Collecting Moments

We’re standing on land that once belonged to the sea. Beneath the sheer cliffs, the blue recedes to expose giant gills. They are blackened with age and jut out of the sand. The sea breathes with every wave and ebb.   It's the realm of gradual change that leaves its mark on the ground once covered by water. Time is revealed in the layers of rock.     We are here to witness, to observe, to contemplate as we walk along a soft, narrow path.       The floor of the bay is carved by salt. The turquoise lace of the waves blankets the beach. The ocean is gradually reclaiming what once belonged to it, licking the shores. These eroded cliffs yawn into eternity.         We are here to live the present as we move away from the coast and into the pine forest. In the morning we sit on a terrace overlooking the vast fields of the Alentejo. Th...

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...

- Do you mind if I take a picture of you? - Not at all. Especially after you’ve asked permission! That's how my brief conversation with a shepherd began. He seemed happy to chat and tell me a little about his life. These human interactions are the most precious moments of travel. That is why on our trips around the world we always combine walking in nature, hitchhiking and staying with locals. That particular day was filled with pleasant encounters as the path led us to the village of Linhares da Beira. We were lucky enough to not only meet the friendly shepherd, but also talk to Maria, the owner of a cozy café, and run into a familiar face from the town where we used to live . Since we left, our friend has gotten a job in the county council and is now trying to improve the region’s tourist facilities. Our hike, a comfortable ten-kilometer loop , gave us plenty of time to wander the labyrinth of medieval streets and explore the village. We ventured off the well-trodden pat...

The day at the farm began with a magical misty dawn. The fog, like a softly spun shawl, wrapped everything in its tender embrace. I stepped out of the van and paused to listen to the morning song of small birds piercing the air through the thick white blanket. We had a leisurely breakfast as the mist gradually gave way to sunshine. It was going to be a relaxed day of swimming and easy hiking. We set off towards the lakes we had seen the day before . This time we followed an unmarked, partly overgrown trail that zig-zagged through the fields with a few ruined cottages scattered along the road. Locals suggested we explore former tungsten mines just above the lakes. We took their advice literally and followed a path that led us to some abandoned structures that we had spotted on Google Earth. As it turned out, we had discovered a deserted quinta with a concrete reservoir and red brick towers that looked very much out of place. Those were quite unusual for this region where houses are ...