The Norwegian Dream

A holiday with our closest friends in the European winter of 2022–23 is where our Norwegian dream first began. We boarded the plane in T-shirts and shorts, leaving behind a Queensland summer, and stepped off 22 hours later into snow and stillness, immediately reaching for coats and gloves.

Driving through Lapland (Finland)

Our white Christmas began in Finland. Helsinki greeted us with more snow than usual that year. As we descended towards the runway, the view from the aircraft window was unlike anything we had experienced before. Snow blanketed rooftops, softened the edges of pine trees, and reflected the warm glow of lights from homes and street lamps below.

The weeks that followed are memories we return to often. Northern lights. Frozen lakes. Toboggan rides. Reindeer adventures. Ice hotels. Skiing. Meeting Santa. Our days were full, yet I remember feeling calm, deeply at peace, and more rested than I had in a long time. Sunlight was scarce, but just like the snow, my sense of contentment felt abundant.

We loved Finland. But when we crossed the border into Norway, after what can only be described as a character-building bus journey, something shifted again. It was long. Very long. The kind of trip where you begin optimistically, question your life choices halfway through, and arrive with a renewed appreciation for trains and short distances. We laugh about it now. At the time, it felt heroic.

Norway, however, made us forget the bus almost instantly. The landscape felt grander, more dramatic. In one direction stood vast mountains; in another, fjords and open water. The contrasts were constant and captivating.

Our Accommodation in Tromsø - just a little snow to navigate

The weather was not always gentle. We learned quickly that driving in Norway demands both skill and humility. One late evening blizzard, paired with narrow icy roads, saw us slowly and rather unceremoniously slide into an embankment. No drama, no injuries, just four slightly stunned Australians sitting in a car at an angle, reassessing our confidence.

Our attempts to dig ourselves out by hand were enthusiastic and entirely ineffective. Snow is far more committed to its position than we had anticipated. Eventually, we accepted defeat and were towed out, equal parts grateful and amused. It has since become one of our favourite stories.

Despite these moments, we never tired of the views or the sense of space that surrounded us.

There was a calmness there that created room for us as a family. Time to sit. Time to talk. Time to simply be. The rhythm felt slower, more deliberate. Life seemed simpler, and in that simplicity, we felt genuinely happy.

Beautiful Norway - no other words needed.

Norway felt like home, even in that short time. It felt safe. It felt welcoming, despite the cold. It drew our little family closer together. We explored during the limited daylight and embraced the long winter evenings indoors. There was less noise, less urgency, and more connection.

That country offered us a glimpse of what our future might hold. It challenged our quiet assumption that constant busyness equals success. It showed us another way of living, one that felt more aligned.

Leaving was harder than we expected. It felt as though a small part of us had stayed behind.

And it was then that the Norwegian dream truly began.

Med kjærlighet og vennlighet (with love and kindness),

Alicia