places on Earth , and help you build a route not just for the body, but for the soul.

🔗 Join the channel - let’s find your “places of power”