Collecting Moments

I am in Serro Ventoso, the interior of Portugal that never appears on colorful postcards in tourist shops. Here it is the realm of the green palette: pine, sage, emerald and their various shades. It is the land of white, milky mist that covers the hills. The thick fog that comes from the ocean and nourishes the soil, the locals say. People here are tough and resilient. The harshness of the landscape is reflected in their faces. They greet strangers with a piercing, stern gaze, not frowning, but not smiling either. For centuries, people have struggled in this rocky land, where rivers and waterfalls fill only after heavy rains. "When I was growing up, we had very little fruit. Only apples and figs in season. There was not enough water in this region to grow fruit," says 65-year-old Filomena. She and her nine siblings were all born in the same house where she now lives with her husband, their daughter and her boyfriend. The younger generation of the family works outside the vi

Иногда я думаю, как вернуть себе русский язык. Что почитать или посмотреть. Потом быстро вспоминаю, что мне надо не русский возвращать, а обретать португальский. Закрываю интервью с Верой Полозковой и включаю радио, по которому передают новости края Европы на Иберийском полуострове. Я Катя. У меня три паспорта и почти каждый день в разных ситуациях я использую четыре языка. Ни один из них не является для меня больше родным. Вернее, не так. Ни одним из них я не владею на уровне родного. На русском я почти ничего не пишу с 24 февраля 2022 года, с тех пор, как началась эта страшная война. Она застала нас в походе на юге Испании. Та зима в Андалусии выдалась знойной, и мы в каждом месте останавливались на пару дней, чтобы залечить мозоли после долгих часов в пути. Помню, как я проснулась в хостеле для пилигримов, где кроме нас с Максом в ту ночь никто не останавливался. Мы спали в большой просторной комнате с шестью двухэтажными кроватями. Я прочитала новости и посмотрела на Макса, его л

In June, we covered 635 kilometers in southern Norway, catching rides with both locals and foreigners. In hitchhiking circles, Norway (along with other Scandinavian countries) is often described as a great place for thumbing, with the shortest waiting times. However, we found it even more difficult than Sweden , which in our experience is not the easiest country to hitch in. Meanwhile, of all the Nordic countries, we'd put Iceland and Denmark at the top of the list of easiest places for hitchhikers. But ultimately, we can't complain, because in Norway the weather was on our side most of the time, which is not always the case in that part of the world, even in summer. Here's a short collection of our hitchhiking stories in a non-chronological order. Tønsberg - Oslo That day can definitely be described as one of the most remarkable hitchhiking days we've ever had. Of course, nothing can beat the journey in Myanmar where we ended up teaching English in a remote villa

When I first started traveling alone, one of my initial destinations was Venice . As I wandered through the city’s intricate maze of canals, I often wondered what lay behind those red brick walls and arched windows. I wasn’t curious about the exquisite palazzi converted into luxury hotels. I wanted to know how Venetians lived: what their apartments looked like, where they ran their daily chores, and when they ate breakfast and dinner. Without living with the locals, the city seemed to lack a human touch. Fortunately, I have since discovered several hospitality exchange platforms and began traveling for people, not places. Sightseeing has almost completely lost its appeal for me and my partner. We’ve seen Petra and Angkor Wat , but our most memorable moments come from staying with locals and hitchhiking . That day in Norway, we were on the way to meet our couchsurfing host. Her address mentioned a place called Vidaråsen, which seemed too small for anyone to know. We decided to wri

Our day in Horten was to be leisurely — a gentle stroll down to the Oslofjord for a refreshing swim and a short walk through the nearby forest. I longed to satisfy my passion for berry picking. During our first week in Norway, we didn't have enough time to go foraging because we were always busy hiking, hitchhiking, or talking to our hosts. Which was great, but I still needed my precious moments in the woods since wild blueberries and strawberries just don't grow in Portugal where we live. So we set off carrying only a simple tote bag with a bottle of water, a towel and a bathing suit (skinny dipping was out of the question because the beach was too close to town). Our trusty old backpack stayed behind– we were expecting to have an easy walk and a slow, relaxed day. As we reached the fjord, a light drizzle began to fall, dampening our enthusiasm for a swim. Instead, we walked along the shore, our eyes drawn to the green hills of Løvøya island. It seemed like a perfect spot

When we first started planning our hitchhiking and couchsurfing trip through southern Norway, we encountered a chorus of advice from our potential hosts. "You like hiking?" they'd say. "Head west and north!" One even remarked, "Only go south if you like boats." But time constraints and my sprained ankle led us in a different direction. We decided to take the coastal route for two weeks. Luck was on our side and we found hosts who lived just off the E18 highway, which would make hitchhiking easier (or so we thought). Landscapes lacking towering peaks revealed a different magic. Forests, lakes and fjords held an unspoiled beauty that did not need grand summits. Water, abundant and mesmerizing, painted the canvas in shades of blue embraced by green. Wherever we stayed in Norway, nature beckoned from every doorstep. In the tiny village of Høvåg, perched on the edge of a fjord, deer and sheep grazed on lush slopes. We walked to the tip of the peninsul