Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

Travels and writing

Text and photos: Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland

I started my first diary when I was five, and have kept on ever since. When we travelled in my childhood, two adults, three kids and a tiny little tent (the forth kid came later), we always wrote about our travels. My brother Frode wrote in advance. Visiting travel agencies, gathering information, reading about places, towns, cities and countries. He spread his information on the big kitchen table. we read, cut, glued and made our own guidebookso take along.

None of these excists any more. The memories does.

Later, much later, I started to write travel diaries along the road. Writing down my experiences at the end of each and every day. I've kept all these books in a glass cabinet in my studio. From time to time I take one of them out and live again the travel. To Norway, to Scandinavia, further south in Europe, then further on.......to Haiti and The Dominican Republic, to Eritrea and to Eritrea again, to USA with Terje and four kids, to USA again, this time two weeks alone in New York in connection with the UN General Assembly, to Laos and Thailand, To India, to Mexico.......and always more travels in Norway, in Scandinavia and in Europe.

More than 50 years ago my grandfather, Johannes Wigum, went to New York and the UN General Assembly. When I followed hos footsteps I would have loved to have a diary from his experiences. I do have a photo, a beautiful one in back and white, framed and hug over my desk, from his travel over The Atlantic, my brother Børge has his diplomatic passport from the travel, and also a Bible his was given over there as a gift. But there excist no travel diary.

 

Today I travel not only with my diaries, but also with a camera or two. Images have become just as important as words. Almost.

I am finishing my travel diary from Croatia and Bosnia & Herzegovina these days. In a beautiful notebook, handmade in Florence. Memories float and I live the days once again. Smiles, laughter.....oh yes, I do remember this, how could I forget that......

Over tha last 6 years, blogging has become a more and more important part of savoring travel memories. But my travel diaries will live one. They are my most precious souvenirs.

The first photo shows an old typewriter I fond in a restaurant in Sarajevo

Travels with my brother

Ever since I was a small girl, travels with my oldest brother (two years younger than me), has been something special.I hope to do a post about our family travels with our parents later, today I will use the opportunity to say a thank to my brother Frode. The perfect travel companion.

 
Before any travel I read all I can about the places I will visit. My brother do the same, though he goes further. When you travel to a new place with him you know that he knows "everything" about the place. He has booked all tickets in advance, found the most charming places to stay, the nicest restaurants, he knows the history, he knows about the climate......yes, he is the parfect guide, travel companion and brother.

 
When we are on the road he always stops to talk with people, with the locals, and this was we learn even more about the best and most interesting places to visit, what food to eat, what sights to see..... And we get lovely tales to collect.

 

During our travels to Mostar and Sarajevo he took us by local buses. Leading us all forward with his positive attitude. Always.

 
Last night I looked through my photos again, and relived our trip.

The photos are from Mostar, a place I would never have visited without my dear brother Frode. Thank you Frode.

 

I still plan more posts about our two weeks in Balkan. Just be patient :-)

Carpe Diem

We found two back seats in the cathedral during mass. There I could cry, I could pray, I could hold Terje's hand. And I could wander the broad, coulourful  path of good memories.

Friends are coming for dinner tonight.

Good to be together.

Carpe Diem!

Peacefully. With all her loved ones close by.

She climbed the last step and reached the goal.

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Thank you dear friend!

Saturday morning walk......in sadness

There is nothing wrong in being sad.

Sadness is not a personal failure.

Allowing the sadness to flow helps you slow down.

My Saturday morning walk took me down to the canal. Tears flowing. Prayers without words.

My friend is losing her fight.

Angel feathers along my path.

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Thank you for your comments about sadness a couple of days ago.

THANK YOU

More later. I am too busy right now, but the week-end will give me time for blogging.

Enjoy this flowerpot as a heartfelt THANK YOU from me to all of you.

The blog is alive because of you!

Memories and anticipations

Copyright! Text: Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland Photo: Marta Kristin Wigum Lindland

 

"You are a rich woman" a good friend uses to say to me "and I love rich women" My friend is right. I am a rich woman. Not in money, though we have have enough to buy salt for the porridge as we say in Norway, well, we have enough to buy different types of salt actually, which I love to do when I travel.....but that's another story.

 

Yes, I am rich. I am very rich. I am a millionaire. On memories. On anticipations. On family and friends. On love. On smiles and laughter. On colleagues. But most of all I am rich because of today. Because of every day. Because of everydays.

 

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I have been sad lately. I have found it hard to find joy in the path I am walking, in my everydays. A lot of this is because a friend is struggling with cancer. Struggling hard. We don't know which direction her struggle will take in the end.

 

I talk with my friend on the phone and realise that she, though she don't know, though she has pains to struggle with, questions with no answers, still finds joy and blessings in the every days.

 

Over and over again I must learn to pray the St.Birgitta Prayer:

Show me the way God. Make me willing to walk it.

 

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Thank you Marta for your photo of the Croatian cricket. I miss their symphonies.

I wonder what life might have been......

On a small island in the Adriatic Sea you might stumble upon this house, as I did. The house is abandoned now, but close your eyes and imagine what life have been here one day.

At first I found it hard to imagine. This small island is so far from the life I know, the life I sometimes dream of on small islands in the North Sea. The language, the vegetation, the heath, the surroundings.......

Then dreams started to come. People. Life. Laughter. Work. Green hands. I sat down to read my book, which happend to be Traveller's Prelude by Freya Stark.

..........og yes, it would not be difficukt at all to stay in this house during long winter night, among books, a fire and a mug of tea, dried figs.......

.....planning travels east of the moon.

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I found this house on Lopud island during our day on The Adriatic Sea.

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in the days since my stumble upon this old house, a tale about the life there is making itself come alive. I am daydreaming.

Roses on the breakfast table

We are too early for breakfast in the garden. It si too cold yet so early in the morning, but work is waiting, breakfast can't be delayed.

When we cannot go out among the roses to have our breakfast, we have to let the roses come in to us......

  Later, at work, I look at my watch. It is about the right time for the first morning coffee. I am about to cry out "Terje, shall I make us some coffee?"

Then I remember. I am at work. Terje is at work. We don't work the same place.

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I grab my mug, the big black one with white polka dots and walk the stairs down to the reception area. I pour myself some coffee and sit down to read the newspaper. Soon a colleague come, then another, and another........

......and life is back to normal. Back to its wonderful normal.

She did it again.....our maestro ( or is it maestre :-)) in the kitchen, and an unexpected family meeting.

Beloved big sister has turned 21, busy celebrating on the day with her new friends from the University. Sunday afternoon, two days late, she finally had time to celebrate with us and the grandparents.

"I'll make a seafood paella, Can you bake your delicious carrot cake Marta?"

Of course Marta could make a cake for her sister. Saturday night, while Terje and I were partying with friends, the cake was baked.Sunday morning, when we came home from church, she was busy with the decorating.

For a few hours the kitchen was super busy. Marta with her cake, Terje making jelly from the red currants he had picked in the garden in the early morning, I baking a foccaccia, starting the paella.

Good for us, we have a big kitchen......or is it that we love each other enough to work together in a shoebox, side by side..........

Well, both I guess.

Just before Ingrid and Marius, Torgeir (Øystein is out of town) and my parents arrived, I got a phone call from a cousin I haven't seen in several years.

"Hi Britt-Arnhild, it's me. I have my daughter here from England, and her little baby daughter as well. Can we come over for coffee)

The "daughter from England" is 21, same as Ingrid. The girls used to play a lot together as little girls. Then when they were 5 her mother split from my cousin and took her three children with her home to her country, England.

An extra birthday treat for all of us to meet her again.

 

My cousin, his daughter and granddaughter couldn't come in time for the paella, but made it for the carrot cake. 

New family threads were knitted.

The cake a success,  the birthday girl a beauty as always, the gathering of family a blessing.